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They say everyone experiences grief differently, I repeated to myself like a textbook, a numb brain to a numb heart and all the dull nerves in between. Why would I cry if the world I was living in was no longer my own? This one couldn’t be mine, nothing about this made any sense. Maybe this world was for the protagonist of an angsty teen fiction, probably written by some 16-year old trying to cope with their own depression, but it certainly wasn’t for me. And how predictable a story it was too! The same contrived plot device used over and over until no one really cared to read the rest. Because, in writing, why have sadness for the point of sadness? Why have grief just to beat in more and more grief? If you hit your character with blow after blow just so it can end with her collapsing in pain, maybe you shouldn’t have written the story at all.

The narrative had become so obvious, it seemed almost tangible before me. Maybe it was because I’m a writer myself, but I could see every tear, every heartfelt line, every repressed emotion eventually laid bare before some caring person with an open heart. And in that moment, from the depths of my soul, I hated it all. I had been feeling a lot of hatred that day, strong feelings waxing and waning over the many hours of uncertainty and anger and guilt for a situation over which I had no control. Now here I was, faced with yet another obvious and set narrative, yet another situation out of my control, and the feelings of hatred came back just as readily as before. I was done with humouring this sappy-ass story of loud, obvious grief and pity from every stranger. That wasn’t going to be my story. If the universe wanted to write my life for me, it was about time I showed it who is in control. This is the year I was forced to take every piece of my life into my own hands.

Yet in this battle for control of my grief, I didn’t expect to stand face-to-face with my loved ones as well. I never realized how many social expectations there are around grieving. We all hear that there are countless ways to grieve, that you should expect any and all behaviours from people coping with loss. But, in practice, this doesn’t seem to hold up. Every form of grief people expect to see are all but small variations of a single type of grief; a public, obvious, and life-interrupting display of emotions that resolve with time and comfort from loved ones. What people don’t realize is that even the most intense of grief can be silent and resolutely private.

When I resolved to tackle my grief on my own, to deal with it as a part of my everyday life, I was immediately met with disbelief. I was told that I was in shock. It’s important to state that I didn’t dismiss this immediately; I know shock can be invisible to the one experiencing it, but as the days went by it became evident that this was not the case. I was able to confront what happened on an intellectual level, if not an emotional one, and not shy away from the truth. And while I openly cried once in front of my friends, the ones that I was most likely to open up to, I then left their conversations for a few days, only to come back to the familiar lighthearted banter that I was used to. Yet the way I appeared in public only a week or so after the fact, happy and hopeful, seemed only to worry those close to me instead. This seemingly invisible mode of grief was so foreign to my family that I still hear concern about it half a year later. And from an outside perspective, sure. I can see why this quick return to the status quo might seem troubling. But take the time to consider it from an inside perspective instead.

Whether people realized it or not, I have always been decidedly private about my grief. I’ve written it in poetry that I kept locked away, or in stories through characters that were little more than anonymous extensions of myself. It is one of the things that sparked my love for reading, a private, cathartic emotional experience that I immediately felt at home with. This proved true for my connection with the late night/early morning time as well. I would sit outside in a fluffy winter jacket at 3 or 4am reveling in the chilly air, watching the stars, humming or singing or sometimes just thinking, but most importantly, alone with my feelings at last.

So, when this year hit in all of its chaotic glory, it was almost instinctual to pull away into my shell, to retreat into my safe space like I was used to doing for years. And it worked wonders for my ability to cope. My life didn’t seem to end even when it was crumbling down; I could still support the people in my life who needed an ear to listen or a hand to hold. Yet once that was over, once I was truly alone, I was free to feel and process and come to terms with this life that had changed so drastically, but that I still knew was not over by any means. Though working through these emotions was taxing and difficult to accept, the positivity of my friends and the normalcy of the day were like a salve for that raw emotional wound. And as the wound began to slowly heal, as I realized that I had healed it of my own accord, I felt even better about the life still ahead of me. No overwhelming, angst-ridden narrative would be able to control me again. My grief was my own, and I would honour it as I pleased.

Now, half a year later, my life is proving brighter than ever before. My long-time best friend and I began writing a story together, one I don’t anticipate we’ll complete anytime soon, but one that’s already given me many fond memories and served to bring us closer than ever before. So much closer, in fact, that she’s no longer my best friend, but my girlfriend. Of course there was more to that decision than our story, but spending all that time together on a shared passion certainly didn’t hurt. My career path is looking much clearer, the holiday season is approaching, and life, in general, seems to be looking up. I’ve finally made it out of what seemed like an insurmountable situation.

Yet it would have been so much easier if I was trusted with my ability to cope from the beginning, if I hadn’t been questioned time and time again, if I hadn’t been told that I wouldn’t be able to properly cope if I didn’t share my feelings in a traditional sense. It needs to be truly understood that people can grieve in any way, including silently and privately and controlled. That not having a breakdown at devastating news doesn’t mean someone’s not grieving enough, or that they don’t care enough. That being happy while grieving is not only perfectly acceptable, but can help someone cope just as well as crying. And that happiness in the context of grief doesn’t always mean denial, in the same way that sadness and tears don’t always mean depression. The process of grief is the journey of the individual through complicated feelings, haunting memories, and a close encounter with their personal understanding of mortality. For such an intimate journey, every person should feel free to choose their own path.

Amid a world divided, there is but one sentiment that unites humanity, one belief that connects people from around the world, one thought that even Republicans and Democrats agree upon. Yes, even Christians and atheists agree on this. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the sentiment that binds us all together: 2020 is a shitshow of dramatic proportions. This blog post will reflect that sentiment, reflect that rambling cacophonous maelstrom that I refer to as my mind, my thoughts. So here goes.

First things first.

What’s the aesthetic of the world of 2020? I’m not sure. But here are a couple images that come to mind about the world of 2020.

-The world is a worm-infested apple falling from the tree on top of a mountain, and the worms inside don’t know they’re about to hit the ground full force. They just keep blindly gorging themselves in a gluttonous ecstasy.

-The world is a one-legged wolf caught in another trap because he refused to learn his lesson. He’s chewing off his last leg, wondering if he’ll get through it, if he’ll live, or if he should just give up and go out with a whimper.

-The world is a narcissist practicing his smile in front of the mirror without flinching at the sobs of Lady Justice being gang-raped behind him. Maybe he doesn’t see it from the corner of his eye. But the way things are going, he’s probably just waiting for his turn to go again.

There’s nothing new under the sun. What else can I say that hasn’t already been said? Who’s reading this expecting me to say soul enlightening selfless things? If you are, I’m gonna do this little thing called subverting expectations. I’m sick of talking about the world, I want to talk about my world (don’t worry guys, it’ll still be relevant to 2020). That’s something you haven’t read about. There. I’ll say it. I’m selfish. And just like that, this blog post is now semi-confessional.

Fair warning, the word ‘shit’ in all it’s forms will be overused in the following paragraph.

I worked a shit (see?) job over the summer. Not that it’s actual shit, many people are content (or something?) working there, but to me it’s shit. Why? Because I’ve realized anything short of my dream job is going to be a shit job. So, I better succeed at what I want to do or I’m going to be cursed to live in misery. Will I succeed? That depends on my motivation, which nowadays isn’t very strong (not that it ever was, but I can’t seem to get out of bed these days). Here’s the thing. I couldn’t wait to be done with that shit job, couldn’t wait for the summer to be over so I could see my new friends and go back to school. But honestly? This semester is pretty shitty. I can’t wait for it to be over. So what have I got to look forward to? Another shitty semester, and another shitty summer after that with another shitty job? There’s no winning it seems. As I’m writing this, I wonder why I’m so extreme, why don’t I look at the positives? There’s plenty of them everywhere.

One good thing came out of the summer, and that was finishing my screenplay, it took four months. After being stuck in a rut with my novel that I’ve been chipping away at for two years, I decided to turn it into a screenplay. I felt I couldn’t write enough for it to be a novel, but now that I’m done the screenplay, it’s at LEAST fifty-something pages too long (it’s 193 pages). There’s no winning it seems.

I decided to convert the novel into a screenplay because of a few reasons. I grew up on films, it was always a big thing in our family. Movie nights on the weekends indoctrinated a love for cinema in me. I’ve noticed that ever since my first short stories in grade school, I always visualized the story as a film, then tried writing it cinematically. As a kid, I even played with my Lego as if it were a film. I would even replay the same action and watch it through slow motion, from different ‘camera angles’ (John Woo cuts his action films like that, but I hadn’t even seen any of those at that point. Odd, isn’t it).

Within the first year of writing my novel, I thought the scenes would look great in a movie. The main characters draw their guns, camera pans to the left, the victims put their hands in the air and ask “…what the fu-” Smash cut with the title card and opening credits. Probably the biggest thing that made me want to restart the novel as a screenplay was when I religiously researched filmmakers (it’s an ongoing process of self teaching). One of my favorites, the Almighty Tarantino, said he basically writes his scripts as novels first, then adapts them into a screenplay. So I figured I’d try it. BEFORE I tried that (getting a little nonlinear here) I wrote one of my favorite short stories which by some happy accident read like a Scorsese mafia epic, complete with his (cynical) voice-over style narration/summary and temperamental profanity laden individuals belonging to that certain Italian-American subculture. Yes, I’m a little obsessed with the Mafia.

