There’s a strong sense that we are gradually coming out of self-quarantine. As usual, I am of two minds (at least) on this. On the one hand, I will be happy to see Carol become increasingly free to be out and about again, frequently with me in supportive tow. On the other hand, I am honestly sad that this period of self-withdrawal is ending. But I don’t want this to come off sounding as antisocial as it sounds (or probably is).

In the introvert/extrovert dichotomy, I emphatically fall on the introvert side. It is said that introverts have very active minds and imaginations, and that explains why they can spend so much time happy and alone. (I do differentiate between the “alone” of solitude, where you might enjoy the pleasure of your own company, and that of isolation, where you can’t stand the presence of your own self.) I’ve found I can enjoy both extremes – I can make myself laugh at times (solitude), and bully myself into whimpering submission at others (isolation). It only gets uncomfortable when I’m enjoying solitude and isolation at the same time.)

As a child, I remember contemplating the ultimates of solitude and isolation, namely death and jail. Death fascinated me by its eternity – the idea of never being again. I’d go back and forth whether that was a despairing or a hopeful thing, mostly depending on my father’s mood and drinking that day. It was the isolation of jail that was the most heartbreaking. Considering the public flogging I’d experienced in first grade for eating my lunch during class time (I’ve considered egg salad to be a gateway crime ever since), life in prison without parole was a very real fear for me throughout elementary school. At night I would lay in bed lamenting all the classmates that would refuse to visit me in prison, including especially Jane Creighton, who’d never forgiven me for stealing a kiss in second grade.

“I do differentiate between the “alone” of solitude, where you might enjoy the pleasure of your own company, and that of isolation, where you can’t stand the presence of your own self.”

I do think the initial reopening will be a golden time for me, when restaurants and movie theaters will either likely be empty or staged with limited capacities. I’ve loved going to restaurants and the movies when the house is practically empty, even knowing that means business is bad and the joint may close. I compensate by rationalizing that we’ve come during the slow period, and things will pick up after we leave.

Neither my big happy fantasy (in solitude) or bleak expectation (in isolation) that humanity will remake itself coming out of this pandemic crisis is likely to be realized. We’re not going to become “green” and reverse human-caused climate change, nor will we become a dystopian world of 1984-style despotism. Tell you the truth, I’d be both happy and unhappy if either one came to be.

If the world becomes dystopian I’d be unhappy that humanity had failed, but happy I could spend the rest of my life screaming curses in my isolation. If the world turns “green,” I’d be happy we’ve achieved our ideals, but unhappy I’d be forced to embrace my fellow man with love and understanding in my solitude.

Yeah, I know. Carol is a real saint, isn’t she?