Discussing Other, Alternate Timelines

Folks, the last several weeks have been extremely challenging. I am unable to say why, as what’s going on mostly does not pertain to me…let’s just say it’s a family health crisis and be done with it.

Anyway, I knew I should write a blog, but about what?

I could write about sports — the Milwaukee Bucks made a coaching change, mid-season, which is quite unusual — but that didn’t seem right.

I could write about politics — some of what I’m seeing from people like Rep. Elise Stefanik of NY (R) is extremely disquieting. (Rep. Stefanik seems to have the attitude of “Vice President or Bust” and is doing her best to ingratiate herself with former POTUS Donald Trump despite her past voting record, which shows at one point she was a moderate.) But again, that didn’t seem right…though I do admire Nikki Haley’s pluck in refusing to get out of the Republican primary, mind you. (She’s right that only two states have spoken. There are 48 states and a number of US territories, plus the US emigres abroad, that have yet to vote and thus indicate a preference.) While Haley is almost certainly not going to win the Republican nomination, any more than Bernie Sanders was going to win the Democratic nomination in 2016, Haley can highlight important issues to voters and ultimately make a positive policy difference (if nothing else).

And while that was a long digression about politics, that’s not what I want to talk about today. I am a SF&F writer, no matter how little-known, and thus I think about a lot of stuff most other folks don’t. I’ve done this for a long time, mind you; my Elfy books, which feature alternate universes (where the Elfs lived — don’t call ’em “Elves” as that’s a swear word to them– and the Elfys were created, among other races), were not the first time I’ve ever thought about alternate universes. I may have thought about them even sooner than age fourteen, which is when I read Philip K. Dick’s classic MAN IN THE HIGH CASTLE, which features an alternate universe where the Nazis and the Japanese won World War II.

I’m not the only one to think about this, of course. There are other writers who’ve discussed this in various ways, such as Doris Lessing and the more recent book THE FUTURE OF ANOTHER TIMELINE by Annalee Newitz. But my own ruminations lead me to how my own, personal timeline could’ve been changed by the following events:

2004: Instead of dying after four heart attacks, Michael has one heart attack and survives with brain and body intact. He does cardiac rehab, which I fully support him doing, and we get another ten-twenty years together rather than two. More books of different types result, and at least some of Michael’s artwork survives. (In this timeline, I have one piece of Michael’s artwork. That’s it. It was a brief drawing of what the uniforms looked like in his Atlantean Union universe.)

But even if Michael had still died in 2004, I had another possible better timeline with which to work, as follows:

2011: Instead of dying of a massive stroke, my good friend Jeff Wilson lives despite the heart virus that nearly killed him. He does cardiac rehab and anything else they suggest; after six or eight months of treatment, he’s allowed to leave the rehab hospital (really a nursing home). During this time, we start to date, long-distance…maybe I even manage to visit him in Fort Collins while he’s in the hospital, as it’s under the threshold of altitude that I can tolerate. (Jeff knew I get high-altitude sickness at about 7000 feet and it gets worse the higher up I go.) Books and stories follow, and whether we ever progressed beyond a very solid friendship or not, things would’ve been much better all the way around for both of us.

And even if Jeff had still died in 2011, I had yet another possible, better timeline to work with, as follows:

2014: A good friend, someone I had no idea that was interested in me, makes a play and I respond. (This happened in real life, though not in 2014.) Things progress. Books and stories follow. The relationship is serious enough to perhaps lead to marriage, and despite some major difficulties, we manage to overcome them and forge a life together.

Of course, that timeline didn’t happen either. So how about this one?

2020: Covid-19 does not happen. Millions of people do not die. (If this was lab-grown in China or anywhere else, it does not escape the lab.) People are not shut in for weeks, months, or years; there is no such thing as public-shaming over mask-wearing (I believe masks can help, especially if you, yourself, are ill and don’t know it; you won’t give it to someone else that way. But shaming people is wrong.) There’s no such thing as kicking people off public trails because of fears that they might get Covid…one of the dumbest things I ever heard, yet it happened to a good friend of mine in 2020. (I wish that hadn’t happened to him, too. As we found out later, Covid is not likely to spread outside with the same frequency as it’s going to spread inside with the greater density of people to work with.)

