I’m definitely thinking too far ahead and it’s definitely going to send me into a little bit of a spiral. But, when in quarantine, am I right?
I’m nervous for the summer. For what’s going to happen in the upcoming months. Hell, I’m nervous for next fall semester. I’m nervous for large philosophical reasons and tiny superficial reasons.
Superficially, I have concert tickets. An experience I spent my money on that I don’t always get to experience. I don’t know what’s going to happen. What precautions they would take for a small general admission concert that normally would be filled with mosh pits and crowd surfers.
I’m nervous for beach days and late night dive restaurants and going to a bar for the first time. I’m nervous that I won’t get to walk on the beach late at night and feel the water. That I won’t be able to track a single grain of sand into my best friend’s car. That we won’t be able to drive aimlessly around, get lost, and GPS our way home.
But those are surface level things. Things that aren’t that important in the grand scheme. Because really, I have no idea what’s going to happen. Culturally and socially there has to be a change.
Going to a bar or a concert won’t be the same for a long time if ever. What happens to the cultural experience of being in a mosh pit? Of looking out for a crowd surfer to catch? Going to the grocery store won’t be the same.
In a way a lot of these changes can come at a good cost. What if we have to stand in socially distant lines to check out? Maybe the next strain of the flu will spread slower. In places of public transport, maybe they’ll continue to clean areas like subways and train stations.
You know, I think about these large and small things. The effects on me and on society and there’s one event I can’t get out of my head lately. Pride.
What happens to all the Pride Parades? It’s cultural significance to the LBGTQ+ community is insurmountable. I went to Pride for the first time last year. And for one of the first times I felt so welcome in this space filled with strangers. I knew none of them but I felt safe because they understood me, they did’t judge me.
And I think about not being able to that again. I think about the people, young, old, and everything in between, who are planning to have their first Pride this year. It feels me with the great sadness and remorse.
This small entry is disjointed. My thoughts run uncompleted and half investigated but that’s also part of life in quarantine. Focus is few and far between. Being able to recognize my disjointedness means something. Maybe it means that I’m regaining focus.
And I think in a way that’s where we’re living and where we’re headed. Now, we’re disjointed. It’s difficult to keep information straight and conversations on topic. But we’re becoming self-aware and that’s a step in the right direction. We’re nearing the other side of this, even if it’s in small disjointed steps.