Quarantine has been a tough time for all of us.
Governments are working hard to figure out the best course of action for their countries. We’re looking at economic fallbacks like never before, job losses and other such rigmarole. The Health sector is rushing to create a vaccine as soon as possible and hospital staff are working overtime. Education facilities pulling their hair out, wondering how to conduct exams, grade tests and teach at the same time in this chaotic environment. In short, 2020 gets the Oscar for the worst year ever.
Countries are still under lockdown and the pressure is finally getting to most of us.
It’s been more than a month under lockdown. A month without any social interaction. I used to walk up a hill to reach my school and now I just endlessly circle the fridge. My school has figured out how to assign homework online. (Unfortunately) Now on top of essentially teaching myself, I have also assignments to complete, and the deadlines are piling up like a stack of cards. Nevertheless, I’ve begun painting a lot more. My family and I have tried out a dozen dishes and binge-watched more than one TV show. Our table is covered with useless DIY crafts and it resembles the remnants of a hurricane attack. We’re just a few minutes away from adding another disfigured origami to the pile or baking banana bread again.
Most of us can relate.
Under lockdown, we’ve finally got the free time we’ve been begging for. Albeit it’s definitely not the way we asked for. And all this free time comes with a dilemma. I keep saying to myself that I know I will never get this time back again. I should be productive as much as I possibly can. Figure out the secret of the universe or something. But at the same time, I will never get this much time to myself again. I should relax and enjoy!
Procrastination and productivity have reached a stalemate position.
I don’t think the Tangled song ‘When will my life begin’ has ever touched so many hearts. Like Rapunzel, we’re stuck in our castles, trying every bizarre little craft or activity out there. And each day becomes a struggle to trudge through and makes us wonder when our lives will begin. At least she had a chameleon for company.
Honestly speaking, life beginning again as normal sound horrifying. I’ve been inside a quiet home for a month. I can’t even walk loudly because that would generate alarm for an earthquake in my neighbour’s heart. I cannot even fathom going to school with a bunch of raucous teens. Going to the mall again, with hundreds of people talking at the same time and bustling around, conjures up dread like no other. I have to sympathise with my fellow introverts. HOW DO YOU LIVE LIKE THIS?
I cannot imagine having to go to back to back classes or writing tests. At this point, I’ve lost my ability to function like a normal human being. Don’t even get started on grades. I’m normally a straight-A student, but even I’ve lost complete track of what we are studying.
Now a couple of weeks now into my sheltering place (my bed now has a permanent body shaped dent), I have begun to grow just a bit weary of all the content this pandemic has produced.
Meditations on mortality have never been so abundant. Disputes about what policies are best for our society are new every morning. A news article is relevant for approximately only a minute at its best. Journalists, clearly aren’t facing the job loss like the rest.
Endless reflections appear about how life will have been changed when the pandemic finally passes. The sheer number of motivational quotes are annoying. No, I will not work out or write in a ‘quarantine diary’. I prefer to wallow in self-pity and make a few more jokes about quarantine. The new generation has an uncanny ability to make pathetic humour out of circumstances and I revel in that.
Writing this article has made me hungry. And if I think about it, the bananas I bought yesterday are definitely rotting. Looks like it’s banana bread time again!