And as we all know, unfortunately that timeline didn’t happen either.

I’ve avoided some of the obvious ones, mind you. (Some folks may be asking, “Why not go back to 2000 and have Gore win instead of W.? Why not go back to 2016 and have your choice, Hillary Clinton, win instead of Trump?” Or even this: “Why didn’t you eliminate the war in Ukraine?”) I think many others have gone over those possibilities, and I wanted to make you think more about smaller, more personal decisions rather than stuff like that. (Well, with the exception of Covid, of course, though Covid caused more small-scale upheaval than just about anything in the past fifty years in my own not-so-humble opinion.)

So, what other timelines could you have had? What other timelines do you wish you would’ve had? (I know I wish Michael would’ve lived. Everyone who’s ever read this blog or known me in any way whatsoever should know that’s been my most fervent wish.) And is it still possible to create a better timeline in the future than the one we fear may happen? (I hope so, otherwise I’d not do anything, much less write this blog.)

Details from the Covid-verse

I just read that generative AI (chatbots, roughly) tend to write better headlines than human beings, which is why you are getting the above-mentioned headline. (And no, I did not use AI to come up with it.) Enjoy at your peril…or something.

Last week, I tested positive for Covid-19. The symptoms were not what I had expected. I still had some sense of taste/smell; what I had mostly was bronchitis, followed by a ton of sinus involvement and general “icky feeling” along with body aches, muscle weakness, and more of a type of malaise. (No, “icky feeling” isn’t exactly the same as malaise, at least not in my book.)

Because of this, when I went in, I thought I had RSV. (For those who haven’t heard of that, it’s a different type of respiratory virus that can cause many of the same symptoms.) All I knew was, I was sick, I felt lousy, I had almost no energy, and I wasn’t the only one in the family with these symptoms. (Two out of three tested positive is all I’ll say about that.)

So, they did an overnight test for Covid, both flu strains, and RSV. Covid came back positive.

As most long-term readers of this blog surely know, I never wanted to get Covid. I have asthma. I knew that if I got Covid, it was likely going to be a bad case of the sucker, and that I would not be able to do much of anything for several weeks…which has unfortunately proven to be the case. (I’d wanted to write this blog for the last ten days, for example. It didn’t get done until now.)

For me, Covid mostly was a case of “bad cold/bad flu” with a ton of coughing, high temps, body aches, etc. As it came on the heels of my father’s recent passing, I was already at a low ebb, energy-wise, so perhaps it hit me harder than it strictly needed to do, for all I know.

What I found out, when I tried to find out how much Covid was in this area of Wisconsin, is that the state now tracks Covid through wastewater (i.e., how much Covid is in the, um, effluvia when we flush our toilets). To no surprise, Racine County, Kenosha County, and the part of Milwaukee County that’s closest to me are all in the “very high” range (nothing is higher than that on the scale, either). But it’s nearly impossible to find out how Covid’s doing, elsewise, unless you want to see how many people are put in the hospital.

Mind you, anything that keeps you out of the hospital, no matter how nasty it is and no matter how much it gets in the way of your normal life, is now considered a “mild case” of Covid. So, despite how sick I’ve been, and despite how sick other family members have been, far and near, with Covid (a few of my cousins have had it in recent months, too), we all apparently have “mild” cases.

Hmph. (Or better yet, harrumph.)

I’ve had all of the various booster shots (read: vaccinations) but one, mind you. This last one, I’d meant to get before Dad died. It didn’t happen. It makes me wonder if things would’ve been better if I’d managed it…anyway, as soon as they let me, I will get the next booster shot, because I really don’t want this to hit me this hard (or worse) again if I can help it.

I know that ultimately, life is a crapshoot. We have no idea when we go out anywhere if other people are sick, much less with what. Sometimes they don’t know yet that they are ill, for that matter; there are folks who get Covid (much less other illnesses) who have no symptoms at all, so they’d have no reason to test themselves, but they can still pass Covid on to other people. You can get Covid in the grocery store, in the pharmacy, at a restaurant (if you go in; I still don’t), literally anywhere.

That said, I’ve tried hard to avoid it. (Much good that did me, but still.)

