Tag: Covid

  • I Got Covid

    I had a good streak going, but alas, all things must come to an end. I got sick with Covid.

    At first, I thought it was just a bad cold. In fact, I even posted on Friday that I was sick, but I thought it was only a cold. As my fever got worse, and the body aches wouldn’t quit, it started to dawn on me that this might be something worse.

    The wife was the one who first thought it was Covid, and she ran out and got a test kit for me. You know how the test kit says it might take up to fifteen minutes for the results to show? Well, my positive result took less than a minute. And it wasn’t some faint blue line. No, sir. I got a dark navy line… almost black. I didn’t have Covid; I WAS Covid.

    Four years of dodging the bullet. Masks and hand washing; going out in public to shop and run errands, and nothing happened to me. Maybe I took all the right precautions? Or maybe I was one of those people who had natural immunity. Maybe I would one of the people who would be around for The Stand?

    No, I’m normal. I get sick like everyone else.

    I am a bit surprised that I got it now. But… better late than never?

  • Things Happened on This Day

    As someone pointed out to me this morning, it was four years ago today that COVID was declared a National Emergency. You know, “The Day the World Changed.”

    Not to be glib about it, but I have now lived through three “Day the World Changed” moments. First was 9/11, then Trump’s Election, and COVID.

    I bet if you ask other people, they’ll add to, or take away from my list, but suffice to say, it’s been a lot to take for the past twenty years.

    Personally, I have to add the day I got married, and the day my kid was born to “World Changing” list.

    Again; lot’s has happened in twenty years.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Worst Week, Worster Week, Worstist Week, and I Quit

    So, the week started off bad with the Cowboys choking, but at least the Eagles collapse was a much bigger story. One might say that there was little solace in that fact, but they would be wrong – I really enjoyed watching the Eagles lose to Tampa Bay. I am pissed about the Cowboys, but this will be the last I write about it. Just can’t believe that no one showed up to play on that team. Sure, every year I think they will win the Super Bowl (that’s how I was raised) yet in a realistic sense, I thought for sure they would make it to the Conference Championship, and then lose to San Francisco or Detroit; whoever made it there. But enough of that.

    Then my wife hurt her back on Monday.  Now, she is one tough woman, and I have been doing my best to comfort her, but there is nothing I can do to take her pain away. It’s a pretty helpless situation to be in, and that goes for both of us. Slowly she’s been getting her mobility back, but it has been rough going. The whole week got shot to hell for both of us, so it feels like we are running behind, too. I know she will be better soon, and we will get thing back on track, but it’s just frustrating.

    And then the kid had a big test at school that she was positive that she wasn’t going to do well on. It’s a reading and writing test, and she’s not wrong, she is having trouble with writing her thoughts down. Part of this is left over effects from Covid causing school closings, and this is the educational crack she fell into. And unfortunately, many other kids did as well. I helped her prep for the test this week, and she can comprehend and do the work, but she just doesn’t have much confidence in herself when it comes to the test. This was another place that I felt very helpless this week. I was trying to encourage her, build up her confidence, and I even used sports metaphors about how you have to believe and expect to win first, then put in the hard work to be successful. I don’t know… We haven’t got the results yet on the test, so it’s agonizing waiting to hear how she did.

    Finally, to shit out my week, I learned yesterday that a good friend of mine from college died suddenly the night before. There was no warning… they were here and then they weren’t. Logically, it’s been twenty years since I was in college, and unfortunately these things will happen now. That’s a meaningless thing to say because logic in these situations never makes anyone feel better. I hadn’t seen them in close to eighteen years. I hadn’t spoken to them in, like, fifteen years. Hadn’t communicated with them in five, and the last interaction we had was about five months ago when we “liked” each other’s pictures. Just thought there would be one more chance. Like the next time I was in Texas, I would head out to the theatre they worked at, and I would see them. And they would be friendly and kind, and hug, because they were kind. The kindest. They were especially kind to me when I was new in the theatre department, and didn’t know anything. They were kind to help me then, and as I see the tributes on social media, I am hearing again about their kindness, and how wonderful they were to everyone.

