A Journal of the Pandemic #11

I guess I kind of waited for this latest week to be over to write another update.  Work was weird.  We went back to the one-on-one-off schedule, although technically a version of that was supposed to happen last week except instead of working two days I worked all five for a number of reasons, although by the end of the week I was quite okay with that, as I got to work with a baby who as it turned out made some excellent progress in the month or so since I'd last seen her.  What's frustrating about that is that from the little feedback I was able to get from other coworkers (we're working single-ratio and so not really working with each other these days), the same fog that tends to penetrate perceptions still claims this particular baby, a "problem" baby in that she craves a certain level of security.  I never understand why this is so hard to grasp.  This week I saw a version of this difficulty play out with another baby (part of an adorable set of twins I was particularly anxious to see again!) who cried at unfamiliar faces.  Both twins were unusually stranger-danger prone, but that's kind of to be expected in these unusual times, right?  Except this coworker (who, to be clear, was not the same one as mentioned earlier) went out of their way not to help her feel at ease.  A huge part of the problem anyone, parents, caregivers, seems to face is the irrational approach to "problem" kids.  If it's a simple solution (putting in the effort to make them feel comfortable) it's almost as if that's the worst possible suggestion to these people.  If it's a difficult solution (dealing with truly problematic behavior) it's as if the automatic response is to give in to the behavior, which only ever enforces it and makes it more difficult to handle, both for those caving in to the behavior and those left dealing with the results...

Anyway, so out of four work days this week (Monday was Memorial Day, for those either unfamiliar with American holidays or still adrift in the sea of days), on this one-on-one-off schedule, I actually worked...two days!  And it turned out to harder than working every day.  When you work in an environment where your coworkers can't be counted on to perform adequately (which can literally be any environment and is therefore every environment), it's tough relying on others, bad enough when you have to work alongside them, worse when you're left picking up the strange (at best) pieces they leave behind.  That was this week. 

I guess part of it was that in getting those days off this week, it began to remind me of how strange these pandemic days really are.  When it was the month sitting at home, at least then I could adjust on my own terms, and didn't need to react to whatever anyone was doing (even on social media I've been getting more fed up recently, possibly because hysteria is returning to the news cycle, one way or another, and this never plays out well on social media).  Now it's an attempt to continue those strange listless days and incorporate the demands of work, sporadically, back in.  And it's difficult, especially when on my days off I expected to be called in, as happened last week, although it caused more anxiety at the end of a shift than waiting in the morning to receive word.  I talked briefly with a dad last week about this kind of uncertainty.  Even though he'd spent the last month working every day, he suggested knowing he was working every day was probably easier.

I got in one of the masks I'd ordered, and it was...not worth having ordered.  Again, I got masks before I went back to work, locally, Pat, so I no longer needed those masks, and thank goodness!  I know at least one of the two remaining masks arriving in the mail at some point will be equally worthless, because it was from the same company.  I didn't like the elastic ear loops anyway, so I'm glad one of them instantly detached.  How does anyone wear that style??? The local ones are all cloth and are not at all a bother to wear, except if you're breathing heavily and wearing glasses and...But what're the chances of that?  I figure it'll be worth having these worthless masks anyway, as a souvenir of the pandemic era.  I seriously doubt Americans are going to be wearing masks indefinitely, no matter how long it persists in the relative future.

I sent along two more stories to my WriteClubCo pal in Colorado, including one I wrote inspired by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett's Good Omens, the TV adaptation of which I was finally watching when Gaiman's Twitter account reminded me the book was now thirty years old.  On Twitter if you're a creator you constantly retweet every reference to your work, or so seems to be the case with everyone I follow.  Gaiman kept doing that until the unfortunate business of his split with Amanda Palmer.

Anyway, I finished my Marvel Girl: Like A Phoenix comics script project over at Sigild, and while Pat was not amused it accomplished everything I wanted it to.  (That's two projects in a row Pat didn't like.  Oh well.)  I didn't want to write a particularly long script project this time.  I came up with more material for Marvel Girl than I actually used (I only realized last night that I never revisited one particular character I introduced, and if one were to find a plot hole that character would be it, but then I realized, I said so little about them I could easily change what they were supposed to be and it wouldn't affect anything at all, or actually improve the whole thing to do so), a lot of character concepts that were originals but whose roles would only have diverted from the plot or needlessly extended it.  Anyway, it's always fun to work on something.

