8/17/2020
Apologies to Steely Dan, but I need to keep my string of Blog titles that are song titles alive. And maybe someone can record a Covid remake?
Lyrics
Way back when in '67 (2020) I was the dandy of Gamma Chi (before it got shut down) Sweet things from Boston (were sent home) So young and willing (to still pack bars) Moved down to Scarsdale (it was rife with Covid) Where the hell am I? Hey, (Covid) nineteen No, we can't dance together (unless 6' apart) No, we can't talk at all (unless wearing a mask or on a Zoom call) Please take me along (if Covid neg) when you slide (your mask) on down Hey, (Covid) nineteen
Yes, my life continues to be a continually and constantly changing source of emotions and challenges, filled with inertia and ennui, overused but good-meaning platitudes (aka "hang in there"), and just a general, giant, human-sized-lint-roller-of-crap. Um yes, but how do I really feel?
I've really tried to stay positive these last (almost) 2 years (ugh) since Abby (miss you) passed. It's a fucking battle that just seems to go on and on and on. And maybe that's what it is and will be. Time heals, yeah, but the scars remain; the brain retains; giant stain; the song remains the same. Bad rhyming, oh my... But trying to use that knowledge and experience for good, is honestly just plain exhausting. Trying to start a "new life" is exhausting, let alone during a cozy, party of one, pandemic. "Out-of-work, slightly-depressed but trying to keep the cup half full art director/designer seeks..." is just a tough bio to sell online or anywhere.
Clearly, I woke up on the sarcastic side of the bed this morning. I've always found it easier to write from a position of downtroddeness (and expanding my fake vocabulary). It's much easier to complain, bitch and moan, roll around in the mud and muck and mire, than it is to be Happy (unless you're Pharrell). Abby was the optimist, I was a semi-pessimist and maybe an optimist in training. It's hard to lose that positive and bright beacon you had for 30+ years, especially when you leave land and your feet are not on any kind of solid ground. I still often feel lost at sea and rudderless. In a way, I suppose I have truly been adrift these past couple of years, and there are so many more sailing/boating/sea shanty metaphors I could float past you but I think you've had your water intake for the day. Badaboom.
With all the shit going on in the world now- it's really easy to feel overwhelmed, and that's just if you're coming from a reasonably secure position. Covid, BLM, polarizing politics, unemployment, protests, infighting, outfighting, everything is inside out and upside down and Sideways (great movie though). How does one right your ship (ooh, snuck another one in on 'ya there) during all this and then some? I wish I had the answers. And I'm still trying to find them. And don't get me wrong, I have found some, at least enough to keep me going and moving forward. Forward to what I still don't know. Uncertainty can be exciting and exhilarating at times. Debilitating at others. The uncertainty is certainly disconcerting, at least in my case. The great unknown is what I've been exploring now for the past couple of years. Spelunking was never on my resume, and at least many of those intrepid explorers of yesteryear knew what they were looking for, or thought they knew. I find myself to be an accidental and reluctant explorer, still somewhat unprepared for traversing the new world I'm part of now.
Look, I'm really just trying to barf out all the negativity that's been accumulating in my system these last couple of months. Things are not that horrible; I know this on a visceral level, and there are always, always, always people worse off than you are. I know that, my brain knows that. Maybe my animals don't know that because they just want to eat, sleep, poop and, if you are of the canine type, walk and bark and chase things too.
But like I said, I have a roof over my head (at least for now). I have terrific kids who are no longer kids but are very well formed adults; and great friends and family who I care about and who care about me, though politics has thinned the herd, so to speak. I'm getting unemployment which I'm truly grateful for, though without that extra $600/week it's now much tougher. There really are no jobs right now, but I'm lucky to have taught a summer class, and will be teaching 2 classes again this fall. And hopefully, the job market will eventually rebound. Ironically, before Covid hit, it was the busiest I'd been in years, and was having one of the best quarters I'd ever had. The irony is ridiculous, but kind of fits right into the current state of... things, which is...Ridiculous.
I've managed somehow to keep myself pretty busy and active; still getting up early, on my spin bike, or early morning walking the dogs to avoid the heat and other people and other dogs, so I don't have to do the "Covid dance", crossing the street, zig when they zag, duck and cover. I have weights at home, so I can use them, or choose to ignore them. I've been really working on cleaning things up inside and out- a very long overdue thing to do. I think I was just too depressed, sad, mad and whatever else ailed me to be productive and deal with some of it. But I'm feeling better because I am being productive now, and better because I'm seeing results around the house. And better because I'm doing some art, and trying to stay "creative", and do "stuff". Well that's today. No, I lie; it's been the past month or so I guess. And writing again feels good, too. So hope still floats (snuck one more in on 'ya again), and I feel like I have a lot more to say and talk about for my next blog. Cue the trailer: the dating world (that's worth at least a blog and a half, or it's own spin-off series), giving blood, a Covid negative test, a new air fryer, heat disdain, scuzzy people, serious self-medicating, ridiculousness and absurdity, bureaucracy (see previous two words), weird dreams, sleep deprivation, and politics really suck. It's a very long list, these things in my trailer. I really don't know what the trailer of my life would be or look like- right now maybe like a vast trailer park, or an Xpressway trailer wreck at 2 pm on a Friday afternoon in August, or maybe a Storrow Drive Labor day truck-stuck-under-the-bridge trailer. Yeah, that one.
So my guess is that I will be writing again sooner than later. Because this Saturday marks two years since Abby's passing. The anniversary you never want to celebrate. It's really hard to believe, hard to fathom. It's hard to describe the feeling. Feels like forever though, yet like in the blink of an eye. In an eye that has something stuck in the corner. And you pull the lid down but you still can't see it or get at it. And it just gets more irritated. And you just want to cry to get it out. Yeah, that's it. But I did leave you with an eye-related joke at least.
Love to all, and thanks for hanging in with me.
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