By: Emily Lopez
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March 24
Throughout the duration of this pandemic, I’ve had almost too much time to exercise pensive thoughts. However, this period of reflection isn’t necessarily melancholic. There have been moments of solemn contemplation as well as moments of bittersweet reflection. I miss my friends from school but I’m also happy to be with my family.
Quarantine allows me to do all of the things that I swore I never had time to do when living in reality. For example, I have hours upon hours of free time to listen to music. My to-listen list had piled up so high that it felt impossible to tackle; thanks to coronavirus, I’ve conquered the full list. I have been able to actively listen to music whenever I choose to, which is something I only had two or three hours allotted for each day in the pre-quarantine.
My connectivity skills have increased because I’m spending so much time in isolation, and I only really have my thoughts to keep me company. It isn’t sad for me because I quite enjoy the alone time. Unfortunately, I can’t help but worry that I will have trouble acclimating back into society: containment is easier than facing challenges directly. I should note that I don’t want to acquiesce into complacency and shelter myself/shut away my friends and family. Although I’m spending my time indulging in my interests and favorite hobbies, I can’t help but feel as if something is missing. Maybe it is because the life I’m living is momentary and will eventually shift back into reality. I think what concerns me is the uncertainty of what will happen in the next month—months, most likely.
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March 30
Today I went to the grocery store to buy almond milk, bread – the kind with extra grains and seeds, potato chips and avocados. Quite possibly the most bizarre experience I have ever had. Everyone was practicing social distancing, as they should, but in the most pompous way possible. It was nearly a “who-can-make-a-bigger-scene” competition.
A woman wearing a pink mask and I kept meeting each other at the end of each aisle. She met me with what felt like hostility and I met her with my presence. I guess we have a similar diet if we kept running into each other. I understand that coronavirus is deadly and serious, but she looked at me like I had the bubonic plague. The checkout line was even stranger. The cashier was surrounded by a huge plastic shield that looked like it could’ve been taken off of a child’s play-toy car. I brought my own reusable bag which might have been the wrong choice – she did not want to put my groceries in it at all! I didn’t feel self conscious until people made me need to be. I became careful when I turned the aisle corners and I made sure to watch my step so as to not bump into anyone.
Honestly, this whole experience allowed me to understand why people have their groceries delivered straight to their homes. It’s a much more convenient and friendly option. Needless to say, I’m most excited about grocery stores reverting back to normal after quarantine comes to a close. I never thought I’d miss the artificial “Hey, how are you doing today?”s and the “Fine! How are you?”s that are so prevalent in American culture.
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April 6
Going on day 22 of quarantine during the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020. Beginning week three of online classes, and things seem to be getting easier. Spanish is killing me a little bit with the online work, but I am taking comfort in the fact that we don’t have too much longer of pretending that all of this is helpful. Today I got a call from my brother, Thomas, who is in Georgia right now. Since he graduated bootcamp, they have moved his group to a new bay (which happens to be a really old bay that is not used anymore). They sit in the bay all day along except for three meals and they are allotted their phone for one hour each night. Thomas is distraught, which is completely warranted. Three people were caught trying to go AWOL because it is just that painful to bet there. As a mother my mom wishes so badly that she could find a way to help him, but the military does not really allow that.
The news is daunting and hard to listen to or read. My apocalypse culture class just finished Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, a novel about a pandemic much worse than the one we are experiencing because their whole world ends within a matter of days. I initially thought that class was not going to be able to adapt because every class was centered around discussions, but that class is one that I really look forward to. I have talked to and connected with some students that I had never talked with in class. Alternatively, I feel farther apart from people that I would be interacting with.
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April 8
I had never really contemplated the effect of location on people. I realized that the type of student I am relies heavily on where I am. Now that I am more on my parents’ schedule than my own at school, I have realized my good and not so good habits that I maintained while on campus. First off the sheer time I spent on school work pre quarantine and post quarantine is not even comparable. This made me realize that I might have been spending too many late nights in the library.
Quarantine is certainly going to have an effect on the way we think about places and how we relate to them. Will we be tired of our houses or will we have a new found love for the places we call home? Will our favorite restaurants and local watering holes even survive all of this? Will we be thankful for movie theaters and their inexplicably better popcorn, or will everyone be content with Netflix and microwave Jiffy Pop? Will we become immune to the daunting death and illness statistics?
