There is a strange buzz about the place now, the city, I mean, and the scared emptiness I see of a pandemic experience, which no one asked to have but “Surprise,” it is here anyway.
And this could just be me —I know this is me and my anxiety, my old familiar friend, and companion, which I call this out for what it is, because it is what it is, which is “Just another day,” because after all; it is in fact, just another day. It’s just another thing. It’s just another concern among a list of many, but I mean come on now, really? Did we really need this right now?

The news has nothing good to report. The reports from overseas are far from comforting. There are conspiracy theories.
There are different sides of opinions and of course, everyone with an opinion seems to believe theirs is the “right” one with all certainty.
They call it the coronavirus, which is literally killing people to the point where the powers that be have stopped sporting events, shut down concerts, even Disney (or so I heard) and the newsman is telling folks, “Work from home if you can.”

Is this what’s happening?
I can’t work from home though. So now what?

My bus takes me to work on time. Usually, the seats are crowded but yesterday morning, there were only 14 people on the bus that is always tight. From what I was told, the 6:30 bus (or the bus after mine) only counted 4 people.

And out comes the psychosomatic, power of suggestion, in which I mean anyone or everyone that experiences a thought of something close to a symptom immediately freaks out.
(I include myself when I say this.)

Times Square was empty yesterday. Someone was telling me this is viral terrorism. Someone told me this is happening because this is an election year. Someone told me China did this. Someone told me this has been around for a long time. Someone called this a conspiracy.
But me, I just call it sad to see us all this way, scared, people walking with dust masks on, which is a joke if the masks are not the right kind.

I swear a person could rob a bank right now, armed with nothing else but a booger snot and a cough. Really, it’s the truth.

I have been working on a new project, which I finalized the other day. I celebrated the release of an earlier project of mine (available on Amazon) called Operation Depression: From the Ground Up.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is I have to keep moving . . .
Otherwise, I’ll give in

I am heading to a mental health first aid instructor seminar this week to become a mental health first aid instructor. As it is, I have my nerves up when I fly, but add the intensity in which we find now, —everyone is on high-alert about themselves and anyone around them, in which I say this has to be a germaphobic nightmare!

 I’ll say this and only this. I can’t give in. I have to find something pretty and something hopeful to look at.
I’ll have to listen to music.
I think I’ll listen to a song called White Sun from The Doobie Brothers.
Or maybe I’ll think about a downtown walk I took or consider what it would be like to sit in one of those salt caves, which has become all the rave in trendy spots. They say the salt cave is excellent for your respiratory system.

I think I have an idea.
I think I need a new goal.
After next week, I’ll start another project.

This year has only begun —and I’m not going to lie; it’s begun with some challenges. However, I have decided this is the year that I build my arsenal with a better education. This is the year I improve both my personal and professional development.  

Coronavirus or not, or anxiety or not, life will have to kill me to get me to quit.

Know what I’m saying?

One thought on “Quickie

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