A month ago, I worried about the future. I’d wake up at 3 in the morning with my mind racing, wondering what came next. I worried that I’d soon be graduating and with that, lose the monthly stipend that—although low—has been my key source of income for the past 6 years. I worried that, at best, I’d misplaced my hopes thinking of making a living writing. I worried, at worst, those same hopes were blind. I worried because I have a wife and a soon-to-be 3-year-old daughter. I worried because I felt like I’d finally figured out a few things and would soon have little to show for it.
And then the coronavirus became a pandemic, and my worries—like everyone else’s—changed.
Since Saturday, March 14th, the day after the U.S. government declared a national emergency because of the coronavirus, no one in our house has left for any other reason than to buy food and essential supplies. Like most others who’ve followed pleas from local and national government officials to keep a social distance, this sudden change of life has been a challenge. To help me keep structure by adding another routine to these strange days, I’ll write more.
I’m not sure if anyone will read this. Honestly, when I write something personal, I force myself—as much as I can—into believing no one will read what I’ve written. It makes being honest a little easier.
I’m also not sure what this is. It’s not really a journal, and I don’t know what else to call it. As I envision it now, not everything will be about the coronavirus or about me and my family in self-quarantine. Of course, some of it will be precisely about that. But I’ll also write about other things far from serious.
I assume I’ll write something a few times a week for as long as whatever this is, lasts. Sometimes I’ll write long, other times it’ll be short. Sometimes it’ll related to sports, other times I’ll write about history. Or I’ll write about Mexican food and music. Maybe I’ll write a dumb short story. Maybe I’ll write about something I just watched, read, or listened to. Sometimes I’ll just post a photograph I took. Maybe, depending on my mood—and health—I’ll write something more poignant.
Besides me writing more, I don’t know what this will be.