Quaretine-while

Like everyone else, I have been stuck inside, stuck with my thoughts.

And it has given me a lot of time to think about how I define success and how to achieve that success.

And I don't know.  I mean, I've achieved a lot of the things I thought would make me happy, but I still feel like the same person. It's probably along the lines of, "Wherever you go, there you are."

There's this idea of needing to make the best of any situation and learn and grow and whatever.

But, what happens when you don't know the direction where you want to grow?  I have no idea. I thought that this whole extensional dread thing would be over by now.

I'm still the same anxious person that I was, but not in the same shitty situation? And yes, that is amazing and I'm glad to be on the other side of the shore, but what now?  What would living a good life look like?

I'd like to be able to work out with more regularity. I'd like to write more. I'd like to cook more. I'd like to have the patience to work through the humdrum monotony of working towards a life I'd like to live. I know I need to put the work in, but putting the work in seems so much like. . .work?  Haha.

It's fucking hot in Los Angeles right now.

I've made good friends. I have good friends, but sometimes I can't stand them.  Is that normal?  What the fuck. I have these half attempts at relationships, but I never know what to do about them. Intimacy is this thing that is behind a screen. Like, I see it and I know I should want it, but eh. And even while embracing my identity as aromantic, it still feels like there's something I'm missing out on, like I'm having FOMO on a feeling.

But other than being stuck with my thoughts, I have been gardening and drinking quite a bit. So, there's that, I guess.

This is it.

Well, it is dark and I am sitting outside after a yoga class.

I guess this is it.

I have been shitty at the writing prompts thing, and I definitely need a routine. Oh well.

New Hobbies

I need new hobbies.  I am not about this quarantine life.

Watashi wa shiba

And now it is Sunday!

It's been a hectic week, even with the quarantine.   I'm probably going to have to rethink this writing challenge business, but it is all cool.  I've got time.

Thursday

Thursdays are a time suck, so no writing today.

April 1st

I had a writing challenge lined up, but I had a long day, so we're gonna write about real life.

It's 10pm when I get the text, "We're getting ready."  Oh shit.
"Do I come now?"  15 seconds.
"I'm coming down."
"No, wait.  We're gonna wait till morning."

I haven't been sleeping so anytime was fine.  I take too many sleeping pills and wait.

It's 5am when he texts me, "We're going."
"I have a job, I won't be there till after 11."
"Can't you come sooner?"
"I'll come sooner."
"No, it's okay.  Come after 11."

When I finally get on the road the horizon is a sun bleached bone and there are more that two hundred miles to go.  

Annnnnd scene!

I also had a corona virus scare, I think I'm okay?  Eh.  I wanted to include that, as well as entering an empty house, but eh.

I also wanted to write about getting waaaay to close to some of the rigs, but I like this kinda stark scene better, and I feel like describing too much would take away from that.

What they don't tell you about the end of the world

What they don't tell you about the end of the world is that there are still nice days. That there are still sunny days, where the blue sky goes on and on and on.  It's the beginning of spring, so more sunny days are probably ahead.  That's something that they don't tell you about the end of the world--that it begins in the spring.  But today is a grey day and it matches the grey freeway and the grey mood.  This is what you expect of the end of the world, dreariness and drabness and ominous mood.

The end of the world is walking past empty research buildings, save for men in orange jackets and masks hauling out desks and equipment into trash bins on the side of the road.  The end of the world is walking onto a empty campus, save for the white testing tents outside of the hospital. The end of the world is carding into an empty building wth dimly lit hallways, riding up a shambling elevator that reeks of urine--that once stopped with you stuck in it, but you don't take the stairs anymore after you listened to  nurses and doctors and researchers in the stairwell crying and yelling and whispering into their phones.  The end of the world is walking into your fancy windowed office, and walking past your desk because they never got around to giving you a computer, so you just enter into the next office over, sit hunched at a narrow desk, amongst the artifacts of someone you've never met.  At the end of the world, you're sitting at an old and failing computer. The end of the world is looking at pictures of someone else's son and wondering where they are and if they'll miss that ruler you've been eyeing. The end of the world is reading emails.

The end of the world is feeling like you're sneaking into clinic.  It's walking through the side entrance, past the stocky man covered in protective gear, mask and eye shield.  It's having no where to sit because we can't get too close to anyone.  It's listening to people apologize and telling voices on the phone to stay home, to stay safe. The end of the world is lying to your family and telling them you haven't been in clinic.

The end of the world is driving past marquees that tell you to stay safe, stay home, avoid gatherings and to wash your hands, amongst the billboards telling you SoCal Residents Come to Disneyland! and Toyota Days, Come and Go!  There isn't a lot of traffic at the end of the world, save for the drivers driving too fast, and too many remains of popped tires and spare parts.  There are still so many car accidents at the end of the world.  There are police cars patrolling every street at the end of the world and the end of the block.  The end of the world is fast and grey and 20 minutes to LAX.

The end of the world is getting drunk with your friends and not with your friends, watching their faces online  and illuminated, barely looking human but still friendly, and knowing that that day, people in the hospital quietly met to discuss who was worth saving.  The end of the world is text messages saying not to worry and wondering who is lying. 

The end of the world is dog videos, treading lightly and so many voices telling you to wash your hands.  The end of the world is empty streets and sunny days.  The end of the world is holding your breath and wondering if the tightness in your chest is death or heartbreak or panic.  At the end of the world, your bills are still due. 

What they don't tell you about the end of the world is that it is only the end of your world, not the end of THE world, and that it is spring and there are still sunny days ahead. 

My notes: I think the fun thing about this is that it COULD be about a break up or y'know, a disease hitting Los Angeles.