It’s strange how I can never predict myself tomorrow.

Remember how cable news used to talk about the city when you were a kid? “good block, bad block?”

Now in 2020 it’s like a 7 blocks of good blocks, but the subway doors don’t open properly and you’re now one stop away from remembering how hard it is to get out of bed.

It took me a good three rounds of quarantine grief cycling before I finally learned my usual power move of “mind over matter” doesn’t work here and I don’t think refunds are optional.

Welcome folks.

We have arrived at “this is just what the fuck it is”

lean in.

Is this the “new normal?” or just some shitty quarantine and pandemic cycle? How should I know? This is my first lifetime “the fuck is happening? moment. I mean, maybe I took the pre-recs but those solo classes were much easier thanks to the multitude of plausible “choose your own adventure” story endings. I don’t do well with ambiguous endings. I need them solved. Please send me multiple studies in various states of peer review for me to comfort myself with at 3am. All data can spin a story if you try hard enough, thx.

It’s just some shitty quarantine cycle, I know. I’m starting week 9. I’m adjusted now. I can’t really commit to much because who the fuck knows if I’ll be in a be in the middle of a mental breakdown exasperated by lack of routine and THESE FUCKING WALLS, or perhaps I’ll feel great. Zoom me! Might answer, might ghost. TBD.

Somewhere in my DNA I’m just perpetually endured to a rainy Sunday where nobody speaks to me and it’s disgusting outside but cozy. Every Sunday. Maybe Wednesday and Thursday too.