MARCH
Worry starts to become more apparent. The last day of class before spring break is the 6th. The number of cases grows, and every day brings more news of the spread. It is difficult to work on projects and assignments over break because of this new worry that the news has become consumed with, and I eat it up because I want to know any new thing that is going on.
Thursday of break brought news of an extra week off. In order to contain the spread, most schools and universities had moved to cancel classes and permit instruction online only following the period of cancelled class. At this time, the period of online instruction was set to continue until April 3rd, at which point the administration would reassess the situation and the possibility of returning to classes in person might be more accessible again. I am told not to come to work, and church choir plans are up in the air, let alone senior recital preparation.
On what is now the first Saturday of break, I went home to see my parents. My dad made coffee cake, which I had for late breakfast. My mom and I sorted some things in the basement, finished Jane the Virgin, and started the Gilmore Girls limited series on Netflix that follows their lives some years later. Some old mini wheats, frozen blueberries, peanut butter, and almond milk was a night snack. Sunday morning brought more coffee cake for breakfast, and I got to use my mom’s nice shampoo and conditioner while getting ready. Spensor came over, my mom made what would become tear-inducing apple cranberry pie, and my dad made magical comfort pizza with vegan cheese and salty olive gems. After an adventure detour, Spensor and I made it back together with our pie, pizza, and the rest of the coffee cake.
Week two of spring break is barely more productive than the first. I eat leftover coffee cake for breakfast for a couple days, we have pizza for lunch and dinner, and pie for nightly dessert. I cry when I finish the last slice. We play Minecraft, watch Grey’s Anatomy, and I try to work on program notes for my recital, which in my mind, is increasingly uncertain. Every day, the number of cases grows and more people are dying. Chicago has become a cluster of cases by this point, and on Friday, Governor Pritzker makes an announcement that effective 5 pm Saturday, the residents of Illinois are ordered to stay at home except for essential travel (groceries, bank, hospital, essential workers going to their jobs, etc.). The order is set to continue until April 7th. We are also notified that the University will close all academic buildings while the Stay-at-Home order is in place, which provides even more uncertainty as to when and how my recital will take place. I try to communicate with people who were committed to be involved, but we don’t have any answers. Classes are moved online for the rest of the semester. We are told that the opera that we have been working so hard on is cancelled, as well as our graduation ceremonies.
The first week “back to school” after “spring break” is interesting. The switch to online classes is a learning experience: I enjoy the flexibility, but this is uncharted territory for many of us on such a large scale. I have taken online classes before, yes, but finishing my entire senior year of college online, moving everything that had previously been in person to Zoom or Google Hangouts, cancelling some things altogether, and living in constant uncertainty is taking a toll on my mental health. My mom, an essential employee, calls me nearly every day on her drive home from work, a tradition that we had already begun on a less-than-daily basis when in-person classes were at the same time as her drive. Her updates provide a little comfort in the form of new information, and when she gets home, sometimes I get to talk to my dad, too. Hearing both of their voices and belly laughing at our family communications usually lifts my spirits some. Spensor is also a big source of comfort, for which I am so thankful. We try to go on a walk on Thursday so that we can get some fresh air, but it is gray and drizzly. We come back inside after going around the block, I have a big corona cry, and he is soothing. On Friday, I sit down to reply to some discussion posts, and instead of taking about an hour like I had expected, it took me three-ish.
On Sunday, the beginning of the second week of online classes, I tell myself I will do lots of homework, do my dishes, and put clean clothes away. I end up watching half the Rilakkuma and Kaoru series on Netflix, crying at its cuteness, taking a long shower (standing in the hot water), and baking a chocolate cake. I’d called my parents to try to snap out of the dissociation that was slowly creeping into my existence, and they suggested a series on Hulu I could try: Making It. The title suggests to me that it is a fun series akin to Friends, The Office, Parks and Rec, or The Golden Girls–something to keep me company while I go about my business. Instead, they tell me it is like the Great British Baking Show, but with crafts. Ooowhhheeee! I love the Great British Baking Show, and I turn on this new program to watch as I bake. Amy Poehler and Nick Offerman greet me from my laptop screen, and I cry again at the end of the first episode I watch as they play guitar and sing a little song. Will I ever stop crying?? My mom had suggested on the phone that I start using my therapy light/sad light/sun lamp again. Maybe I will, if I can bring myself to get it out, plug it in, and sit by it. How is it that I can get out cake ingredients, mix them up, pour into a dish, put it in the oven, and put all the ingredients back in the cabinets, but not get out a silly light that’s supposed to make me happy and do nothing more than sit next to it? Let alone homework. I try, and it is so hard to stay motivated. I’ve read that some places are just cancelling the rest of the semester, rather than try to retrain everyone to move everything online. Technology is a wonderful tool, but I think it’s pretty hard to try to use it to keep doing the same courses as before during a worldwide pandemic, when people are DYING and everyone is locked inside sad. Now, I am updating this log instead of reading an article for a class that is probably really interesting.
I am constantly wishing I had a cat. Would a fuzzy friend to keep me company and give cuddles make me happy? Would it soften the existential dread spurred by this pandemic? I am thankful to have a real live person to spend my time with. And stuffed animals.
On the 31st, we learn that the Stay-at-Home order will be extended through the end of April.
Miscellaneous Memoranda 