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April 12
It’s Easter Sunday. This is actually one of my favorite holidays after Thanksgiving. My church has a service outside if weather permits that is full of life and happiness. It feels like the epitome of spring to me, and I definitely noticed not going this year. I ended up doing nothing all day, as if my subconscious mind knew that there is nothing that could come close to replacing that time. I felt empty and just not right. I miss little kids swarming with chocolate on their faces, the beautiful flowers, the chirping birds, and some of my favorite people on earth. Some of our close friends dropped off some Easter treats and see my mom’s garden and it was nice to see them for the short while, but it was almost worse to see them and not give them a hug. Like the intimacy that I was missing was right there in front of me, but just out of reach. As a classic extrovert, not having people around has made my energy plummet and I would give anything to have our normal Easter dinner with the families that we are close with.
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April 17
We have more time to cook, paint, read, organize, and fortunately/unfortunately think. Lately, I have been thinking about the people that I miss. The lost friendships and loved ones have reached the surface once again. Sometimes I notice how fast I am moving and know that at certain speeds these less joyous things can‘t catch up. But now, as we all slow down, these losses have time to catch up. We relive the moments that surround losing the most important people in our lives. We miss their voices and how they made us feel. They sneak up while reading a book or listening to songs heavy with shared memories. I would give anything to sit in my car at McDonalds and eat oreo McFlurries together. Re-experiencing loss is a fickle stage to grapple with and even more so during a pandemic.
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April 19
Today my cousin is 25 years old, a quarter of a century. As my aunt malevolently reminded me, I will be there before I know it, I realized that I am getting older. I realize that most people would scoff at an eighteen year old contemplating her “aging,” but I think it has validity. Everyone is only this glorious age of eighteen once, and older people always love to remind the younger generation of this fact. I am spending the latter half of my eighteenth year in my parents‘ home away from school, my friends, my teachers, and my barely worn–in freedom. I don’t mind being here and I am beyond fortunate, but I can’t help wonder what kind of wild oats I would be sewing in a parallel universe without coronavirus.
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April 20
It is almost scary how easily we all adapted to doing everything online. I am aware that there are a lot of hiccups and small issues that go along with the Zoom meetings and FaceTime calls, but for the most part, things go on. As human beings, one of our great assets is the ability to adapt, but I don’t like the idea of adapting to this situation. Because if this works, we will lose reasons to leave the house and maybe eventually people will settle for human connection through screens.
If this calamity happened twenty-five years ago, people would have had to spend a lot more time with just themselves. They would have to confront their thoughts and the silence around them, but now silence doesn’t exist. People can fill every waking minute distracting themselves from the outside world. There is unlimited content to fill the long days spent at home, and maybe its nice to be distracted, but what are the consequences of not learning to live with yourself in silence?
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April 23
Yesterday was Earth Day. To be frank, I don’t know why we’re celebrating the very planet which we are so endlessly destroying. It’s depressing. People put their own hedonism above ethics and it is one of those moral quandaries that I will have to live with because it’s an unchangeable trait. I know that people appreciate nature, but when it becomes inconvenient they no longer want to put any effort into protecting it.
My walks have made my quarantine bearable; they allow me to clear my mind and coalesce in nature. I take the scenery for granted. I love it and it feels so personal. I leave my house, lock the door, and I just go. I’ll walk for one to two hours depending on the day. Sometimes I walk with my best friend who lives two doors down. We have long conversations about everything and anything, I appreciate her and this new ritual of ours. We used to ride our bikes around the same roads and trails, but our conversations were probably a lot different. Occasionally there will be a group of cyclists and other times there’s nobody in sight. There’s this tree that is cracked right down the middle and you can see all of its grooves. Though my walks are different each day, one thing remains constant—five or six turtles climb this log in the middle of the pond. The turtles are carrying on their lives as normal because they don’t know what’s happening. I find that so blissful. There’s so much simplicity in nature and it’s so forcefully juxtaposed with our hectic lives right now. The turtles remind me how to feel content. For that, I thank them.
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