Nowadays I’ve been looking for a human side to certain stories. Human is the word I use because I can’t think of any other way of describing it. Only two films have given me that feeling. Boogie Nights, and American Beauty. I’m not sure why, I’m trying to decipher that. No other film has made me feel that feeling, except those two. Is it the bittersweet optimism of the ending? Is it the fact that the characters want to escape their boring lives and attain their counter-cultural desire? Is it the yearning to be free?

That feeling is what I’ve been trying to meditate on, I want to write at least one story that nails that feeling. The brainstorms I have will be listed here:

-The end of an era.

-The feeling of reading texts for reminiscing, just to feel those feelings again (not necessarily romantic).

-Sitting in a café during a thunderstorm with quiet friends as the gut punch is delivered and you realize it’s the end of college, you’re about to part ways with everyone and you just are realizing it.

-The book you love is coming to an end and you don’t want it to, so you’re afraid to flip the page.

If anyone has any ideas for that, or any films or books that nail that feeling, please tell me.

Another idea I’ve been meditating on is a story similar to Taxi Driver (what a masterpiece, a must-watch). When this first quarantine/isolation thing happened I right away started thinking of somebody’s twisted psyche not being able to handle it and lashing out. Something dark, disturbing, isolated, lonely, hurting, and hating, just like Taxi Driver. But I don’t really want to write it about COVID. Even Paul Schrader, who wrote Taxi Driver, said if you have a personal problem you want to deal with, make a metaphor for it. Taxi Driver was a metaphor for his loneliness and depression. He said distance yourself from your personal story. As soon as I heard that I realized why I struggle so much writing nonfiction stories from my life. My life isn’t cinematic or interesting, (makes me wonder why I’m writing a blog post about it), I’d rather make a metaphor. That can be as cinematic as I want.

And here’s a sad and pitiful side of me, something 2020 has brought out of me. I find myself constantly daydreaming about winning the lottery. Why? Because the biggest thing I think I’d win with the lottery is freedom. Freedom from a boring average life, freedom from worries, risks, and freedom from obstacles. All the things I don’t want to deal with. I’d have freedom to go where I want, when I want. My friend Emily will end up who knows where for grad school (and who knows where after that), it’d be nice to hop on a plane whenever I want and visit her. Same with Noah. Call him up from across the country to see if he wants to see a bunch of films on the weekend, hop on a plane, and have a grand old time. Why is it sad and pitiful? Because it says I’d rather have something given to me instead of me going out there and grabbing it. Well, indulge me a little further, maybe you’ll find it entertaining at least.

If I’d win seventy million dollars, I’d do what everyone says they’d do and put a lot of it in the bank/investments and let it keep making money. I’d take a portion of it to help my friends (pay their tuition so they have less to worry about) and help my family. I’d still stay in school and slave through courses I don’t even want to take, the ones I have zero interest in but am forced to take in order to acquire a piece of paper by the end. Why? I guess to be educated and hang around with Noah some more. Then, during the summer, instead of working a shit job I hate, I’d spend on what I’m passionate about. A couple hundred thousand on making five or six quality short films with an actual cinematographer, with actual actors, in order to learn how to properly make films. Experience is key to learning filmmaking. Then, I’d take about two or three million dollars and produce my own debut film with my own amazing script I haven’t even written yet. Get it distributed by A24, get recognized, climb the ladder. Wouldn’t that be nice? Sure would.

Seeing as I haven’t even bought a single ticket (and probably won’t), I guess I’ll stick to filming my short films with Noah’s i-phone.

I also keep asking myself why I’m in university. All that talk of film, you’d think I’m more interested in filmmaking than writing novels.

Bingo.

You’re correct if you think that. I’m losing more and more interest in writing novels/short stories and gaining more interest in screenplay writing and filmmaking, (specifically directing, my dream job). Why don’t I take the time and money I’ve spent on courses I don’t even want to take AT ALL and save up the funds to buy a decent camera?

(I sit there staring at rocks from my lab kit in a haze of utter hatred, wondering what I’m doing with my life. I hate science, I didn’t come to university to be forced to take science, I came here to explore creativity. I’m told its to be well rounded. I don’t want to be “well rounded;” I want to be a sharp blade piercing through the field I’m interested in, everything else be damned. This whole year, I’m only in one creative writing course. Can you believe that? Sure, it’s my fault, I could’ve taken TWO creative writing courses this year instead of ONE. Why didn’t I? Because the screenwriting course isn’t offered this year, and right now that’s number one priority for me. If I can’t take it next year, I may just spontaneously combust, who knows. Next two on the priority list are the video production courses. So, I chose to get the science requirements out of the way this year in order to have breathing room later. My entire course selection boiled down to one question: do I want to suffocate now, or later? I chose to get the suffocation over with quick (ironic because suffocation is anything but quick). I won’t even touch upon the course schedule this year, in fear of dying from an aneurysm while typing this. Yes, it’s the way things are and I should accept it instead of complaining. Unfortunately for me that’s easier said than done. END OF RANT.)

Back to the whole saving up for a camera dream. Then I could at least make a modern day El Mariachi like Robert Rodriguez did. He made that for seven thousand dollars in 1992, which comes to about nineteen thousand dollars in Canadian nowadays. Look where he is now. I’ve already learned so much from lectures on YouTube or through Masterclass, that I feel like I could learn all I need for a lot less money. The only thing keeping me in the creative writing program at this point is it’s a more employable degree than a film degree (not that I really want to go to film school), and that it’ll still help me form meaningful stories.

To end on a high note, I’ve got several screenplay ideas I plan to write. I’ve even got the names of the titles.

–The Devil’s Mvsic, a horror script, a metaphor for the struggles of the Christian faith through the exploration of a Black Metal band and their Satanism (perfect inversion of Christianity).

–The Old Lie (from Wilfred Owen’s Dulce et Decorum Est) would be a black and white WW1 film exploring the mundane everyday suffering of soldiers in the trenches.

-Guns. Cars. Cocaine. Is an expansion of the short film I made. It would be a lower budget crime comedy about idiot criminals (since it’s simpler, realistic, it’s the next script I’m writing, and if I ever buy that lottery ticket and win that seventy million dollar prize, it’s the one I’ll produce first.)

–The Three Lutherans, a comedic retelling of Martin Luther’s friends, a cross between Monty Python’s The Holy Grail‘s non sequitur  style humor and Bud Spencer/Terence Hill films such as Watch Out We’re Mad.

To conclude, I’d like to tell you there is a light at the end of this dark tunnel we’re traversing. That light is an oncoming freight train barrelling towards us by the name of 2021, aka the sequel to 2020.

Oops, did I say I’d end on a high note?

I lied.

 

 

 

 

Time is a forever changing horizon we all face. Here we are folding into the futures inevitable arrival. The world we live in is chaotic and we move like leaves in the fall, just blowing in the wind. Where we fall is the beauty of it. With Covid I’ve experienced having a lot of time, life has changed for a lot of us, how we’ve experienced this time is diverse to each individual. For me, imagination is something I always enjoy delving into with my time. So enjoy this story of time, place and change.

original image by Tara Walton

In the land of the yellow levitating desert, time turns backwards. There is a sun that never leaves the eyes of the only creature that roams. There is an edge to the land, a pleasant place to sit and watch the moons rise and fall across the endless void that surrounds planet 569243333. Which is where you would most likely find Divoc, a brown spotted and striped moth, jolly and content with himself, he is the only creature on planet 569243333. His life is riddled in curiosity, ever since coming into life from the dead. Divoc has often wondered what everything really means.

original image by Tara Walton

I have felt the sand warm and tiny on my twiggy legs as I bask in the suns eternal glow. I wonder how long it has taken for these small pieces of rock to form, and does it feel, that slow and patient unraveling of time. I often sit at the edge of my planet and watch time as it goes back to where it came from. Every passing of a handful of time, pink smoke rises from the ground of planet 569243333 and moves up like a slithering dance into the above. From what I can feel the pink smoke is the planets energy releasing like the first and last breath of life gasping and heaving out into the empty everything. I have watched this planets cycle of pink smoke more times than I can remember and I feel I don’t have many more to watch, soon I will turn to dust. When I first rose from my bones into flesh I felt like I had experienced so much but as time returns I feel more and more naive. What is there to know but to know I can’t really know what it is that I think I know.

As I sit on the edge of 569243333 with my legs dangling over into the void, the sensation invokes an idea I’ve longed for before. To go out into the void and find meaning. As I look at the endlessness of it all, I’m certain it’s there waiting for me.

