Flipping the Camera

In the spring of 2017 when the finish line to my college journey was just barely becoming visible, I started getting that question so many students are plagued with well before they're ready to hear it.

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

I secretly loved this question, because for the first time I finally knew everything. I had answers, I had plans, I had backups to those plans and I had backups to those backups. I had visions of myself with a clear distraction-free head and a dope-looking blazer, rescuing the public from their ignorances one story project at a time.

None of my answers included sitting on the floor of a nearly empty 3-bedroom apartment in Japan, married to an Air Force airman, still jobless, still struggling to breathe from an illness that had been wrecking the world for over two years, and making a concerning amount of headway on an entire butt-sized loaf of sourdough.

Hardly any of the lights worked in this 1970's era apartment I was spending quarantine in, so I needed to plan out my days on sunlight that ended at 4:15 like some Baltic cave woman. By that point it had been a bit less than two weeks since Ethan and I had existed in public; when he caught Covid we were told to quarantine at home and "just try to avoid each other", which wasn't very effective (duh) so the symptoms caught up to me a few days before he was meant to go back to work. With the whole base falling under a heavy lockdown around the same time, invisible social rifts had already begun to take hold before I was moved to the quarantine apartment. On top of all this, I had just turned in an application for one of the biggest dream jobs I've had for over a decade, and the Post-Application-Slumps were already kicking in.

Why did I do that...?

Why did I bother applying for this job when the website I've had for over a year isn't done yet? Why did I shoot for a position as a remote script writer when I'm so out of practice? Why do I still call myself a social collaborator when every conversation with a grownup feels like I'm on Murderville and I'm the only one without a script?

I still haven't talked to more than a handful of people since the first quarantine began when Ethan got sick. The only human beings I've talked to in person have been cashiers and gate guards. It's been a month.

And I'm tired.

I'm tired of the wind-chilled worry that gets stuck in my throat when I think about talking to a friend, in my thumbs when I hover over unread messages and missed calls. I'm tired of fear that freezes me in place, in my silent apartment or in my walking shoes because the thought of driving in snow in a foreign country still terrifies me. I'm tired of anxiety about failure that can happen at any time that another person is involved, in the way that it keeps me from the dangerous circumstances of being depended on.

I'm tired of dishes that pile up, laundry that lays wrinkled, Covid that tears people apart, depression that demands complacency and circular thinking. I'm tired of my fear keeping me thinking about myself.

So I'm flipping the camera.

When I was on the floor getting friendly with the loaf and trying to keep the bad thoughts away, for the first time in a long time I thought to myself "okay, this is kind of funny. I want a record of this to look back on later." And I took a video and it made me feel better because I was right: it is funny. How did I get here? Somehow I ended up as a 27-year-old freeloader basing my personal value on the pedestal of perfection I invented for myself: wearing a blazer and making the freshest and tastiest information burritos I can put together. And if I'm not doing that, I don't think I deserve to live?? Hilarious. The script deserves a flip and the perspective does too.

So for at least the next year, or as long as I can, I'm going to make one of those burritos every week. It might be filling, it might be small, it might be spicy, it might leak at the seams a little, and it won't ever ever be perfect... but it's a burrito.

I have no idea what they'll be about, or what this blog will turn into. I bought a whole dang website a year ago when I was looking for Covid-friendly jobs, so at this point I might as well use it to the fullest the way I want to. I'm just going to spend this time looking for holes in our existence that haven't been looked at in the close way they deserve, and fill them up. With a burrito.

*shplunk*

For once, I have no plans, no backups, no dreams, no expectations. Just ideas, and lots of them. And I'm finally ready to keep it that way.

I'm proud and excited to say what I hope I can say 52 more times, to myself and anyone kind enough to read this.

I'll see you next week!!

(my website, talking to itself) →