All I can ask you, readers of my blog, is this: If you are ill, don’t be afraid to get tested. It’s better to know than not. And it’s a lot better to stay home if you’re ill rather than get a bunch of people sick like Typhoid Mary did, way back when (if you don’t know the story, Mary was a kindly soul who tried to help others, but she was a carrier of Typhoid. Even after knowing she had it, she still tried to nurse the sick, and caused people to stay sick and/or die a lot sooner because of her being a Typhoid carrier with few or no symptoms).

I know it’s awful to be sick. I do.

I wish I weren’t sick now (though I am well enough to at least type this out). But all I can do now is warn you to please keep getting your booster shots, try to remain socially distant if you can in crowds (this isn’t always possible, granted), and wear masks when out unless it’s impossible for you to do so. (There are some folks who can’t wear masks due to past trauma and/or other reasons.) I have tried to wear masks whenever possible — with my asthma, sometimes it just hasn’t been possible! — and I do my best.

You do your best, too, eh?

Had a Covid-19 Scare, but I’m Fine

Folks, last week I was preparing to play a concert with the Racine Concert Band. I was looking forward to the concert (which was held this past Saturday evening) as it was going to be the first time I’d played in a concert since the beginning of the pandemic.

However, my health did something weird. I ended up going in to urgent care, and they thought it was Covid-19. They tested me…

And I’m fine. I do not have Covid. (Whew!)

However, I still did not play the concert as I missed the two rehearsals beforehand due to the medical scare. I felt awful, missing out on the concert as I did.

That said, I did the best I could with the information I had. (Sometimes, adulting is hard.)

Right now, if you get a fever, or chills, or in my case, both, any reasonable person has to assume they have Covid until it’s proven otherwise. (Unless your state or country doesn’t have that much of a problem with Covid, of course. Right now, all of Wisconsin’s counties have a big problem with it.)

And yes, I’ve done everything right. I’ve gotten the two vaccinations. I’ve had the vaccination booster shot. I wear masks when I go anywhere outside of my car or my parents’ homes. (I have to take my rescue inhaler far more often with a mask on than without it, as I am asthmatic, but I still wear the masks as long as I can.)

Still. The point remains, I will not give someone else Covid if I can help it.

There are folks out there who do not believe Covid is that big of a deal. I have to say I don’t understand that. Even if you just — just! — see this as akin to a bad case of the seasonal flu, the seasonal flu can kill you. (It most often kills those with depressed immune systems — immunocompromised — or the very young or the very old, granted.)

As I’ve said all along, I hate wearing masks. I don’t know how much good a normal mask does. (A N-95 or a Korean N-94 is different, but I can wear them for even less time than a more normal medical-type mask.) But I do know that at the beginning of the re-opening after the first pandemic shutdown, two hairstylists (I think in the South somewhere) went to work not knowing they had Covid. They cut several people’s hair that day, and neither of them gave Covid to anyone else.

(That’s the main reason I keep trying to wear my mask. But I digress.)

Anyway, the point of this blog is that I do not have Covid. I am very, very glad not to have Covid. I hope I never do get Covid, because I’ve worried all along about my parents and friends, and I do not want to spread Covid to them or anyone else.

Have any of you had any issues with regards to Covid? Are you as worried about it as I am? If not, why not? (Aside from politics, that is. I still don’t know how politics got messed up in medical care.) Please tell me how you feel in the comments.

Aaron Rodgers, Covid-19, Personal Responsibility, and You: A Sunday Thoughts Post

Folks, if you are a sports fan — or even if you’re not — and you live in the United States, you’re probably aware of the foofaraw around Aaron Rodgers. (I do like that word, foofaraw. Anyway, I digress.) He said when he reported to the Packers in August that he had been “immunized” against Covid-19, but he hadn’t actually been vaccinated. Instead, he had some sort of holistic treatment (also known as a homeopathic treatment) meant to raise his overall antibody count.

A few weeks ago, his team, the Green Bay Packers (the Wisconsin state-wide team, for lack of a better term; the Packers are also one of the most recognizable American football teams in the world), had a couple of their best wide receivers out due to Covid-19. One, Davante Adams, was vaccinated. The other, Allen Lazard, was not.

