Anniversary

I don’t know if this should be called anniversary. I’ve always had the impression, probably a wrong one, that the word is used to commemorate something wonderful rather than something sickly and virus related. Still, by definition, it is an anniversary.

It has been one year already since New Jersey started its first lockdown in March 2020. I can’t believe it. One year. The day before the lockdown was announced, I was having lunch at “Wonder Seafood” with my friends–our last lunch, placed in our memory shrine forever. We were commenting on how empty the restaurant was and how promptly our service was. How casual and how stupid we were, not knowing what was to come.

One year passes in the speed of light. Time flies even if we are not having fun. You would think that having a boring, lockdown, restricted, scared life, time will pass slowly, but no. Time passes just as quickly as before. Isn’t it absurd that on the one hand we complain about life being sad, mad, and boring, but on the other hand we wish time can slow down to make this sad, mad, and boring life last longer?

I can’t remember the name of the movie, but it is an interesting one by Woody Allen. The opening scene starts with two old ladies complaining about the food in a senior center: the quality is low and the portion is inadequate. Woody Allen comes out and says that he often feels the same about life. That’s so true now that I think of it. The thing is even if life is often unsatisfactory, we love it no matter what, just like how M loves her husband. I know M who just loves her husband despite all her complaints against him. Whenever we have a group chat, M always complains about her life and I really can’t repeat what she says here. Sometimes her criticism of her own family life would causes a general outcry among other women in the group–too severe a picture for a casual conversation. I guess the reason all the women felt scandalized by her talk was that M was telling the plain truth without malice and without the usual disguise. Although she complains so fiercely, there’s no doubt that she has undiminished love for her husband–she cooks every day even if her husband often claims he has to entertain a business client in a restaurant; she drives a crappy car while her husband drives a brand new Lexus. I know people usually have love-hate relationship, but in her, the co-existence is just too conspicuous, too jarring, too self-harming, almost as if she is mixing sweet cakes with bitter melon chunks. I really don’t know how to describe the awkwardness I felt about this. I don’t know if it’s the content or the way the content was conveyed.

With more time in my hand, I could have achieved something, but I have to say I have no achievement in the past 12 months. Life is just routine. The only thing I’ve done better than other 12-month periods is I binged several TV shows, Silicone Valley, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Billions, The Good Fight, The Alpha House, The Affair, Homeland, Veep except the last two seasons. I particularly enjoy the scripts for Billions and The Affair. I wish I could write scripts like that. I like one liners, but I like long conversations more. And the good scripts are leaning towards the direction of really good, long conversations. In the past, “Friends”, “Cheers”, and “Frasier”, especially “Frasier”, feel like an extension of Brit-com, but now these new TV shows break away from that and have a new flavor.