Day 293 of Isolation

Despite the semi-ironic fears expressed by most corners of the internet that humanity’s comically awful year would simply refuse to end and that the clock would strike 11:60 instead of 12:00 on the night of the 31st, time proceeded as expected, and I’m writing from 2021. It’s the coldest time of winter, and every month spent hugless in our homes praying for the behavior of others to change, or that we lived in New Zealand instead, is ever more infuriating. The end is near, so although I sometimes tire of repeating the same platitudes about finding happiness in small things, we need to do all we can for now to find spontaneity in pandemic-safe ways and focus on keeping ourselves going until the most exciting parts of life begin to slowly return, hopefully this summer. And, if the recent holidays didn't feel quite the same to you, that's perfectly understandable. Cliche as it may be, 2021 is a chance for new beginnings, and considering the US probably in the home stretch of lockdown, our hopes for the future may finally be grounded.

Unlike the wiser general public, Covidiots throughout the US are using the winter holidays as an excuse to spew virus particles onto their unfortunate families and friends, carrying a deadly infection along with sparkly handbags and champagne flutes. Luckily, no one I know in real life has partied and gloated about it on social media, because I’m getting really tired of condemning this behavior;it seems like many people won’t fear the virus until they’ve contracted it and spread it to dozens of others. Even in my hometown, with a relatively low case count compared to the state, I now know people my age who have Covid. Medical workers are being vaccinated (by the time of my next post, my dad will be fully immunized), but since the supply in most states is much lower than hoped, we have to continue following rules. It's really exciting to see adults I know gradually get vaccinated, and I hope that my teachers will get one of the vaccines soon as well (since that's one of the most important steps for returning to in-person school).

It’s weird, because in all of the young adult novels in which a deadly virus terrorizes the earth, the color palette dramatically becomes dark grey and everyone lives in fear of infection, but from my very privileged vantage point, all I see in my online social circles are people my age making TikToks about their test results, posting Snapchat photos captioned with “lol i have covid!”, and Instagramming cute photos of socially-distanced hangouts. It’s no wonder that some of us don’t take the virus seriously, because there are two simultaneous narratives going on during this pandemic - the one I experience, in which everyone is bored of working from home, almost no one actually gets the virus, and the stupidest are tempted to disobey regulations; and the one I see on the news, in which essential workers in marginalized communities face eviction, infection, and death every single day. So, if you’re considering hosting a party, removing your mask in public, or not getting vaccinated because of some ridiculous fear that you’ll be microchipped, please think about who you’ll actually be hurting when you spread the virus. With cases climbing pretty much everywhere in the US, I can only hope that we get to a point where everyone realizes the importance of pandemic safety.

Without schoolwork filling my days as a constant distraction, I’ve gained some welcome time to socially interact, do some random art, actually take care of my body, and have intentional Netflix time instead of shameful spirals of procrastination on TikTok. Not having classes can get a little boring and aimless-feeling, but in addition to the aforementioned random bursts of creativity, I've taken to finding whatever excitement I can in harmless interpersonal drama, attempting to play matchmaker with my reluctantly willing single friends. The extra freedom that a break from school gives is manifesting itself for me in late-night calls with friends who can be divided into four categories: those I used to see every day at school and will now miss, those I haven’t met but soon will, those who I will have been with twice, and those who I haven’t met and never will until next year. It’s like the summer again, but this time, our sleep schedules, like once-tight gloves, have been broken in by an increased workload and generally-accepted culture of staying up to vampiric hours, and without the threat of classes in the morning or any consistent reason to leave one’s house looking presentable, our bedtimes are being pushed later and later. I'm reminded of the years-old meme that the week between Christmas and New Year's is a time of confusion, laziness, and chocolate-eating, and that vibe has been the tone for this whole pandemic'd winter break - hopefully a time of rest and preparation for the oncoming semester.

Now that my school has released each student’s cohort for the spring semester, friendships have begun to shift in anticipation for the imminent restructuring of social groups. Most people who know me would say I’m pretty social, and I’m excited to become closer with my friends who I’ve barely met in real life, but, like everyone (I say, hoping I’m not just cloaking an unrelatable sentiment in a veneer of universality), I fear being a near-groundless member in a group where others are already super close, since it’s inevitable that you’ll have closer friendships with people you’ve actually made real-life eye contact with and spent a month cavorting around campus together. After three months at home, which will be four by their end, the idea of going back to school seems like a dream, still too far away for me to be excited yet. It might be bittersweet to walk through the hallways filled with the ghosts of cohorts past, but it will also be newly amazing.

The beginning of a new calendar year has brought along a spirit of looking back on the past, and seeing my friends’ yearly recaps that begin with a winter of normalcy, then followed by “happy last day of school!” posts, what was then a joke but has now become a crushing reality, was a nice reminder that this is all temporary. And the winter holidays feeling weird is a phenomenon I'm choosing to view as part of my realization of what matters to me - not the physical gifts I receive, but the experiences and time with friends that I'll more greatly appreciate when they return. Eventually, we’ll once again have crowded school dance floors, an easy way of grabbing friends' hands, and restaurants where the food comes on a conveyor belt. Although holidays, being in many ways the same every year, have a way of thinning time and inducing comparison with the past, I'm trying to focus on all the amazing people I met this year and how, despite all of the pandemic stuff, my happy moments are happier than they've been for a long time. Seeing my best friends who I didn't even know existed last January laughing on what has to be our hundredth Zoom call brings to mind an unpopular opinion: Maybe 2020 wasn't all bad.

XOXO, Quaranteen