Inner Doodles

The word Importance carries a certain weight, or heft, if you will. Objects that have Importance can change throughout a lifetime, but the meaning of the word remains more or less unchanged. Our mission, to make it out alive, is Important because humankind is Important. Today I decided to create some art that was more or less Important. I say "more or less" because the Importance of Art is completely and relatively subjective. The Importance and Relevance of these Artworks is entirely representational of my feelings given the current state of World Events, including, but not limited to the shoddy quality of my photography. Audrey White (b. before the pandemic) Where, In Fact, the Sidewalk Actually Ends and the Gas Line Begins, 2020 Photograph Audrey White (b. before the quarantine) Dish-Less Sink With a Side of Dew, 2020 Dewy arugula on found sponge This is by far the most Important Artwork of the past 30 days. It Represents my Satisfaction of a Job We...

I can’t help but notice that the number of days on the log are the same as a certain Danny Boyle film. I imagine chimp-virus zombies climbing our hill. Fast ones. The worst kind. “The fire is blocking our path! We have to stop it!” Chief Mate cries. Co-Captain mans the grill while I lounge on my new bench. Smoke billows from the round black receptacle. We have no lighter fluid. “I need something to block the smoke from my face,” Chief Mate remarks. “What-ho! We have just been given such a face cover from a far distant ally...” “Why are you talking like that?” Chief Mate interrupts. Maybe I was pretending to be King Ezekiel for a second. I’ve got zombies on the brain. Not literally. The meat looks vaguely like brain matter. I try to steer my thoughts elsewhere. I watch the smoke. It may be hours before we eat. But the weather is pleasant, as is the company, and I have absolutely nothing else to do tonight. I don’t mind one bit. Unless there is a zombie sighting. That may put a d...

Please tell me we are not the only household losing our damn minds? Humor me, post something ridiculous that YOU have done. Pics, Poem, Flash Fiction Story, Interpretive Dance, and.... GO! END TRANSMISSION

Solitary Pajamas Apple muffins Cat fur Endless Music Agitation Donutless Numb Erik Estrada are ALL my friends School? Sucks END TRANSMISSION

The tree tops were lit Casting apocalyptic Glow of setting sun. Post your own haiku Include a picture or two END (of) TRANSMISSION

My focus has dusted the bathroom and cat is snoring in a pile of fur. I started a load of laundry and forgot the soap. I watched my neighbors move and my hair is dry and way too long. I wonder if the faucet is unclogged or if the package arrived yet. How many days has it been since the Dragon Prince started? Chapter 7 of my math book keeps going and I don’t remember where I put the mail key. I AM BORED END TRANSMISSION

The days are blending into one. It’s all one giant Groundhog Day, but less funny and with significantly less snow. Inner Beasts are itching to escape from every corner of our beings. I entertain Chief Mate and myself with acoustic jingles and spontaneous dance rap songs. Our own life soundtrack, if you will. I will spare you the recordings, although they do exist. Not sure what they will say about us when some future generation finds them. School has yet to formulate, but I have faith it will soon take shape. Many masterminds are working around the clock to make it happen. Math must go on. Reading must recommence. Science must continue to cause speculation. Art ... well you get the idea. Carry on, human race. END TRANSMISSION

The sun has been out for two days in a row. Virtual School begins today. Parents who are working from home, hang in there. This is uncharted territory for us all. Despite anxiety, grief, and other such discomforts, spring is still waking up. It is a new world. Let’s make it a good one. END TRANSMISSION

The creatures on this planet prove to be strange, but non-threatening. Exhibit A releases a terrible stench when agitated, but I believe it to be non-toxic. The creature in Exhibit B does not move even when the shiny orbed aliens come in for an attack. Chief Mate fended them off crying, “Save the frog! Kill the bubbles!” Life remains exciting despite confinement. END TRANSMISSION

The stiffness is setting in. My body won’t stand up straight anymore. Corporate wants things to go back to normal this week. We all know this is a feeble attempt to regain control. The definition of normal has shifted tremendously. Control is an illusion. My body aches. If you exercise, your brain shuts off the stress valve. A therapist once told me this. She said that when you exercise your brain is physically incapable of releasing stress signals and the exercise allows your body and mind to meditate. Imagine actually being able to let go of these plaguing thoughts. Even for just a few minutes. Watching a 17 minute math-teaching video in my swivel stool hurts more than you can imagine. I decided to humor my therapist. “American teachers teach to get the right answer.” Boxer shuffle feels good. “Japanese teachers teach to understand a math concept.” Punch, punch, punch, punch. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. “If we teach with next week’s test in mind,” Lunge, 2, 3, 4. “Students mi...

