It was four years ago that the world went to shit, and everything ended.
Four years ago that we were sent home from the office, stores, buisnesses, parks, restaurants and clubs shut down.
It was like the zombie apocalypse. I remember being at the crowded supermarket, the shelves bare, frantic and stressed out people everywhere, even the cashiers. One of them, on the sly, scanned a jar of pasta sauce I had tried to buy and, while I wasn't looking, stuffed it under the counter for himself. Unethical? Sure, but maybe he must have needed it. It wouldn't have done any good reporting him and I didn't even realize he'd gotten away with it it until I got home.
I remember the fear, the despair. Each new day seemed to bring a whole month's worth of horrible news. For the days, weeks, afterwards, I scanned the news, hoping for some slight glimmer of hope, or sliver of good news, but there was none. Not one glimmer, not one sliver. Instead, over and over, it was like the worst possible outcome or most nightmare scenario imaginable, but yet- what actually would transpire was somehow even worse than the worst possible outcome or nightmare scenario.
No more working at the office and seeing people every day. Trying to set up a home office, get the computer to connect remotely, was challenging and sometimes the network would just drop you for no reason- some days worse than others. Then, trying to plan lunch meals instead of just grabbing something downtown. Whole days would pass by where I saw not one single other human being. Except maybe for tiles on a computer screen.
There was a big music festival that was supposed to be happening then. The 2020 Treefort Music Festival, scheduled for March 18 through the 22nd. I remember riding my bike downtown that Friday, the 20th. It was supposed to have been thronging with happy, joyous people milling about, and music ringing out from a dozen clubs and bars. But all I saw was deserted streets. Maybe one or two disheveled homeless people shuffling around, but that was it. No music, only eerie silence. There were barely even any cars on the road.
Back at home, the loneliness, the isolation, already seemed to be like a monolith of despair. No human contact allowed. No gatherings, fun is illegal. They might have the "Cootie Virus" and not even realize it, as the morbid joke went.
But yet, I thought, at the worst, okay maybe I can do this for a few weeks. Even the most nightmare scenario or worse possible outcome was predicting that it would only last till fall, but even that was unthinkably horrible to me. But of course, what actually transpired was even worse than the worst possible outcome or nightmare scenario. The days of isolation turned to weeks, then the weeks into months. Summer came and went, fall came and went, and the lockdowns, quarantines, cancelled events, and postponed life continued. Concerts, festivals, holidays, events, gatherings- all cancelled. Art fairs, dating plans- cancelled. Halloween- Cancelled. Thanksgiving- Cancelled. Christmas- well, the I guess the Grinch finally got away with it that year.
I found solace in hobbies- art and music, and in the outdoors, where I explored places I had never been to. I turned inward. But the lack of human contact, of any fun or joy involving other people, really began to wear on me. And most of all, the fear that this "New Normal" would never end, that this was to be the extent of human existence forever- humanity at arms length, social interaction limited to just tiled faces seen through computer screens. Because some were predicting that, too. And the pattern was always that the worst predictions about the virus came true.
But thankfully some semblance of normal life did resume: slowly, tentatively, but surely,. And for that I am grateful. At the 2022 Treefort music festival, one band said it like this: "It's like coming up for air." If nothing else, it made me thankful for everything and everyone I took for granted and missed. Hard times will do that. Which is why I never take things for granted anymore but cherish each and every personal contact I have with friends and family- and fun gatherings.
Anyway, that's all I got, see ya.