The Great Flick Off

I suppose that one can make jokes about finding toilet paper on the black market (or more like the brown market) that might not be too funny in the near future when the shit hits the fan.

Living on Maui in prior years, I had seen this before. Hurricane warnings always prompted Hawaiians to run to Costco and fill up their baskets with toilet paper. I’ve always had an insecurity when it comes to toilet paper so I totally get it, so I get in my car and go and get it before I have to go. Today it is nowhere to be found.

We were forced into a pause for the cosmos in a matter of days, a society suddenly subdued into compliance.

At first my inbox was inundated with conjecture, conspiracy theories, and apocalyptic speculation and I can say that I had my own ideas. Having not scrambled for flu shots over the years (and not getting the flu for thirteen of those years), I feared the vaccine more than the virus. What if it had a chip in it, the Mark of the Beast? Tracking device? Just sayin’.

It was as if this virus was equipped with a warhead, an artificial intelligence aimed to skim the older and the infirm or immunocompromised (me), but then it seemed to attack the young. Was it a time released virus passed through chemtrails? Was it floating in the 5G airwaves or inherent in our genetic code to be activated by a Terminator (or Exterminator) drone?

At the same time, I started noticing that I had a sore throat and the sniffles. I wondered if the fear was the real contagion because the more I read about this thing, the worse I felt. What travels faster than the speed of light and spreads quicker than a virus? Fear. It’s the thought that counts.

For me, it’s something like this. I’m not paranoid about getting hit by a car when I leave the house, but I’m not going to go out and stand in front of one.

I started observing carefully. I noticed unconscious and careless people throwing caution to the wind with a lack of concern for others, their actions invisibly reverberating throughout the air. Young people thought it would not affect them and had no concern for their older family members or anyone else. Then like Whack-a-Mole, pow. The warhead aimed at the young.

A friend of mine told me that she was ready to whack her husband. Being in close quarters with the ones we love and proximity breeds contempt. I’m alone here but sometimes even I need to sit outside to get away from myself.

Life is indeed imitating art. All of the movies about pandemics are suddenly outpicturing in our world. Forced and enforced isolation is the perfect example of “Divide and conquer.”

A war would not make people stay inside and neither would the news of an alien invasion. But the mere thought of going outside and dying does a pretty good job.

Prisoners are now being released and we are being confined. What is wrong with this picture?

Our days are slowing down and getting reprioritized. I was shocked the other day when I received a call from an unknown number. It turned out that my hairdresser, without asking my permission, gave a single guy my contact information thinking that we should all have a little fun while this is going on. After a few minutes, I politely excused myself.

A former flame I had not seen in fifteen years texted me. He is still a very dear friend. He wanted a recent picture of me so I sent one. He said I still looked glamorous. I can tell you this. Glamorous is not one of my priorities. I was in a sweatshirt, albeit a cute one, holding a bottle of wine. But makeup and the Hollywood production does not appeal to me one bit. Neither is having a hot date with a stranger who my hairdresser thinks might give me a thrill. Ew.

Scammers are out there heartlessly trying to sell things to desperate people. Where is that Whack-a-Mole now?

Perhaps this whole ordeal is the Universe’s way to make a point. We are not in control and we are truly ONE now. EVERYTHING we do affects the whole. If we choose to travel or party like it’s 2020, we subject ourselves to possible disease and not only that, we subject those close to us and beyond to the same thing.

Mother Earth might have had enough. We might end up scooting like puppies on the grass to clean ourselves. This is the great humbling, the great flick off.

Every morning I slowly open one eye at a time, hoping that the dream has changed from a nightmare to a world where consciousness and compassion reside and

conquer.

Until then, I am sheltering in peace.

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