The unknown is a friend that waits for me. Two feet leap off, spiraling into the notion. Eyes open with heart, seeking that which I know is there.

original image by Tara Walton

Off in the distance the first planet that caught my eye, is a swirling planet with  pink and purple skies. Through a misty atmosphere I fly and land in wavy grass. I notice movement on the ground. Through the grass I see a puffball, sitting on a stool. Its body is entirely circular and fluffy, its eyes wide and piercing. I’m frozen and my body doesn’t move, I want to turn and run in the opposite direction but I am caught gazing into the eyes of this creature. The feeling of fear is apparent in my body, my heart racing and my breath panting. The puff ball rises to the height of my face, it began speaking to me but its mouth was closed. As clear as day, the puff ball said to me “do not stand there quivering with fear, for i’m not what you know me as and you have nothing to fear but the fear you create. I am Honesty but you can call me Guufguuf and I come to you with a message. There is a journey that calls to your spirit, you have felt it and i’m here to tell you it starts now. Follow me if you wish but i must tell you, you will lose the self you are now and it will shed from you like the fur sheds from my body. This way.” My feet began moving, hesitantly in step but without a thought, I followed the puff ball. It led me away from the tree into the field, the grass was thick and taller than three of me stacked on top of the other. The grass seemed to sense me, without even moving it with my hands it parted a path for me, I felt at ease even though my surroundings were towering above me.

original image by Tara Walton 

I almost lost sight of the puffball a couple times, it moved like it was a part of the grass, slightly hovering above the ground. It was swift and an incredibly graceful creature. We came to a small clearing somewhere in the depths of this field. In the middle of the clearing stood what looked like a large circular mirror, but it was in motion and the closer I got I realized it was resembling more of a large circular ocean standing in front of me. Astonished, I went to walk around it but as soon as I walked to the opposite side it completely vanished. How boggling and peculiar this was. It was only on one side. The puffball then spoke to me “there is one side to this truth and it is truth. Your journey began the first step you took in following me, Honesty and now you must lead yourself in your first step alone on your continuing journey by walking through truth that stands in front of you.” I wanted this, right? That’s why I’m here but oh my I am terrified. I stood in front of truth. I looked to Honesty, we nodded to each other in respect of our meeting and respect for our parting. I looked forward and without another glance given or another thought, I stepped into truth.

I’m floating through the cosmos, till I reach an entirely blue planet. I feel every living thing on the planet. There was no separateness. Land, water, breath, being, everything flowing in a beautiful chaos that’s patterned to purpose. This is the truth.

original image by Tara Walton

I came across an ocean of water, with a black shadowy creature peeking its head above the water. The water began to shimmer as if light from the sun was being caught on the surface of its reflection, shining back at me so magically. I was in a trance of this aesthetically pleasing presentation. In my trance I began to fall into deep questioning, all felt uncertain. What is life? What have I done here? One breath of life among the enormity of all existing. Billions of breaths every second, last breaths, first breaths. Passing is our time. Time is never ours, it slips from our grasp before it’s even held in our hands. So what does life consist of then? What do I consist of? What does it mean to be alive? To be alive as me? Then it is as though the creature had been listening to my thoughts, it shoots right through me like lightening and emits my truth. My eyes are filled with blinding light and I burst out laughing. It echoes through my ears and sounds like thunder through a lively green valley. My heart is so joyous, I think I’m crying. Every laugh and tear is with every life energy to have ever existed. Every feeling, expression and emotion emptied into my little being. It is an epiphany of my truth and there are no words for this truth, there isn’t a language that speaks it. All I know is everything is so beautiful and I would live all my lives the same way I have. I wouldn’t change a thing about anything. Life is encrypted in an eternal meaning of beautiful existence. My current experience comes to a halt. 

original image by Tara Walton

I’m back on planet 569243333 in what feels like a blink. Back in my favourite place, watching the moons rise and fall. I feel content, I have found meaning out there in that void.

Little does Divoc know that in a parallel universe he exists, but in that existence, everything is not backwards. He is not a moth but a virus that has ravaged a whole planet. Divoc lives unaware of the time he has given and the time he has taken. 

 

 

 

In the beginning, they said the pandemic would be the perfect opportunity to return to nature. For a while, I think they were right. People were outside embracing nature again. Flowers were blooming, school was over, the sun was shining. It was glorious. The pandemic wasn’t as scary because people had something other than other people to rely on. When you weren’t working, you were outside. Maybe you were taking your dogs for a walk during the evening or you were playing basketball in your driveway. You allowed the beauty of every day to put a smile on your face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You and your sisters worked on projects around the house. It was a great way to focus on something other than the fear building inside everyone. Keeping busy is what you do best. Your oldest sister is a frontline worker who could only come home every once in a while, so you cherished the moments you had with her. The three of you made the best out of the difficult situation. There was never a dull moment – you laughed and joked around, but you also made mistakes and helped each other.

Getting in the car and driving for hours became a weekly occurrence with the people you were quarantined with. You could drive down long, windy country roads and let the beauty of nature remind you that everything was going to be okay.

You were able to watch the sunset in all of its glory and smile at all the wonder around you. Nothing could beat those late-night drives or the people you shared them with. You were free from the confines of a hectic end-of-the-term where your school and professors were basically clueless as to how to teach you the rest of the course material. There was a lot going on and it was a very stressful time. So, when you watched the sunset and had a nice time with your loved ones, you could let your mind wander and your worries dissipate. You didn’t have to think about the daily increase in numbers or the people ignoring the quarantine to make dangerous and irresponsible life choices. You didn’t even have to think about your mom being high-risk because she was safe right beside you belting out the lyrics to whatever song was on the radio. You were able to find peace in the quarantine.

Then autumn arrived and it was even better. You didn’t even know you needed to be reminded of the glory of fall and the ever-changing world. The colours astounded you and you knew that nothing could compare to nature. You and your mom took your dogs for walks and embraced the magnificence that was fall. You and your sisters made piles of leaves to jump in, something you hadn’t done since you were little. It was just as glorious as summer. Sure, schoolwork had started to pile up, but you didn’t let it get to you. You embraced it, acknowledged that it would lead you to something you loved, and continued on with enjoying the changing seasons. Nothing could tear you down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, winter is here, even though it’s not December 21st. If you’re not getting your vehicle stuck in your driveway or sliding down an icy sidewalk, you’re stuck inside away from people and life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The harsh realities of the pandemic have made themselves known. For a while, the numbers were under control and people were making smart choices. Now, the numbers are higher than they ever have been and it’s like people have just decided the pandemic is over. You know better. You know that people are dying and it’s not the time to live carelessly. But. You’re lonely. You don’t see your family anymore. You don’t see anyone anymore. Sure, video chatting is great. But it’s just not the same. You miss the rush of people around you and laughing loudly without a care in the world. You miss not being scared when going to Walmart for your weekly grocery run.

You just miss life.

The world around you is still.

Nothing makes sense.

People make bad choices.

You sit at your desk or lay in your bed

and watch the world move slowly around you.

 

You worry

constantly.

Is she okay?

Is he okay?

Are they okay?

Will it ever end?

 

The end of the year is looming.

But will anything be any different?

No, it will all be the same.

Maybe it will be worse.

You don’t know.

 

The uncertainty scares you the most.

The people scare you too.

The powerful ones that make the big

decisions.

But also

the regular ones who make

decisions that seem small

but

effect everyone.

 

Do people even

think?

This isn’t a joke.

Do they understand?

You don’t know

and

that scares you.

 

Winter is usually your favourite time of year. Especially Christmas. You don’t have to work. You don’t have to go to school. You can breathe. You and your sisters go snowmobiling and have snowball fights. You spend hours of every day outside having fun. But what will it be like this year? Will you even be able to go home? You hope so. Your flights are booked, and your hopes are high. But is it safe? Is it worth risking your mom’s life? When you call her, all she talks about is how excited she is to see you again. Everyone says everything will be okay. But will it really? You don’t know.

Christmas. They say it’s magical. That it changes lives. But what about during a pandemic? I don’t doubt it will change lives, but will those changes be for the better? Lockdowns have started all over the world again. They help. So, why isn’t it happening everywhere? Humans are losing. But is it even a battle? Is this the end? Fear builds. Stupidity astounds. Decisions need to be made. For the greater good. Isn’t that what they say? The people who have the power to make decisions can change everything, just like Christmas.

 

Christmas.
Xmas –
remove Christ
and enjoy the rest.
Right                   ?

Trees in every house.
Tall
Proud
Lonely.
Lights cradle them,
tinsel tickles them.
Loneliness fades
a
w
a
y
with the twinkling lights
of hope.

Families gather
and spread cheer.
Watch movies
and play in the snow.

Garland lines every

Lights shine
from rooves
and trees
and e y e s.

No doubt
in anyone’s
mind
of the beauty
of Christmas.

The walls of your bedroom close in. They tell you to go home. Or maybe you tell yourself that. School is killing you. Thirteen more school days, but the end seems so far. You have so many assignments due every week. You stare at your computer for hours and hours and hours. Your eyes burn. Your back aches. You learn concepts that make no sense but are supposed to. You have professors that don’t help you and one that’s amazing. You don’t understand anything. But still, you keep going. You plug out assignments one after the other. Giving them everything you have until your brain gives up for the day. Then you get up and do it all over again. It would be better if you could go outside. If you could embrace the gloomy days and not let them make your day worse. But you can’t because you don’t have time. You go outside to take the garbage out. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. You go back inside and stare at your computer for many more hours. Your phone dings with a notification and you look at it. Oh, just another update on Canada’s record-breaking numbers for the day. What a shock. You put your phone down and go back to your computer.

