Time to come back?
The kittens, too, are a source of energy -- and exhaustion -- with the liveliness they bring to the house. The above photo is an interval of rest during massive motion. They climb across furniture, go behind cabinets, race each other up and down the stairs. We have moved many items out of their reach. I cannot keep my chair right beside my desk because they will use it as an interim step up onto the desk. The other day, I discovered one of the TV sets turned on and did not remember doing so; a couple of more surprises made it clear that somehow one of the cats' wanderings included hitting an on/off button.
It has been a happy distraction the last couple of weeks, and a setup for the greater pleasures since.
The election has removed a cloud I could not escape because of the Trump presidency and the horrors it had caused, and the possibility of four more years of it. The pandemic -- whose handling has been one of the Trump horrors -- has enervated, day after day, week after week. My friend Betty Lin-Fisher has a good piece about this.
Even though I am retired, I recognized the feelings in it, especially when it comes to socializing. I have still been teaching, but remotely, without the chance to talk to students in the same room, or to chat with other teachers in the office. We are selective about where we go and how we go about it, which changes the dynamics; church, though still meaningful, necessarily loses something with masks and distancing, and without handshakes. Movie theaters, a frequent entertainment, are for the most part closed around us; it is no coincidence that we have added to our streaming options -- which, again, are diminished because they come without socializing.
And venturing out had its risks. As I wrote on Facebook: Went to a local business and was stopped at the door by a clerk asking me to wait outside since they were limiting the number of people. I turned to go out and wait as the clerk said the same thing to a guy coming in behind me. “This bullshit again!” that guy snapped, followed by mumbles where the only clear word was a snarled “Democrats!” He went to his truck and drove away.
So I have taught my classes, and written my column, and beyond that have just felt, for want of a better word, blah. And blahs are a tremendous enemy to writing. They meant that my thoughts on Sean Connery were no more than a nod to the one true James Bond and a list of movies where I loved him: I would start with “The Man Who Would Be King.” Then into “Robin and Marian,” “The Hill,” “The Untouchables,” “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” “Outland,” “Goldfinger,” “The Wind and the Lion,” “Finding Forrester,” “The Rock” ... and more. I could have expanded but the energy, the will, the enthusiasm just was not there.
And now I think it is. Now I may be ready to talk about coping viewing, such as Lie to Me, 30 Rock, the Hawaii Five-O reboot, or finally getting through Star Trek: Discovery, although I've stalled on that again. Watching that show takes attention, and I've been a multitask-while-watching guy lately.
Or I could turn to new programs, such as The Right Stuff (earnest but grim, and a bit loose with facts), the second season of The Mandalorian (more action-y than the first season so far, and less compelling because of it), the Anna Faris-less Mom (a loss), the lovely reappearance of Amy in the Young Sheldon voiceover, the bizarre transition episode of The Bachelorette (where Clare's treatment of the guys was sheer villainy hidden behind "I won't apologize for love"), the enormous error that is Tyra Banks on DWTS (I am still getting letters complaining about her), the twist in This Is Us ...
You didn't think I stopped watching, did you?
So it's probably time to talk more.
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