Weekly Planner

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Weekly Planner

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Attached is a picture of my planner from May of last year. I have always tried to keep a journal of some sort but over the past few years entries in my actual journal have become more sporadic, and I sometimes feel bad that I'm not documenting my life better. But I have found that I keep my memories and experiences in different ways. I keep post-its and planners and notes from past classes, all of which contain some view into a different time of my life. This page in my planner was probably drawn during class, or while waiting for another class to start. The goldfish stickers were there before I wrote the words around them, I'm pretty sure. Looking back now I could say maybe the goldfish and the misconception about their memory is a comment on the way isolation and lack of enrichment affects memory, but really I just had them nearby and thought they were cool. At this point the monotony of quarantine and online school and being out of work made a planner feel kind of superfluous and each page was less like an organized look at my week and more like a dumping ground for my thoughts. The speech bubbles near the fish read: "(I love you guys)" "What?" "I said let's count down so we can all sign off together!" Since moving back to my parent's house in March I haven't seen any of my friends in person. It's been nearly a year of movie nights over discord, all of us counting down and trying to press play at the same time despite the latency. There's a certain intimacy of talking to someone late into the night from my bedroom, surrounded by artifacts of my high school life. I'm afraid for myself and afraid for my friends but we don't talk about the big scary thing looming over all of us. It's been nearly a year and the space in between now and February feels both infinite and microscopic. I am still, but time goes on. I remember that I wrote "One day I will be disappointed (spelled incorrectly) I did not document history better" later in the week. Memory is fragile and I want to preserve it the best I can but lately I'm too tired to take down the details of each day. Maybe this vague collection of my thoughts will be valuable to future me, but I won't know until then so I'll hold onto it anyway.

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This item was submitted on February 10, 2021 by Marisa Ramey using the form “Share Your Story” on the site “A Journal of the Plague Year”:

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