You no longer have any concept of time. The sunsets at four o’clock. The days mean nothing except for due dates. Those mean everything. You hear your roommate talking in the kitchen. You put your earbuds in and cringe at the pain. You keep them in anyway and blast your music. You need to focus. Pandemic or not, you need your degree. You’ve made it this far.

Your phone dings again. You look at it and see that your sister sent a picture to your family group chat. It’s a collage she made of your dogs.

It’s exactly what you didn’t know you needed. You smile and save the picture to your phone. The collage brings back memories of previous winters. You and your dogs playing in the snow. You throwing snowballs at them that they’d catch and eat. Or driving your snowmobile with your dogs chasing close behind. Or the first snowfall of every year, at least the one you were home for, where you would get all bundled up and take your dogs outside. The four of you would run around and try to catch snowflakes on your tongues. Your dogs would knock you down and steal your hat or mitts. You would chase them around the yard, laughing without restraint.

Everything becomes clear. So much of your life revolves around nature, not just since the pandemic. The pandemic just reminded you of the connection. Winter is here, Christmas is coming, and you’re going home. The pandemic hasn’t won yet.

I consider myself quite lucky to have been raised in a country that is so intricately affected by the politics of so many other countries. It has allowed me a knowledge of the world that I find so many people just don’t have.

My parents lived in the Turks and Caicos Islands (specifically the island of Providenciales) long before they had my sister and I (back when there were no paved roads and only one flight on and off the island each week) and they swear that they are going to spend the rest of their lives there too.

Turks and Caicos is an incredibly interesting and diverse country. It is made up of just over 40 islands with almost 40,000 inhabitants spread across those islands. It is a British Overseas Territory (having been “discovered” by Christopher Columbus in 1492) meaning it abides by British laws. However, most of the tourists visit from the USA and Canada. Due to this, growing up we followed and were affected by British, US, and Canadian politics.

I was taught from a young age to appreciate the nature that came with living in the Turks and Caicos. Most weekends were spent at the beach snorkeling, freediving, sailing, and kiteboarding.

We would boat out to uninhabited islands and spend the day there. Paddleboard through the mangroves. Surf at Mudjin Harbour. While this was an amazing childhood, it means that I have witnessed the heart-wrenching decline of the health of our reefs and ocean life.

Turks and Caicos definitely hasn’t been hit as hard by overfishing and climate change as many other countries, but it has been hit nonetheless.

Within the past couple of years our reefs, like many others around the world, have been affected by the rising ocean temperatures. When the temperature of the water is even slightly warmer than normal (even just by 2 degrees) the coral begins to bleach in a last effort to avoid the heat. After bleaching, the coral dies. And in a couple of weeks, all that is left is a coral graveyard.

Furthermore, there has been a major decrease in the shark population in the Turks and Caicos and around the world. Sharks are incredibly necessary to keeping reefs healthy as they keep the ecosystem balanced.

My favorite place in the whole world is in the mangroves just off the coast of Providenciales. Mangroves are small tree-type shrubs that grow in the shallow, marshy ocean water just off of the east coast of the island.

 

 

Mangroves are particularly entrancing to me because the shallow waters provide a nursery for young sea life. This means that when you paddleboard through the mangroves you are practically guaranteed to see juvenile fish, turtles, birds, Cassiopea jellyfish and shark pups. However, in the past year or so the number of shark pups that can be seen has dropped dramatically.

Cassiopea jellyfish are really interesting. They live upside down on the sand and have a symbiotic relationship with

the algae that grows on their tentacles. When the algae photosynthesis the jellyfish take some of the energy as their food. Due to this relationship, they have an incredibly minimal sting (almost none existent). They come in a range of colours and look kind of like flowers!

Sharks are my favorite animal. They are not the scary monsters that they are made out to be in movies. They are incredibly intelligent and sensitive. While you are swimming underwater they can sense your heartbeat and move in time with it! They are super inquisitive and will swim up to you to check you out but are smart enough to know that you aren’t food.

Due to shark finning (catching and killing sharks just to cut off their fins to eat them and throwing the rest of the body away) and sharks being caught as by-kill the shark population in the world has declined by upwards of 74%. This has had detrimental effects on the ocean ecosystem.

The Turks and Caicos is also home to many dolphins. The most well know is named JoJo (he even has an Instagram account that has over 72,000 followers). JoJo is special because he is so friendly. He will swim with humans and he loves to jump in the wake of boats. Another super friendly dolphin (named Baby Dream as he is still really young) can be easily found in the Turks and Caicos waters.

I think that whether we like it or not the places that we grow up affect us in many complicated ways. I know that growing in the Turks and Caicos Islands has largely made me into the person I am today and I feel that, as a writer, I would be doing a huge injustice to the country that I love to not incorporate it into my writing (even though this already happens unconsciously). Unfortunately, Turks and Caicos did get hit pretty hard by COVID-19. All flights on and off the islands got canceled which meant that many people and businesses struggled greatly as tourism is the main economy for the country. Many people my age who study abroad couldn’t go home this summer and going home for Christmas is going to be a difficult and complicated process.

I consider myself insanely lucky to have grown up in a country like the Turks and Caicos and I want to do anything I can to help protect the ocean life. However, the complexity that is involved with the death of coral reefs and the animals that consider them home makes it a difficult problem to wrap your head around. And, personally, I have very little hope that we will ever fix the damage that we have done. However, I believe that the first step towards change is education. After all, how can you care about something that you don’t know about? Below is a list of documentaries that you can check out to learn more about these horrific problems.

Chasing Coral

Sharkwater and Sharkwater Extinction

A Plastic Ocean

Mission Blue

My Octopus Teacher

I feel static in my bones when I touch door handles but now I wonder if everyone else does too. Do you all now feel a tightness in your chest, feel the cartilage connecting your sternum to your ribs evapourating when you hear a wheeze or cough or sneeze? Inadvertently tasting hand sanitizer because I put it on too soon before eating is less unpleasant than it is a comfort knowing my hands do not harbour the imagined pathogens that my head has made up. Purell Kills 99.9% of Germs. Do you also give yourself an extra, illogical pump for the 0.1% that was missed?

In all truth, I cannot help but feel a little insulted on behalf of myself and countless others because of how quickly the world was able to adapt to a remote, touchless existence, when it was convinced it couldn’t before. All the jolts of anxiety that have kept my mind busy as I’ve navigated life suddenly confused by the people around me adhering to my once irrational beliefs. You put your masks on when leaving your house, sanitize your hands after touching doors, but I’m genuinely curious; do you do it because you want the virus to wither and die and forget how to spread or do you suddenly feel the fear that I have for so long? Do you feel contaminated when you touch doors and gas pumps and debit machines? Has this life changed you?

Have you noticed how quick the switch was, yet how inaccessible it seemed before? How many people were told they couldn’t learn or work from home before, only to have their entire officeclassroomworkspace migrate into their living room maybe dining room maybe bedroom with condescending ease. How easy was it for you to adjust to a life conscious of the spread of disease, how easy to adapt and forget? Have you, too, forgotten? I see friends go out to restaurants and parties and cannot help but think differently of them, wonder what they see in the case numbers that I don’t. Is my brain still utterly irrational? Am I still subscribing to thoughts that don’t apply to the 99% of people with minds who don’t get stuck on repeat?

It’s a very odd time for obsessive-compulsive brains. On one hand, our minds are paradoxically being catered to. Our environment is being sterilized much to our liking, shaking hands is a currently dead custom (finally), we have what may be the best excuse to stay locked in our homes for an inordinate amount of time. On the other hand, new fears, upgraded, leveled up, reveal their ugly, malformed faces to us, prepared to fill empty shoes. A cough makes us shiver, a new case in our health region makes us retrace our steps, a tickle in our throat convinces us of the worst. Above all else, we watch helplessly as so many of those around us pretend it isn’t a problem. They close their eyes when the case counts rise and the age demographics drop and the bars stay open and the ones who do care try our hardest to prevent spread for what? For who? How can we help ourselves and others when service workers who have no choice but to risk exposure cannot vet who they come into contact with? When public buildings are vandalized with calls for freedom, undoubtedly written by a member of the freest demographic in this country. The freest there are call for their freedom to spread a virus while ignoring civil rights movements scattered across the world. How do you juggle all of these things happening at once? How do you process this information?

2020 has been the horror film in which I watch an irrational fear of the air becoming an unsafe place become a rational one. Suddenly, I’m the sane one for sanitizing my groceries when I bring them home. I’m the sane one for feeling anxiety around sick people, being afraid of hospitals, questioning who has touched the pen at the bank today. This newfound sanity, however, is perhaps overshadowed by the sheer insanity of the year we’re living in. While the chaos that has enveloped us in this year has been overwhelmingly negative, it has shown us all that even in crisis, we still adapt. It’s true, it started with fires and then plagues and then reminded us of civil unrest and then continued into in-real-life political satire and now we are being reminded of plagues once again, but we’re adapting, living in a new, bastardized version of “normal”; you’re reading a blog post in a writing class from a classmate that you will not see in real life this year, perhaps ever in your studies, though you’ve heard more of her real thoughts than many others have or probably ever will.

