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rinueWhen I'm in a dark room and I close my eyes, I see a low black horizon and a dim khaki sky. Sometimes I have to open my eyes again to check that the lights are off, as an instruction to myself to please stop straining to see, that it is dark and this light is an illusion. This has been true for several years at least. The shade I see is not eigengrau. Sometimes I notice it more than other times. I haven't heard it described by anyone else, but that may mean it's common; I have also not heard descriptions of the feeling of standing on your feet.
In theory, on Monday, I become eligible to be vaccinated. In Massachusetts, it's done by boarding groups, basically, and I'm low priority - not old, no pre-existing conditions, not a job that requires me to interact with the public or in fact leave my room. In theory at some point I will be vaccinated and then some weeks after that I'll have a reasonable level of immunity, although I'll still have to be cautious in many ways because I am at an age where I and many of my peers have children who are too young to be vaccinated. Hence we would not as a cohort be able to reach an 85% community vaccination rate.
"I want to hug my friends again" is a common sentiment, but I think it will only be a limited relief to see my friends. Not that I don't want to see them. But I don't think it will be immediately relaxing or fun. Everybody's anxious and falling apart. Almost everyone has experienced a significant tragedy. I have a desire to support my friends, to show up for them, but I don't think it's going to be joyful or easy. I think it's going to be prickly and rough edged and people are going to snap at each other a lot. Because trauma. It won't be "just like old times" in the short term, even though the memories of the old times will help us get through the short term.
It's going to be an adjustment as well because a lot of the people I know have moved house; very few of them are still in the apartments or houses I visited them in, the last time I visited them. My memories of being happy are largely memories of what it feels and looks like to be in a room - visually, but also smells, distances, movement of air. My sense of contentment is highly embodied. There's a lot of remapping to do. The new rooms need to be "filled up" with accumulated layers of pleasant past interactions.
I look forward to going to museums. To being able to dawdle in a shop without a sense I'm overusing the air. I'm looking forward to being able to ask for help from people who aren't in my household - able to book time in a studio instead of being limited to when Ciro is available.
In theory, on Monday, I become eligible to be vaccinated. In Massachusetts, it's done by boarding groups, basically, and I'm low priority - not old, no pre-existing conditions, not a job that requires me to interact with the public or in fact leave my room. In theory at some point I will be vaccinated and then some weeks after that I'll have a reasonable level of immunity, although I'll still have to be cautious in many ways because I am at an age where I and many of my peers have children who are too young to be vaccinated. Hence we would not as a cohort be able to reach an 85% community vaccination rate.
"I want to hug my friends again" is a common sentiment, but I think it will only be a limited relief to see my friends. Not that I don't want to see them. But I don't think it will be immediately relaxing or fun. Everybody's anxious and falling apart. Almost everyone has experienced a significant tragedy. I have a desire to support my friends, to show up for them, but I don't think it's going to be joyful or easy. I think it's going to be prickly and rough edged and people are going to snap at each other a lot. Because trauma. It won't be "just like old times" in the short term, even though the memories of the old times will help us get through the short term.
It's going to be an adjustment as well because a lot of the people I know have moved house; very few of them are still in the apartments or houses I visited them in, the last time I visited them. My memories of being happy are largely memories of what it feels and looks like to be in a room - visually, but also smells, distances, movement of air. My sense of contentment is highly embodied. There's a lot of remapping to do. The new rooms need to be "filled up" with accumulated layers of pleasant past interactions.
I look forward to going to museums. To being able to dawdle in a shop without a sense I'm overusing the air. I'm looking forward to being able to ask for help from people who aren't in my household - able to book time in a studio instead of being limited to when Ciro is available.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-04-17 08:16 pm (UTC)The ruling class isn't inconvenienced by masks and I feel that I will have to lead a heavily restricted life for my last pitiful years of existence.