I have been vaccinated. I got both of my shots, waited the requisite two-week waiting period, which mysteriously dropped from 30 days to 14, and so as of yesterday, I am as fully vaccinated as I can be. And I am still not traveling. I will continue to wear a mask. In fact, I will be double masking when students return to the high school I work at following spring break. There is still a pandemic. Not enough people are vaccinated. I don’t truly know how effective the vaccine is, no one does. And most of all, I want to make a statement. That masks are important. That masks are important. That social distancing is important. That I might still catch COVID, be asymptomatic, and pass it on. Herd immunity is essential. A lot of life I want to get back to, but I know that so many things should not go back to the days of 2019 and early 2020. We cannot forget. We cannot become complacent. Okay – sometimes I want to keep wearing the mask so hide my sneers so no one can see. ;)

The Fundamental Equity Tools website has resources and tools for people looking to get involved with social justice issues surrounding Covid-19.

From the article: A recent study by researchers at Harvard University found that mortality ratios for Black and Latinx communities in the United States were 3.6 and 2.6 times higher, respectively, than the mortality ratio for non-Hispanic Whites,1 a stark gap also reported in New York City (NYC).2 Other similar patterns have been found in NYC over the course of the COVID-19 pandemic. Mortality rates for the Latinx and Black populations are 242 per 100 000 and 226 per 100 000, respectively, both more than twice those for White and Asian American residents.3 Surveys conducted by the City University of New York (CUNY) Graduate School of Public Health & Health Policy and others tell an even more alarming story. The gaps in mortality rates are just the tip of an iceberg of long-standing public health–related inequities among people of color in the United States. These discrepancies threaten all US citizens—wealthy and poor alike—and they have been exacerbated by the coronavirus.

From article: Racism and classism create conditions where people of color, those living in poverty, and other marginalized groups have limited access to resources that affect health

From the article: In previous years, Classy’s Why America Gives report has focused on consumer giving trends, what motivates donors to give, and their plans for Giving Tuesday and year-end giving. In our third-annual edition of Why America Gives, the 2020 report measures these year-over-year changes in giving sentiments and behaviors; in addition, it also analyzes how current events—specifically the COVID-19 pandemic and the social justice movement—have altered giving trends.

From the article: People are like gardens: they require the right seeds to be planted, watered and nurtured in order to grow, but if neglected, will never produce the full harvest of their potential. For decades, Black people have been starved of the investments, the systems of care and quality environments that are needed for sustained, healthy growth and development as a people. For even a rose, as the writer Nikki Giovanni reminds us, can bloom from the concrete, if we give it the resources, care and love it deserves.

I once used to walk this street on my way to work at a restaurant. I always loved how busy it was, seeing the streets overcrowded with people who had places to be. When I lost my job because of the pandemic in March I had to go home for 7 months. At the beginning I think we all thought that things would have turned around by the time the leaves started to fall. When I came back, I went downtown to visit the restaurant I had once worked at. The restaurant was boarded up still and the streets were mostly empty, and I felt kind of empty too.

When I think about this past year, what first comes to mind is my food service job. Then, I think of my coworker Alex. For almost a year we worked together and she ended up being a great friend. At the end of the summer, she quit to find a better-paying job. In this picture, we were goofing off at the end of our shift, cleaning the bathroom and listening to music. It was our last day together and we wanted to end on a good note. Food service has definitely been a challenge during this pandemic, but I’m grateful I got to work with a friend through most of it. I definitely miss her :)

