Poetry v. The World: Dry Hands

In art, I think you should approach the virus and quarantine very hastily. At least as it currently rests. Nobody, including myself, wants to hear about this BS anymore. Exposure fatigue set in roughly a month into it, and it’s only gotten worse almost a year later.

However, when my friend showed me the cracking, disturbing state that his hands were in, I saw an image. The raw, red palms being a product of his strict adherence to the regulations that were in place to protect him. That was something I could work with, and having that vulgarity to backdrop it all would lend at least a little bit of nuance into a long-dead, beaten horse.

(Unfortunately, my friend was not in town for a shooting session, so my moderately healthy hands had to do for the video.)

But, to the point, yes. We’re all tired of it. Personally, I hate it!

It destroyed a lot of awesome opportunities that I had going, and took away one of the few summers I have left as a young person. Not to mention the masks, constantly worrying about my grandma, and [INSERT ANOTHER OBNOXIOUS COVID FACT]. Worst of all is not being able to label areas in my head, but let me explain. Back when things were normal, my math class was where I did math, my screenwriting class was where I did screenwriting, and the rooms we assembled in for student orgs each had their own feel. I would have something to go to, and I would walk a specific route to get there. These routes and these different rooms created a distance, between themselves and home. It’s hard to explain, but I guess one way to put it is that going to a classroom has a whole dimension to it. My days were three dimensional, as opposed to two dimensional, which is what it feels like now. I sit in the same chair at the same desk, and click on the same links to get to the same app. It’s dull.

Dull to a point of vulgarity. Which I think is why the hands spoke to me so much. Again, this is what I’m supposed to be doing, for my sake and for others. But when the benefit is intangible and the effects are constantly in my face, these self-preserving thoughts surface. Obviously I still wear a mask and do all the things I’m supposed to, but I feel the need to recognize all of my emotions, regardless of how they effect my daily life.

Bit of a bummer this one, but hopefully you got something out of it. I appreciate you, and stay safe and as happy as you can be.

-Jonah J. Sobczak

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