The pandemic… leading to plans being scuppered… cancellations and postponements.
Uncertainties over rescheduling.
I have mentioned looking forward to doing things… but yet, how can I realistically look forward when I am not even sure what moving forward even looks like?!
Time and time again, I have found myself saying iterations in line with the pandemic illuminating pre-existing systemic issues and I am exhausted saying it.
It’s become a script located in the dredges of my mind.
I am stuck stating these things, as I find myself revisiting things that compel me to say it again… and again. And as for time itself? I keep thinking of dates that are etched into my brain: 31st December 2019, 11th February 2020, 11th March 2020, 23rd March 2020… I am told of the timeframes, signalling those expectations of when it’ll be over: June, autumn, 2021. What exactly will be “over”? The virus? No… The lockdown?
None of this makes any sense.
This is forever and a half.
I have joked before the pandemic that most days have felt like a Thursday but now, a month, feels like an era… of memories of what was, mixed with present stagnancy, with the future being an abyss.
All this talk on productivity repulses me… that “business as usual” approach embedded and emboldened by spaces and institutions at the detriment to the welfare of people.
Enabling that… pressure to get things done, to complete things, overwhelms me.
To “make use” of my own time… What I could do. What I should do. Using this time to be “productive”. To create pandemic resolutions and to follow through on them.
And that desire to create is dwindling by the second.
Sometimes I delude myself by feigning hope that inspiration will strike me at any moment and that I can use it to summon something.
But I get nothing. So, what do I do in this nothingness? Be still? Do something?
Am I meant to transmute my own confusions and anxieties from this pandemic and create something for others to enjoy or even ponder about?
Maybe…But I know that firstly, I have to reassure myself that I will be okay, during this.
Though there will be times where I will be restless and I need to tell myself that this is okay too.
That I also need time to grieve.
Lockdowns, social distancing, social isolation, quarantine… it can stifle.
All this discussion over extroversion vs introversion, the uses of technologies question, what we should create, I find myself fascinated at, because in my eyes, justifications like these are coping mechanisms.
But even in saying that, I cannot help but be reminded by the sweeping hot takes that, for me, have little to no value.
It’s paradoxical… that we are constantly fed so much information and yet the uncertainty this brings hollows us out.
We are overlooking nuances.
We are all experiencing this pandemic differently to one another – yes, we may feel that someone’s descriptions resonate with us but not everyone can fully articulate our own experiences on our own behalf.
I have no problem with admitting that I have read the experiences of others and feel included, but it’s not fully me nor my experience.
Reaching outwards, listening to the within. Holding on. Letting go. Adapting. Rejecting. Transform. Transform. Transform.
The difficulties in dealing with changes, uncertainties and complexities. Tired of words like “unprecedented”, “normal” and “circumstances”.
Nothing about this is normal… this is not a “new normal”. Nothing before the pandemic was “normal” to begin with.
What the future will have in store for us, won’t be “normal” either. Clinging onto structures and timetables as a way of grasping onto a reality.
It makes no sense.
Is what I have said here a fragmented commentary of the confusions over time, productivity and creativity, during the COVID-19 pandemic? Possibly… Possibly not.
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