Bubble Status circa 2020
As kids, we associated bubbles as those in the rub a dub dub tub, or like whispers of hope just as quickly blown against the wind-and almost immediately popping electric light parades while admiring their hologrammish effect glimmer in the sun. Delicate pinks, purples and blues, an array of opaquish pastels rarely visible to the human eye. But there was also the awkward joy of masticating that mouthful of hubba bubba grape gum with slightly sore jaws-chewing the cud like miniature calves- and proudly beaming as we compared our attempts as our dirty little fingers held our bubble gum up admiring their prismatic qualities in that perfect light.
Alright. Fast forward years later, and if not a year later of quarantine, we've resumed a strange bubble status and existence forgetting that far-flung normalcy with every comment of ours having 3 questionable dots to follow... Guessing some have resorted to bubble baths to soothe those tired and mentally-exhausted selves in hopes of better self-care. Maybe you've invented some new recipes, stewed in your curiosity watching that chicken soup gurgle over the stove knowing it can take up to 2 hours for the flavors to merge as you simmer in thought, or are suddenly playing everything in your world just a few octaves too high. And secretly wondering how many days in a row you can NOT take a bath- while otherwise feeling like that second can of flattened LeCroix seltzer that you forgot to finish in your thirsty rage. So far from par.... warranting an almost war-like triggering in response. While also rationing as far as one's eyes can see...
We... walking astronauts have embarked on some alternative galaxy where a jaunt down the street can at times feel as though pioneering a new planet or the wild wild west. Rewind A.D and back to the planet of the apes.... What had a priori been one very small step for mankind suddenly calculates as a very large step for any one man or woman. The questionable hours of ours and the gratification of casting our obsessions with dates and deadlines to the wind.
I remember at the onset of this pandemic there were weeks where I experienced anxiety just leaving the house. Whether down the street and around the corner to the deli, or towards the office, a queasy feeling in my gut and paranoia in enclosed spaces. And the irony of listening to the backdrop of Strauss' Blue Danube Waltz. In a kind of roller coaster / cirvus-esque manner. Where claustrophobia sets in and
you're a piece of furniture that suddleny got caught in some sort of last minute auction with no musical or historical reference familiar to compare it to.
Yet long gone is the forgetfulness of walking out the door or of a car without a mask. Months later of practice and practicality, we all have several laying around- in our bags, stashed in our pockets, and dangling off the gear-shifters in our cars, around our ears, like a scandalous bib around one's chin, or a pair o panties on a beard. (CRINGE) Different ones for different folks and strokes, and identifying which are the most comfortable and practical through the seasons. The disposable ones are meant to be disposable over time. But the craze of mask shortages also announced the need for more sustainable options to cushion the rinse, wash, and repeat necessitated by the need to safeguard ourselves from the ongoing pandemic. Ones that fit like a glove, others worn like a shield, while others a helmet, although the moments of "slacking" and "need to breathe status" have also warranted listening to some acrobatic soundtrack to pair the irony of all of this. And the concerto resonating in your ears and through your new virtual boom box- straight from home.
By now, you've probably seen face shields ripe for combat that even dentists won't wear, others that remind you of a car windshield (minus the wipers), and the rainbow of mask options- and then some with dangling necklaces and head gear-esque sunglass chain-inspired variations straight from artisans on Etsy have left me wondering if we are also meant to attach our house keys too. Residing in an apocalyptic b-side movie, not sure who the grammy or nobel piece prize might be awarded to during these times, but we learn.
The compulsory mask-wearing has taught us how to identify familiar faces purely by eye-sight (sight of one's eyes) and sound- or maybe being able to read someone you know behind that illusive mask. Even my first 2 hesitant trips to Home Depot entailed spotting 2 different contractor friends who clearly didn't recognize me- yet I stopped them right in their tracks. With our blinders up and masks on, we're all like horses without a head or tail, and are yet adjusting to this strange life of seclusion, but I also realize that I can in fact read eyes and do study people I know and even their body language enough to recognize / smell them despite months of not seeing them.
Birds eye view, we've become a sea of eyes and ears- relearning how to to watch and listen, and admittedly more silent on a whole. Perfecting my Brooklyn head nod, the art of beaming behind a mask, learning to read and admire the eyes of another, and the subtle yet evocative quality of how eyes can pulsate, concave bubbles showing intensity, surprise, intrigue, confusion, and smiling rainbows and crows feet from a passing stranger. You almost feel obliged to greet the desconocido with a wave even though all they might offer is a grunt. A tangible and very visible show of imaginary thought bubbles without a single exchange of words- like cartoon characters in some Truman Show episode.
Hands down I am grateful to distance myself from the mascne in the heat of summer. Ironically sporting the largest pimple ever in my Guinness book of world records, the hot air and fermentation behind a mask was at times simply untolerable, but I thanked the stars that no one saw it and lived the reality in masked shame. Scratching my nose, my face, the discomfort and rashes developed from the itch and constant contact with every move, despite explicit orders to avoid touching one's face.... I have plenty enough secrets and have always aspired to maintain a private life, yet I'm still perplexed by this inescapable life of pondering the metaphor of masks, and sudden need to hide behind one in the public eye.
Then too it's mind-boggling being reminded that there's a mask on practically every face around me these days- strangers and loved ones alike. A state of hiding and inevitable masquerade. Just as strange to note that my closest encounters with any masks prior were when sitting in a dentist chair with a mask less than a foot from my face. But also noting how invasive it is to have someone so closely staring into your black hole of a construction site mouth, and that vulnerability makes wearing a mask and seeing so many seem like an incognito parade seem all that much stranger.
Almost a year later, the mask now shelters us from the wind and cold. Our hibernating faces and grumbly muttering are shielded by warmth, surprise, and protection from the dust, smoke, virus and each other. This is bulletproof-living with faceguards and face gloves contoured around those heart shapes and bubble heads in a sea of fashionable ninjas weathering this pandemic one day and bubble at a time.
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