We’ve gone from the brink of WWIII (January) and Australia being on fire (February) to being in the midst of a pandemic (March), dealing with killer hornets (April) and now, the United States is on fire (May-June).
It has been…a lot.
Like, 2020 has been pulling no punches and just keeps dishing stuff out. It’s crazy, man. I am all up for joining Anemone under the sea at this point.
On a more serious note, I have already posted my thoughts about everything that’s going on over on Facebook, but to sum it up here:
Now is NOT the time for all lives matter. Now is the time for Black Lives Matter. Now is the time to give Black people the microphone. Period.
I really, really hope something good comes out of all this, and that everyone participating in the protests stay safe.
Derek Chauvin and his fellow cops can rot.
Donald Trump needs to take an exit. Or least have his Twitter taken away.
George Floyd. Breonna Taylor. Tony McDade. Say their names.
It would feel a bit remiss to not at least mention something here about it. Now is the time to learn and listen. Believe me, I’m doing both.
And the answer is – yes, I really can’t draw dartboards. Looks like I’ll have to add it the list, alongside cars.
In all seriousness, though, I do need a therapist to get my anxiety under control. And I am in the process of looking for one. It’s not as easy as I would’ve hoped, and it does honestly feel like I’m throwing darts at a dartboard hoping that one will stick. I just don’t want to make the wrong choice.
Oh, and also I don’t know what Quincy is either. I…just liked the way he looked. So, here he is.
I seriously need to introduce some characters. I still introduce Dot’s monster friends. And get back to her storyline.
Now, I know that I am super duper lucky to be employed right now. Believe me, it’s a relief to not have to think about unemployment.
But it’s still not the same.
I miss working with the books. I miss being at the returns desk. I even miss interacting with the patrons to an extent.
Not all of them. But most.
It’s not fun being here at home, at the dining room table, scrolling through the library catalog and trying to figure out what to do with my time. Plus, my sole coworker only really seems to care about mealworms and napping. Not much for conversation.
I know when we reopen, things are going to be different. My boss is already talking about masks, installing plastic shields on the desks, trying to make sure we can still do the six feet apart deal – that’s fine. I’ll take it.
It’s gonna be nuts whenever we reopen, I know that for sure.
Until then, I’ll be here. Teleworking. Having a blast and a half.
Please donate to my GoFundMe to donate baby name dictionaries to all those expectant or soon to be expectant parents who are even considering Corona or Covid and already ruining their children’s lives.
So. Friday. I log on, ready to post. WordPress lets me know that there are a few things I should probably fix on my blog. And I’m like, “Okay, sure. I’ll get on that.”
One of them was updating to https. Now, I have the technological know-how of a squirrel, but after looking it up, I think, “Oh! Okay. I’ve got this. All I have to do is change one little thing here, and-”
I can’t log in. None of my posts can be clicked on. They all lead to some North Carolina plumbing service’s website.
So, I decided to handle this in a calm, mature fashion, and proceeded to promptly freak out.
My parents didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do. 5 years of work seemingly went straight down the tubes. I have all the pictures saved, but none of the writing, because what even is backing up?
And, of course, it had to happen on a Friday afternoon. With COVID-19 prancing around the country. Because IMPECCABLE TIMING.
I finally managed to gather enough of my senses to Google what the sweet hell what I’m supposed to do now. And I discovered a WordPress Support website. Thank GOD.
I get in touch with someone. I spill all the sweet gory details of what happened to my precious blog. And they get right to work.
Apparently, my directory databases got corrupted, which screwed up my ability to log in. Could they fix it? Yes they could.
I paid up the money (which was a lot), sent them what I could – and all I could do was wait. And panic. And stress. And wait. And hope I wasn’t being taken for a ride.
The next day, at 11 AM, I woke up from my post-breakfast nap, because clearly I slept well the night before, and saw an email.
I clicked over to my website and lo and behold, I Draw Walruses is alive.
And there was much rejoicing.
Even though I don’t get a lot of traffic, even though I get maybe 10 people tops reading this website – this is my baby. My diary. It’s seen a lot over the past five years. Post-grad unemployment. Getting hired as a page. Experiencing all sorts of fun adulting stuff. Getting promoted. Whatever the heck is going on now. And developing all sorts of fun characters – Lars, Willa, Eliza, Jeff the Reindeer, Cleo, and more.
And to lose that all – that would hurt. That would just drain me even more that this whole event did.
So, now, what do I do?
I think I know what I did wrong. BUT. I refuse to touch anything, do anything stupid at all, before I back everything up.
That is truly the lesson to be gained from all this. Don’t take anything for granted, and back up your work.
Please note: I do try to avoid talking politics whenever humanly possible. So this will hopefully be the one and only comic touching on the presidential election this year.
But really, I can already tell, it’s going to be a weird one. Which, truth be told, I think we have the last election to thank for that, setting a unfortunate new precedent for whatever shenanigans happen in future elections.
I remember driving you off that car lot up in Maryland and being absolutely terrified. My grandpa and stepgrandmother paid 7000 dollars for you – in cash – and suddenly, you were mine. I had to drive you all the way back home, and I was so worried that I’d get into some kind of accident or get hideously lost.
But we made it home in one piece, and thus began our 4 year long journey that has now resulted in you absolutely refusing to work at all.
Not that we haven’t had some good times together. You were there for me when I went job hunting. You were there for me when I managed to snag an interview and got the library page position, after failing to get it the first time. You were there when I got the job I have now.
You were there when I managed to make the friends I have now. You got me to places, helped me meet up with them, and now here I am, with a good solid friend group that is truly some kind of miracle. And I thank you for that, really.