“Chaos is merely order waiting to be deciphered”- José Saramargo

The chaos that this year has brought us has not been kind to anyone, but I have had an especially tumultuous relationship with it. The paradox of being comforted by a more sterile environment because of its origin in a pandemic that I’m living through makes sense to nobody, least of all me. It seems to me like there’s a race going on in my head for every new bit of positive or negative information to get cancelled out before it can make a discernible impact on me besides resting normal. 2020 is a toxic partner that apologizes for their wrongdoings before I can get angry enough at them, promising to do better next time. I tell myself that our relationship is coming to an end soon, that 2021 will be kindergentlersofter, but a part of me believes that she hides a personality much like 2020. I wonder if we will all learn to simply live in this disarray as it comes to us; if chaos will be the new resting heart rate of life. For now, however, when 2020 apologizes and presents me with false comforts, sanitized door handles and strangers wearing masks and rejected handshakes, I will feel sane for a moment and I welcome this new temporary sanity with open arms for however long it lasts.

Note from the Astrologer (3rd gen.):

Whether you believe in astrology or not, the purpose of my writing experiment was to curate my personal view of the signs’ ups and downs during 2020 through my extended knowledge of the subject. Furthermore, this piece is dedicated to my grandmother, Gwendolyn, who is our first-generation astrologer in the family and has passed down her wisdom through my mother and myself.  Astrology’s purpose is to assist in your understanding of how one operates in, receives, and translates the world. Plus, astrology provides tips and advice for future endeavours specifically designed to your trajectory of life. However, with anything else online, please use discretion in who is providing what information; and, make sure you understand what you are reading, as well. The horoscopes below are solely based on the sun sign, while there is endless information from every other planet and transition and degree made the minute you were born.

Thanks for reading! If you have any further questions about your sign or your birth chart, feel free to contact me. I love to talk stars.

Brianna Canuel

 

The Aries in 2020 might have experienced some trials and tribulations, especially during the Mars retrograde that resided in their own sign from September 9 and lasted through until November 13. Mars is the planet of action and what drives us, so during this year the Aries might have felt slowed down or restricted by 2020 (again, especially during this retrograde period). However, on the other side of the retrograde is more money and sex than ever for Aries dominant people. After you learn to rest, you will notice you now have more energy to take the actions to accomplish your goals. Perhaps a creative surge will reinspire you to take up something you once tried long ago. This time, near the end of 2020, the Aries will be the most successful – once they drop the competitive ego, of course. The only competition that truly matters is with yourself.

The Taurus in 2020 might wonder why everyone had to panic in absurd ways and act out of their usual behaviours. Although, once a Taurus’ routine is thrown out of whack, they might not know what to do themselves, either. Perhaps while a Taurus is thrown off their track temporarily, it would have been a fine distraction to try some new recipes or new workout regime. I understand it can feel wobbly while almost everyone’s income is compromised, but even during 2020 the concept of To Give is to Receive still applies. If you can, a Taurus might benefit from donating or helping out where and when they can in their communities – especially during the restraints of COVID-19. Regardless, if you find it is yourself who could use the most R and R, it might be best to do that first – an empty cup cannot be poured from.

The Gemini in 2020 might have faced the big lesson of patience in 2020. “Good things come to those who wait” would have been a common mantra. And, practicing deep breaths would benefit any Gemini this year. Your energy will feel like things are just about to begin rolling and then all of a sudden…nothing – progress is halted by external circumstances out of your control. Perhaps the second lesson is/was: life cannot always be in your control. Furthermore, 2020 is showing you things you could have easily ignored without a pandemic; and now, you are facing the circumstances you needed to face, and only then will you fully appreciate the good things to come. Hold on, Gemini, and then let go of the unnecessary when you are ready.

The Cancer crab in 2020 kicks into their natural instincts of “hermitting” and hiding in their shell – I mean home – whilst the chaos continues around them. While Cancers are only trying to survive the year of 2020, finances and your wallet may have been the main focus of the last 10 and a half months. This is not to say you need to sew your wallet shut, or feel the desire to overspend, 2020 will merely show you what, when, and where it is best for you to spend or not spend from here on out (even if this means some change in how you usually do things that once worked for you). Perhaps your routine of spending will shift, like finally fixing that step out front instead of purchasing another cozy blanket for the winter season. Or, some Cancers will learn that it is okay to loosen the purse strings to have some fun, or the slightly more expensive bottle of wine is perfectly acceptable this Friday night. Whatever the case may be, be kind to yourself and allow the change to happen – I know this can be the most difficult part for a Cancer.

The Leo in 2020 might feel emotionally and/or physically drained by this point. It is not there has been major turbulence in your own life, but rather the people you connect with most seem to need your expertise this year; or, if they ignore your advice, you might have had to bite your tongue before saying “I told you so” (or, not). In whatever situation, give as much as they can take, and then treat yourself to a second toke or bubble bath, just because. Leo’s know how to take care of themselves, so why are you forgetting this in 2020? I know a Leo’s type of fun usually involves others, and this, as we know, has been difficult during the pandemic of COVID-19. Perhaps it will take a little convincing for some friends, but you should organize that Zoom party (possibly…an online shopping theme, somehow?) you had been curating. Or, organize that socially-distanced hiking group. Socializing for Leos can sometimes be rejuvenating, but take care and take note of when you need that rare alone time, as well.

2020 will teach the Virgo to take responsibility for your own happiness by structuring your life in a way that supports greater creativity, spontaneity, and joy. This will mean letting go of any fears and judgments keeping you from living life to the fullest. It will also mean saying yes more often to your inner child. Build a blanket fort for yourself or with your partner, make or purchase some kinetic dough or sand to let your imagination go, or indulge in that cartoon marathon you have been thinking about. Also, during the three retrogrades of 2020 the Virgo will be given time to truly assess who really fits in their lives, and who you truly want to keep around for an extended period of time. Lastly, hopefully you have been open-minded to new health regimes, as new trends were likely to spark your interest – be sure to do your research first, though (as Virgos do best).

In 2020, the Libra will experience some sort of metamorphosis (particularly an emotional one); whether this was a long-time coming, or an accelerated version from out of the blue, the transformation is of the utmost importance for your future self. Libras have experienced some hardships leading up to 2020, but this was the year for those past experiences to leave you with no choice but to face them straight on and nowhere else to hide. While this sounds especially frightening, I can promise you it is for your future self (perhaps even your now-self) to feel a million times lighter; so many weights will be lifted. Does that not sound wonderful, Libra? The Libra people are quite the oxymoron; I have considered them an iron fist in a velvet glove. In other words, while you appear delicate and aloof, Libras are built more of a stronger material and take a lot. However, 2020 will help you shed this metaphorical weight. You may look at it this way: the purpose of how heavy the prior years were was to feel this soon-coming lightness at an all-time high. Get ready, because Libras are about to FLY.

The Scorpio in 2020 would have had a slightly “easier” time than others, if there can be something of 2020 referred to as “easy.” While the Scorpio might question and challenge the world’s handlings of COVID-19, the Scorpio is well-versed in heavier energies, and perhaps for once they are relieved the heavy energy is not solely coming from them. Because Scorpio is a water sign, and their emotions run deep, Scorpios are able to empathize while producing intelligent solutions to the pandemic. They are the investigators of the zodiac, therefore their thirst for the truth could surpass any other actions taken in 2020. Regardless, the Scorpio will work mostly from the inside out, this year. From solving inner turmoil’s to improving a communication skill, Scorpios will have a more reclusive transformation.

In 2020, the Sagittarius would have had the opportunity to kickstart something big at the beginning of the year, and then the chance to clear past karma and break unconscious patterns no longer serving your best self, starting in the month of May. For example, that old habit of taking yourself too seriously; this is the year to lighten up and admit your mistakes. This is the year to focus on honesty, generosity, and positivity. While this may sound cheesy to some, by setting and achieving goals for your personal growth can only benefit the love you have for yourself. 2020 will also remind the Sagittarius that not only do your actions affect you, they affect everyone you interact with (and even some you do not). By the end of this year, you are encouraged to up your responsibility levels, whether you feel ready or not. To start, take responsibility for the energy you give out. And, keep showing up for yourself by nurturing your mind, body, and spirit. This way, you are able to show up for others.

Dear Capricorn…2020 is your year. And, by your year, I mean almost all transitions that took place this year had something to do with you…or at least a Capricorn’s energy. There has been harshness, devastation, and restructuring during this year, and it has been up to the Capricorns to lead us through. Surprisingly, the energy that was necessary from our leaders (Capricorns and politicians alike) was not the usual direct, forceful, and powerhouse way; but, rather a soft, open, and accepting vibe. If you, the Capricorn, can be an example of these qualities, I promise a lot of us will follow suit. However, while this sounds like a lot of responsibility, you will also be faced with the reality that, as strong and competent as you are, there is only so much a Capricorn can handle and accomplish on their own. How might your life be transformed if you allow someone in to lend a helping hand? Making plans and the domestic life in general may be strained this year, Capricorn. It is best to remember to stick together, rather than being divided and/or alone.