In other news, I might finally begin transcribing the manuscript for In the Land of Pangaea, which I wrote and printed out at work five or so years back and so one paper copy is all I have of it.  I learned of a contest a few days back but have no time to credibly write something new, so I might tackle the transcription project with one of Pangaea's three acts.  The first and third acts are the ones I'm constantly wondering about anyway, the second the one I've consistently been most pleased about, and the one I wrote most about here back then.  With Marvel Girl done and less interest in wasting time on social media, I think I'm ready to tackle more ambitious material at last.

Finally, the way this week worked out, I started with a three-day weekend and now ending it with one.  I hope to use that time wisely.  Hopping onto a wifi connection always helps, rare as it is these pandemic days.  Now to go leave some rare comments on other people's blogs...

A Journal of the Pandemic #10

Just want to put a small spotlight on Marvel Girl: Like A Phoenix, a new comics script adventure I’m writing here. I’m officially halfway through. Obviously I’m not writing about it here like I did the last one, partly because it’s literally just a script page a day, and partly because most of what I’ve been writing on this blog lately is pandemic thoughts.

Speaking of which, I did indeed return to work last week. Worked every day, had a checkpoint with questions concerning possible exposure, my temperature taken, and requiring a mask. The mask thing is one of those hot topics. There are people (I can’t guarantee this, but they may be based in major urban populations) who think you’re being suicidally and homicidally reckless if you step outside your home without one. Everyone I worked with last week found their masks to be cumbersome. Probably everyone who’s wearing one these days thinks they are, sure. Who knows how common these things will be in the future. The Chinese have made a habit of it for years. Maybe we’ll see people turning to them instinctively here, too. But my colleagues weren’t just uncomfortable. They’d sneak them off given half a chance. Again, there will be people reading this in abject horror. That’s life now. But so is trying to reintegrate back into normal life. Life is strange now, and it’s not going to be normal again anytime soon. That’s something I’ve been slow to accept.

Work went well. The first day was easiest. We had two kids from our center that first day, and one of them went home within two hours and never came back. Apparently he cut a patch from his hair when he was home. Apparently later he messed up his ankle. There are doubtless many stories like that, kids doing things all day every day whose parents are staring at it with absolute disbelief, and no chance to look away. (Every kid is Kramer.) Previously I talked about this in terms of parenting. Some of our parents have adapted brilliantly to these new challenges, and I love that, and there’s probably a lot of that going around, and of course there will be those who aren’t doing as well, and we’ll hear less about that, or we’ll hear versions that don’t really reflect the reality of what’s happening, because they’re exaggerating or because they don’t want scrutiny on the results.

Anyway, I got to watch a baby who had really only just started with us, a young one, when we were getting ready to temporarily shutter. Seeing him again was weird because I had no real memories of him except circumstances. Turned out he was doing quite well in the month since I’d last seen him. Some challenges, but, certainly with one-on-one care, nothing that was overly difficult, and he could be incredibly lively and amusing! Yesterday we got our second baby back, and this was a cause for some concern, since she was previously known for being perennially upset. And that’s what it seemed she’d be again, but the afternoon was a miracle, and I was able, generally, to balance both of them in reasonable comfort for all involved.

I was supposed to work two days this week, but over the course of yesterday morning it expanded to four. But I’m not as concerned. It will once again be a pleasure to tackle daily baby challenges.

A Journal of the Pandemic #9

Today I worked a few hours for the first time in a month, and it was a breeze. I had finally gotten some masks on Friday, suspecting that they would be required at the childcare center, and of course they were. I know at this point it’s completely normal to see people wearing them, but until today I honestly hadn’t done it myself yet. But coming from Maine, where it’s sometimes quite necessary to wear some kind of facial covering during winter, I had the kind of experience necessary to figure out how to wear the mask and still, y’know, breathe...

