Hi friends, here we are at Disco Diaries #8.
I’m composing this letter to you with a slouchy posture and a sleepy mind. It’s raining outside, and the wet streets make the traffic a loud, monotonous background noise to my work. Holden is stretched out on the ground as long as he can be from tail to front paws, like an archer’s arrow. I indulge in the life-long habit of chewing on my cheek while I try and make sense of the week, what it missed, what was enriching, what could make next week better. I feel lazy and ambitious, and it's a confusing combination.
Reopening the can of anxiety worms
Much of my family is going on a beach vacation together in just over a week. We’ve rented a big beach house in North Carolina — the kind on stilts, with lots of porches, and a shack full of things like beach chairs, umbrellas, and boogie boards. The plan was put into motion back in December, as a Christmas gift to Mom. With home-cooked meals and responsible beach-going decisions, I think we can still pull it off safely.
That being said, cases are rising in North Carolina, and in other western and southern states. Cases have also gone up in the Ohio county I live in, and the Ohio county where I grew up, and the Ohio county where my dad lives.
I’ve watched videos of people trying to defend their choice to go maskless. I’ve read articles that explain the clear evidence to show that masks can put a significant dent in the spread of the virus.
My family is moving forward towards our carefree week with confidence in each other’s commitment to caution. We all agreed on how we’d behave in the two weeks leading up to the trip. We’re taking “extra” care so that we can be together in the same house with relative certainty that no on is sick, that Mom will be ok, that my one year old nephew will be ok. That everyone will be ok, because even the perfectly healthy can get deathly ill in no time at all.
I sit at home in my self-quarantine and try not to stew in anger. Anger is a natural human experience, but I’m still learning how to make it productive. For now I feel stuck in a cycle of frustration and fatigue that restarts many of the times that I look at social media or the news, or go out in public.
Social distancing and mask-wearing habits even seem questionable within my most intimate social situations. I’ve hugged friends, I’ve entered their homes without a mask, I’ve held dinner parties. It’s too easy to introduce just a little leniency, or to assume immunity without knowing for certain that you are.
At best, coronavirus is an awkward topic to navigate, but I’ve learned that I feel much more at peace if I communicate my needs and comfort level with friends and family ahead of any engagement. We really need to support and lift each other up, especially at a time when we continue to face the same scary pandemic, whether we choose to see it or not. Asking for my friends and family to adapt to the boundaries of my comfort zone, and checking in to do the same for them, seems like one of the only things I can control.
Recalling nice things I heard, saw, or read this week
Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Heard of it? Just a little comfort food via epic fantasy.
Cannery Row by John Steinbeck. The first male author I’ve read in 18 months. I’m considering making some major life changes so that I can live like Doc, and spend my time taking road trips to collect sea creatures, and working on science projects in my laboratory.
An Eastern Whip-poor-will above our home for the night in Shawnee State Forest
“Oh cool, an Amanita muscaria!” - Jake, when I pointed out this cute mushroom I saw beside the trail. It’s a poisonous and hallucinogenic toadstool, the kind that Mario and Luigi eat, and the kind that dance to “Chinese Dance” in “Fantasia.”
Fortune cookie
Work at a different pace.
Take care out there, my friends.
Katya