I say all this because we learned, at that time, that NFL players are treated differently depending on whether they’ve been vaccinated or not. Lazard had to miss a minimum amount of time, and could not be tested until that minimum time (ten days, I think) had passed, even though he was only listed as a “close contact” of Davante Adams and didn’t directly have Covid at the time. Whereas Adams, once he tested negative for Covid twice, would’ve been eligible to play. (There also was a scheduling hiccup where the Packers had an especially short week in that they were the Thursday night game of the week, which did not help anything. I mention this for completion/emendation more than anything else.)

So, this past week, Rodgers himself tested positive for Covid-19. Because he is not vaxxed, he has to sit out a minimum of ten days. This is due to an agreement between the NFL and the NFLPA (player’s association). At that point, if he tests negative, he’ll be all right to play again.

In the meantime, he’s had the monoclonal antibodies. (He said this on a 45-minute long talk show appearance.) He also took the controversial drug ivermectin, which is used to treat parasites, including some roundworm infections. There has been no proven benefit to ivermectin as of this writing with regards to Covid, but some swear by it.

Now, do I like it that Rodgers took ivermectin? No, I don’t. I think taking ivermectin for Covid is silly and stupid.

But it’s his life. His body. His choice. His responsibility.

Where I get more frustrated with Rodgers is that in not getting vaxxed, but saying he was (i.e., “immunized”), he skirted the truth. He plays a team sport where all 53 guys on the team are in close proximity during practices and games. Not being vaccinated meant he could spread Covid more easily than a vaxxed person (even though — and I know someone’s going to think of this — it certainly is possible for a vaccinated person to spread Covid also with some of the variants. The trick is, they should not be spreading as virulent of a variant. Try to say that five times fast. It’s not easy. But again, I digress.)

I think “your choice, your responsibility” ends when you can conceivably hurt someone else — a loved one, a personal friend, a co-worker — due to being unvaccinated.

Now, Rodgers is going to be protected from Covid for a time due to the monoclonal antibodies. He should not get it again for several months. By that time, if he wishes, he can get one of the easily available Covid shots. (He said he’s allergic to two, the Pfizer and Moderna.) The Johnson and Johnson shot was not available for a week or ten days in the summer, so that apparently unnerved Rodgers. (No one, yet, has asked Rodgers, who has plenty of money as he’s a multimillionaire, why he didn’t just hop on a plane to the UK and get the AstroZeneca vax that’s in use over there.)

I still think “tempest in a tea cup” here, for the most part, because Rodgers is a sports star. While he’s of a more intellectual bent than many football players, he’s still not a nuclear physicist. Nor is he a doctor, much less an infectious disease specialist.

What he is, as I think he’d admit, is an intelligent layman.

I think he did do research. I don’t know why it led him into what to me seems like a blind alley. But his error was more of omission than commission. That doesn’t make it right. But it may remind us all to pause, and think hard about who’s giving us advice about our health.

As Milwaukee Mayor Tom Barrett put it in a recent press event (my best paraphrase), you pick a health expert to tell you about the virus. You only pick a football expert like Rodgers to either play or explain football.

But I did mention you in the above title, and it’s time to get down to brass tacks.

The upshot, for you, with the Covid-19 vaccines is simple: Who are you around everyday? Are your loved ones immunocompromised? (Maybe they have to do kidney dialysis. Or they’re undergoing cancer treatment.) Can you safely be around them, masked or unmasked, for long periods of time if you haven’t had the vaccine yet? And if you don’t like or trust masks — many don’t, myself included (I wear them, but I definitely don’t like them) — are you willing to bet your loved ones’ lives in this matter?

That’s your basic risk/benefit calculation, right there. And it’s what I considered, myself, before getting my first shot of the Covid vaccine (Team Pfizer, if you must know). I knew I have weird allergies, and I told ’em right off the bat about them.

So if Rodgers is allergic, he has a reason not to get Pfizer and/or Moderna. (If he tried and had an allergic reaction, I mean.) But if he was worried about an allergy, as I was, all he had to do was sit there for a half-hour rather than the standard fifteen minutes after he got the shot, and see how he reacted. I know I did that both times, and I will be doing it again when I get the booster shot soon.

Anyway, what you need to know, this Sunday, is simple:

Make your best choices. Do your research. Be prepared to defend your choices, if need be. (That goes for the entirety of life, not just whether or not you get the Covid-19 vax.)

