I met part of my team at work for the first time ever today. We all round-tabled our quarantine experience. I don’t honestly even know where to unpack that aside from “well, I live on Capitol Hill, so you know..” ((helicopter nosies))

I wish I could write it. Not just write it but actually WRITE it. I wish I had the kind of time to parse through my photos. Each phase documented.

What did I do during the last year?

I walked.

I learned to find a strain of weed that works with my anxiety. Black Cherry Soda if you’re curious. Low grade but amazing when it comes to relaxation and creativity. I hold conversations now where we try to remember that moment. That “early rona in the city” vibe. They are all clearly designated in phases to me. No, not the ones Jay Inselee laid out but the fucking memories. The memories of the moments of how it felt to be alive. To be here. To be a part of this time in human civilization.

Yeah, we are not just going back. If you were not massively changed by those circumstances well, good on you.

It’s not cute when you lie like that.

Early Quarantine. It was so wholesome. Not one of us was ok but we were slowly learning how to talk about it. Mental health discussions in alleyway bars. Crying. All of us.

Everyone was nicer. My neighbors made signs thanking the hospital workers near our buildings. My immediate neighbors stopped me in the hall, slightly rummy eyes, to ask things like “hi, how ARE you?” “are you ok?”

To be clear I’m from Seattle and we, by nature, do not encourage conversation with neighbors or really much of anyone outside our vetted friend groups.. Nodding, “yes, I hope you’re ok too” – despite my hatred for both their taste in footwear and music and disinterest in hearing them in their Amazon recruiting zooms from the hall. I hope you’re still holding on though, from 201 to 203 with love and maybe folklore playing a little too loud.

The space needle flew a “we got this Seattle” flag. The sidewalks were covered in art reminding us that “we’re all in this together” “Seattle strong” “Stay home and eat snacks”

it was so wholesome. This city has never been nicer. Never been more compassionate.

When the sun first started to come out you probably didn’t leave the house. That was back in the day of disinfecting everything. The groceries. The phone. My hands, constantly. Fighing for an amazon delivery. No produce. No flour. No cleaning supplies. NO TOILET PAPER. Daily walks through my apartment and then the shared spaces, armed with clorox, cleaning it all.

Instagram became my only social life. Oh here was so and so reminding me to drink water! Oh thanks for the push-up challenge! It was all we had to talk at. Communication with the outside world. Let’s dance in the kitchen on TikTok my friends.

I slowly ventured out after a while. I wanted to see what home looked like with everything closed. I walked at dusk for hours. Looking at the plywood covering my city. Restaurants trying to survive. It was just me. I’d take pictures as something to do. My friends would exclaim “you went OUT there?”

yeah, I did.

It was interesting. It was me. It was me and the many mentally ill. The streets were empty. I’m a city girl. I don’t scare. However during this era I’d learn to sprint a lot. Wallking down a formally busy street, now covered in plywood. Then HE would emerge. One of the zombies. I just call the violent ones “travis” now an everyone gets it. You know, travis barge, the local meth bro with 40 felonies who tried to attack every woman in this neighborhood until he put a nail through his girlfriends head in cal Anderson and committed suicide in our water supply. Oh but “don’t doxx him with your right wing views on the unhoused”

(Fuuuuuck you -the insane political climate is a round 3 blog)

He or they would be screaming nonsense and waving dicks at me. I mean, they’ve always been there, but normally everyone else is too. Suddlenly it was me and a whole lot of closed businesses. I’d run. I’d sprint. To the next block with something open.

The weather got better and I went open container. I needed a line between work and all work no play. Nobody cared about my open glass of seltzer or wine. Don’t mind my white claw, this is happy hour. I’d slowly get friends in the area to join me. “We’re Buffalo waking at 6pm, be there” There were no bathrooms. I pee’d all over this damn hill. A Churro stand opened. A taco stand. I was in Whole Foods at 7:55 when they reminded us via the loud speaker. It was time to go outside and make some noise at the Swedish ER. It was 8 pm and the people poured out of Whole Foods to make some noise, screaming at the hospital. You’d hear it in almost all parts of Captiol HIll. Cars honking, Dishes banging, Screaming.

Fuck, that was so wholesome.

What a time to be alive

I’d watch Italy. I’d watch Brooklyn scream Biggie lyrics out their windows at 8pm. My god, have we all ever been THAT connected as a society?

By mid april I wasnt the only one. There were a few of us now. The normies. One night I walked down Pine and noticed a piece of street art on all the plywood. I’ve always loved murals. I stopped to take pictures. This would become one of my hobbies over the next year.

It was early May when they cancelled the liquor laws. Sams. I walked by Sams on a beautiful warm spring day and they had this little stand with margaritas. I snorted. “Well!thats illegal as all hell but whatever…I’ll take two”

I’d start going daily. My walk to hunt street art. To photograph it. Grab a Nola style go-drink. Buffalo Roam. This was my town and I was going to be here for her when she needed my loyalty. If I ever doubted about my character, my loyalty was never up for debate.

Who knew those were the good times?

I felt so despondent. However, in retrospect it might have been one is the greatest moments in my life. If nothing else, it was unique. It was new. It was universal togetherness. I felt like I was an important witness to change. To art. To my home. I was isolated and alone but I was living in something so much bigger. Such a moment of time fit for the history books.

I’m happy to have lived in that moment as hard as it seemed at the time.

Come the end of May we’d open a whole new chapter. One that still scars me with ptsd to this day.