Tag: COVID-19

Today is my 57th birthday.

 


Today is my 57th birthday. I tend to celebrate birthdays by making observations of the previous year, and this time is no different:

  • I don’t feel 57. I have the heart of a thirty-year-old. Unfortunately, I have the face and body of a 57-year-old.
  • Writing-wise:
    • I still have room to improve especially cover letters.
    • I have options: I can self-publish if I want.
  • World events:
    • I knew we were going to have a pandemic; I didn’t count on being this emotionally settled with it.
    • It truly seems as if the world I had grown up with: women’s rights, minority rights, gay rights — in other words, true equality — is crumbling. I need to find the right way to fight.
  • Personal life
    • I broke a curse that I had lived with all my life. I can’t explain it all here, but the situation had all of the hallmarks of a curse. End result: I accept that I am loveable as I am.
    • It’s really not bad being in one’s fifties — It makes me nervous that I’m closer to 60 than 50, and I can’t believe my high school graduation was almost 40 years ago. 
    • I’m on a pretty even keel emotions wise, for which I am grateful.
In-between the disruption of COVID and the crimes of this political administration, beyond feeling overwhelmed by the changes in the world, the little crumbs of life are good — laughing with my husband, playing with Chloe the kitten, watching Poirot, interacting with students (as strange as it is with small classrooms and Zoom meetings).

Tonight I will go to dinner at William Coy’s with my husband and contemplate how I can make next year a better one.

Waking up my writing

 

I am trying to wake up my writing. My hectic schedule and the exhaustion that comes from wading through COVID-19 measures in the classroom, plus the lack of things that energize me (a movie, a writing retreat, something other than work or home) make the inspiration nearly absent.

“What do you want to write about?” No idea.

 I’ve even had trouble writing this blog. I missed yesterday; I’ve missed other days here and there. I started this blog with a desire to write daily, and I’m afraid that if I don’t keep that up, I will just quit.

 But I’m here today, and that’s what I need to do: keep showing up.

I’m doing some things to reclaim my imagination. Debbi Voisey (@DublinWriter on Twitter) hosts online workshops, and right now she’s hosting a prompt workshop, where for the first seven days we take notes on a total of 21 prompts, and then write. I’m hoping to get a short story out of this that I’m proud of.

If you have any ideas about how I can renew my imagination in the time of COVID-19 (and its restrictions on travel) please let me know!

Class, COVID, and time



 I’m finding it hard to find time to write lately. Teaching in COVID-19 is hard work. My average class is taught live, recorded on ZOOM, and taped for further reference. This way, if a student is well, they attend. If a student is quarantined or isolated, they join a Zoom session. If they’re really sick, they watch the recorded version later.

It’s hard to manage. I’m still having technical difficulties three days later. I hope the students are forgiving, because I’m doing the best I can. One class I have enough distancing that I’m probably safe with a face shield; the other class is impossible to get distancing in, so we’re doing our best to listen.

One of the hardest adjustments for me is to trivial I don’t even want to mention it. But I will: I can’t stand not wearing lipstick. It rubs off on masks, no matter what type I try. When I take my mask off, I feel naked. I am convinced my lips are the best part of my face, and they’re — not there. 

Still trying to solve that trivial problem.


****

 We officially have 52 students out with COVID; not sure who’s just quarantined to help stop the spread. This is less than I expected the first week.

Need to get back into writing

 

 

 I need to get back into writing, back into feeling like I’m a writer.

It’s this semester, I know it. It’s been nonstop work and seat of the pants improvisation. It’s been scrambling for a foothold. 

It’s been two days, for God’s sake.

If there’s anyone else having trouble writing, I feel for you. I feel for me. This has been an insane year.

Does anyone have any ideas for short stories? I feel like if I could get a short story written this weekend, I might feel better about the writing thing. Fantasy, light or dark, would work for me. I suppose I could write something on a plain insightful fiction riff, but can’t come up with those myself. 

So, send those prompts in, and hopefully I will be inspired.

