Holy Sh*t - Notes on 2020, Vol. 12

I figured I’d check in with everyone and get a health reading. Not just physical, but also mental. How are everyone’s anxiety levels? (Surely social anxiety hasn’t been at the core of anyone’s personal dilemmas this summer.) Are people battling with depression? Claustrophobia? Or maybe, if you’re anything like me—does August 2020 find you wishing you were living in any other time except for this one? I know I could use such a solicited health reading. I’m so over this year it isn’t even funny. Between the political drama and COVID-19, I’m about ready to retire from 2020. Wake me up in ‘21.

I don’t want to sound dramatic, and I feel I must reel this in and remark what I ought to be grateful for once again. For one, not having children of my own is a weight off my chest. Quite frankly, managing my own safety and health is a chore in of itself. While it would’ve been nice to have been made a father by this time, COVID-19 trumps all inner-paternal urges.

I’m also happy to know that some are finding new love and new jobs at this stage of 2020. In my recent, “distanced” gatherings with friends, I have learned that people are besting COVID obstacles and obtaining new partners and jobs and I think that’s fantastic. Someone out there has to be enjoying themselves this year.

I’m awfully close to sneaking my way into a Canada residency.