I spend a lot of time in my head during this period of isolation and social distancing. Sometimes, when I’m out on a run, and the weather is nice,
I have a place along the Ballona Creek, where I can lay down under the shade of a tree, in a pile of leaves. I can’t see what lies under these leaves. Decaying, organic, moist.Ants and spiders crawl up through the leaves and across my arms. It’s at these times that I sit and think about the future.
Sometimes thinking about the future is exciting.
I like to think about travels to Japan, spending a month, or two teaching or some other work, and then exploring on long, stretching days that seem bottomless. I dream about where I’ll be in one year, two years, one month. But then I remember I am here. I’m back in the warehouse that has served as my sanctuary at times, but sometimes my prison.
It makes me feel safe, not having to worry about rental costs at a time when job security seems tenuous. It’s big, and warm when it is cold out and cool when it is hot out.
I think that a lot of the time it isn’t that I’m scared of the virus. I’m not scared of any certain, extenuating thing, it’s that I am scared of myself.
I have some useful skills,→ I’m a bomb-ass College Admissions Consultant, but when I’m not in the heat of the moment… my mind wanders dark places.