Today I should have been running the Around the Bay 30km road race in Hamilton. Instead, I went puddle-jumping with the dogs at the local ball diamond.
 

When I dump a set of photos from my camera card to the computer, I go through them and select the 'best of', and those are the ones that I edit and save and post to various social media. This process invariably involves file-naming and album creation, and on a desktop that's heading for 10 years old, trying to come up with original file names for photos is no small feat. Add to that the mood I'm in right now and there you have the title of today's blog. If you look through the photos (which I assume you will, since that's likely the reason you're here in the first place, that is to say not to read my random blatherings) you'll understand the choice of words and theme.

I've posted a few blogs over the last little while, but haven't written much to go along with the photos. There are two main reasons for this. This blog is a means to connect with a handful of special people who don't use social media, so they don't see the photos and comments when they are posted on facebook and instagram. So I effectively duplicate here what I put up elsewhere on the Internet. And secondly, I really haven't had it in me to write. Still don't, truth be told. The news cycle is changing so quickly, and each time I look (which I'm consciously attempting not to refrain but at least to reduce the frequency), things become more dire. My not-so-long-ago intense, unending workload has slowed to a trickle (note to self: be careful what you wish for), and suddenly I need to worry about what income will look like going forward. Of course nobody can predict how bad things will get, not in terms of public health nor in terms of the economy, and nobody knows how long this will last, or worse still, if this is the new normal.

I feel like, psychologically, my mind is attempting to block these angst-ridden thoughts as a measure of self-protection, but the thoughts are so constant and so strong that all I am left with is a residual mental inertia and exhaustion. I could try to be productive and invest my energy in old or new hobbies, but the energy is not there, not right now.

In the small amount of translation work I have been doing, I've noticed a few things. First of all, the verbiage has become quickly ingrained, to the point that media releases parrot identical talking points and catchphrases, to wit :  words and phrases such as ''unprecedented", ''this decision was not taken lightly'', ''rapidly-evolving situation'', ''increased infection control measures", ''high-touch surfaces", ''self-isolation'', ''frequent hand-washing'' and ''no contact''. Mix all of those together in the order you choose, and voilà, you have a media release for the COVID-19 era.

One lexical evolution that I found both interesting and somewhat heartening is that the term initially used, ''social distancing'', has now been supplanted by ''physical distancing''. Perhaps it's because people are too generally stupid to understand the former, but I prefer to think it's because social connections remain important, and that people are finding innovative means to maintain and strengthen those sorts of connections through apps and even more traditional means - and dare I say old-fashioned ones -  like pictures of rainbows posted in front windows.

One of the more negative aspects of the uptick in social media usage is the relentless ugliness of partisanship  It's still thriving on its diet of misinformation, trolls and confirmation bias. I'm only speaking for Canada here, but every single level of government and administration - from local councils to provincial governments to the politicians in Ottawa - is doing everything it can to help our country and its people. What I have heard so far is nothing short of compassionate and determined and helpful. This is all the more remarkable given that our country has the particular distinction of being governed by a left of centre party, while most of the provinces have elected right of centre governments. Generally, they don't play well together, the provinces and the feds, and there is bickering and acrimony. However in the face of this pandemic, all of that has been put aside in favour of remarkable solidarity and cooperation. So when I see everyday Canadians bitching and chirping that there are still illegal migrants crossing over from the USA at Roxham Road in Quebec, or yelling about how their favoured provincial premier is doing this here, while the federal Liberals are screwing us with that there...I have zero patience for that. Zero. Start demonstrating some compassion towards others. Now is not the time to be selfish and hateful. It's just not. 

I mentioned this in my last blog post, and it still holds true today: this pandemic is revealing the best and the worst of humanity. On the one side there is hoarding, price-gouging, China-blaming, conspiracy-theorizing, flagrant disobedience of rules and conditions put in place for the greater good, and so on. On the other side, there are neighbours shopping for the elderly, people coming out onto their balconies and porches en masse at an appointed time to (literally) sing the praises of health-care workers, musicians giving free online performances, and volunteers setting up childcare networks to help workers deemed essential. The paradox is uncanny: people are actively reaching out to one another at the same time they are keeping their distance. There is no shortage of examples of both extremes, if you care to look. And if you get too hung up on the bad stuff, try to find some of the good stuff as a balm for your weary soul.

So to close, a few small, personal gratitudes from the past 24 hours:

• the colourful crocuses that pepper the grass by the post office
• a random guy out for a walk in the middle of nowhere, holding up a sign to passing cars: a Canadian flag followed by the simple words ''take care''
• clients who have messaged me to simply check in and see if I am ok
• a grocery store cashier who was seconded from the hot foods counter, learning the ropes all on her own, and still able to laugh and be kind
• red wing blackbirds perching on the cattails at the edge of the marsh along my running route
• podcasts about books
• the neighbour in his pickup truck, with his dog in the passenger seat, who always waves the dog's paw at me when he drives by me on my running route
• this video
• the smell of oil paint and the feel of it moving on the canvas
• the fingernail moon and single star, high in the twilight-blue sky, as the sun went down last night
• dogs