A Journal of the Pandemic #14

Well, the numbers started spiking in Florida...

So we are probably going to be sliding back to previous restrictions. They mandated masks inside public buildings Friday evening. Assuming it holds, at work they’re going to revert to the lowest level of numbers by midweek. Today was the first of what was supposed to be at least a week of helping out with the further expansion from previous levels. Guess that’s going to change...Again, if what I heard was accurate, and I understood it properly, none of these kids will be here by Wednesday. But I guess we’ll see.

Strange to be a part of the surge. Again, everyone expected Florida to be a hotspot early on, which never happened, until three months in. So I guess this COVID-19 business will just keep being interesting...

As I talked about last week, it’s now been a year since my niece, the Burrito, went to live in Texas. By midpoint last week I was having a hard time with it, and once again vowed to myself that I was just going to go cold turkey and put her behind me. But I got to talk to her a few times later in the week. I didn’t give up. Sometimes when you’re absolutely convinced about something, you can still end up changing your mind, even if it seems impossible. 

I mailed her a box for her birthday, which like my two-year anniversary at work and the year-mark with Texas, is a reminder that time is still passing. I’d been piling things up for months, for her, her coming baby brother, and my nephews in Maine, most of which, for them, had been waiting since last December, when I was supposed to see them, or maybe March, when again I was supposed to see them. Shipping those boxes was a good feeling. I don’t ship boxes very often. I do most of my Christmas shopping on Amazon (it’s convenient, okay???). I’ve sometimes felt, during this, that I haven’t done nearly enough for family, not that any of us are doing badly, but that staying connected, keeping spirits up, feels like what everyone ought to be doing. For a guy, even with family, who hates to initiate conversation, I hope I’ve at least done okay. Sending the box to my nephews felt especially necessary, because I really haven’t been able to do much with them since 2017, when I left Maine with my niece, and I cherish them greatly.

Anyway, so the transcription project with the second act of In the Land of Pangaea has been going well. When I reached the longest chapter I kind of hit the pause button, because transcribing is hard! Especially if you want to get a whole chapter done in one sitting! It doesn’t take much time, in the grand scheme, but it’s like writing longhand for a long time. It takes a toll. So when I finally tackled it this morning, I got about halfway, started feeling really good about it....and of course I was called in early at work! But I had gotten over the hump, and that’s what mattered. I’m almost done. I just have a little more to transcribe, a little new stuff to write, and then...!

I’m a troglodyte when it comes to entertainment platforms. I still buy DVDs. This weekend someone placed a box stuffed with old DVDs in the laundry shack.  The one movie I absolutely wanted (Burn After Reading), which I’ve sort of been obsessing over since talking about it with the Armchair Squid a few years back...the case was empty. But there were a few others that looked good. That was a pleasant surprise. I get that other people live in the modern age, but I don’t mind benefiting from their moving on. No movie in the box was particularly recent. For some reason there were two copies of Troy (I already have it, and the director’s cut). I just hope the box was there for good reasons, just making space. 

Oh, and got a Tom Brady Buccaneers t-shirt. Just a small reminder that good things have actually happened in the recent past...

A Journal of the Pandemic #13

It actually feels wrong to continue this journal, as the pandemic seems to be fading almost completely into the background, somehow, except in matters of slowly reopening things, and flare-ups. A quick thought on the recent flare-ups, though: One of the regions facing this is Florida, where I currently live. Back when all this started a lot of observers expected Florida to be hit heavily, which never really happened. Now that we’re ticking back up, I wonder if it has less to do with reopening measures and more the pandemic reaching here in numbers that just hadn’t happened previously, sort of the way the pandemic hit South America hard & heavy in recent weeks after having previously been virtually nonexistent. All of this suggests, to me anyway, that our response never really took a measured approach, that we went straight to panic, denounced anyone who contradicted this approach, and...But I guess this is the era we live in. I desperately wish there was a mainstream voice of reason, because all we seem to get is kneejerk rubbernecking that doesn’t stop for a moment to consider whether or not it’s remotely helpful. 

Anyway.

