Fail, fail, fail, fail, succeed

My Own Restrictive Box

I’ve actually recently thought about stopping this blog because I can’t seem to write about anything except the Coronavirus. I don’t know about the rest of the U.S., but here in NYC it’s changed literally everything. At the same time I feel like it’s important to keep slogging away here if for no other reason than to see how I get out of it.

I mean, life doesn’t stop because of the pandemic, yet I can barely think of anything else. Really, who wants to read this shit? I know I don’t. It’s like I’ve painted myself into a corner and I don’t know how to get out.

Of course life goes on even with a novel infectious virus – it just won’t ever be what it was before. But how’s that different from the natural order of things? Isn’t each moment always different from the one before?

Change is part of life – sometimes it’s small, insignificant changes, and sometimes it’s big existential events. I guess the real question is: once you’ve wrapped your brain around a changed world, can you adapt and still find meaning and joy and beauty in it?

I’m still working on it.