Hello Week Forty-Four. And hello, Halloween, though I’m not handing out candy this year. Utica has never seen such a quiet Halloween. It’s kind of eerie — which is ironic.
I’m a little sad to see October go, not because it was a great month (it was really quite the opposite), but because I’m afraid of the long, dark winter ahead. Staying home all the time has been easier because I’ve been able to go for walks and jogs and sit in my backyard. There’s a quiet anxiety sitting in my stomach, though, that fears November and the coming winter like a heavy blanket you wake in the dead of night to find yourself tangled in. I guess it’s a sense of being trapped — a claustrophobia of sorts — that I associate with November and December. November does bring the election finally, which is good, but even though I’ve been waiting for this election for four years, I don’t believe we’ll have answers right away. I think this one is going to drag out.
It’s like when you’re losing a soccer game badly and you know you stand no chance of winning, but you can’t just walk off the field and quit. So you tell yourself there’s a chance, or you tell yourself there’s at least still something worth fighting for — even if it’s only your dignity. And then you gruel it out — and believe you me, it is a gruel. And the last twenty minutes of the game last hours. That’s how I think the last two months of this god-for-saken year are going to go. And the phone call I got this morning informing me of my grandma’s positive COVID test is only further evidence that I’m right on this.
Maybe a more accurate comparison is to that scene in the fourth Harry Potter movie where Cedric and Harry are trying to run toward the finish line, but 2020 is that fucking vine that lashes out and tries to take as many of as it can. Oh god. What if when grab the cup, we’re transported into an even more nightmarish year??
Sunday
I voted early. I’m anxious to dump tRump. I’ve voted in every election since I was eighteen, but never have I been so nervous about it. It’s a simple matter of filling in some bubbles, but I double, triple, and quadruple checked my ballot to make sure it was correct. And then I checked it a few more times. My votes for Biden and Brindisi (our congressional representative) need to be counted.
The eighteen year old in front of me and the woman in her forties behind me felt the same way. As we waited to insert our ballots into the machine, we stared at our bubbles to confirm they were in the right spot and stayed there, lest they somehow managed to change themselves.
I have this hope. It’s feeble and naive, I know. But I hope it just the same. I want all the young voters to turn out this time, and as a result, all the swing states to turn blue. Just this once. I’d even be willing to put money on it (not very much, but some!). It’s my way of saying I have faith in humanity. Because we need that referendum. We need to shout loudly that we are not okay with the state of affairs and will not sit idly by.
I participated in a phone bank event in the evening as a volunteer, too, calling people in North Carolina to help them make plans to vote. Almost no one answered, and most of the ones who did hung up on me. I get it. But I had to try.
Monday
Sammy doesn’t understand this new obsession with candlelit dinners for one. He also doesn’t understand this “for one” crap. He doesn’t count??
Tuesday
Ozzie thinks the lighting and the colors of the leaves make her look real good. She asked me to take her picture. She is pretty hot stuff, even if she will have to come off the road soon to avoid going over her lease mileage.
Wednesday
Mommazzito made Amanda and Bee Chicken Almondine and Ooey Gooey Buttery Cake to celebrate the impending baby birth. By the way, while I’ve been going vegetarian and gluten/dairy-free, exceptions are made for these two Mommazzito menu items. Always.
Thursday
Team 7 White teachers decided on Pacman and the ghosts as our team costume. Joan bought the shirts for everyone and I made the felt eyes. Sam supervised .
Friday
You can’t really see me. But I’m on the screen in Tomaino’s. #WeTried.
Saturday
This life. Aung brought me boba tea, and Brian brought Sammy new special food, but other than those two quick hellos, Sam and I cuddled on the couch while I watched M*A*S*H and contemplated NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I did it last year and ended up with a book that I love (though I haven’t yet found an agent who feels the same way). This year, though, I don’t have as concrete an idea. So we shall see what happens. Because I’m going for it; there’s nothing to do in this life but try.
Besides, PitchWars mentees get announced November 7th. If I’m chosen, I will not be able to complete NaNo; I’ll have to drop out. And that will suck. But that’s actually the best case scenario! I don’t like my chances at PitchWars, since there were over 4,000 submissions and only 115 mentors, but here’s the deal: If I hold out for the announcement and don’t dive into NaNo on the first, I will not be able to catch up. Seven days will be lost! That’ll put me 12,500 words behind the NaNo schedule! (and I know me; I won’t make that up). So the way I see it, if I wait for the PW announcement and don’t get started on NaNo, I will definitely not get chosen for PW. Because that’s how life works. I’ll be out two opportunities. That’s why I’m taking the NaNo plunge tomorrow. Then I still stand a chance of being selected as a mentee for PW. Follow that logic?