The enemy loomed above us. It surrounded us on all sides as the wind picked up speed. Its troops an assortment of colors and sizes. All oddly shaped as glistening orbs. We couldn’t escape. There was no time for a peace offering, they were upon us. Chief Mate acted fast. With no proper weapon at hand, he plunged his training sword into their hearts. The enemy exploded on contact. They were no match for his force. Blow after blow his precision impressed me. One exploded in my eye, but I did not fall. The enemy proved weak against our weaponry, though it is far from advanced. Chief Mate’s war cry reverberated off of the silent houses. “Yeaaaaaaaaagghhh!” echoed into the woods. Finally the last of the fleet floated off above the tree tops. A defeated retreat. Tonight we celebrate with mint milanos. END TRANSMISSION

This is my attempt to reach out to the world. For anyone listening, How are you holding up? END TRANSMISSION

Specimen C is out of food. She’s a very particular creature. Only eats wriggling things. I refuse to catch spiders for her. Crickets are sparse. I’ve enlisted the help of local inhabitants to dig up worms. Let’s see if she will eat them. *** Success! After letting 2 escape and 3 dry up, Specimen C has ingested 5 earthworms. Now let’s hope she has no reaction to this new and plentiful food. END TRANSMISSION

Squats. I am doing some today. After breakfast. The coffee is almost too strong. But who doesn’t need strong coffee when there’s no toilet paper on this half of the planet? We are the only part of the world without toilet paper, right? Only this ludicrous self-centered spoiled-kid-of-a-country side of the earth would ... Squats. 50. Today. Okay. At least 20. After home school reading. An unending song erupts from Chief Mate as he reads about tornadoes. His smile is infectious. He loves school. Kids love to learn. Even as the planet is falling apart. Kids are remarkably resilient. “I’m hungry!” He demands food. I’ll do 30 squats right after lunch. “Will you make me a sandwich?” Co-Captain Dad requests. Sandwiches are always better when someone else makes them for you. Piled high with spring mix greens, the bread squishes just right and the urge for a nap sets in. “Let’s go outside!” Chief Mate demands fresh air to squelch the Inner Beast. I MUST DO AT LEAST ONE DAMN SQUAT. To...

The slog of the weekend is over. Our “days off” amount to what, exactly, when the virus hangs suspended over our lives? Worry doesn’t take a break. It doesn’t “weekend to Florida”. It festers and prods the mind until 2 am. 3 am. I wonder who else is still awake. 4 am. Finally, my eyes begin to shut. My breathing slows. My mind... But Worry agitates and stirs me awake as dawn gently breathes into view. Morning me argues, “Sun isn’t fully up. I still have time to sleep.” Then morning me plunges into a deep sleep just in time for sunrise and Responsibility to press its annoyingly peppy weight on my tired eyelids. “Good morning, Responsibility, could you visit another day?” But it presses on. Today I have to get out of bed for the sake of routine. Home school Week 2 begins. I can’t let down the crew. END TRANSMISSION

Which is a better find? Poop on the trail or poop in a bag on the trail. Who are these monsters we have found ourselves inhabiting the planet with? My only hope is that these are the ones who are out of toilet paper already. END TRANSMISSION  

It’s been a hard day. I can’t sugar coat. It’s Saturday. Whatever that means. So no home school today. I slept until Co-Captain Dad said the coffee would get cold. My body felt 100 lbs heavier today as I dragged myself from the sweaty sheets. Outside is depressing. Cold. Gray. Everything seems Endless today. “We are going on a walk!” Co-Captain Dad is in charge while I pretend that everything is fine. I must keep the Inner Beast from springing forth. I sprawl on the floor by the door waiting for the 20 endless minutes it will take for the sluggish males to pull on their shoes. Chief Mate’s cheery face appears in my only line of sight. “Nerp-Nerp!” he chirps. A large white pom pom appears next to his jagged kid-teeth. I use what little strength I have to sit up. We play catch with Nerp-Nerp until the shoes have been slipped on. The walk is chilly. I almost turn back home. The boys can manage without me. But I plod on. Humans on the trail remind me that we are still he...

The weather is erratic on this planet. Temperatures jump from 21 degrees C to 10 degrees C within 24 hours. The land is saturated and the rains come in fast leaving the ground a muddy pit. Then as quickly as it came, the rain is gone and the sun is fierce and blinding. Humidity went from a hand cracking 26% to a smothering and sticky 52% overnight. This morning we found some sort of creature dwelling (see articles attached). I have advised my crew to steer clear, but their curiosity often gets the better of them. My chief mate has taken to sharpening sticks. It satisfies the Inner Beast. One stick resembles my dagger. Chief mate has gotten quite good at throwing. It lands swiftly in the mud. This skill may come in handy sooner than I anticipated. With the disease continuing to spread, we may be stuck here longer than our original plan. There’s no end in sight, but our spirits remain undaunted. END TRANSMISSION  

Settling into routine. Independent learning is taking off. We have found some other inhabitants. Keeping our distance, but conversing all the same. I believe we can learn much from them. At the very least it is a means of entertainment. Running low on meat. Have traded the locals floppy paper in exchange for some of their protein rations. Should last us another week. Toilet paper supply remains optimal. For now. END TRANSMISSION