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A few weeks ago — right around the time Manitoba’s pandemic restrictions tightened again and outdoor visits were no longer allowed — I got hit with the Pandemic Blahs.
“I have nothing to look forward to,” I whined to my husband. Certainly nothing big, like a concert or a trip. But nothing smaller, like meeting a pal for a drink or walk, either. My calendar is just a series of blank squares.
I am a planner by nature. I like having things “on the books” to look forward to. But my propensity for planning was starting to feel bad. At the end of 2019, I was feeling over scheduled and over committed, and my anxiety over having to reschedule or bail was sky high. And, because everyone is busy, scheduling plans with people was a bit like playing a constant game of Calendar Tetris. We’ve all sent a variation of this text: “Things are just chaos right now, but they should slow down soon! I’m free four weeks from Tuesday, you?”
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And so, when March 2020 hit, and my calendar was cleared — by forces beyond my control — I admit I felt secretly relieved.
But, in many parts of the world, people have begun planning again — for better or worse, as longtime Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich wrote in a recent piece.
(Schmich, 67, is a professional idol of mine. She wrote the commencement speech-style column that would go on to serve as the basis for Everybody’s Free [To Wear Sunscreen], Baz Luhrmann’s 1999 spoken-word hit and is, weirdly and erroneously, often attributed to Kurt Vonnegut. Exactly zero of my columns have been turned into spoken-word hits for dapper musical-loving Australians OR erroneously attributed to American authors frequently name-dropped by university boys — we get it, you read — but hey, there’s still time!)
Tribune Media TNSPulitzer Prize winning columnist Mary Schmich. (Bill Hogan/Chicago Tribune/TNS)
As Schmich writes, the pandemic forced us to abandon our plans and truly live day by day. This time has been very isolating for many people, but the relative solitude has also allowed for deep reflection, the kind that just isn’t possible if the white space of your life is always filled. For me, not having plans forced me into living in the present, instead of constantly thinking about what’s next. Obviously, I love thinking about what’s next — see: this whole newsletter — but it’s also important to be where you are.
And so, I have some anxiety about those blank squares of my calendar filling back up again, as they doubtlessly will. A friend of Schmich’s commented that she doesn’t “particularly like waking up on a Saturday morning and realizing my day is already promised away. Even if it’s stuff I want to do!” And wow, sing it, sister. “Promised away” is precisely how it feels. Besides, how should I know if I will feel like riding bikes three Saturdays from now?
But I do miss having things to look forward to. And apparently, even just the act of planning a trip, for example, gives your brain a little boost, per a 2014 Cornell University study. Looking forward is a powerful motivator.
And so, looking forward, I hope I can strike a better balance. I want to resist the urge to “make up for lost time” by making plans on plans on plans and then crumbling into a pile of dust from over-socializing. I want to leave room for spontaneity and “seeing where the day takes me,” and I want to truly be present when my plans do materialize.
When I’m truly enjoying myself, I often find myself saying, “We should do this again, soon!” It’s the planner in me, already thinking ahead, already wanting more of a good thing. It’s hard to feel sad about something being over if there’s a next time to look forward to.
I know, now, that what I really mean is, “I’m having a wonderful time, here, right now, with you.”
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Reading/watching/listening
I watched Bo Burnham’s Netflix musical-comedy special Inside over the weekend and ooooooof does it ever capture the uncomfortable essence of These Times. Burnham filmed it by himself in a room over a year during the pandemic, so there’s a definite Here’s Your Brain On Isolation vibe, and the resulting 87 minutes serves as a hilarious — and frequently heartbreaking — document of life in lockdown.
Burnham is a gifted singer and performer — highlight songs from the special include “Welcome to the Internet,” “White Woman’s Instagram,” and “FaceTime With My Mom” — so I was pumped to read that they will be released as an album this Thursday. Meantime, the special is currently streaming on Netflix.
Relevant reads
Here’s The Cut on “the return of FOMO (fear of missing out).” We’re a few months away from that yet — this piece is specifically about New York City waking up from its pandemic slumber — but it’s a good companion to today’s newsletter.
It would seem the pandemic has made people forget how to drive, per this piece from the Washington Post. “In yet another example of the pandemic’s ripple effect across our lives, people are reporting that they’ve forgotten aspects of driving. Some no longer recall routes that were once muscle memories; others are nervous about driving in the dark or even operating at the speed limit. It made us wonder: Can you really forget skills such as driving, especially in a relatively short time span? What’s going on?”
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