quarantined-ish day 26
Quarantined-ish Day 26
Sunday, April 12, 2020 - OKC, OK
3:01am
Just had a dream about Lauren Graham. Not like a sex dream (though, let’s be real. she is undeniably hot), but a dream of us telling silly stories over coffee. I miss telling silly stories over coffee with people. Side note: I love that I can pull up messenger in the middle of the night and see that Suzanne and I are still in a meme war.
6:47am
Did I really go back to sleep and then wake up just a few minutes ago? Well, it looks like I’ll be trail running all day every day so I can sleep like a normal human.
6:49am
Holy plantar fascia, Batman. Coffee will make it better. Or, you know… stretching and rolling on a frozen water bottle.
11:22am
Finished today’s journal prompt. Re-read yesterday’s. I still don’t like it, but at least I can write, and it’s a good reminder that it’s okay to not like things. #Pollyanna
12:14pm
Just spent the past 40ish minutes listening to a pastor speak. I chose to do it. Not by happenstance, either - as in saw the announcement earlier this week and put it in my calendar. I discovered him last winter when one of his blog posts was served to my social media feed. It would take several more pieces of his work before I would discover he’s a pastor. I love that. I left the church twenty-six years ago quite confident I’d never give anything church-related a second glance. Then John Pavlovitz happened. I still never thought I’d attend a service. Then COVID happened. That sounds like fear of this pandemic life. It isn’t. It is simply an opportunity because he has taken his offerings online, blended with an affinity for his written word and curiosity about his verbal delivery. I wanted to regret this - or at the very least have a nothingness about it - but it was quite intriguing. Also, I found his lisp charming.
3:04pm
For the first time maybe ever, I completely deleted something I wrote and rewrote it. I couldn’t stand the April 10th Isolation Journals Project entry sitting quietly in its allotted space with no emotional investment in it. And I’ll note the irony here, as the new piece spoke exactly to discovering the beauty of emotionally investing in life.
5:08pm
Two hours of dance party interspersed with handstands on blocks. I’d say I’ve devolved back to the early days of COVID dance parties, but I added the handstands on blocks. That’s a shining example of growth if it ever there was one.
5:17pm
Reread Contagion’s secret post for the eight thousandth time. Or the fourth. It came with a text not to take it personally. As a writer, I know better than that. As I writer, I also know there’s an element of truth in all of our stories. We all have secrets of some sort. Some bigger than others. I’m not much of a mystery, these days, but I know I’ve got some buried thoughts far below beneath the cobwebs of my distant past. I hope he does have secrets. I don’t want to know them, but he should have them. The right sort of secrets can keep you interested in your own thoughts. They can be the foundation for great art. They can give you guidance and shape your perspective.
5:41pm
“To see that we are all just alike, fractured and hurt, wild and dangerous.” I just love that line. I remember that cocktail of feelings. I hold onto that just a little bit because it’s interesting. It’s no longer my foundation, though. It merely seeps into the cracks to serve as a reference point.
7:20pm
Impromptu, I went to Keena’s patio for a socially distanced glass of wine. Six of us, spread out, playing what is essentially charades by way of iPhone, and time hopping backward to when music was really good.
10:54pm
How did I lose track of SO MUCH TIME? My face hurts from laughing. Likely a missed opportunity had we been busy with our non-pandemic lives. Thanks, COVID. I mean, it this time.