At work last week was easy. Two days of light duty at the center that’s closed, cleaning things up a little (there remains the possibility that if we return to full numbers and need to, we will...not actually keep the center closed until it can be renovated). My third and final work day was spending the day with a one-year-old I hadn’t previously had a lot of interaction with. But she was great! It was a good day. This week today was supposed to be my first day of work, but more busywork, but that was called off, and so I’m writing this. 

I’ve been immersed in the transcription process from the second act of In the Land of Pangaea. Honestly, this has been some of the best revision experience I’ve ever had. I know there are writers who do this all the time, but most of my writing has been directly to computer, except in instances where I’ve written passages in a notebook. This is material I really haven’t even looked at in five or so years. I knew this act was the strongest, but didn’t have active memory for most of what I’d actually written, and so I’ve been surprising myself. There’s been some of the material I’ve completely rewritten, and some I’ve tweaked considerably. And again, this is the sort of thing a lot of writers do anyway, as a matter of course. I’ve been getting into legitimate revision with some of my projects in recent years, but this feels like a whole different level. If I had this kind of time previously, and printed works-in-progress, probably this is what I would have been doing all along, especially seeing how it plays out. Always looking to grow.

On Sunday it will be one year since my niece, the Burrito, moved to Texas. It’s weird living a life where I’m not actively devastated by this, because I know intellectually I absolutely am. It helps to be working with kids, even in these current conditions. Losing my niece is second only to gaining her in the first place in terms of significant life developments for me. That’s how important she is, the void she left behind, how much I wish she were still an everyday part of my life, how much I want to be there for her, to help in any manner I can. One year, and this is still only the beginning. What’s it going to be like in five years? Ten years? Will I still be considered important to her? 

The effects of the pandemic are still only in their infant stages. We don’t know, for instance, just how dramatically this will have affected movie theaters. For people like me, who if I had the money would probably see every movie, just...every movie, released in theaters, this is cause for considerable concern. But my niece is a more significant question. That’s where I am, in terms of the pandemic.

A Journal of the Pandemic #12

Obviously since last I updated the United States became embroiled in another crisis, sparked by the death of George Floyd.  Last weekend mass protests broke out and some became riots, and this is what has been happening for the past week.  Black Lives Matter. 

 

I am not black.  I'm white.  In high school, in college, in Maine and Pennsylvania, black people were so rare they were almost novelties.  In my freshmen year of college I joined a club called Diversity 101, which predominantly featured black members and concerned itself with the black perspective.  The most dramatic thing I did with the club was attend a march on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, which might have seemed easy enough, but it was a frigid day in January, and I don't know if it's just colder in Pittsburg than in Erie, but...yeah, they looked at me like I was crazy, the organizers, not because I was white but because I was stupid enough not to bring warm gloves.  Eventually someone let me borrow some.  All I remember about it was how cold my hands really got.  I grew up in Maine.  I delivered newspapers every morning for five years.  I'm pretty sure that January morning was the coldest my hands ever got.  But it was worth it. 

 

I haven't attended any events.  I actually more or less quit Twitter for real because I was sick of the anger.  Angry tweets don't solve anything.  Have we learned nothing at all from Trump???  Maybe it's strength of solidarity, strength in numbers, I don't know, but it makes for a lousy social experience.  On Tuesday, when everyone was supposed to quit tweeting personal stuff, everyone pretty much went silent entirely, because at that point, despite repeated reminders of what the day was supposed to mean, everyone who was going to be participating was only angry tweeting anyway.  They had nothing else to say.  I checked back in yesterday.  Some of Twitter is back to normal.  But now it's just weird.  I talked before how I was going to quit because it's damn hard to be social when you suck at being social, even on the internet, even though I kept trying, and made a few tweets people enjoyed, but it's weird, trying to look at it the same way, after everyone decided they only wanted to say what everyone else was saying.  I love the sentiment.  I don't need everyone saying it.  Well, I don't.  It's an echo chamber.  That's the biggest problem we have today.  Everyone's indignant, but they're all complaining to everyone who already believes exactly what they believe.  What's being accomplished?  Everyone becomes convinced that they're absolutely making their points that whatever it is they want is definitely going to be accomplished...

