COVID-19 Journal: Day 303

Oops. Missed Day 300. I'm officially marooned. Marooned in my house in London though, so, it could be worse. At the beginning of my maroonment, I decided to read Robinson Crusoe for the first time in a billion years. Turns out he was a slave owner. He was stuck on Trinidad. When Friday enters the story, it gets gut-wrenchingly awful. I kept thinking what it must (have been?) like for black kids to read it, and other stories like it, and how fucked that is. It's a work of its times and all that, but seriously, it was deeply chilling to re-read with my anti-racist training wheels on. Strong not-recommend. Let's let stuff like that sink.

So. The maroonment. Overall, I'm feeling positive about life and the fact that I've managed to find another chance to get to Aus thanks to a wondrous phone operator called Gerald who was so delightful on the phone we actually had trouble ending the call. He told me how much he enjoyed hearing me laugh, and that he wanted to make me happy and help me as much as he could. Fast forward the gushing and mutual admiration and let's see what state the world is in when March rolls around. 

This means I have some more time spinning wheels. My work life has been deeply weird these 300 days, and that's taking its toll on my attitude a bit. Now, waiting, I'm not sure which next step to take because I want to be able to go for a long time, to be with my family. Shrug. To not have any strong, shared work impetus is really weird. It's been a 20+ year career of tons of fun and interaction and teams and fun work and good things, and that's just sort of shrunk. As I reflected to a couple of friends online yesterday though, if you look at this period in the continuum of a whole lifetime, a few months of not quite knowing what to do is OK. So, I'll hold on to that idea, and keep a look out for a good design/culture/data/usability spot somewhere, while I keep boxes being made (thanks, Jenn!) and try to keep people informed and potential customers interested.

In the meantime, in an effort to avoid floating off into the wide, deep, vast, stormy ocean, I'll listen to things, read more things, look out the window, help whoever asks me -- please ask me if you reckon I can help you -- cook more sausages, drink more coffee, do more weeding, search for more cake, try to keep stocking up small bits of energy and resource. I've downloaded lots of Sherlock Holmes and other audiobooks. And I'm practicing my new guitars!! Yes, after four million years of not having a guitar in the house, I got myself two birthday presents.

Self care

I've never owned an electric guitar, so that's exciting. It's sort of easier, actually. Of course I leapt immediately to Joni Mitchell songs, but, turns out she's a freaking genius, so it'll take me at least four years to master Cactus Flower.  So, I've opted for James Taylor instead, and am teaching myself to play Sweet Baby James.

I've been feeling deeply listless so far this year - and I've been enjoying reading about the place that everyone else is too so it isn't just ME ME ME. That's always reassuring for an anxious mind, I think. I'm going to reclaim writing this journal as my regular artistic practice, something recommended to me by a clever friend, to help keep some sort of beat on the island. Perhaps I'll bust out my hawaiian shirt and get some umbrellas for my negronis. I am trying to not drink more than two negronis per week. (And succeeding.)

Good news is FUCK YOU TRUMP! Wishing for a peaceful transition, and sending my love and spare fortitude to my American friends, particularly those in DC.