FOMO: fear of missing out
COVID19 has nixed all that for me, replaced it with guilt for how great mine and I have it. No one I know directly is sick. Early on, a couple of brilliant friends were ailing from it, but after a stint at home, I’m relieved to report that they’re well and back to work… The weather’s been marvelous this entire quarantine… Working from home is no prob… Bills are paid…
Social distancing is hardly the equivalent of isolation. Being sequestered pales in light of flagging economies… people whose lives are overturned by illness and debt and worse…
Again with the guilt… Because as a soon-to-be-published author (and podcaster here!) — fewer errands and less commuting is lending me more time to think — and to write, write, write!
Authors fork over wads of money, more than I can afford, to attend retreats. I’ve often drooled over websites that advertise sojourns in the woods, luxury cabins populated with fellow scribes who share s’mores smokey firepits. The beautiful escapes provide meals and laundry and cleaning and errands — e-v-e-r-y single thing that hinders writing is whisked clean away. All I’d need to do (besides the money part) is to write and to talk about writing and to listen about writing! Sorta like being cared for as lovingly as if I were a baby — a writer one, of course — sans the diapers — no?
Writing retreat in mind, that’s why I’ve resolved to make use of the sequestering. I’ve knuckled down, slammed away at the keyboard. And it’s going pretty well! Other posts I’ve written about the pandemic are here and here and here and here and here and here and here.
Fellow author/blogger Paul A. Broome is a retired English professor. He recently completed his first novel!!!! Yeah!!!! It’s named “Girls Who Don’t Believe.” Now he’s working on another!
He and his wife, Sadako, live in North Alabama with their two pets, Cody, a black lab, and Tora, who he affectionately describes as, “a crazy tabby.” Here’s a slice of his “sheltering-in-place” life…
What to Do When There’s Nothing to Do by Paul A. Broome
We Americans are people who truly enjoy looking at things — any and all things. I personally do not see this visual obsession of ours as a problem. Looking at things can be understood as one of evolution’s magnificent gifts to humankind. Early on, we had to look carefully at the world around us in order to eat green leafy things that wouldn’t poison us and to avoid big furry things that would eat us. Now we happily look at things to satisfy our aesthetic demands, or more prosaically, to figure out whether or not we want to shell out the bucks to buy it!
At any rate, here we are, all of us, whether we agree with it or not, sheltering in place to avoid a virus, that can, for a short amount of time, float in the air, after someone sneezes, coughs, or shouts to their spouse at the other end of the pet food aisle to get two packs of Kitty Treats for Angel. “The one with tuna!”
Sheltering. In. Home. Is it really so bad?
I don’t think so, and many folks with whom I’ve chatted over these past six weeks do not think so either. Even when states, counties, and cities are trying to re-open, many people are reluctant to go skipping out to the nearest sports bar and hoot and holler while gulping down beer after beer. It turns out that a good number of cautious and wary citizens (I count myself in that number) had rather stay at home and finish that wonderful novel, the one I purchased last year, and never got around to reading. One friend of mine tells me that she’s gotten absolutely hooked on coloring books for grown-ups. She went on to say she bought a large set of colored pencils and has become fascinated with the way different colors work together. I’m beginning to think that’s not such a bad idea. But what about those moments when you have absolutely nothing to do? Or you’re just “tired” of doing things.
Here’s something I enjoy.
I love sitting outside and watching the birds at the feeder: red birds, blue birds, goldfinches, brown sparrows. It’s an endless show of color. And then the squirrels sneak up, and Cody, our black lab, wakes from his nap and chases them back into the trees. The trees that are now thick with leaves, green leaves, so many shades of green that flip and shift in color when the wind blows, and the treetops lean gracefully like ballerinas, and there’s a hawk, wings spread, held aloft on currents of warm air, serene and full of mystery, like those soft, white clouds beneath the deep, blue sky, coming out of the east, drifting quietly to the west.
And when it starts to turn dark? I watch it turn dark. It’s really quite beautiful.
I truly hope you have enjoyed this glimpse of my world. Thank you for taking the time to read, and I’d like to send a warm thank you to da-AL for allowing me to be a guest blogger on her site.
How about for you? Is sheltering in place giving you more time to pursue some of your favorite activities?