 

Listen, and I don't want to get political (hey Pat! here's where you don't need to make a comment that I already know you would make), but this has become a problem that's only increased since 2016.  Since 2016 the absolute same things have been said repeatedly as if they're absolutely new, every single time, and...That's just not something that interests me.  I purged Facebook in 2016 because of this, because it's not just that there's no possibility of dialogue, it's that the people who talk about these things all the time seem to forget there's anything else worth talking about.  You're not saving civilization.  You're kind of destroying it.

 

Anyway, amazingly or not, the pandemic is still happening.  At work we had enough babies back for double staff ratio this week.  It was also my last week, as it turned out, as a part of the particular building staff I'd started out with two years ago, the last week I would have with my babies.  There are three buildings in the childcare system, as I've mentioned.  The one I started at needs to have renovations.  Finally the decision was made to reassign staff to the other buildings, and I ended up assigned to the other building, not the one we're been sharing the last month.  I don't know yet my specific fate, if I will even still be working with babies...!  I'll get to reunite with some staff that had been reassigned last fall, and with kids who went with them, most of whom I haven't gotten to see since then (the kids; I've managed to see all the staff in some capacity; I'm not social, so the chance of seeing them outside of work is remote).

 

I'm going to miss the babies I've worked with for so long, but at least of the ones we've had the past month, I can once again say I've gotten to enjoy seeing them make real and fantastic progress, which will always be rewarding.  I saw a one-year-old yesterday who...probably forgot all about who the heck I am, but suffice to say we enjoyed many great moments together in the baby room.  That's the nature of the job.  You're always saying goodbye.  That's really what this is, again.

 

Last time some of you expressed surprise that management would play so fast and loose with continuity.  I completely understand.  A part of me is horrified about what's happening with the staff.  Continuity is crucial!  But that's also...parenting.  I don't want to make this an ego thing.  I'm not the only person capable of caring for these kids.  It might sometimes seem that way, but, at the end of the day, the control I have is only as much as a day at a time gives me.  That's all anyone can say.  Some of us use that time wisely.  Some of us have no idea the impact we have.

 

Anyway, the pandemic will help the transition.  The numbers are low, and that's actually a blessing.  Some of these kids, as I've suggested, are forming new bonds with their parents.  Some of them are forgetting what it means to have an outside world, and that will produce its own challenges.  My sister used to be concerned about her daughter's socializing, what she might be missing out on if she stayed exclusively under my watch.  These are all kids who had that socializing.  Not everyone's me!  Some of us like hanging out with other people! 

 

The effects of the pandemic unquestionably fed into the reaction to George Floyd's murder.  It might even be argued that George Floyd died as much because of the pandemic as because of a callous police officer.  The arrest happened because he was attempting to use fake money.  I don't know why he did that.  I can only guess that he did it because he thought he had to.  I don't even know if he was employed at the time.  Black people are particularly vulnerable in this economy, and I can't imagine they weren't hit particularly hard by the shutdowns.  I don't know.  The rush to report outrage usually leaves these kinds of things unobserved.  If it wasn't economic reasons there was still unquestionably pent-up reactions to the shutdowns themselves.  There needs to be serious reflection on a lot of things.  It's not enough to say we have social safety nets.  We need to be able to have the courage to say it's not good enough for anyone to be privileged at the expense of anyone else.  This will hit black people, and it will hit all manner of other underprivileged segments of the population.  That's the whole point.  We live, as every society ever has, on unequal footing.  The idea of the American Dream always said that if you make the effort you can achieve anything.  Why does it have to come with strings attached?  Why do some people have to scratch and claw and others get a virtual free ride?  You don't have to look far.  You can see it in your own life, if you're honest.  Everyone benefits, or suffers (or, both).  Can you say which you experience?  Or if you have ever done something about it?

 

This is a moment in history built for reflection.  We have the time.  Let's call it something like a New Horizon.  Let's give each other the chance to see their dreams come true, without telling them they don't deserve it inherently.  Let's be honest.  For a change.

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...