The COVID Diaries

Yeah, about 10 days ago, I said I was gonna have a lot to say about COVID-19 and then I got quiet instead.

Part of that was my general sense of it being fruitless to post. You see, two Fridays ago, I was feeling super-frustrated. I don’t pretend to be a huge expert or anything, but I know enough about epidemiology that I was already clocked in (right around the start of March) to understand how serious this all was.

But I wasn’t seeing a similar awareness in my surroundings—not at the local, regional, or national level.

So I was feeling increasingly tense and stressed and frustrated at my Cassandra-like status and I was in the mood for a big ol’ superiority rant. I was probably gonna link to  every data scientist’s analysis I’d been reading* and yell and scream to the effect of:

Don’t you people get it!?!? This shit is REAL!

But right after my last post is when things began to sink in: locally, regionally, and federally.** And now here we are.

coronavirus-4937221_960_720

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Interoffice Mail

Mid-day today, I got a group Facebook message from a friend of mine, C:

Hey! If you are getting this message it’s because either you have posted about Warren or I think you might like/support her.

On my way to work today, I realized that I drive by her house every day. People are leaving notes and flowers on her porch. 

Cambridge loves you

With this realization, C had had a flash of inspiration. Her plan was simple: she was offering to deliver any messages any of us wanted to send to Elizabeth Warren. If we could email our message to C by 5, she’d print them all out and then drop them on Warren’s porch as C made her way home from work.

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The Reading’s On the Wall

Considering the impact my second job had on my writing life for the latter half of 2019, it should be a surprise to absolutely no one that there was also a ripple effect on my reading goals for the year.

No Virginia, I did not read 75 books in 2019. Nor did I finish any of my three reading challenge lists.

miss-the-mark

(I suppose it would have been more appropriate to include a photo symbolizing “falling short” in some way, rather than an image of over-shooting. But when I searched for “missing the mark” this made me giggle out loud, so there.)

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200 Feet at a Time

There’s a metaphor I’ve been exceedingly fond of for quite a number of years. It’s an image that helps pop the balloon of any expectation that you need to have your entire journey mapped out in detail before you’re able to progress and grow and live and all that juicy stuff.

It’s this simple truth. When you’re driving at night, it’s not like the car headlights are showing you the entire route from Point A to Point B. They’re just showing you the next step on the road. But one after the other, seeing each next step a couple hundred feet at a time—well, that’s enough to get you wherever you need to go.

night-driving-black-and-white

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