It’s weird, but the pandemic was finally getting to me last week in ways it hadn’t in quite a while. I think the months of being largely stuck inside my house, surviving by staring at a computer and doing a whole lot of writing and a whole lot of internet, were finally starting to add up.
I have started to feel increasingly unfocused in recent days, in part because of all this stuff happening in the broader world—which was sort of how I felt at the beginning of pandemic, too, where I turned to random pieces of pop culture as something of a release
. But optimism was starting to feel a little distant, even as good things were happening elsewhere in my professional life.
Perhaps it’s the fact that the one-year mark of this virus forcing us all inside was hitting. The sadness and the stress that came with that. And the fact that nothing was really changing.
The vaccines seem like the only hope for a return to normalcy. But vaccines, too, felt hopeless for a while. Like the disease itself, it first emerged as something distant and a mere rumor. Then it became something kept at arm’s distance by a series of bungling parties—first, by the federal government
, then by the state, then the private sector. People are literally hacking their own
because the alternatives suck so much.
But now, finally, it’s reaching actual people I know. Maybe one of those people might be me?