Documents

It’s July 2020. Movies have been made about the two-thousands. We should’ve had flying cars by now. Or at least hoverboards that don’t catch fire or intelligent AI that won’t let us drive our Segways off a cliff because we’re being stupid. At least we have some arguably safe self driving cars, I guess. Emphasis on arguably. Maybe I was looking at the wrong movie. Mad Max might have been more appropriate. At least we’re not in The Handmaid’s Tale level…. right? Cough.

If there was a movie made about July 2020, the biggest criticism would be that it was unreal. We wouldn’t let unidentified agents dressed in army fatigues to just take people off the streets with impunity, right? And that spray tanned villain who smirks and says, “I take no responsibility,” would never really fly in the face of a democratic nation, right? Those pro-lifers would FREAK OUT if they heard about little kids in cages, for sure. And if there’s a zombie virus going around that is transmitted through respiratory droplets, who in their right minds would have a giant fourth of July party or walk around with their masks on their chins? At least some people are saying that we have should have equal rights, amirite?

Here’s an open letter to all the stupid horror movies I’ve seen:

Dear Horror Movies with People I Thought Were Caricatures:

I’m sorry. I thought you didn’t exist. I thought the advent of the internet and the rise of information would cushion us from rampant ignorance. I was wrong. I misjudged you. Everything you presented could happen. Governments that ignore scientists. Traitorous villains in high places that literally look evil. Egregious defiance of liberties that we thought we’d be protected by. Man eating zombies. Please end this side show of 2020.

With respects,
A humbled viewer

It’s been months since I’ve been out of school.

Let me tell you, we had NO IDEA that when we walked out of school that Thursday morning, that would be our last day of having a semblance of normalcy. People were buzzing about TWO WEEKS of quarantine. Two weeks. It’s been more than four months and the forest fire of this pandemic is not even close to being contained. I remember grabbing my flowering plant on my way out the door and my coworkers gasping, “do you think we need to do that?!” Yes, I did, but no, not for that long. Ironically, I ended up forgetting that thing on a desk as I hugged my last hug as those things are now frowned upon. When I walked back into that building to gather my things on a shift we had to sign up for, I saw dead plants, rat droppings, and dates on walls that seemed apocalyptic.

We didn’t know.

If I did know, if I could go back in time and sit myself down, what would I say?

Hey girl, uh, I don’t know how to say this, but man, uh, just enjoy today, ok? Hug people. Oh, I looked like I had something to say? Uh… yeah, so… things are gonna get really bad, and people are gonna get really bad, and uh, I haven’t seen the end of it yet so I can’t promise it’ll get better. Just uh, grab some toilet paper from Costco on the way home today. Just…. just do it.

That’s the crazy part. The movie’s not over yet. If I went back to my old self, sitting in my classroom worrying about scheduling meetings, I’d have nothing to say. No hope, no comfort, no advice. Only toilet paper.