my year inside

spooky story #halloween2020 2021 : the year in rearview

my year inside

I’ve thought about writing this post many times. I thought about what I would call it. I thought I’d landed on “My Year Inside” but it reminded me too much of Tobias Funke’s novel from Arrested Development.

Truthfully, I didn’t think I’d make it to a year without going into a public place, but I went about a week further. March 16th marked my one-year workiversary; I went in for orientation day, requested to work from home, and watched the entire world fall apart from my rear window. It was the last day I went anywhere. The last day I drove a car. The last day I had to.

If you couldn’t tell, I’m talking about Covid-19. But of course you could. What else is there?

Yesterday (March 27th) I received my first dose of the Moderna vaccine at a Wal-Mart in my old college town. After several anxiety attacks, I made it to my appointment about fifteen minutes late. I mostly leapt from a moving vehicle, not sure if I even had all my paperwork, because my dog was about to follow me out of the car door.

Oh yeah, I got a dog during my year-long self-quarantine. She’s great.

Anyway, I walked into Wal-Mart and I was surprised how normal it seemed. I thought I would have this surreal “through the looking glass” experience going into a store again, but it was about the same as I remembered it. Except I had to practice social distancing. I hadn’t had to before this moment. It wasn’t just something I scolded people about on Facebook—I had to actually stay 6 ft. away from others.

I’m serious when I say I haven’t been in anywhere in a year. All my groceries and Target runs have been curbside or delivery (and thank you, sweet Jesus, for the means and ability to be able to do that for an entire year).

As much as I thought I had a handle on pandemic etiquette (pandemiquette?) I had to school myself pretty quick.

So what’s it been like basically not leaving my home for a year? I wish I could say it was terrible, and that I longed for the days of in-person communication with someone other than my partner and my dog (I know what I said), but actually it wasn’t the worst experience of my life. Certainly the longest and most concentrated, all under the duress of *literally* my worst fear…but not the worst.

There were lots of highlights actually. I, for one, took to Zoom/Skype/Hangouts/etc very quickly. Perhaps it was my podcasting days, but every virtual call felt like an episode of nameless show. My own personal Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.

Minus the comedians. And cars. And replace coffee with bourbon.

But it was great for awhile. I could wear whatever I wanted as long as my face was on point. I got to have calls with people from out of state, that I hadn’t talked to in literal decades in some cases. Why it took a pandemic to make that happen is beyond me (aren’t we weird creatures, us human beings?). My old college pals and I started doing Wednesday Night Movie calls where we’d watch a movie together, MST3K-style, rotating whose pick it was. Sometimes it was just what I needed. Sometimes the topics were too raw, the wounds too fresh, that it was anxiety-inducing, but definitely wasn’t going to chance missing a session. I celebrated my birthday via Zoom. Out of 120 invites, 20 people showed up—and almost all of them unmuted at least once before logging off. That was kind of a low spot, but at least I had flooded my mailbox with Transformers in the weeks prior—my own personal toy shopping spree to make up for the TFCon that got cancelled in October due to the pandemic.

What else, what else…

Oh, I got super into Power Rangers. Started collecting the toys, reading the comics, buying the merch. Kate (my partner) was a good sport, rewatching almost the entire original series with me, a tradition I look forward to picking back up this summer.

By the way, the comic book Go Go Power Rangers! is honestly one of the most well-written stories I’ve ever read. If you had even a passing interest in MMPR growing up, this is a MUST READ.

Let’s see….oh. Here’s a good one: I ate with reckless abandon. We had barely been in our new house a year when the pandemic hit, and we barely got to try out the food in the surrounding area, let alone the nearby Twin Cities. Grubhub allowed me to sample some of the finest wares from nearby eateries and I indulged every weekend, for better or worse. Sometime, I broke all social norms and ordered food from multiple places. Imagine pizza and tacos AT THE SAME TIME. I know. Mind blown, right?

But I also upped my baking game:

I even baked for my dog:

I co-hosted a May the 4th Clone Wars viewing party with my buddy Gentry on Twitter:

I rekindled my love affair with building Star Wars Lego sets:

I built Gundam model kits like whoa:

Another highlight? In September, I got off my proverbial ass and started writing the sequel to Coming of Mage. Only about 7 years late, but it’s almost done actually. Why? I dunno. I think I just wanted closure. I think some people really enjoyed my first (and, so far, only) novel and I felt bad for leaving it on a cliffhanger. No, that makes me sound too noble. What it really was: I hated the thought that people thought I was a one-trick pony when in actuality I had a trilogy planned. Before North Star Mess crushed my dreams (but that’s a story for another day).

So I sat down and hammered it out. It’s not going to be a trilogy, but it is a loaded sequel; a strong, surprising finale. The closure I needed to give Quinn, Emma, Tristan, Selia and all the rest. And as this tale has unfolded, and I miraculously worked in every zany idea I’ve had over the last decade, I was glad I waited this long. This is the story I wanted to tell. In my heart, Coming of Mage was never a young adult wizard book. It was an indie story about growing up in the 80s, dealing with hard shit with humor and, yeah, magic. I guess.

So I’m doing it my way. Self-published. First, a “director’s cut” reissue of Coming of Mage, followed by the sequel, and then a third unrelated novel I finished a couple years ago but was desperately trying to find an agent to represent. But is it really a book if nobody reads it? Life’s too short to wait for someone to see what you’re trying to accomplish. Too deem you worthy, or to at least think they can mold your exposed guts into the formula of a bestseller. No thanks. I’m finally doing this for me.

I think that was the theme of My Year Inside (ugh, fine, I’ll go with it). “Life’s too short.” And maybe that’s why this was such a hard thing to write. Because all the amazing things I experienced, homebound, despite (in spite) of Covid-19, were based on the belief that I was living the last year of my life. Every enjoyable thing I did—every board game I played, video game I downloaded, Transformer I bought, pizza I ordered, shot I pounded, piece of fine China I ate off of—was part of a sort of muted hedonism. The kind of party you throw at the end of the world.

I lived like that. For a year. Inside. Between crushing anxiety attacks and migraines and nihilism. I know most people didn’t live like this. I know even the most die-hard, true-believin’ radical lefties still went to stores, went to other people’s homes, brunched on patios, stopped bleaching their groceries at some point, and didn’t twice-bake their takeout for an additional half an hour at 300 degrees. Every. Fucking. Time.

But I did. And still will for a while, to be honest. I know Covid-19 isn’t over. I know that even when it is over, the mental health issues it created (or exacerbated) in me won’t be over. How do you rejoin society after a year of telling yourself there would be no need to? This is the shit I have to work through still.

But that jab in my arm was a start. It was a beacon of hope. Within an hour of that little prick, I was looking forward to things again. For the first time in a year, I was able to project myself into the future. See myself doing something beyond the nearest weekend—and honestly believe there was a chance I’d get there.

It’s a little scary, tbh. But it’s also real. And possible. And everything at once.

**Shout out to all my friends that answered my texts at all hours, put up with my dumb questions, listened to my rants about everything from 90s cartoons to racial injustices, and so much more. You know who you are, but not sure you realized you were my only communication with the outside world <3**

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Published on March 28, 2021 16:37

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