Well, here we are. Yet another missive from the International House of Fear, Paranoia, and Exceptionally Good Music — otherwise known as MY place, lockdown style. My thoughts are about as disjointed as the world at large, so forgive me if this column sways from here to there at the drop of a well-sanitized hat.
Day Five. That was officially when cabin fever set in for me. Being an only child who grew up in the country far away from anyone else my age, I've always been rather skilled at chilling out by myself. I'm normally an indoors person as well, so the thought of a few days of rest and relaxation at the crib didn't bug me too much. In a way, this social distancing stuff is fairly ideal for me — except for the nagging fact that anyone or anything I touch could be toxic, so fun times. I have friends and it sucks not to see them, but I also have a phone and know how to use it. I'm good with social distancing.
Total quarantine, though? That took five days for me to officially be sick of. That's the afternoon I reached my fill of staring at the same four walls (or, more realistically, the same one television screen.) I stood up, stepped outside my door to remind myself there really WAS a world out there, and walked around the block. It felt good. Really good, honestly. It also felt a tad bit apocalyptic, as I didn't see ONE other human being outside. We ARE still allowed outdoors, right?
How paranoid am I? Well, considering how just a few minutes ago I used a sanitary wipe to sanitize my container of sanitary wipes, I'd say I've pretty much crossed the threshold into pure anxiety disorder. There isn't a container of food in my house that hasn't been wiped down with some toxin-killing substance that's probably toxic in its own right. This is not the ideal way to live.
Public Shout-Out No. 1: My friend Dianna Saelens. Dianna works for the Rock Island/Milan School District and is one of those essential people on the front lines of helping families and their kids deal with staying-in-place. She's also done all my grocery shopping for the past week because I'm a big scaredy-wimp. It's completely unnecessary and appreciated beyond belief, and she deserves a great big hug, which I fully intend to deliver sometime, say, mid-August or so.
Public Shout-Out No. 2: All the area musicians out there, but especially Chuck Murphy, who's been holding nightly solo gigs and chats from his garage that have been keeping many of us sane. There's a ton of musicians like Chuck out there who are currently gig-less and income-less. MANY of them are on the internet right now doing shows for free and taking online donations. If you get some time, and that's one thing we all seem to have an abundance of at the moment, be sure to check them out and support them if you can. Art has no quarantine.
Public Shout-Out No. 3: All the DJs. Have you ever wanted to hit a club but were too afraid you wouldn't fit in? Ever curious what this "EDM" thing is your kids talk about? When you lock a music nerd in their home with no toys except a record collection and a live stream, it turns out magic happens. MANY of our best club and bedroom mixmasters are hitting the internet nightly to entertain us with nonstop beats and fun. Get on Facebook and find them. Rachel Hagen, aka DJ K Yung; Joshua "DJBuddha" Smith; and all the gang at the QC EDM Facebook group are just SOME of the local talent serving up dance floor decadence almost nightly. You can even stream some of my quarantine mixes at mixcloud.com/shane-brown11 if you're so inclined. Tune in and dance like no one's watching you, because for once, no one is.
Which is more than can be said for me. I've long been gifted at finding new and exciting ways to make a total fool of myself in public. It turns out this holds true even when I'm trapped in my house. As you guys may have guessed, I'm opting to burn some vacation time through this crisis and hunker down at Shane HQ for a bit. But earlier today, our office held an employee webinar to unveil some new tech we're implementing to help our advertisers. I didn't want to miss out, so I logged on using the a company laptop they loaned me while I'm out of the office.
I had yet to use this computer, and it turns out it didn't have the right software for a webinar. This meant I had to fiddle around, quickly install the right program and get logged into the webinar with no time to spare. For a half-hour or so, I was online with some 70 other employees from different papers across the country. The webinar was informative and should allow our employment advertisers to reach even more job-seekers, so yay!
But then the webinar ended. That's when I minimized the screenshare window and saw the OTHER window I hadn't noticed before — a window displaying everyone who was in the meeting, including me. What I DIDN'T know was the new laptop I was using had a VIDEO CAMERA on it. A camera that was ON and broadcasting the whole time. So imagine if you will a professional webinar full of professional salespeople in professional attire in their professional offices — and then one dude sprawled out on his couch in a ratty t-shirt and unshowered hair, laying there munching on Pop-Tarts while cats crawled over him the whole time. You can take a guess as to which one I was. It is frankly only by divine miracle that I was wearing pants.
So if nothing else, take solace that our sales team in Bismarck, N.D., now likely thinks the sales team in the Quad-Cities is officially a bunch of freaky-deakies. And they probably wouldn't be wrong. But if we've got to be stuck at home, why not do it in style? Plus I have Pop-Tarts and they don't, so nanny-nanny boo-boo.
Stay safe, all. Best wishes and bountiful supplies of toilet paper to you all.
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