I miss blogs.

I miss the mundanity of them, the softness of the medium, not sharp-edged and in-your-face the way Instagram and Facebook are. Blogs don't demand your attention; you read what you are looking for. You stay in one place, and your attention continues on a straight line.

I miss writing on blogs, where glimmers of profundity emerge from smallness and quietness. Rarely a sweeping proclamation or huge epiphany. No need to educate anyone or broadcast news.

It's not journaling exactly—you might expect a few people to read it. But the exchange is mutually agreed upon; you're not blasting someone's inbox, shoving your newsletter into their brain.

I don't write on this blog much, and I don't know if anyone reads this anymore, but I don't really care. (I'm not going to ask anyone to read this; I will not make any kind of announcement; I am fine remaining in a hole in this corner of the web where I can write demanding needing money or praise in return.)

Something about being cooped up at home all day during this pandemic is forcing me to return to healthier ways of coping—my body is so tired of frenzy. Today I remembered blogging.

It is day 15 of the covid-19 lockdown. The San Francisco lock-down was announced March 15, and began March 17.

I am getting used to the rhythms of being inside all day, and I continually wonder what it would be like if we had to live the rest of our lives this way.

I create a schedule for myself every night, wake up the next morning, and watch as each block of time goes tumbling down like a domino chain. I harbor an unhealthy amount of regret and disdain toward myself.

I spend a lot of time making food. Less time eating it. I've resorted to eating cookies and tea for breakfast because I can only muster the effort to eat two whole meals a day. This is very unlike me.

I am often anxious and jittery, but I can't tell whether that is from the existential angst of having very little direction in life, or if it's from the sudden pressure of feeling like I must seize every moment of every day, now that I, in some way, have every moment of every day to myself.