a year ago today i woke up next to a rather freckled human in a fairly nice hotel room in beverly hills. it was the last weekend before the whole world shut down and the building was rather empty, which was preferable when visiting the bar downstairs the evening prior. we were among the very few people willing to venture out into the world just before its ultimate demise – including a group that was there for a birthday. i recall rihanna’s “birthday cake” kept playing very loudly every few songs, much to my initial chagrin and then eventual delight as the number of gin and tonics i imbibed increased.
in the morning we went to some café nearby where i ordered a small wet cappuccino from the kindest and most ancient italian man. i did not get a wet cappuccino. i don’t know what i was expecting, but i ate my hot dry airy milk foam floating atop its espresso moat miserably with a spoon in relative silence as we watched trump on the news with the closed captioning rolling. i was far less interested than my company in what trump had to say and mostly groaned in response to the questions and remarks made in my direction regarding said news. despite this and my slight hangover, it was a lovely weekend that encapsulated the last bit of true societal freedom i would feel for a year.
this morning, i woke up with my cat on my face, but otherwise alone. when i think about who i was a year ago, it’s difficult to know whether or not i still recognize that person – entirely unencumbered, afraid of next to nothing, spontaneously revisiting an old flame who was in town for work – sounds so unlike me, now. who is she? i don’t know her.
it was early march last year when i purchased a one-way ticket to paris as i had promised myself for several years, with a week-long stop in new york to visit with my sister. once the tickets were purchased, it never occurred to me that fulfilling this promise would be made impossible. while the idea of traveling alone for a month or two across the world to a country whose language i only somewhat speak seemed entirely feasible at the time, by comparison, this week i had so much anxiety about getting groceries, i lived off of mostly tea and kettle corn for four days. i’m sure some reading this have experienced similar changes in their levels of anxiety over seemingly trivial issues.
i hope i am also not alone in voicing my concern about returning to a semblance of normalcy now that vaccines are actually happening. it’s all anyone has been wishing and hoping for for what feels like eons, but now that it seems to be actually coming to fruition, i find myself somewhat…hesitant? terrified? what’s the word i’m looking for? what are words?
it’s not at all that i’m not excited or grateful, eager to hug my friends (and probably a lot of strangers), dying to stand in a crowded train car just because i can, or yearning to eat inside of a restaurant (assuming that i can recall basic human etiquette) – but i can’t help but feel like we will just be flung back into the real world as quickly and violently as we were shaken out of it. “here’s your vaccine, go rejoin society!” it feels like the first time your parent sends you up to the cashier by yourself to ring up your own pack of bubble gum, except there’s no one to run back to if you chicken out and feel like you can’t do it on your own. there’s no one around to hold your hand when you’re thirty and jobless and living alone. i don’t even know what it is i want to do now, whenever “doing” is an option again.
there’s also the issue of having witnessed first-hand and without any reasonable doubt the absolute and total disregard for human life that has been shown both by our representatives and surrounding citizens. human rights issue after human rights issue, true colours have been shown, and the people who are against you just live amongst you and have this entire time…and we’re just supposed to go back to casually sharing space, as if your basic human rights being an inconvenience to them is something to just get over and move past? there are some things you just can’t unsee.
are we supposed to want to willingly rejoin the rat race that is capitalism and continue to make rich old white men richer, further widening the poverty gap in the process? now that we see that our souls had been sold without our knowledge or permission, do we simply hand them back willingly when prompted? is there even a way around it?
trying to envision what post-covid life will resemble as it’s barreling toward us is dizzying at best. and worse, i am certain that many with more severe mental health symptoms will have a difficult time trying to rejoin the workforce, and i am deeply concerned that any financial support will cease and send thousands into financial crisis or houselessness. there are so many aspects to consider that i feel our representatives will fail to address or take accountability for. and more than anything, i feel anxious worrying about all of the people this will affect and desperately sad at what i know will be my inevitable inability to help those situations to the degree that i would like to.
that being said, there are a number of programs to get involved in if you have the means or the time to do so such as People’s Pantry, Community Fridges, Street Watch, and the LA Mission (assuming you live in L.A., of course). NoHo Home Alliance is also neat, if you’re near my ‘hood.
one of my favourite musical artists, nick hakim, released a single with poet and saxophonist roy nathanson today. as i perused through roy’s instagram account, i watched a five-minute reel of one of his “quarantine porch concerts” from april 2020. it was simple and beautiful and humbling to witness the neighborhood below all stop and look up at the balcony together for a time to listen to the same sound, and i recalled the sense of community during early quarantine. it is my sincerest hope that we collectively remember the importance of that message and that time – that our lives being completely leveled simultaneously brought many of us to the same points of uncertainty and fear that led us to turn to each other for simple pleasures like music or company. it was a reminder of our collective humanity, still there under layers of societal imposition. i just pray that we don’t forget that.
