Dear Collective Forum,
Well, there are two things. One is that this virus does not really directly affect me besides the fact that the room in which I sit and type has changed. Tedious things. Toilet paper, minor inconsistencies. I put off things like I always did. Painting my room, my bookshelf, a small bust (a statue, that is) of a woman, and three portraits of a queen from Nigeria instead of checking Blackboard. Spring cleaning. Preparing a garden, something to live for. The usual.
The other thing is that I can’t help but feel, in a part of me which is a bad grape that I pick around, that this virus will really be the end of the world and it’s going to come for me and my family and who knew that so many people I care for are so sickly and so old anyway and once it’s wiped out a good chunk of the population everyone I love will either be dead, unemployed or starving, especially me because here I sit, a completely inconsequential English major who would have been much better off as a farmer or plumber or like the welder-girl in Flashdance, but then the worst part is that if it did wipe out half of us sapiens would that really be the worst thing because our population is bursting at the seams and our morals and humanity in general is sort of going to pot? And besides that the term “social distancing” made me laugh when I first heard it because God is there any other society that is more socially distanced and isolated in blind and mundane and empty consumerism and that is dissolving as rapidly and numbingly into a virtual existence that becomes more and more confusing and bizarre and multilayered and plainly unnatural as this one?
The long and short of it is, this virus kind of makes sense. And it’s huge, and it has nothing to do with me. Which is an interesting sensation.
Attached is a probably stolen picture of the tiny planet on which we swirl and lash.
Ella Corder, Live from the Pale Blue Dot