Inner Doodles

A black beetle crawled out of the mound of food that collects because our dear cat can't keep it in his mouth. Moist, partially masticated food is the perfect place for such an insect. He didn't appreciate my sweeping. I named him Alexander. I watched him walk away into the void under our kitchen cabinet. Alone. Without food. The hardest part in all of this is watching loved ones suffer and not being able to help. Sick family members are unable to eat homemade soup for fear of germs that may have been folded into the broth. A friend who desperately needs human contact is unable to answer the door to receive bear hugs. There is no more driving parents to the grocery store or to their routine visits to the doctor. Prescriptions for real life-threatening diseases are running out because idiots in charge are selling them as a false miracle cure. The list of can'ts goes on and on. But my intent is not to make anyone's situation harder than it already is. So, here is a list...

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...

It has officially been over a month of tumultuous emotion, ever-changing news, rapidly changing lifestyles. I feel sea sick. Everything comes and goes. Like a slow pulse. The morning bleeds into yesterday bleeds into last week bleeds into - are we still keeping count? These logs are my only way to know the days anymore. If it were a hundred years ago, I suppose I would have notches on the wall. Now I have notches on The Cloud. The wind was angry today. I think it was trying to blow us out of our houses. If Aesop had taught him anything, the wind would know that a calming tactic is more persuasive. I watched the trees knock against themselves. I watched the sun shine and then quickly be replaced by rain pouring itself down in buckets only to be interrupted by the sun again. The weather could use some calming techniques. It left me feeling disjointed. Chief Mate helped anchor me back to reality. He made up a game. It was called Quest. It involved detailed labels of care instruction...

It’d been two weeks since I started the terrain vehicle. Thought it was time to give the ol’ girl some gas. Besides, we needed provisions pretty badly. A line of locals wrapped itself around the building. Face masks on. Six feet apart. “Excuse me,” I hailed a man retrieving the carts from the parking lot. “How long is the wait to get in?” “About 10-15 minutes,” his smile meant the world to me right then. This was real. Our new reality. Face mask on. Six feet apart. Is the mask on right? Is it inside-out? It’s poking me in the eye. How is that even possible? It’s hard to breathe. I open my mouth. I could probably stand to find a mint. Mouth closed, I wait in cue. It’s funny because I have imagined this moment many times. Not this exact moment, of course, but something similar. End-of-the-world shit. Every time I read history or watch movies, I imagine the scenario in our own world. I am plagued by my empathetic nature. But whenever I imagine war, famine, plague, disease, it’s al...

I didn’t leave the house today. Not once. I read an article a while back that said we as a human race were grieving. Grieving for the world and the loss of human lives. Grieving for the loss of our so-called freedoms. (I am paraphrasing and perhaps sprinkling in my own opinion. I don’t remember the exact words.) The grief is sitting with me again. It’s not negative. Not positive. Just heavy. My school assignments are getting increasingly more difficult to complete. But I force myself to sit at the desk until they are done. It felt good when I finally got biggest one out of the way. Tried not to think about the many other smaller tasks that are due by Monday. Then found my brain counting them anyway. Letting anxiety show it’s ugly face. How dare it? I decided to play with Chief Mate in his Duplo garden. But my ideas are not always welcome. I was handed a guy. I wanted my character to be peacemaker, but “He can’t do that! That’s not his way!” How dare he? I put my guy in timeout an...

A fresh gale tore through the front yard today upheaving our canvases. I knew it was windy before we set out, but I put “painting outside” on the schedule and, by God, we were going to paint! “I don’t want to paint in the wind,” whined the voice of a boy who’s been allowed one too many television shows this week. “It will be fine,” I ran inside to grab reinforcements. Not sure who I was really trying to convince. Frog tape did the trick. With canvases anchored to plywood boards and palette paper taped to the sidewalk (I was sure HOA wouldn’t mind) we set to work. I invited our next-door inhabitant to paint with us. She stayed on her patio, us on ours. Nothing like painting with friends 20 feet apart in strong wind. “I made the feet too fat,” cried the novice painter. “Oh! But you can just repaint them. Paint is so forgiving. You just wait for it to dry and then layer and...” But Chief Mate was done painting. He was already whacking trees with his favorite stick. A regular pastim...

Co-Captain and Chief Mate worked on making a sling shot today. He has been instructed not to hit or harm any wildlife. The Inner Child in me loves the sentiment. However, the Inner Beast fully believes we will resort to eating squirrel by June. So ... target practice will calm my instinctual nerves. On a lighter note, I finally got my “snow” (see attached video). Sometimes things don’t turn out the way you want or could possibly imagine. And we must adapt anyway. Keep calm and face mask on. END TRANSMISSION

Walking up and down the aisles of a barren grocery store, I feel disconnected. From what, I can’t quite remember. I push the cart down one row, up the next. They all look the same. The Easter bunnies stare at me. Their adorable eyes mock and tease. Goofy teeth are garish in the fluorescent lighting. I want to squeeze them and bring them home. But I know better. I see dozens of untouched packages of dye for eggs that don’t exist. Seasonal items seem like bric-a-brac these days. Suddenly the aisle begins to shrink. The lighting dims and the grocery store is now a hardware store. Shelves of nails and the pungent and unnatural smell of fertilized soil in a bag. Lo and behold what do I see? A single roll of toilet paper staring at me. It is neatly wrapped in paper. The kind you begrudgingly put on the dispenser while using the restaurant bathroom because no one else will. Suddenly a second roll has appeared on the shelf. I tear up and gently place the two in my cart as if they might disap...

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

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...

As it turns out, my perpetual state of doing too many things can be beneficial. Last night the director of Spoon River Anthology, which I am acting in, went out with a few of the cast members for food and drink. We ended up talking about our various paths and how we got to where we are. Being a bunch of artistic types, there were many struggling sob stories, but the exciting thing was that we had all come together in that one moment and shared something that was important to each of us. The vast amount of inspiration and happiness that is in the world often gets overlooked and when you have the opportunity to realize just how amazing life can be, it's almost always worth the pain and angst it took to get there. In talking with these awesome people, that realization stilled the spinning of my hectic little world, if even for the one moment, and made me really stop and absorb the goodness that's around me. Perhaps we'll never cross paths again when the play is over, but ...