But don’t obfuscate about it, as the obfuscation in this case is what got Rodgers into trouble in the first place.

And for the love of little green apples, please stop putting sports stars, actors, musicians, and other public figures on pedestals. They’re like anyone else: fallible and mortal.

As we have just seen with Aaron Rodgers.

Monday Meanderings, AKA The Interminable Pandemic Blues

This past year-plus, since Covid-19 hit, has been frustrating and confusing. While I’ve continued to edit, and have done a little writing (you can see it if you have Kindle Unlimited and borrow Fantastic Schools 3, then look for my story; you also could just straight-up buy Fantastic Schools 3 if you’d like), mostly I just feel stalled out.

Of course, there are reasons for that.

Life got turned upside down by Covid-19. So many different things happened, most of them bad, because of the pandemic. It’s been harder to concentrate on my writing — which embodies hope, to me at least — and it’s been harder to concentrate on my music or musical composition as well. (Possibly for the exact, same reasons.)

Even knowing that the United States is doing much better when it comes to the pandemic (we have vaccines, we no longer have to always wear masks, and sporting events now have crowds again) has not kick-started my creativity.

Mostly, I just feel tired. Wrung out. As if I’ve been Sisyphus, pushing the same boulder up the same, damned hill day after day after day, with no conceivable progress and no change on the horizon to make all my struggles make sense.

I wonder how many others feel this way. (Surely it’s not just me, right?)

That I’m suffering with yet another sinus/ear issue is not helping. Nor is the pain-spike I’ve been dealing with due to two rapid weather changes in the past week.

Anyway, the important thing is that I’m still alive to do my best in all available areas. (Yes, even though I admittedly feel like Sisyphus. A tired, achy Sisyphus, who can barely stand up, much less push that damnable boulder up the damnable hill.)

I’ll keep doing it for as long as I possibly can.

What are you doing during this interminable pandemic? What makes you feel better on gloomy days? Does anyone else who reads this blog feel like Sisyphus from time to time? Tell me in the comments!

2021 Baseball Oddities, or, The Baseball Curmudgeon’s Rant

Folks, it’s no secret that I am a huge baseball fan.

I have followed the Brewers almost since their inception in 1970. (I was quite young, but I remember Hank Aaron’s final games as a Brewer in 1976.) They have never won the World Series, but they have played in one (in 1982); they have come close, since switching to the National League, to getting to the World Series again, but have not actually gotten there. I say all this to explain why I am so irritated with 2021’s version of Major League Baseball (MLB).

First, there are the rules changes that happened last year during the height of the Covid-19 crisis. These are meant to shorten games, which made sense then — but doesn’t, now, considering there is a vaccine — and they are profoundly vexing.

What are they, and why do they frustrate me so much? Simple.

It used to be, in extra innings, that no one started on base to start the inning. This made sense. An extra inning was just like every other inning, and of course no one should be on base when they haven’t gotten a hit or taken a walk or gotten hit by a pitch, or any number of other legal baseball plays that would put them on base in a normal fashion.

But now, there’s a rule that starting in the tenth inning in normal games that the last person who made an out in the ninth inning gets to stand on second base. If that person scores. it’s an unearned run against the pitcher.

That rule reminds me of Little League.

Remember, these are MLB players. They are used to the grind of a 162-game season. They do not need to start on second base to shave off time from a game now that there is a vaccine.

But that’s not the worst rule.

The worst rule is that if a doubleheader is now played, the game will only be seven innings long.

Yep. You saw that right. Only seven innings.

That means that the eighth inning is when that stupid rule about putting someone on second base who doesn’t belong there and shouldn’t be there happens in a doubleheader. It also means that someone can pitch a complete game (which up until now was defined as a full, nine-inning game unless shortened by weather or other problems) and only go seven innings.

This reminds me of preschool ball, before the kids even get to Little League.

Again, these are pro players we’re talking about, used to the grind of a full season of baseball. They don’t need games to be shortened to only seven innings, and they definitely don’t need to start putting people on second base if they’re going to insist on that stupid rule until the tenth inning.

As a fan, these things irritate me quite a bit, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. But I have one, final piece of news to impart that’s even more infuriating than that.

