Isolation Week 1: Report From an Extrovert

Hey Tint Fam, today’s blog post is from Team LT’s Lex, who is reporting back after a full week of quarantine! Keep reading to find out what she has to say...


I think I’m going to dye my hair red. Think “Walker Texas Ranger” red, not “Jessica Rabbit” red. I’ve watched approximately 18 YouTube videos of folks who had the same idea and I think I’ve deduced best practices to achieve the aforementioned look in the comfort of my own bathroom. I’ve ordered the dyes on the world wide web and will keep you posted on the outcome just the same. I suppose the itch to transform my hair stemmed from binging the most “binge-worthy series” (as declared by the Critics Choice Awards and myself) otherwise referred to as “Outlander”. I started watching 1.5 weeks ago and am currently nearing the end of Season 3. For those who have not yet been graced by the beauty that is James Fraser, I’ve included a photo of the Scottish lad for your viewing pleasure. Another unprecedented impulse to study my genetic information dawned on me when I recognized all the Scottish characters in the show shared the same red face and inclination to exaggerate the details of a story I’m likely to be telling at any given moment. Low and behold -- I’m 53% Scottish! And that’s no exaggeration! 

 

As promised, James Fraser.

 

As an extrovert, I’ve found that the lack of human contact has severely taken a toll on my level of energy. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose. That said, I hopped in my Volkswagen and made my way downtown to the local pizza spot (they had a BOGO deal for whole pies!). There, I could at least have a distant (namely, 6 feet of distance) interaction with someone that wasn’t my partner (if ever you want to test the boundaries of your relationship, sequester yourselves to a studio apartment for an indefinite period of time). 

 

Pictured is said partner wearing a poncho to protect himself from the drizzle of Los Angeles before endeavoring to the grocery store. 

After my small talk with the woman at the pizza parlor, the pie was retrieved and subsequently devoured. I was once more (semi) motivated to revisit the organization of my vinyl records -- it’s like I always say, “An alphabetized collection is one step closer to heaven!” Then I moved onto the undercarriage of my bathroom sink where I discovered I hadn’t lost my light therapy mask after all! I’d be lying if I told you I knew what this mask did with any certainty. If nothing else, the placebo of making myself feel more productive while I’m confined to 800 square feet is reason enough to use it! Speaking of productivity, construction👏never👏stops👏in Los Angeles (as I type this, I am listening to the  surround sound of hammers and nail guns). 

 

 Taking protective measures to the next level. 

 

Allow me to introduce my cats, James and Lisa. As you’ll see, James lives in his banana bed (you’re welcome). They’ve been keeping me company -- and I keep promising them that I won’t tell a soul if they could talk. No developments there, so far. Though, I reckon I couldn’t tell you anyhow, because I’m a woman of my word.

 

This is my son, James. I don't believe for a second that he can't talk. 


In the latter half of the week, I felt as if the world was moving slower, which therefore allowed me to cognitively evaluate my personal situation. I think the majority of us, extrovert or otherwise, can attest this is a heavy reality everyone is living. I think my knee-jerk reaction was to move quickly out of fear or protection, though I’m not so sure they’re mutually exclusive. Instead of breathing and recognizing that this is touching the entire world, I wanted to provide a remedy before I acknowledged my internal dialogue; organize, clean, make sure we have cat food, make sure we have human food, contact my landlord about updated rent policies, fill up my gas tank, withdrawal cash -- anything to keep me busy and moving. While I understand we must react to survive, I wasn’t allowing myself time or permission to digest that this is, in fact, scary for me. That it is
okay to be scared. It’s okay to slow down. That slowing down isn’t synonymous to forfeiting. I suppose that’s what I’m learning: keeping the train going as if nothing has happened isn’t practical. My willful ignorance only led me to irritation as I grew more uncertain, resulting in disassociation with myself. Now, more than ever, is when we should be connecting with ourselves -- and so I’m learning to slow down…… Slowly.

Blue skies, 

Lex

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