Newsletter from Jay Wilcox - March 2020: On All the Stuff Happening Right Now

Good morning/afternoon/evening,

So, if you're like me, I imagine you've been spending some time inside. How are you holding up?

I've heard we must "fake it 'til we make it," and so often I feel like I'm faking it. I don't feel positive before teaching every class but come alive by going through motions. It's amazing how many dark thoughts routine can push aside.

Currently, I'm teaching remotely. This has been new and neat, bringing people together for some sense of normalcy. I iron my shirts for the webcam. I smile and joke even as I wonder about our next big quarantine--and about the world we'll inhabit between quarantines. When will this end? I see these same concerns in my students, faces freezing, buffering, winking out of existence and then coming back.Why are some stores putting plywood over their windows?

How many people are stockpiling guns?

Our connections get interrupted, and these questions live in the lagging moments, in my dark reflection on the laptop's screen. I see among my class an enthusiasm for homework and grades, for small talk about the weekend even as weekends feel increasingly meaningless.

For all of us, there's a monster in the next room--a flood of thoughts waiting for weakness. Honestly, even before the quarantine, I've often felt like I was living my life in spite of something--not doing things so much as doing things anyway, pushing through pulse-pounding news cycles and swallowing way too much anger/fear/grief. What was the world like before 9/11? Maybe these have always been hard times. At the risk of exhausting my metaphors, I feel like I came of age riding a stationary bike with a seat that's too high and too hard in a wind tunnel that's too cold with a backpack that's too damn heavy. And I have to smile or else I'll fall off.

I am the "this is fine" dog.

If I really thought the world was ending, I probably wouldn't keep writing. People talk so much about the stock market that I can't help but view my own efforts as dollar-cost averaging: investing continuous care in my most valued skills and relationships, especially during hardship. Time's selling for cheap, so load up! In a month I could have a complete draft of my second novel, and I've learned a bunch of new songs on guitar. My online teaching goes well. I remain a student--and may we all come out of this as leveled-up humans, more talented and beautiful and compassionate than we've ever been in our entire lives.

I sincerely wish you the best. Please stay healthy.

Infinite Regards,

Jay