I walk with a cane. I say this because I am considered to be a disabled person.

How does this relate, you ask? Well, in 2020, major league baseball decided to change the name of the list of players who can’t play from the disabled list (DL) to the injured list (IL).

Did they really think I can’t tell the difference between me, a truly disabled person, and someone who went on the DL?

To my mind, changing it was the height of political correctness. And it did not need to be done, at all.

So, to reiterate: we now have three different changes in MLB since last year. None of them make any sense in 2021. I definitely do not like any of them. And I wish they’d change them back.

P.S. The other night, I was frustrated when the Brewers lost, 6-1, in 11 innings to the St. Louis Cardinals. My mother and I had watched the game in its entirety together. The announcers, who were fill-ins from the usual pair of Brian Anderson and Bill Schroeder, didn’t seem to understand that we and other fans had actually watched the whole game, and reiterated that the Cards had scored five runs in the top of the 11th several times before we even got to the bottom of the 11th.

I actually wrote in to the Brewers Facebook page to say how upsetting this was to both me and my mother.

I mean, I can count to five. Can’t everyone?

“Stay Calm” — A Message From the Past

Folks, last year about this time I wrote the following message on Facebook, and I continue to stand by it:

Try to stay calm. This has thrown people for a loop, having their lives upended this way. Remember to do whatever you can to stay on an even keel (or as even as possible). Reach out to your friends and loved ones. Care, and keep on caring…never stop trying. That’s my advice.

(Of course, I was referring to Covid-19 when I said “this.”)

Most of us, for the past year, have struggled mightily due to the various restrictions and changes that Covid brought into our lives. Depression has been on the rise. People have been cut off from one another, been unable to touch each other or even stand within six feet of each other unless you’re all in the same household.

Human beings aren’t meant to live this way, which is partly why we’ve in general felt disconnected, anxious, and fearful. (I call ’em as I see ’em.)

But we can still help each other. We can let others know we care. We can reach out, as often as it takes, to let our loved ones hear the love in our voices. (Or, I suppose, our online presences.)

For my friends battling depression, my hope is that you will read this little bloglet today (or whenever) and realize that sometimes, the best we can do is the best we can do. Refusing to give up, refusing to believe that everything is always going to be bleak (or worse, black), and refusing to succumb to despair are all within our grasp. We just have to tell ourselves things will improve. Or at least that they can improve, and we have to stay around to find out just how they’re going to do that.

I also have one suggestion that may do you some good, especially if you’re battling depression.

Remember the Zen Buddhist trick I believe I’ve mentioned before (that my late husband Michael taught me)? Take fifteen minutes, and feel everything: all the pain, all the anger, yes, even all the despair. Whatever you’re feeling, go ahead and wallow in it for fifteen minutes. Then, after that, tell yourself, “Self, I have heard you. I appreciate what you’re saying. But it’s time to get on with everything else.”

Sometimes, that little trick has saved my sanity. Maybe it’ll save yours, too. (Here’s hoping.)

Growing Pains

I bet you, like me, thought that once you became an adult, you’d be done with growing pains.

Unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Because things continue to happen, regardless of your age and experience, that broaden you — or don’t — and you can’t help but feel pain during these experiences.

You may be wondering why I’m writing this. I will admit that I am frustrated, upset, worried, have been sick for most of the past week, and am tired of 2020. But that’s not all of it…that’s just a part.

Mostly, I am wondering if there will be a day where I can hug my family members again. Or a day where I can greet a good friend with a hug or even a kiss (on the cheek).

Because one of my best friends came up with Covid-19, I now can’t visit her even though she’s successfully — as far as I can tell — gone through the 14-day quarantine. The fact is, I am around both of my parents daily. They feel the risk is now too great to see her, and if I picked her, I would not only have to move out of my home (as I share it with family), I’d not be able to see my family at all.

Such are the problems of 2020.

In addition, the guy I like lives in a different country. I don’t have any idea if I am going to be able to visit him anytime soon. This has put a strain on our developing relationship, and makes me wonder if we have it in us for the long haul.

And while yes, there are still good things going on in the world despite the pandemic, it’s all these frustrating things that are on my mind.

As my counselor put it a while ago, “It’s social distancing. It’s not supposed to be social isolation.”

