love, peace, & quarantine: a journal entry for week 5
love, peace & quarantine
a journal entry for week 5
Hey, from my personal writer’s room of unfinished thoughts, fragmented sentences, spilled coffee, and spicy nacho Doritos crumbs.
I don’t even know what day it is exactly of quarantine, but I’m coming to the conclusion that I should have kept better track. It’s too late for regrets, and way too late to try and recreate something. I can only charge forward from this morning on.
Currently, I’m bouncing between three projects, and those projects and work demand all my attention.
My life is a cycle of Work. Write. Repeat. Life is weird now, and keeps getting weirder.
We’re transitioning from life as we knew it B.C. or Before Corona/COVID-19 to where we are now in the Never-Ending Quarantine to whatever will come next in the A.C. or After Corona. And I don’t know if I like it or not, its too soon to tell.
I had assumed (incorrectly) that quarantine would give me more time to write, visions of early completed manuscripts danced in my head. My 2021 publication schedule started coalescing in my head, with hopes that new readers would soon be here. With time in my kerchief…
Ignore me I’m punch drunk off of yogurt, I think it may be going bad.
Here’s how I trying to cope.
· I’m not going to let the internal voice of guilt make me feel like I haven’t accomplished anything. – Like everyone else I saw the memes – if you don’t come out of this pandemic with blah, blah, blah… Yeah, normally this is my mentality, but as many have pointed out to me and everyone else, this is not a normal time. Just trying to stay sane in insane times is more than enough work on my overworked brain. I can get back on my grind later.
· I've limited myself on the number of things I'm trying to accomplish in one day. – I once read somewhere that you shouldn’t have more things on your to do list that you have working hours in the day. Currently, I’m bulleting six tasks and two hours of writing time. And reserving a spot for tomorrow just in case I don’t finish.
· I find and consume whatever entertainment that satisfies my itch. Two days ago, or maybe three, whenever time is a blur. Black AF dropped on Netflix. It’s my kind of show, dry and droll humor with political commentary. After twelve minutes I wanted to quit, and I did. Normally, I give shows three episodes to capture my attention. I gave up, my time even if it seems unlimited now is too precious to waste trying to cultivate something that doesn’t automatically appeal to me. I returned to watching Money Heist.
· I nap harder. I have always been a #naplife advocate but now more than ever, I’m trying let others stress while I rest.
· I’m trying to take everything in stride. Yeah, so my hair is two different textures and three different colors. My eyebrows are millimeters away from holding hands. And my feet look like I use them to mill flour. So what? There are many others who are much worse off than me, they’ve lost their only source of income. Their insurance. Their everything.
