The Victorian era ended less than 120 years ago. At that time, three-fourths of the population lived hand-to-mouth. Long days consisted of back-breaking labour with constant exposure to pathogens and bitter cold. Throughout the nineteenth century, London’s average life expectancy hovered around forty. And here we are, twenty years after Robbie Williams smirked from our JCPenney forty-inch consoles in a tuxedo before golden tinsel. Two decades in and still no flying cars, just endless Zoom calls and a busted housing market. Boo. At least we get to do this with central heating until seventy-eight?
If you’re really interested, here’s a Prezi with some mind-boggling statistics on the Victorian era! shorturl.at/kvzN8
We are starting to settle into the new normal. The new normal being the virtual life. Those lucky enough to keep their jobs often work from home. Students are studying through screens as parents and teachers scramble. Already hurtling toward the virtual life since the eighties, the pandemic floored the gas pedal in that direction. I recognize that this life is an honour and a privilege. That I am able to further my education and earn a paycheque from home is a comfort afforded to very few around the world. And a comfort that one could only experience in this century. Yet even the hermitiest of hermits can observe its pitfalls.
My mental health has improved. I cannot complain about a 6.2-second commute (yes, I really timed it) from the bed to the desk. Way, way back in 2019, transit forced me to wake more than two hours before shifts and classes. I no longer arrive at school or work semi-murderous after pressing my body to the cold SkyTrain wall decorated elegantly with stale boogers, bathing in the armpit odour of clamouring arms above me. Eyes half open after 50mg of CBD and rushing to grab enough stomach-ravaging $1.60 coffee to thwart suspicion. No more costly, heavy makeup that ages and dries my skin, no more elaborate hair-straightening that leaves my locks dull and brittle. No more pants with buttons. I simply roll out of bed and grab a snack from my own kitchen. I have saved thousands by eating at home. Everything is at my own pace.
With the precious gift of time, I am also able to multitask. I can easily tend to household chores during daylight hours. I never dread the laundry, dishes or cooking that waits for me in the evening. I can receive Amazon deliveries and sit in on multiple Zoom calls during the day. During this school term, I completed a self-paced, resume-boosting video editing program that would be impossible to complete while studying at brick and mortar school. My job is based in Richmond, school in Burnaby, and training program in Vancouver. The days of planning bus routes, hurrying between trains and anxiously navigating online maps are over. The commute is eliminated; I can truly exist in multiple places at once. In one day, I am able to update our company’s HR manual, edit three videos for school, complete a five-hour Motion Picture Safety Course and run two loads of laundry. Such convenience has allowed for a substantial increase in productivity. I can feel productive without leaving the apartment. The guilt of staying inside all day has disappeared.
An insightful video on the future of the workplace by The Economist.
And yet, with all this convenience and comfort, I feel starkly alone. With social distancing measures, a husband that travels for work and classmates now studying in their own apartments as far as Mission, socialization is minimal. It is no longer unusual to go four days without speaking to anyone in person. Zoom meetings and Messenger only take us so far.
With only seconds to travel to a cold, glowing box full of my favourite foods and a pile of cozy sweatpants, I have put on weight. My once-toned muscles have softened a bit. Prior to the pandemic, my social circle was small. Now it is microscopic. While I don’t feel the intense longing for company that an average extrovert might, a dubious inner voice lingers. This cannot be right. Science tells us isolation is unhealthy. I spend less time in nature, especially as the days grow colder and darker. That means more time in my head, an occasionally scary place. When left to its own devices, my brain starts fixating on what it cannot control: environmental catastrophe, civil unrest, the skyrocketing price of Silk coconut milk. My isolated, wondering mind convinces me that staying up until 4:00AM binge-watching Big Mouth is a great idea.
I am less patient with people in public now. Accustomed to the peace and quiet of home, like a recently returned logger, I have forgotten how to tune out people’s idiosyncrasies. The loud, obnoxious voices of people yammering on their phones in confined spaces. The screams of toddlers running inches from me in the grocery store. Where I was once jovial through the chaos of urban life, I am now quickly agitated. Sometimes even more than the SkyTrain days.
With such an increase in online activity, I worry about privacy and data collection. The more time we spend with these devices, the more information private companies have to analyze. Perhaps I am needlessly anxious due to weeks of isolation. But I have placed stickers on the cameras of all my mobile devices. I assume, by 2050, Generations Alpha, Beta, and Gamma will accept the virtual life as the norm. They may never remember a time before data collection, effortlessly living their lives through glass. Every step, breath and move recorded and logged from cradle to grave. Refusing to live all of your life online will perhaps be viewed as radically countercultural. Perhaps it’s time to welcome this new era.
In all, I am unsure I could ever return to “regular” life with two-hour commutes, waiting until dark to tend to chores, weaving through packed crowds on transit during rush hour. The virtual life affords me flexibility and freedom that I only remember having as a young child. Yet deep down, even as a sworn introvert, it feels unnatural to be an island. It feels abnormal to live my entire academic and professional life through screens. Perhaps this is simply another change I must accept. I don’t want to gripe about cultural change with age, I want to accept these shifts and move forward. If we return to pre-pandemic conditions, that too will be another change to accept. Whatever next year’s lifestyle holds, like all things, it shall have its highs and lows.
Robbie Williams’ iconic 1999 music video.
#covid-19 #economics #quarantinelife