2020 encouraged the Aquarius to get comfy…and this concept is not usually in the typical Aquarius vocabulary. While it usually takes quite a lot to rattle your nerves, this year might have pushed you to your wits end, almost forcing you to understand how to be comfortable, still, and enjoy the moment for an extended period of time. Also, as much as you are the rebel and radical innovator, this year your desire for stability and security grew – but what if the most “punk-rock” thing you did this year is the fact you went back to basics and adopted a simpler lifestyle? And, if you have not done so yet, I would encourage at least considering this. 2020 strips you of the shiny and distracting things and draws your attention to things that really matter. Regardless, have no fear: it is about consciously choosing to stay within the limits that foster greater health, safety, wellbeing, and happiness for YOU.

The Pisces in 2020 will not find it easy to identify boundaries and connect with everyone like they usually do. As a water sign, you need some kind of “container” to give your life shape. This year will provide an opportunity to find this through participating in groups or social activities. While this poses a significant block during the pandemic, it is still recommended to loosen the familial ties, as you will have plenty of time to connect with them during the pandemic, in preparing for the potential to lose touch with yourself. Explore who you are outside your family dynamic, the Pisces may be pleasantly surprised. Fortunately, 2020 gave you the confidence to put yourself out there, and now can gain a clearer sense of the self, and more importantly, of who you are not. Do not be afraid to say “no,” – it will only empower you to say a more decisive yes for when you do know exactly what you want.

 

 

 

 

 

“I was driving down the street yesterday, and—I kid you not—there was a woman walking down the sidewalk carrying four Costco-sized flats of toilet paper.”

“Oh, I know. The rumours are true. It’s getting ridiculous.”

“These people are idiots for thinking that they are really gonna need any of it. More people have died from the flu for God’s sake. This cold is nothing to be threatened by—hey sweetheart! Would ya hit the bubble button for us old guys?”

You turn your attention to the men in the hot tub, although you’ve been listening to their conversation since they got it. You take your floatation aid off of your back and give the red button labelled jets a smack. You don’t want to touch it. Frankly, you don’t want to be anywhere near a germ-infested public pool at the moment, and you are in disbelief at the choices of the two senior citizens that sit in the hot tub shoulder-to-shoulder with nine others. Instead of resting your eyes, you have spent every off-deck rotation taking Lysol wipes to railings and anything else frequently touched. Your hands smell of disinfectant.

As you scan the pools, your eyes catch the cheerful grin of the kindest of the Maintenance men.

“Good morning!”

“Hey, Ray. How’s it been?” you ask.

“It’s a scary, scary world that we live in, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. I have been overhearing that there is a toilet paper shortage. Have you heard anything about that?” you question.

“Oh, it’s getting bad in those grocery stores. I am worried that patrons are going to start stealing from our washrooms. Luckily, I stocked up the other day. I live with my 86-year-old mother, you know, to care for her, but I’m immunocompromised. If either of us were to catch it, neither of us would survive. I felt bad stripping the shelves, but you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”

You stand together in silence, listening to the water lap over the grates.

“Well, I think I’ve got to go hunt for some tonight. We are genuinely just on our last roll, and my roommate won’t let me forget that it’s my turn to buy,” you explain.

“Oh gosh, I have so many! I will bring some to work for you, no problem!” Ray exclaims.

“Wow, that is so incredible of you. Thank you so much for offering! How about I pull apart every store in town tonight, and I’ll let you know how I do tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good. And don’t be shy! I’d be happy to help you out. Good luck tonight!”

“Thanks, Ray. Good luck yourself,” you call out as he disappears into the men’s changeroom.

You know you wouldn’t ask for any toilet paper from him. His mother needed it more than you did. You also know that you probably wouldn’t find any on your own, so you’ll have to figure something else out.

What you didn’t know was that that was the last time you would see Ray, for a long while at least. That evening you would receive two emails: one from the pool announcing its immediate closure, and one from the university telling you that it was time to go home.

• • •

You spend most of your days attempting to navigate online school. It isn’t until the evenings that you make your way downstairs to join your family in the living room. The TV is basically always on these days, usually broadcasting the news. As a family, you huddle around it to watch Dr. Bonnie Henry’s 3 o’clock updates. You move away from it to set off your car alarms at 7 o’clock. You eat dinner around it, play cards around it, brush the dog in front of it.

It’s about a month into quarantine, and you are feeling just as stressed out and nervous as everyone else. When you leave your studies to join your family every evening, it’s difficult for you to relax any more than you can while prepping for exams. The tension is in your hands. You can feel it.

So, you begin to pick up some new hobbies. For a couple of weeks, you march downstairs with a pencil case in hand. Adult colouring books—so underrated. Your dad even buys you a pack of felt pens off of Amazon. The following month

or so consists of needles and yarn. Yes, you learn to knit. YouTube tutorials can be brilliant coaches. You begin by making patterned squares and rectangles to practice. Soon after, you are able to make a little bunny that you will give to your mom for Mother’s Day and a neck warmer that you will give to your dad for Father’s Day.

 

The tension is in your hands, so it is your hands that you will distract.

• • •

Your body lifts off the driver’s seat as your tires skip across the lumpy backroad. You turn onto the road that points towards the golf course, and its dark. At the end of this road is a gate that you have driven through many times in order to get to the building that your brother emerges from every night after he has finished closing—mask-less.

The staff at the golf course aren’t required to wear masks because they spend most of their time outside. You have already had a fit about this. Sure, they are supposed to be social distancing, but who can say it actually happens? Can you trust 17-year-old boys to follow the rules? No; that is what you will learn tonight.

You arrive at the gate but, this time, it is closed, and there is a running car before it. The silhouette of your brother emerges from the bright headlights and fills the seat next to you. You both sit in silence as you clench your jaw so tight that your gums begin to ache. Finally, you make space in your mouth for words to slip out:

“Tell me you didn’t get in that car to drive up to the gate.”

There is a long exhale through his nose before his answer: “I did. So what?”

Another pause. If you would have replied right then, it would have been a scream followed by a sob.

Calmly, your shaky voice explains: “You can’t do that. Not only did you just break government restrictions, you just put our entire family at risk because you were too lazy to walk up a path. I am so disgusted and hurt. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again, and that you will shower the minute you step in the front door.”

“Fine.”

Later, you will find out that the first thing that he will try to do the next morning is get into someone else’s car. A few days after that, your mom will yell at you because you are being selfish and quarantine is hard on your brother too—a statement that you will never quite understand and, consequently, administer seven long, quarantined days of not talking to your family.   

The reality is that you have asthma and very low iron levels; you have shitty lungs and a weak immune system. You aren’t trying to pick fights or cause drama. You are just scared.

 • • •

You drive down the familiar road. It’s been over two and a half months since you had last made the trip. The government forbade it. But today is May 19^th, and he has been waiting for your arrival all day.

Once exams were finished, you had finally committed to seeing him. On the first afternoon, the two of you sat six feet apart in your backyard. He had brought his own lawn chair and walked around the side of the house. After that first meeting, he decided to clean off his family’s personal junk yard, otherwise known as his back porch. The next meeting you had was on that porch underneath the Christmas lights that he had hung and on top of the sparkling floor that he had scrubbed. The two of you would sit and talk for hours and hours; however, long it would last until someone had to pee. You would take cheesy relationship quizzes that you’d find on the internet and test each other.

“Mushrooms!” you exclaimed.

“Noooo…” he sang. “I knew that! I obviously knew that. I always order your pizza with no mushrooms. You should just give me the point anyway.”

“Nope! Not happening, sorry,” you told him. 

You would bring him a square that you had knitted in his favourite colour, place it on the table, and then move away so he could grab it whilst keeping the distance. Keeping the distance was unimaginable.

But now, it is May 19^th, and he is the first person who made the cut to be in your Safe Six.

You parallel park in front of his house and exhale deeply. You don’t know why you are so nervous, but you are practically shaking. You get out of your car and almost forget to lock the door. You see him standing in the open frame of his front door. Without lifting your glance, the two of you slowly move towards each other until you realize that all of your things are on the ground, and you are embraced in his arms.

The first time you have hugged anyone in two and a half months. The first time you have touched anyone in two and half months. The feeling is alien, and you will never forget it.

• • •

“So, we are about two hours in. I’ll give you guys your five-minute break now. Meet back at 11:05,” your professor calls out through Zoom.

You had decided to take a summer course. Might as well. You are stuck inside anyway. It is your first full course through Zoom; a preview of what is to come in the fall.

You turn off your video and grab your phone. You attempt to scroll through Instagram, but it leaves an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Every post addresses George Floyd or Breonna Taylor or Ahmaud Arbery. All of the recognition, it’s fantastic. It is also overwhelming. You scroll past a post that reads If you are being silent, I see you. You know that you are being far from silent. You have donated to different organizations, taken part in multiple conversations with your friends and family about the topic, and taken the time to educate yourself. The only problem is that you never posted about any of it publicly. Are you being you silent? No. Does everyone on social media know that? No. Should that matter? No, but deep down you feel like it does.

