We are all living a slightly different pandemic. Being a writer and a student means I’ve scarcely left my apartment for anything other than groceries or walks for almost a year. And that does funny things to me. I wake up five or six times a night, never sleeping for more than an hour or two. Moods are funky. A sense of time passing? Even funkier. A day? An hour? Not sure. Is it still light out? Yup. Wait, isn’t it nighttime? Apparently not.
When, strictly speaking, you’re not participating in society, it’s hard to feel like you’re contributing to it through work.
Thursdays, though, are undoubtedly my favourite day. It’s movie night: popcorn with too much butter, a two litre of Dr. Pepper diligently demolished (yes, the entire thing, or close to it… hey, don’t judge!), and a sense of comfort that comes from making the world small. At 4:30 sharp I meet an old friend for an hour-long walk. We look at the grey skyline and the falling needles of pine. Uneven footfalls filling prolonged silences remind us that, even for the oldest of friends, material is scarce, and we wordlessly pine for the past. That is, unless we get into moral philosophy or psychology, which is just exhausting (even if you love it, like we do). So we digress, sip our tea, our coffees, our waters—whatever the day requires—zip up a little more, tighten the scarf, and walk on in silence until an idea comes knocking.
One idea I had recently was to download the Camosun College Student Society app, and I will say, it has been nice to see posts from students, even if they’re just selling a textbook, asking a question about student loans, or looking to get feedback on a prof or two. It reminds me that we are all Camosun students, all here to better our futures even if the present is a little tough. While an app may seem trivial when it comes to seeking connection in this odd world, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work, even if only for a short while.
Most of the ways we’ve ever gone about seeking connections are a tad trivial: the surface-level chatter, the water-cooler gab; we’ve always been good at coming up with creative ways to tell ourselves we don’t need it, that it doesn’t matter, it means nothing. But, like it or not, even the most banal tasks apparently carried a fair bit of meaning that we don’t recognize until they’re taken away. I’m looking forward to getting them back. I swear, I’ll never let my eyes glaze over in the break room again.