Quarantine Diary: Entry #1

Boredom sends the mind to strange places, as seen in my daily chai-fueled meditation sessions. I wonder if pre-quarantine life was even a thing. It appears I have been here forever, cooped up in my room, my only companion being a senile hamster who cannot even talk. This boredom could be easily resolved if I could somehow find the motivation to do anything at all. How could I be so bored, yet so unmotivated to do anything?

My teachers relentlessly upload new assignments, yet the work feels optional. Instead of completing my weekly assignments at a steady pace, I stream cooking videos all week until the deadline creeps up on me. I then throw together my last-minute attempt at completion and submit the assignment in its unmodified state. This trend is reflected on my Edsby homepage. I realize the discomfort of a school setting was the driving force in my academic career. I cannot seem to take any initiative in the comfort of my own home. I work at a pace comparable to that of an eighty-year-old with arthritis sewing a scarf.

My desk is only six feet away from my bed, which serves as my background in online classes. A quick glance at my computer screen reveals the inviting mattress right behind me. In these moments, I can either suffer through the remainder of the Zoom session or go back to watching Netflix in bed. Most of the time, I choose the latter. Alone in my room, I am safely stored away from my responsibilities.

I often reflect on when I first received the text that school would be cancelled. My friends and I rejoiced in the car as we headed off to enjoy a two-week vacation. But those two weeks turned to four weeks, and those same friends were ordered to remain at least six feet away from me. My social plans were cancelled along with my senior year. It seems my extensive senioritis was addressed by some cruel higher power. Though halfway through the year I would have loved to cut my stay short, I now grieve the loss of valuable experiences.

At night, as MSNBC blares from my living room television, I reflect on my uneventful day. I wonder what I accomplished that would set today apart from yesterday. Way back when school was a thing, sleep was earned by hours of diligent work. Nowadays, it is earned by pacing my backyard for a solid hour and then laying on the couch for the remainder of the day. A certain discomfort accumulates after a day spent indoors. It is as if the stagnant air of my household is slowly transforming me into a slug.

One can assume that things will not be going back to normal for a solid amount of time. My healthcare worker parents have already shut down my hopes for a return to senior year. I do not know how long I can keep up this empty routine, but at least I can ignore my responsibilities for the time being.