You shut off your phone and toss it across your bed, deciding to just wait out the last 2 minutes of your break.

• • •

You feel his muscles relax into your leg and gentle snores release from his nose.

Yes! He is finally asleep, you think.

The last week had been tough. Your puppy wasn’t feeling well. It took four visits to the vet and multiple prescriptions before he was rushed into emergency surgery. You had overheard your dad saying to your mom:

“This is exactly how Jake was acting during his last few days, right before they found all of the cancer.”

He was right. Loki was exhausted, throwing up, refusing to eat just like your last dog before he passed. When a Lab won’t eat, you know there is something wrong. There were a lot of tears that week. One of the hardest things to witness is your sick dog peering up at you with scared eyes as if they are saying help me.

It has now been four hours since he first fell asleep on you. It is the first time he has seemed comfortable since the surgery. You, however, share no such comfort. The laminate floor shoots pains into your ankle bones. The edge of his cone turns your thigh white. There is no back support as he chose the middle of the living room floor to lie down on you. The channel is stuck on a show that you have no interest in watching. It’s okay through. You find yourself mostly watching your puppy anyway. It makes you the happiest you have been in weeks.

 • • •

When the weather turns hot and the days lengthen out, you are able to find some normalcy in all of the craziness. Since the pools mostly remain close, you find a job as a full-time barista where the summer tips are nice. You turn nineteen and host an outdoor party of six. You take your dog to the beach once his stitches are out. You even plan a weekend hiking trip with your boyfriend. It is here where you take him ziplining for the first time. The tops of the trees were never introduced to the pandemic.

• • •

“Here is the Chai Tea Latte, and here is the Iced Mocha with no whip.”

“Thank you,” the couple says in unison.

You don’t wait for their reply. By the time they say the word you, you are already around the corner of the patio, hacking into your mask. The smoke is the

thickest it has ever been. You swiftly sneak into the staffroom to take a puff of your medication. You had phoned your doctor just yesterday, requesting an emergency inhaler. You haven’t been able to step outside without your chest tightening up like laces on a hockey skate.

Asthma and forest fires to not mix.

• • •

You begin to peel back the tape on the first box that you are unpacking into your first ever apartment. Or, that’s what you would be doing, you know, if 2020 wasn’t 2020.

It is officially fall, and you don’t like it. You spend your days studying and your nights making coffees or vise versa. The sun sets at 4:30 pm, and it’s been raining for at least a month. You are bored and exhausted. You want to read and colour and knit and do yoga and mediate and sleep, but, frankly, there is no time. So, instead, you count down the days until the semester is over and daydream about your almost-apartment while sitting in your noisy house.

• • •

It is November 8^th, and new restrictions have just been posted. The second wave is making an appearance. You spend the afternoon texting your friends:

 

 

 

 

 

Your mom walks into the kitchen where you are frowning at your phone.

“This sucks. It’s reading break, and I was finally going to get to see my friends, but of course attention-seeking Miss ‘Rona’s been feeling neglected lately,” you say.

“You need to calm down. It’s only two weeks. Just reschedule,” she says.

“I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, Mom, but it won’t only be two weeks.”

---

You are me. This is an imitate view of the kinds of things that have been going on in my personal life during the historic year of 2020. Although, I have not felt much inspiration to write throughout this year, I am quite certain that the year as a whole will be a massive influence on any of my future writing, as it will for any and all future writing in general. For recent assignments, I have already created a corrupt society on a fictional planet, as well as written about the absurdity of how the education system is dealing with COVID 19. Both of these include a toxic, controlling environment. Hm, I wonder what could have placed those thoughts into my head? I know that neither of these pieces would exist if it weren’t for the events of 2020. What an awful, dehumanizing, makes-you-think, inspirational year.

 

Every Saturday afternoon, on my way home from work, I go drive by people protesting wearing masks; on Water Street, in downtown Kelowna, just before the bridge crossing the lake to Westbank. I have seen them there for the past few months, cheering and jeering at those who drive past, with signs declaring that a face mask is the work of the devil or used as an obscure way for the federal government to brainwash its citizens. This group is relatively small, ranging roughly between twenty to thirty people. And yet, everyone sees their message, is exposed to it and has to process it; and worst of all, it slows down traffic to the speed of a drunken snail covered in molasses. These people really depress me, more than usual.

What’s the point to these people’s protests? Half of the signs that these people hold are not even directly related to wearing a mask; some simply have generic simpleton buzz-word filled slogans typically involving the words “freedom”, “rights”, “control”, “my choice”, etc. While another quarter proudly declare that COVID-19 is a seasonal flu despite it having existed for every season of the year now; and the last quarter of these people, so about half a dozen or so, are actually “protesting” against wearing masks, despite a majority of people in Kelowna don’t seem to wear them from my personal experience, and there not being a hard law declaring that citizens must wear a mask while in public spaces. It’s really just a mess of confusing disinformation and misplaced zeal. I have to drive by these people at least once a week, and, as one would assume, it gets exhausting quite quickly.

Then after I get home from work and after plodding along with the joys of homework, I get to unwind with a barrage of negative, depressing, worrying and miserable news from every online platform imaginable. And when you finally get some free time from both school and work to see how your, just as busy, friends are doing, half the conversation is commenting on the miserable situation of the planet; I think I may know more about each of the American political parties than the entire Canadian political system in its entirety. Eventually it’s shoved down your throat so much, that even when doing something completely unconnected to social media, you cannot help but to unconsciously begin to think of whatever headline you last read that’s bouncing around and begin to draw comparisons to whatever you are consuming. I worry a lot about the state of the world.

However, as a side effect of the exhausting twenty-four-hour news cycle from every available facet of social media, I have found myself becoming much more easily lethargic and overwhelmed by whatever my current reality needs me to deal with. Sometimes it manifests while eating a meal and suddenly you stop eating despite still feeling hungry but it’s simply too much effort to continue eating; other times it is in leaving an online zoom class partway through because you feel that it will be too exhausting to do anything other than lay in bed or sit in a chair and stare; or leaving a blog post ignored and not writing it until the last minute before it’s due. Hypothetically, of course.

So, if everything seems to be overwhelmingly negative for the past forever in recent memory, what is there to do to cope? Well it’s nigh impossible to escape your reality forever, as it’s what you are stuck with, but you can escape it for just a little while. Over the course of my relatively average and uneventful twenty years of life I have noticed that I have been consistently drawn to media, whether in the form of literature, video games, movies or tv shows, that is often dystopian, apocalyptic, etcetera (I know, how edgy). Given the relatively annoying events from over this year, I noticed that I have found myself being drawn increasingly darker forms of media. Maybe I’m a depressed, maybe it’s character development, probably a little bit of both.

One of the main reasons for doing so, I believe at least, is that I keep looking into these dystopian settings as a different form of escapism. Realities where humanity has scoured itself clean from the Earth’s surface by way of nuclear fire and now lives in the pits of depravity beneath the surface, to space age epics in which humans created a galaxy-spanning empire, fell to the ravages of artificial intelligences of their own creation and the remnants are the xenophobic, superstitious peoples who now thrive as they impose an authoritarian rule so brutal that it makes life in any historical dictatorship have seemingly tolerable living conditions. Science fiction is great in general at showing the worst of our species. Rather than spending my free time with these medias to temporarily go to a better reality, I instead seek out worse ones so that when I look at everything else going on across the planet, I can go “see it’s not so bad, this can be fixed one day.” It works only sometimes. There’s always the small cynical part of the brain that looks at these dystopian realities, compares it to what you’re living in and goes “we’re not too far off, one day we’ll be there and you’ll be responsible for your complacency.” In theory anyways.

But this doesn’t always work, sometimes it just makes your mood that much more miserable. So instead, you could run back in time to childhood innocence. Instead of spending my time in the aforementioned dreary fictional worlds, with my mood slowly swimming between melancholy and despair, sometimes I need to seek out more positive forms of media to remember that the world was not always a seemingly terrible place. To meet this need, I have been found that the natural world provides the best remedy, provided that you don’t look too deep into the survival aspect. Just things with wholesome endings/messages or involving the greens of spring and summer seem to help my headspace; even if I am too busy to go do something outdoors, and there isn’t much right now due to the oncoming winter. Some of my personal favorites include rereading specific scenes, the most wholesome ones, from books that you love, casual watching of any bits of the Shire from both the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit because nothing is better than the soundtrack from those bits, exploring old fairy-tales involving fantastical elements that can give thoughts and dreams of a better reality. Really anything works from your childhood that causes you to reminisce on happy memories. Everyone needs a break from time to time, so here’s the epitome wholesomeness in my opinion: https://youtu.be/KQetemT1sWc

Well what’s the point of all of this? To complain? To cry out for attention? To preach? To finish this assignment so I don’t fail the class? Well I don’t know; that’s up to you because I have other work to go procrastinate on and you’ve probably zoned out from reading these blocks of text. So have a good day and remember to stay hydrated.

