Rough 500 Words of Memoir (28/07)

In Retrospect 3
This post was originally titled "[ESSAY] #4: Current Idea Formation".

As the post says, this was a rough memoir draft to fulfil the 500 words I needed for homework by the Friday Intensive. These sections were distinct and in a linear chain of events which would become a full circle. This is also the first time G is mentioned, however not by name.

------------------------------

Today's Tuesday, July 28th, and I'm presenting my idea in development to my editor and fellow writer Rhianna tomorrow. Although I had several days to research over the weekend, the time just got away from me and the rest of today's dedicated to my other coursework. So I gotta make this post now.

I think I've got a pretty good idea of how my essay will look and I'm certain on the topic I've got for it. It's going to be about Human Behaviour in Covid-times, and the informative content is through the perspective of the author "people-watching" with a slightly righteous smugness, irritation and jealousy from the comfort of her home, in front of her laptop. However, this peeping hole isn't one-sided, as the audience will also be able to view the author's own behaviour, showing that she's not infallible.

The three things that the author observes are discipline (successful or not), temptation and impulse, all of which are reflected in her own actions. The essay will end with a "reset", as she stares blankly at the screen, announcing Victoria's second lockdown or another horrible piece of news. Back to square one.

I haven't done any factual research yet, but I do need 500 words of content before Friday. Might as well try the memoir side of things:

1. Discipline - Quarantine, you've wasted it if you haven't done anything productive, or learnt a new skill, and stayed connected.

"I'll exercise when mid-year break comes, go for a walk every single day. Start a habit."

These words, though well meaning, fall flat like New Year's resolutions said with half-hearted conviction.

I tell myself not to look to my right, at the panoramic window behind the couch, displaying a picture-perfect day. Instead, I focus on the task of scrap-booking drawings from years prior, when I actually had boundless energy to create. Where did all that motivation go?

Opening another Youtube tab to keep my music, I check out what's recommended for me on the homepage. My eyes drift lazily over today's set of #WithMe videos, the topic today being Cleaning. Positive thumbnails form a line, like a wall of defence against sloth and giving into the virus separating us all.

A ding! sound pierces through my music. I groan as I look at my browser tabs, the Facebook Messenger tab marked with a "(1)". "Who's messaging me?" I frown. It's someone trying to start a conversation with me, showing me a picture that they've drawn.

"Hey Katie! What do you think of this?" She asks. I reluctantly pull my laptop closer to reply.

"Hey! Looks good. Love the line art, it really makes it pop!" I type back, before immediately closing the tab. I check the Skype icon on the task bar. No notification from the friend I actually want to talk to.

I look at my scrap-booking work, and then the notebook next to it. It's got the starting dialogue for a video game in there.

I can't be fucked doing either of them.

I push the drawings and loose papers off my low coffee table turned desk, and pull the laptop closer. Sink myself into some more Youtube videos. Self care's productive, right?

Right.

2. Temptation - Resisting social contact, touch starvation. Jealousy of other states/suburbs.

"Where are you going?" I ask my sister. She's sitting down on the couch nearby, putting on her black runners.

"Going on a walk. To see Lachie." Her boyfriend.

"How long do you think you'll be out for?" She knows that the question is only partially about her. It's gauging how long I have to self-indulge while she's out.

"About two hours." She finishes up. "Bye."

"Bye." She leaves. First through the living room door, and then out the back of the house. I watch her leave the yard, and walk left on the street, before she at last leaves my view.

An uncomfortable tingle crawls all over my body. Thinking it's the cold, I slip on my hoodie jacket, and zip it up to the collar. I hug myself, rubbing my arms in the process.

I know it's not the cold.

It's yearning. Desperation. Want.

A need for physical affection.

I leave the living room, and lay down on my bed in my shared bedroom with my sister. I reach for a few pillows, stack them together and hold them close to my body. I try to imagine the weight of another person laying beside me, their arm wrapped around my waist. But the coolness of the pillows make it difficult.

I rest my chin on the pillow and flick through my phone. My right thumb navigates me effortlessly through the fingerprint locks to the Telegram app I use to speak to my boyfriend. But he was last seen hours ago - still at work, up in Queensland.

