About existabovethenoise

I am a nomad with a lust for life, good food, honest friends and love of all sorts. So, here's where it all comes together... all the good of the things I adore and enjoy & the rants about the isht that simply should be done away with. As I navigate the world, I'll share here. DISCLAIMER: The views expressed on this blog are the writer's own. And not those of THE US government or THE MAN!

This is a marathon, not a sprint.

 

COVID is still not over, and that is causing identity-bending anxiety within me and just plain ole panic masked as normalcy around me. I happen to live in a northeastern suburb that is really just an outpost for international students, out of town yuppies, and pet parents on their way to somewhere else. No one is from here and no one truly lives here. The neighborhood itself came up just decades ago, and it once was a swampy throughway for highway robbers and bandits. Now there are high rises and glass buildings without souls. There’s a church over a gas station and you have to walk a mile to the nearest Dunkin Donuts. It is a neighborhood with no neighbors, maybe co-workers and classmates, but there are no true friends around here. And in this time of hatred and havoc, it feels like absolutely nothing is happening. The country isn’t burning, looting isn’t a thing, nobody is sick, and the Starbucks is still open.

 

Sometimes I look at the chatty crowds at the Biergarten and I wonder if they know there’s a pandemic outside that no one is safe from. It has been going on entirely too long for them to NOT know, but either they must think they’re immune (they won’t die) or that they are invincible (they can’t die). And I can only think of what a privilege that is.

In my skin, in my gender, in my family, I live with doubt and fear. I am always worried – about my husband and my kids. I fear they may not come home, and now more than ever I have every reason to be. This level of anxiety doesn’t get cured with deep breaths and alone time. In fact, this year has taught me that there is such a thing as too much introspection. Introversion and seclusion usually go together in my world, but it can also create an echo chamber for my worst fears.

The more this pandemic rages on and touches people I know, and wipes out whole families, I’m feeling inspired by the fearless people who live in my neighborhood. What I wouldn’t give to live like the young man who switches between his Maserati and G Wagon regularly, paying for on-street parking and never once wearing a mask. Fearless, that guy.  I am truly in awe of the amount of money and privilege that it takes to be that oblivious and to stay alive. And I’m sure the guy has cares and worries, right? Like, will someone dent the white Mercedes when parallel parking at the sweetgreen?

Now, I’m just rambling. In short, this thing has gone on too long. I’m going to need to stop seeing ya’ll live your best lives, like nothing is happening. Not only am I getting slightly jealous, but I’m also scared shitless that I’m going to catch the COVID in an elevator. The less you do, the less I have to worry. I actually breathe a sigh of relief when I wake up to see this dude’s truck parked in the same place as the night before – no exposure for the last 10 hours! Herd immunity, hear we come.

This whole thing is a marathon, not a sprint. The mentality of survival is not easy to acquire or maintain. People start turning on each other. Some of us are living like today is our last, while others are doing the same by courting trouble. How do we get to a place where the fragility of life feels real, without being paralyzed? Better yet, when will freedom of movement stop feeling like just enough rope to hang ourselves with?

All I know is that this pandemic has lasted entirely too long, because we won’t just sit the whole f*ck down. So, instead I worry, keep my babies inside, and try not to breathe the air. Let’s see how long that’ll last…

Mother, have a seat…

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workflexibility.org

Dear mom,

For the last few years, I have been focused on parenting. I am a new parent, I’m a Capricorn, and I’m selfish – what can I say? I was in my own world, nesting, and trying to find my new normal. Needless to say, I wanted to be a hermit and really hoped the world would allow me an introvert’s reprieve to get my bearings straight. Welp, I’m sorry. I apologize. I repent. Maybe all my praying and wishing brought upon us “the ‘rona.” I know, I’m blessed and highly favored. So, maybe my words went straight to God’s ear and now we all are getting our third eye poked.

I mean, this can’t only be for my benefit. I have to believe that Mother Earth also wants a break. I mean, we’ve ignored Al Gore since 2006. Did we think Greta Thunberg traveled without back up? And it has been a solid half a decade since I first asked you to have a seat. I mean, over my lifetime, I asked you to have a stadium full of seats. And, you – unlike God – don’t always listen to me. You just recently started staying in the house one day a week and that, in fact, took years. But, alas, here I am thinking you’d listen to the CDC and the WHO, and whoever else is scaring Americans these days. But, nah…

I text you this week and you tell me that you are at Staples. Staples? F8CKING easy button… Staples? Like, delivers within 5-7 business days, only has office supplies and a cavity-inducing check out counter, basic everyday a&$ STAPLES!  Yes, my mother, is in there… looking for something they’re probably sold out of and that probably is fully in stock at a corner-man bodega or our neighborhood Walgreens. And, through the phone, I gave you this face…

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Credit: Getty Images – Getty of Greta Thunberg

So, this got me to thinking. Who else does God want to sit down? Clearly, me. And God and I agree wholeheartedly on that. For sure, China… like all of it. And clearly, also, you! But, why won’t you (and so many Baby Boomer/ Generation X cuspers) smell what the Rock is cooking? Remember all those expressions I heard come out of your mouth over the years: fast a$&, hard-headed, never satisfied, rushing to get to a red light, busy body, etc.? When I talked to you, they all came to mind.  I said came to mind, not my mouth (or fingertips). But, I’ve resorted to public shaming, because I realize I am not alone in my quest to get my parents to stop playing games. When news reports say that ‘VIDY affects older people – they are talking about you! Sit down… watch Netflix (and chill, if you must)… but please stay out of Staples.

Those of us who considered ourselves parents, employees, dog-lovers just a month ago, now are re-considering ourselves as children. In just a few weeks’ time, we’ve become the adult children of grown-ass kids who are super defiant and intent on telling us what they’re NOT going to do. It’s like adult teenagers were let loose on the world and they have their own roofs and their own money, so us kids can’t ground them.  They don’t realize we want what’s best for them. They think we’re being silly and over-reacting. After all, they think they can take care of themselves and all of the warnings can’t possibly be for them. They don’t realize that we are legit scared that they could end up a statistic. And, most of all, they don’t think they’re old…

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In spirit, mom, I’m with you. You’re not old. You can’t let fear win. If it’s your time, it’s your time. But, do we need to go tempting fate all up and through a friggin’ office supply store?

Do me a solid and extend to me a courtesy I never extended to you – stay put. Sit still. Relax. Chill B.

And if I call you again and you’re out doing some mundane, boring, unnecessary thing that does in fact threaten your life (i.e. going out to buy anything that can be delivered) there will be some furniture moving (when I get back to America).

Don’t make no sense…

XO,

Your big baby.