  • The Feels Rollercoaster

    The last couple of years have been a rough go for most of us. I’m not taking a huge leap with that idea, I know. Covid threw everyone for a loop, changed the ways of the world, brought up many issues people had to deal with, and I will also say that on the whole, we are all living in a Post-Covid world now.

    For me, this dark period of life started in 2018 with my mother’s death. She felt a lump in her throat in July, and passed away in October. Three months isn’t necessarily a short period of time, but it still feels like it all happened in the blink of an eye. I’m still dealing with her passing, and probably will forever, but I do know that I am in a better place about it.

    There are many things that can be said about losing a parent, and have been said many times over and over. What I found was that nothing brought me joy or happiness. I was sad all of the time. Not depressed, or withdrawn – just sad. And this sadness was always just below the surface, and if I felt anything too much – laughed too hard, or lost myself in a movie or a song – then I would start crying. And I would allow it to happen, and it felt cathartic, but it also made me feel like I was unhinged, and not in control. I knew I needed to mourn my mother, but I also needed to go to work, and take care of my kid, and that was important too.

    When Covid hit, I still wasn’t in a good place, but I was functional. It was a little strange to be isolated from everyone, but our little family unit clung together. I found that my marriage actually got stronger, and I enjoyed being with my wife all the time. And getting to spend so much time with my kid – playing and teaching her how to read – is a treasured gift that I am so fortunate I was able to take part in. Not that we all didn’t have moments where we needed our space, or got on each other’s nerves; we are human.

    And as 2023 started, I started feeling good again. And I started acknowledging that I had changed. I’m not the same person that I was in 2018. It was tough, but I had to admit that I am no longer a theatre artist or a puppeteer. That was a tough one, as that is how I had thought of myself since 2000, all the way back in college. For the last five years, I hadn’t done a show, and I didn’t have a desire to go back. Same thing with my career in arts management. Though I know I don’t want to go back to it, I also know that I do have some anger with the way I was treated in my last two jobs, and I need to take responsibility for the way I behaved as well. That’s an issue I am still working on.

    What I have changed into is a stay at home dad; that’s my role in the family. It took me a bit of time to come around to it. There is still a pull in me to go get a job, as it is stuck in my head that the only “real” way to contribute to my family is by bringing in money. There is a good chance that I will do that, or need to do that in the near future, but as of now – I got a kid, a home, and a financial future that I am responsible for.

    But I still have to do something creative, which is what you are seeing/reading right now. I have always written something – in a journal since high school, plays, an article for a rock zine, college lit journal, and several on and off blogs. There was a five-year period after high school when I tried my hand at getting published, but other that a handwritten from an editor at STORY Magazine telling me to “keep at it, don’t get discouraged,” nothing ever came of it. This blog that you are reading now, was started back in 2017, back at the tail end of my performing days, so writing has always been hanging around in my life. Sure, in the middle of the Pandemic, I had this crazy notion that I was going to “earn money” through writing… And I have re-assessed this idea. If it happens – great! But I am not counting on it. I’m writing because it makes me feel good, gives me a purpose, and is something to work at that is for me. And right now, that’s what I need most in my life.

    Like I said, with all of these changes, I started feeling good about myself, my place in the world. I started feeling grateful for the like I share with my wife, and kid, my family and my friends. I have a good life – filled my struggles – but it is a good life that I am proud of.

    And then I saw a picture. It was a simple, picture of seven people standing in front of a theatre upstate. One of the people in the picture was a friend of mine, who got tagged in the shot, and it was from an organization that he was working for this summer developing a new theatre piece that involved mime and physical theatre – all the stuff I used to do.

    And that picture made me feel like shit. I was shocked at how awful I felt by looking at it. I wasn’t upset with my friend, nor was I jealous of what he was doing, as he’s been taking part in camp, workshops, and art commune things like this since I met him. I felt like shit looking at that picture because the thought that crept into my head was, “That could have been you if you didn’t quit.” I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had given up on myself, and that nothing mattered.