I switch to Facebook. I scroll absent-mindedly through my feed, before stopping on an RMIT Love Letter post seeking advice. This physical-now-turned-long-distance couple is running out of things to do in quarantine. I guess Netflix and Skype sex has gotten stale for them. There are no helpful comments yet.

I emptily open up the text field. "Hey! Sorry to hear you guys are having it rough. But there's lots of things you can do together online! Read comics and voice act them together, play online video games together, do quizzes. You could even mail each other a care package with cute love letters. I made a love jar for my boyfriend with a bunch of notes. I wish you luck on what you decide to do!"

Satisfied, I switch out to Chrome and open an incognito tab.

3. Impulse - Rule breakers, big parties and gatherings, secretly bringing people over to places, KFC party.

His gaze connected with mine as I passed the ticket gates at Melbourne Central. A hot, flustered wave rushed over my body as my friend came close.

Dangerously close. As if we were both expecting a hug.

But there was many a gaze around us, and I bleakly remembered that while Victoria was undergoing its lowest transmission rate, social distancing guidelines were still in place.

We greeted each other and he accompanied me into the nearby Coles Central so I could buy some things. The narrow aisles did not help my nervous plight, as he stayed dead on my feel, so tantalisingly close. My body started to hunger for his touch, every inch of skin going haywire for the ration of physical affection it had been craving for someone that wasn't my Mum. The suppressing paranoia of people watching us managed to subdue it for the time being.

We finished up in Coles and rode the escalators up to Milligram on the second floor. But to our dismay, it was closed. We decided on another destination we could visit - Dymocks. As we started to walk once again, I noticed there were barely any people around. And I said it.

"I really want to hug you right now."

He looked back at me. Attentive to my needs, and perhaps his own, he replied, "Would you want to, then?"

It was wrong. It was wrong to see this guy friend, despite one I was crushing on, as a momentary substitute for my boyfriend so far away. He wasn't simply a replacement. And he wasn't primarily into women anyway. It felt wrong to see him in that way, mentally use him as my "boyfriend for a day".

But I just accepted. And as we embraced, his warm hug the perfect pressure, immediately comforting me, my walls broke down. The floodgates were open. All my body could do was demand for more. More. Squeezing him provided only temporary relief, and then we let go.

"Shall we get going?" I said. He nodded. We walked on, though unbeknownst to him, my body was already planning how I could touch him once again.

4. Reset - And where do we end up again? Staring at another lockdown in Victoria.

I load up my laptop like I do everyday at my floor desk, and head to Youtube.

The Breaking News line of videos depicts the exhausted Daniel Andrews mid-sentence, with news from his latest press conference. 384 new cases and 6 more deaths in Victoria. I, like many other Victorians, and the Premier, pray that this number marks the real downfall after yesterday's new record of 532. There's no doubt that the Victorian State of Emergency will be extended past August 19th. It looks like my September birthday's going to be celebrated from the comfort of my own prison--I mean, home.

"Why can't people just stay home? They're ruining it for the rest of us..." I groan as I look to my right, seeing a masked family walk their two big dogs. "Why are they so stupid?"

But I know deep down however, that aside from the workers who can't afford to stay home after being tested, I'm among the people who thought similarly to me, that one or two hugs here or there shouldn't hurt. That the disease still happened far away, unconnected to our families.

...

I sigh and decide adding another day to my stay-at-home record I'm secretly proud of wouldn't hurt, and get back to procrastinating my studies.

------------------------------

Upon reflecting on it, I believe this examination of irony and hypocrisy was inspired by Beau's Pomodoro about it, which featured Mary Shelley's post about saying farewell to the arts in an epidemic. I think I was also thinking about Shane's general topic for his posts, which is about irregular human behaviour in these irregular times.

I've still got a lot of thinking to do on this idea. I haven't done any factual research yet, and I probably won't have time to in between all of my classes this week, really not until the weekend. But I'm passionate about it, for sure. I conducted some research into creative non-fiction essay forms, and I learned about memoir essays - that seems to be the kind of style I want to approach this. To be honest, I had envisioned this as a cut up essay, with musings followed by the relevant prose/memoir that links to it. Introduction, musings, memory, musings, memory, musings, memory, musings/memory (Reset), Conclusion. But that seems a bit stop-starty. Oh well. I've got time. We'll see how it develops more soon enough.

-Katie, the Plague Wanderer