COVID-19 Journal: Day 89

One of the prompts Ursula offered during a Q&A at Portland Community College is to write prose without any adjectives or adverbs. I am not sure if I've just done that. It's odd how hard it is to communicate how English works, or any language, if you've grown up with it.

Now I am self-conscious.

Perhaps if I quickly write a frilly sentence with billions of shiny adjectives that will swiftly help me deeply recall what they are.

That did it.

But, the point about communicating your own language being difficult is on my mind. It's a revelation to realise you're wet when you've lived in the water your whole life. We're all... or rather, the Good Humans are all trying to express solidarity now, and there's impetus. There is a bit of language to learn, but I don't necessarily have to be able to wield it as well as those who are already able to and have been for years.

What does solidarity look like for me? Here with my wooden knife looking at the beast? I think I should put my wooden knife down, and sharpen someone else's. I think I might be best used here as not a leader, but a helper. I've been so impressed these last two days listening to people who really know this shit, and wondering how I can work for them. So that's interesting, to me at least, since until now, these last few days, I've always thought of myself as a leader. And a good one. Huh.

It chucked down rain this morning. That was cool. Here's my favourite lockdown lunch. Guac for one etc. 

My wrists are less painful, but I'm missing yoga. I'll try again tomorrow.