March 25th, 2020: Day 9 of my Absolute, Now-Government-Mandated Quarantine//Day 15 of my School’s Earlier, Precautionary One.
Photography by Ami J. Sanghvi
I imagine this will be my dullest post yet.
I don’t know, though.
I’m still in the midst of absorbing the idea that not everything can or should be exciting all the time.
I’m still in the midst of learning what it means (or might mean) to be happy, healthy, and alive.
I’m still in the midst of realizing that maybe (just maybe) I can have a few “and”s in addition to all the “or”s I’ve grown so accustomed both to and towards in recent years…
Yet, “or”s are a little like “ores,” and I’ve been paddling upstream for a long time now. Am I addicted to the tide, or am I inevitably addicted to the familiarity of my own trauma after so many years [all too eager to settle for a fate far simpler than that of an eternity spent exorcising my demons]?
Or do I simply relish in the knowledge that I can drown at any time in this upstream river (this upstream river that might actually be a sea) of poetry?
I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. It turns out that any and all changes I’ll make to my routine during this time — during this quarantine (to be more precise) — will feel drastic. Worse yet, the impact of these shifts clearly have no regard for my intentions.
If I make the change, I will feel the change with every fiber of my being.
I suppose that’s just who I am this week: a sleep-deprived zombie who is letting my body take the wheel for once.
Thoroughly exhausted after a straight sprint of homework, reading, and writing yesterday, I utilized this morning to create some text graphics, fashion a digital art piece unique to my previous work, take an unsurprisingly unsatisfactory nap, sign some important papers, take a shower, make a steaming pot of coffee, add three pages of scattered musings to my assigned “Social Distancing Journal” for class, and scribble down this entry on an array of sticky notes.
Am I boring you yet?
Now, I’ll read for class and do some other homework, make a thousand more to-do lists (as is my custom even when I’m not on quarantine), gulp down some of that carrot soup I finally got around to cooking up the other day, and attempt a nap.
Today’s fashionable ensemble?
Sweatpants, a Bullet for My Valentine crop top, and a low hair-bun that would put America’s “Founding Fathers” to shame. I imagine that’s for the best, especially since most of them have brought this nation’s history to shame on numerous occasions.
Who even am I this week? Also, I’m still not sure I even miss Los Angeles yet.
Maybe that’s because, in a sense, I’m still here.
The date is Wednesday, March 25th, 2020, and everything about today is utterly unremarkable.
Now, I just have to try and make my peace with that.