Last week I spent more time on Twitter. I know previously I was complaining about Twitter, but the thing about me is that just because I’m complaining about something doesn’t mean I want it to disappear from the face of the earth (I say it this way because I used to work on stories where there were literally “fly nullifiers” in use, which is all the more alarming given my family’s “Floyd the Fly” legacy my niece has recently learned about, and instantly became the subject of my 2020 Christmas poem, the package for which I wrote already and am debating whether I should send ridiculously early, perhaps as part of a general birthday/baby shower/pandemic gift box, as my niece is going to be a big sister in the fall). (I write long parenthetical phrases.) (Just so you know.)

I had finished the longish short story I had been working on last Sunday, and decided to submit it, and a few other stories, and decided to write a few more for, to my Colorado friend’s new anthology, previously detailed as WriteClubCo. Funny enough, but the same movie (The Gentlemen) that I was watching early in the year when I figured out how to write one story ended up inspiring a different story. It’s the movie that keeps on giving!

I looked at another of the poetry collections and started putting it into shape. Potentially libraries will be opening again soon, so this avalanche of material is going to start flowing. Obviously things are starting to open, and that bothers some people and it’s a relief to others, and the two sides see the issue the same way Hulk Hogan’s hair regards his skull.

I started another daily writing project, another comic book script, this time involving Marvel characters rather than DC. This method of writing a single script page at a time is a very relaxing strategy, and I already know pretty much everything I need to know about the story, but little revelations are always occurring to me and improving the results.

I think I used the time away from work well. And hopefully I can keep the momentum going...

A Journal of the Pandemic #8

It occurred to me that a decade ago, my life was headed toward, what is to this point, its darkest point.  My mom was diagnosed with cancer, and the flight I booked in the fall was the first time I felt the financial tremors that were to spiral downward for the next few years after that.  It seemed as if everything was conspiring to destroy me, everything that could go was in fact going wrong.  I had a lifeline, though, one that I didn't appreciate enough at the time, because most of the time I could only concentrate on what was going wrong.  I had my sister.  We had been and would continue to be close, and were living close enough together that I could shelter from the storm.  At one point I was living with her, and at others the ability to visit her became a beacon in troubled waters.  Things began to turn around.  Things I never expected in a million years began to happen.  Then ten years later, I am in a position to wonder why I am so fortunate when so many others are not.  One of the things I can offer is the perspective that things at their worst don't always mean they'll stay that way, that fortune is fickle, perhaps, and in time you will find yourself level again.  I don't know if anyone reading this now is concerned in the ways I was concerned a decade ago, or are handling matters quite different but equally alarming.  The pandemic itself, for instance.  I need to keep saying this because I'm not sure it's getting through the thick wall of media coverage, but the pandemic itself isn't the only thing happening right now, that the effects of it go beyond mere measures of health and even death.  Life itself.

I started having breakfast again last week.  I realized that I had to impose some sense of normality back into my routines, and even as last week began a process of losing any real sense of what normal is, losing track of just how long I had been doing this self-isolation, how long I had been away from work, how long it had been since I had seen the childcare center's babies, worrying about how they're developing, wondering at how much they're progressing...Listen, I was getting stuck in a rut.  It was getting weird.  I got heavily involved in Twitter, for god's sake!  That's a whole phenomenon right there, like any social experience something you have to be doing a lot for a long time in order for anyone to care, to mean anything at all.  Otherwise you're just another random user in the vast anonymous sea, and nobody really cares.  It's different from, say, Facebook, because on Facebook it's people you know, or have known, that you're going to be spending the bulk of your time interacting with (unless you're a troll dropping trash on news items, or worse, sharing every meme that comes your way).  Twitter is mostly impersonal, and it's everything everyone wants desperately to be true, which leaves a lot of room for warping to happen, without anyone realizing it...

Anyway, so I opened submissions for Mouldwarp Press Presents: Not In Kansas.  You can find the details in the tab above.  Even if you don't want to participate yourself, consider telling others about it. 

Today I went onto the base where I (normally) work for the first time in a month.  I got really tired of staying at home.  Still distancing!  It feels weird.  Last week some of my colleagues had a parade thru base housing.  Kind of forgot about it until after they shared photos. 

Still bought way too much stuff online, still waiting for things to be delivered.  Ironically, the things that are scheduled to take the longest to arrive are the masks.  I guess it figures, all the way around...