Hey all! I wrote a fictional story, in a sort of “choose your own adventure” fashion. I have linked all the music I referenced, and I encourage you to listen along with the story! I do think you need a Spotify account to access the links, so you can always search up the songs/albums too. The links are before the paragraph itself, so start listening, then scroll down to the specific paragraph. There are three different endings, hopefully you enjoy! 

I was awoken by the sound of “rock n roll” by Dijon.

This song is a personal favourite, filled with some of the best vocals around. This was my usual 8am alarm, but today it was set for 10:47am. As my eyes adjusted, I scanned my room. My sunburst guitar sat elegantly in her stand. Yesterday’s outfit (black baggy pants and my custom-made pink crop top) was sprawled on the carpet, and my record player laid waiting for me to say good morning. On this mild spring quarantine morning, I had all the time in the world. There was no one rushing me, there was no one leaning on me like I once leaned on her. Today is a day for me. I walked over to my record player in my bright blue underwear, and stared at my record collection. What to play this morning? 

For “Japan” by Worst Party Ever, go to paragraph 2.

For “Girlfriends” by Girlfriends, go to paragraph 4.

2. One of my all time favourite albums. Raw lyrics, emotional stories. It was also one of her favourites, and it always left me feeling sad. Maybe today was a day for emotions. I walked past my messy floor back to my bed, and grabbed my king sized fuzzy blanket. I sprawled it out, and proceeded to roll myself into a tight burrito. I was going to stay here for a while. Living alone during quarantine can be very taxing and lonely, I had discovered. CERB and excessive caffeine can only take one so far. She used quarantine as an excuse to break up with me without warning. We had been together for two years, and had relied on each other far too much. Or maybe that was just my problem. It’s only been a month, but I still hold on to that memory of us dancing under that one streetlight, the one that she always used to stare at, the one she kissed me under so passionately with her big boots and black jeans and cute shirt and soft lips and soft hair. My eyes filled with tears, just in time for the static of a completed record to bring me back to reality. Time for some coffee, I suppose. I propped myself up, unravelled my emotional burrito and threw on a hoodie and pyjama pants. Time for a new album.

I decided to play “What It Takes To Move Forward” by empire! empire! (i was a lonely estate).

Everyone goes through an emo phase, and while I am mostly out of mine, midwestern emo music keeps me coming back. A natural progression from Worst Party Ever’s acoustic, personal lyrics, this album keeps me in a sad state, but with a full band to comfort me by my side. They also have amazingly personal lyrics, and I find myself grooving along to the sadness. As I booted up my old, worn out coffee machine, I felt an immense pressure build in my chest. Looks like today really was a day for me, a day for me to feel overwhelmingly anxious. Anxiety and caffeine usually make a great combo, they complement each other. Feeling like this was not unusual, given the amount of time I had been spending at home, alone, without her. I wonder often if other people are in the same boat as me, one stranded at sea, one without love. Quarantine was really beginning to deteriorate my mental health. Why do I always have to be so dramatic? Why can’t I reach out to the ones I love, and tell them how I feel? What is it like to try, to love? Why can’t I be that attractive man from the movies? The sweet one that gets the girl, that isn’t phased by loss, the one that is confident with himself. I feel my brain swelling. Not with great learning, but with great sadness, with great anguish. It swells, swells, swells, and it finally bursts. In a firework display, my brains splatter on the wall behind me. My un-sipped coffee spills all over the floor, creating a tie-dye style stain on my grey hoodie. My body collapses, and is finally free of tension. I am no longer alive, but no longer trapped. Sometimes, it feels best to get out, no matter the cost.

Ending 1 completed! 

4. A classic pick. My “get shit done” album. 30 minutes long, full of catchy riffs and quality production, especially for a 2009 album. I’ve always considered it ahead of its time. I cleaned my surroundings faster than ever, and was in the shower by the time “Yeah!? What’s it Tuba!?” had barely begun. Today really was a day for me, a day to almost feel as though I wasn’t trapped within myself, trapped within the confines of my home. Post shower, I grabbed my Scooby-Doo beach towel to dry myself off (towels were much more expensive than I had anticipated). I wrapped it around my slim waist, and proceeded to shave my week-long scruff. I shaved with the precision of a blind archer, and cut my face repeatedly. Nothing new here. With toilet paper stuck to my face, I went to make myself some coffee. I opened the window, and could taste the spring air. The sun was out, birds were chirping, and I swear I even saw a squirrel run across the fence, with a face full of nuts, preparing for the cold months ahead. The day seemed almost too perfect, and I couldn’t miss the opportunity to go outside. Today was a day for me, after all. I poured my coffee into my teal travel mug, put in my dangly sun and moon earrings, threw on the same outfit as the day before, and set out on my grand adventure. With my earbuds in, it was time to pick something new to listen to. 

For “Cerulean” by Baths, go to paragraph 5.

For “Crumbling” by Mid-Air Thief, go to paragraph 7. 

5. A perfect introduction to the world of glitch pop. Experimental music that focuses on stylistic production, clashing rhythms and catchy melodies. It takes pop music to an almost surreal level. I lock my door behind me, and begin my adventure in the outdoor world. It feels different than when I was out last. The air is too clean, the sun is too bright. Must just be my lucky day. A short two minutes from my home lies a park. A paved walking path surrounds a playground, filled with wood chips and bright blue, yellow and red play structures. I used to play in this park when I was younger, when times were simpler. Now it is a symbol of how quickly things can change. It is surrounded by caution tape, to prevent the spread of the virus. It seems that even parts of the outdoor world are locked down. I approach the park, and walk a lap around the playground, staring. The perfect, gleaming sun follows me as I walk, keeping my body warm and my brain busy. I notice not a single other person around, one time down the slide wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it? My Doc Marten covered feet take off, and I run through the caution tape like a first place marathon runner. Today was my day to win. I approach the bright red swirly slide, and throw myself down. Five seconds pass. Ten seconds pass. Thirty seconds pass, and I am still swirling down the bright red slide. After an unknown amount of time, I am knocked unconscious, and my limp body is finally ejected from the bloody mouth of the slide.

I am awoken by a screeching from my earbuds. With my eyes still closed, I rip them out, only to hear “Republic of Rough and Ready” by Hella playing around me.

It is coming from every direction. Whoever made this choice made a great one. Who doesn’t love some Zach Hill drumming and unreplicatable rhythms after being unconscious? Upon opening my pale blue eyes, I notice the world has changed. The overly bright sun has turned swirly slide red, and the elegant scenery has faded to dull versions of its original self. Not only have the colours changed, but upon looking down, I notice that I am now standing on what once was the sky, with the sun below me. The playground sits high in the sky, replacing the sun. And to think, today was supposed to be a me day, a day to get out of the quarantining for just a little bit. Beats me for leaving my place, I suppose. Relatively unphased, I walk on the sky towards the sun. Its deep red truly is captivating. It has some sort of pull, like when you see the one you love smile at you. You can’t just walk away from that, now can you? It gets warmer as I approach, and my pink jaggedly cut crop top evaporates off my body. I do not notice the heat. I find myself ten feet away from the burning red ball, all skin melted off my body, all scenery turned white. I am but a skeleton in a box of white, but I still feel unique. I guess this is what it feels like to take a day for myself. 

Ending 2 completed!

7. This South-Korean dream pop album is perfect for any adventure. You won’t be able to understand any lyrics (unless you speak Korean), but the immaculate production and one of a kind melodies and beats will make up for it. I venture into town, strolling past the closed shops and empty parking spots. There are few people on the street, and I smile through my mask at those I pass. It really does feel nice to get outside for once, I should do this more often. I reach the end of the downtown, and approach a beach. It is small, and covered in fine, grey sand. The waves crash up against the shore in a polyrhythmic fashion. There is but one person on the beach, reading on a picnic blanket. They have lovely black hair that flows down to their mid back, and they are dressed in baggy jeans and a baggy sweater, hiding their curves. Without seeing their face, I know they are beautiful. I position myself on the bench near them, my awkward self not wanting to approach them directly. I have nothing to read but my feelings, and they read them too. Without consent, my feelings become words on their open book. I hear a giggle, and they get up and pack their things. They walk over, leave their book with me, and walk away. 

I walked home immediately afterwards, book in hand. I busted through my own door, and threw on “ART SCHOOL CRUSH” by NNAMDÏ.

Not only was this song relevant to my increased, love struck heart pounding, it’s also just a fantastically funny, but groovy, song to listen to. I was convinced this was a message for me, they read my feelings after all. They were bound to have left me a deep, emotional message confessing their love for me. I cracked my knuckles, successfully cracking eight out of ten of them, and flipped open the leatherbound book. Blank. Every page was blank. I flipped through the book over and over, looking for something I had missed, only to be comforted by the same blank pages. Well, so much for a grand adventure it seems. I threw the book on the counter, ripped off my black baggy pants, and proceeded to sit on the couch. I wrapped myself up  in my king sized fuzzy blanket, and moped the night away. I guess this is why I never go out anymore. 

Ending 3 completed!