15 April 2020: Today found me feeling anxious and down at times. It's hard. Rumblings about how long this could last make me so uneasy.
So when I feel particularly bad, I try to remember the good things. Today, walking back from dropping some forms off on campus, I found myself struck by the beauty of the trees in the yard. I know I've posted about them recently, but this darn dogwood is in full bloom and I could see the gorgeous redbud out back and the sky was so blue and the lawn was so green. "You are so blessed," I told myself.
Look, I'm not going to say that this fixed everything. Even as I type this, I can feel the blues and anxiety setting in again. But just trying to focus on the good stuff for a bit? The light comes in.
14 April 2020: After a long and stressful day (so much to do, and it all takes so long), I watched the first episode of Run. What to say? Merritt Wever is just amazing. I'd watch her do anything. And the show has this electric energy. As the title implies, it just keeps moving in so many ways.
The chemistry between Wever and Dohnall Gleeson is pretty great, too. I do wonder if some of what made me respond to them, though, is this moment we're in. When they touch hands or run through a crowded train, boy do I feel a kind of vicarious longing for human contact. Ha. Best not to think about that too long, I suppose.
13 April 2020: What a strange day today has been. Felt out of rhythm and step all day. Felt stressed and anxious more than not. Trying to relax this evening. This poem helps. In the little explanation that accompanied it in the poem-a-day email, Kimberly Blaeser explains it:
“This poem comes from a series of similar pieces all called ‘The Way We Love Something Small,’ pieces grounded in an understanding of poetry as an act of attention. Each poem focuses on those heightened moments common to our experience in which a place, sound, personal exchange, natural creatures, even an object suddenly resonates or becomes transformative. While rescuing a newborn mouse, I saw for the first time the pup’s delicate, nearly invisible claws, and writing of that moment illuminated it. Because the poems arise from ‘small’ epiphanies, I use an airy, slight form. I see the pieces in this series as aspiring to an impact similar to haiku: simultaneously grounded in image and allusive, they invite a re-seeing of what is before us.”
Looking around me in this space, a space I am blessed to have, I see all around me small things I love: a glimpse though the window of the redbud tree in full bloom out back; just a piece of BabyCat's white foot as she stretches out nearby (always nearby), but not fully in sight; the streetlight's beam outside, casting a pinkish gold on the blacktop.
12 April 2020: Did you think I wouldn't make a cake for Wesley's Sweet 16? And not walk around all day singing customized versions of "16 Candles" and "Happy Birthday, Sweet 16" to him? It's not like quarantine is making me less of a weirdo. But seriously: so grateful for 16 years of this sweet guy.
11 April 2020: Had my first "grocery store with a homemade mask on" experience today. I hated it. I felt anxious and rushed and just...sad. And it was even more of a bummer because a) I like going to the grocery store--like genuinely enjoy it and b) because I am doing my best to only go every 10-14 days, I was looking forward to this as almost an "outing." (These are weird times.)
So, I was bummed.
Came home, had video/phone conferences with some students, mowed the lawn, graded some papers. It was all okay. Good even.
But what really made my mood lift? Video-chatting with Beth, Jane, Allison, and Heather. What a blessing they are through all of this.
10 April 2020: Listened to this episode of 99% Invisible on my walk this morning. I remember listening to it when it first aired a few years ago and I loved it so much then. As Roman explains in the beginning of this re-airing, in April 2020, it is perhaps even more powerful, a piece that takes you away from our present moment even as you can't help but see connections. And significantly, those connections are uplifting--bits of light and hope for what people are capable of in the face of unexpected tumult.
Right now (appropriate for Good Friday) we are in the midst of that darkness, but the promise of light (and Easter) gives me faith. (Well, I mean, it is because of my faith, but let's not get too "Lutheran Confirmation Class" up in here...)
9 April 2020: Little dogwood, doing its thing out front.
Also an anniversary of a kind of big day, one of the best of my life. The 24 hours that started when I heard my name? Magical.
One year ago. So much has changed, but I am still so unbelievably grateful for that day, those 24 hours, the lovely happiness of that spring and early summer, and what it has meant since then. The memories make me smile.
7 April 2020: "You'll always be my happy ending." --David to Patrick, in his wedding vows. This line, incredibly sweet and hilarious, sums up some of what I am going to miss about this gift of a show. It has been such a source of light and happiness and a bit of escapism when things were hard.
6 April 2020: The idea haunting this article has been in the back of my mind for weeks now. It is part of what is pushing me to get as much up and running as soon as possible for the rest of the semester. And it's had "Non-Stop" in my head, too. [I could not make this up: this is literally the song playing on my iPod as I write this.]
5 April 2020: I don't know what to focus on, so I'll just list some stuff from today.
1) Listened to this episode of Everything is Alivethis morning on my walk and adored it. It's sweet, sad, interesting, funny, even a bit romantic (?), and everything that is wonderful about this show.
2) Re-watched Portrait of a Lady on Fire today while getting some work done and surprise: still love it. Then re-watched Phantom Thread while still getting work done. Yeah: still love this one, too. Stopped myself from watching more.
3) Got texts from Tara with pictures of her family checking on my parents. Tara said my mom bounded out of the house (complete with mask that Christian dropped off yesterday) to see the kids. My dad was already outside weeding. And looking at those pictures, I felt all kind of things, including deep love and sadness. I have no idea when I will see any of them again, which sounds more dramatic than I mean for it to, but it is factually true and that's just strange.
4) Currently re-reading A Tale for the Time Being, which we are starting later this week in American Ethnic Literature. And yeah: still love this one, too. What a perfect time to dip back into it.
5) Put the ipod on shuffle earlier today and this track by the Wailin' Jennys came on. Thinking about it now, as evening just starts to set in.
"All o'er the world, as it turns and it turns, the stars twinkle off and on,
4 April 2020: My favorite tree on campus bloomed over the past week while I was mostly away from campus. I snapped some pictures a week ago, when it was kind of gloomy out, but the tree was gorgeous...
Snapped a couple more today, past its peak, but still a beauty.
I don't have anything too profound to say about it. Just grateful for the chance to get these looks at something so lovely that makes mehappyeveryyear.
3 April 2020: I feel prepared to give exactly *one* piece of advice about shifting to teaching online in the midst of…everything. And it’s this: if you need a break between class meetings or discussion board grading or whatever, I suggest a ridiculous dance break. (Personal experience shows this works for a lot of situations these days.) Today’s numbers included Whitney’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody,” Paul Simon’s “Obvious Child,” Beyonce’s “Love on Top,” and Stevie Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered.” It’s also a great way to entertain/confuse your pets, though mine are getting used to it.
Posted this on Facebook earlier and have been getting great suggestions.
4/1/2020: It is kind of thrilling and fun to use the 50 minutes of class time to respond to my students' forum posts. (They have much more time than that to post, though some are doing it during those 50 minutes, too.) Anyway, here's a gem from this morning's discussion of "A Rose for Emily," which I love in part because I feel the same way: "The more I think about this story, the more disturbed I get, which only makes me want to think about it more."