Sometimes I wonder how well I’m doing with that, that’s all.

Anyway, I hope you all are staying safe, healthy, and sane…and are reading some great books. (I hope to talk about one such book soon, Leo Champion’s HUNTRESS OF THE STREETS. But that’s for another day.) Let me know how you’re doing in the comments…please?

Sunday Musings: One Step at a Time…

Well, it’s Sunday again, so I figured I’d better write something. Here we go…

Lately, I’ve been struggling with a number of issues. The world at large seems stifling…the fact that Covid-19 rages on, and that “real life” remains so constrained, definitely does not help.

A week or so ago, my father told me, “So, what’s the big deal? Your life hasn’t changed that much since the pandemic.” His view was that I mostly do everything I’ve always done, except for wearing a mask while I do it.

Maybe that’s true. But it doesn’t feel that way.

As a writer, I observe things more keenly than most. And what I’ve observed is that societally speaking, we seem to be in a free fall. We’re tired, we’re frustrated, we’re angry, we’re definitely not happy…and the few who usually try to find bright spots mostly seem to be muzzling themselves. (Except maybe for posting various cat and dog pictures; they’re nice, but don’t make up for everything else.)

I know I usually try to concentrate on something positive, or uplifting, or at least interesting. And the past few months, I’ve been in a rut of my own that has made it hard for me to do any of that.

Why? Well, I think part of it is because 2020 has been so difficult. Everything I’d wanted to accomplish has been slowed significantly. And that’s extremely vexing.

One of my writer-friends sent me an essay that I wish I could find right now. The essay pointed out that sometimes, rage is your friend. It may stop you from writing in the short-term, but providing you do not give up, the rage can give you enough energy to keep going until you can write again.

But in case rage doesn’t do it for you, consider it from a different angle.

A book I read years ago called THE QUOTIDIAN MYSTERIES discusses just how these fallow periods in our lives can lead to greater creativity in the end. We seem to need these empty spaces with regards to our creativity for some reason, just as fields need to be left fallow every so often.

In other words, we have to trust the process.

And speaking solely for myself, I have to believe that this fallow season will come to an end, and my creativity will reassert itself as soon as it possibly can. And providing I stick it out, the words — and the stories — will come back full-force just as soon as they possibly can.

What are you doing during the pandemic to best utilize your creativity? Or at least keep yourself from running around, screaming? Tell me about it in the comments!

Hold on to Hope, Despite it All…

It’s been hard for me lately to hold on to hope. I admit that freely.

Why? Well, the world situation — the coronavirus in particular — is depressing. And the situation in the United States is even worse; Covid-19 is running rampant in many states, including my own Wisconsin. Hospitals here are getting overrun in some areas, and because of that some very little-used rural hospitals are getting a plethora of patients sent out to them. Then there’s the presidential election, which bids fair to become “who can throw the most mud and make it stick,” the wretched economy, which hasn’t bounced back to pre-Covid levels, the huge amount of unemployed people, the foreclosures and evictions because people don’t have any money…the list goes on and on.

All of these things contribute to my feeling of overall wretchedness. Because I can’t do much about them.

The thing is, giving in to despair and hopelessness — even if they’re caused by damned good reasons — doesn’t get you anywhere.

So, how can you hold on to hope, when everything you see seems gray, depressing, frustrating, and anxiety-inducing? I don’t have all the answers to this, but I can tell you a few things that have worked for me.

1. Reading a book for no other reason than it makes you smile
2. Watching a movie, because it takes your mind off your troubles
3. Do something for someone else whenever possible, even if no one seems to appreciate it
4. Take a long drive in the countryside, and sing along to your favorite songs at the top of your lungs
5. Writing for the pleasure of it
6. Playing or composing music
7. Talking to a good friend (or two, or six)
8. Petting your dog, cat, or anyone else’s friendly dog or cat whenever possible

All of these things remind me that life still has good things, and good people, in it; they remind me that I have more to do, and that I can maybe have a little fun while I do what is needful. And they remind me that hope, indeed, is still possible…and still worthy of pursuit, even during a time where all seems dark, grim, depressing, and awful.

What do you do to remind yourself that hope is still possible? Tell me about it in the comments!