Wow, that was disastrous!

 

 

 My first day of class was a technological disaster.

It started with my email program (Outlook) displaying an unredeemable glitch. The program told me there was a corrupted file, let me repair it, and lo and behold — the file was not repaired. And I could not use Outlook. On a day where 20 or more students required my attention.

Then my Zoom link disappeared. So all my students were in a chat room that I couldn’t access. So I sent them a new link and most of them found me.

I was rehearsing what it would be like with Zoom/in-class at the same time, because that well could happen this semester. This required the spiffy new camera and microphone I got yesterday. The setup seemed to work just fine — until I got to the classroom, and then the screen got twitchy, turning itself on and off.

In the morning class, I just about passed out. I think this was an artifact of some vigorous walking, lack of water, and nerves. But I plowed through and got through my first day.

Today I troubleshoot my computer and rehearse with the microphone and camera. Wish me luck.

Wish me luck (on the verge of a COVID semester)

 

 

 I took a break from this journal yesterday because the beginning of the semester is fast approaching. I got up early this morning fretting about some bit of paperwork I needed to get in before 10 today, and I will spend the morning doing some last minute magic to my course sites. We will be meeting in a blended format, so I will have classes each class day that will keep me in contact with students.

I’m ready. I’m not ready. I’m as ready as I’m going to be. I never feel ready; I just have to plunge in and deal with putting out fires as I go. Like my usual semesters, except with masks, hand sanitizer, appointment-only office hours, surface disinfectant, and the possibility of students bouncing in and out of class as they get sick. No worries.

 This is going to be a hard semester. This will not be business as usual, and I’ve been so stressed for so long already it feels normal. I don’t know what this semester will bring. 

 Wish me luck.

 


With people, there’s always hope

 

 

I just got to the Board Game Cafe, and already I’ve advised an incoming freshman and their mom about some of the features of Maryville. Life is starting to feel back to normal with just that little thing.

We’re practicing social distancing here, and mask wearing (there’s an ordinance in Maryville). 

 There are two girls (probably high schoolers) playing a complex game at one table, and occasional people looking for coffee. 

As for me, I’m writing this blog, and afterward, I’m going to transcribe some of my pen and paper notes and see if I’ve gotten any further with Gaia’s Hands. 

 Maybe there is hope, even though I feel like I have to scream through my mask to be heard, and I don’t know if I’ll get sick, and I don’t know if this pandemic will ever end. But there are still people, and with people there’s always hope. 

The COVID teaching year

 

And now it begins … fall semester under COVID.

I have two meetings today, one over ZOOM and the other socially distanced.  I’ll have one more socially distanced meeting on Monday, and then classes (my new hybrid method) will start next Wednesday.

 I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I will make sure I mask well and use my ethyl alcohol spray and wipe down the tables and meet students over ZOOM unless and until my students all get sick.

I’m usually excited about the beginning of the school year, but there doesn’t seem like there’s much to get excited about. Apprehensive is the better adjective. 

I need to make new rituals to replace the anchoring of the new school year. I didn’t know how much I needed them until they were gone. The beginning of the year picnic, gathering for refreshments before the big meeting, Convocation. The new wardrobe. 

What shall I do? Break in the video camera and microphone? Bring in a stuffed toy? (No, my colleagues won’t take that well) Wear my Bub mask? YES! 

 If I can keep my sense of humor, I think I’ll get through this.

A couple days of laziness



This morning it’s coffee and Miles Davis. Life could certainly be worse. In the pandemic, I think moments like this save me from depression. 


I slept all day yesterday. I don’t know what that was all about, except that I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I think I might be able to today. Time to write — maybe. If I don’t fall asleep again. 

I only have about two weeks before the beginning of the semester. I dread that still, because I think work (the college) will be a hotbed of COVID-19, but I really have no say in it. It’s too early for me to retire, because I have no health insurance until Social Security kicks in (and I’m only 57). So I have to face it.

But not yet. This is my actual vacation time, and I can spend it being lazy.