    I feel that I have a normal level of anxiety and self-doubt. Normal level meaning that I have to work to overcome my anxiety and self-doubt, but it is never so great to keep me from getting out of bed in the morning, or to stop me from trying. But this feeling was more like I had wasted my life – that I could have been doing the cool stuff, creating works of art. That I was just one step away from it, and I was the loser who quit.

    And it was like all the progress that I had made over the past year – working through my mom’s passing, my new role in my family, leaving my career, and working on a new form of expression – was meaningless. It had the added effect of making me feel totally alone and isolated. One picture triggered all of that in me.

    You have to make a choice in a moment like that, and I did what any healthy, well balanced person does – I ate potato chips on the couch while playing video games trying very hard to act like I didn’t feel what I felt. Because I felt ashamed at who I am, and for trying to grow into something else.

    But it passed – all those feels. It passed because I talked to my wife about it. It passed because I took my kid to the community pool on a hot Summer day in Harlem, and we swam and talked about music and going away to camp. It passed because I talked to my partner about it, and it passed because I spent time with my daughter – the person I am trying to better myself for.

    It passed but it still lingers in my mind. It’s there because I still need to take the time and mourn the passing of who I used to be. That’s not to say that I won’t find my way back to a theatre, but if I do return, I won’t be the same person doing it for that old reason. It lingers because I am human, and I will always wonder to some degree if I made the right choice. I wish I was so completely confidant in my decisions that I never look back. That’s not me, and I know that about myself.

    I know a few more things about myself now, that I didn’t know awhile ago. It’s progress. I am happier, and that is a win.

  • Short Story Review: “Status in Flux” by Weike Wang

    (The short story “Status in Flux” by Weike Wang appeared in the June 26th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (As in life, there will be SPOILERS!)

    Illustration by Jiayue Li

    First, we had stories about Covid arriving. Then there were the stories about living with Covid. Now we have arrived in age of stories after Covid, and what it all meant. “Status in Flux” by Weike Wang is at the vanguard of the “after Covid” era with all the questions: What did it all mean? How has it affected us? Some people have moved on, while others haven’t; why?

    As the story begins, the narrator informs us that the world recently opened up for travel after Covid, while at the same time she is having intense insomnia which she is addressing by driving at night to twenty-four hour grocery stores to peruse the froze isle. Just from the opening, this piece is witty, clever, and humorous. The narrator is in process of applying for a green card so her and her husband can travel, because everyone else in her life has gone off to travel. Her Canadian parents, her younger sister-in-law, her in-laws, and her friends. But, because of the green card process, she cannot leave the country. The story daftly intertwines all of these storylines, while also giving the narrator ample ability to dwell on her life as an immigrant, first from China as a child moving to Canada, then moving to America for grad school.

    Weike Wang is a very good writer. The story moved at a good pace, the characters felt individual and authentic to their own situations. Like I said, there is a healthy bit of humor in the story, and a few running and call back jokes are thrown in as well. The piece is well structured, showing Wang’s skill of not over staying any one storyline too long.

    Yet, at the end of the story I couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing happened. All of the other characters go out in the world, but the narrator and her husband are stuck at home in New Jersey, waiting to see if she gets her green card. I get that narratively, logically and thematically that this is the point of the story, but it didn’t feel satisfying. The narrator keeps doing the same thing at the end of the story that she did at the beginning – driving to all-night places while dealing with insomnia. Also, the narrator doesn’t seem to learn anything, or gain any new knowledge, and emotionally, she never grew from where she started. It was frustrating because in the final moment of the story, the narrator is talking of driving to the boarder, all phrased as questions – so it’s just a hypothetical, and not a choice or an action.

    This story really did charm me, and I enjoyed reading it. As I got closer to the end, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it did feel like it was building to something. For that reason, I can’t say that I loved this story, but I most certainly didn’t hate it. I would have to say that I had the mildest, lightest of disappointments with it. But in the end, you should read it.