2020 was a good time for video games, particularly those that I am interested in. Releasing in the middle of the year, games such as the highly anticipated Mount and Blade: Bannerlord and Crusader Kings III managed to provide time-wasting opportunities to many people. The latter, abbreviated CK3, is pictured here. CK3 is essentially a feudalism-simulator with role playing game mechanics, famous in the PC gaming sphere for both its complexity but also its ability to organically allow stories to form in the most Game of Thrones way possible. This was one of my earlier games, after I was more familiar with how the game differed from CK2. Starting as the Raja of the real-life Northern Indian dynasty of the Imperial Gurjara-Pratihara in 867 CE, through many generations of rulers I managed to consolidate the entire subcontinent through diplomacy, intrigue, and warfare. Around 1000 CE one of my rulers who had a more intellectual education rather than the usual military one, consolidated all imperially sanctioned Hindu beliefs into the Charvaka school, a real-life ancient Hindu belief based on materialism and empiricism. As this new consolidated Hinduism united the subcontinent at a more local level, regional governors along the Indus River took advantage of political fragmentation around the Indian Ocean and pushed west, taking over not just Persia and Central Asia but also establishing Hindu-Somali outposts in Africa and Yemen. By the 1300s the empire spread from Burma in the east all the way to modern day Libya and Greece, with Rome itself falling to a Pratihara expedition. Peace was maintained within the empire's vassals by a robust series of alliances, as well as the use of the "dread" mechanic to scare any more unruly subjects into submission via planned executions and threats. The most serious threats the Pratihara Empire faced was a series of crusades launched from Western Europe, and the Mongol Conquests which were ended by assassinating a few generations of Mongol Khans leading to political infighting and collapse. Beyond the fake history being made in game, this single play through gave me enjoyment for dozens of hours. While psychical entertainment was shut down, travel impossible, and the shadow of the pandemic hung over everything, games like CK3 allow people like me to immerse ourselves in what begins as real history and ends with an alternate history that we ourselves designed. Many people who don't usually play video games became engrossed in them, particularly early on in the likewise open-ended game Animal Crossing: New Horizons. The need to develop new hobbies as a way to cope with isolation was a boon for the video game industry, which despite its massive market was seen by many people as quaint at best, or worthless at worst. There is value in video games, especially during the pandemic.

I received my second vaccination earlier this week. I had minor symptoms (some fatigue and body aches), but otherwise it went well. I had some friends, both in exceptional shape, who experienced high fevers and other flu like symptoms, so I guess I lucked out on that front. The peace of mind is incredible. I plan to still take precautions, especially because even with the vaccine, it is believed you can still carry the virus, but it is wonderful to not have to worry about getting sick with COVID anymore.

Beep. Beep. Beep. I open my eyes and stretch. I smack that snooze button. The eagle stars at me. During these Covid-19 days, I’m able to spend time thinking about memories. Eyes close; I see darkness. I walk into my Grandmother’s house. A room has the eagle statue and a large window to see the birds. The eagle stars at me. All of a sudden, I am around family members at my grandmother’s memorial service. Beep. Beep. Beep. I open my eyes and stretch. I smack that dismiss button. The Eagle stars at me. My Grandmother is watching over me.

A freshly opened, hardly touched puzzle. In a time where there’s nothing, and yet too much going on, I clear my head by putting together an image I connect with, and the exuberance of finding pieces I’ve lost at my feet. COVID-19 brought numbing boredom to a new height, along with finding new ways to challenge myself and my family members. March of 2020 brought the first puzzle, and it’s been a fluctuating number both of pieces and images that include big cities and paintings ever since. I’m piecing my world back together one jigsaw at a time.

During a pandemic, creatives continued to collaborate online through the platform Zoom. In this picture, Jackson Scoggins, William Way, and I (Spencer Bolding) meet and discuss the beginnings of Jackson’s new magazine about a local record label. We spent our first semester interviewing key characters in the creation of Dolfin Records over Zoom, often having to explain the mechanics to those new to the program. After a series of recorded interviews, we put together an in-depth timeline of the beginning of Dolfin Records that will go into our first issue. Creatives will always find a way to create. #HST269 #zoom #localmusic #Dallas #Dolfin #zine #DIY #musicians #art #deepellum #pandemic #creative

One common sight to behold during the pandemic was the signs posted within business’ storefront windows mandating masks to be worn to slow the spread of the coronavirus. In early June 2020 as the city of Chicago entered their Phase 3, which allowed for local businesses to reopen, some store owners used creative messages such as this one to enforce required mask mandates. The sign above, which I noticed on the Chicago Bagel Authority’s Belmont location—six miles north of the Chicago Loop—is a symbol of the city’s efforts to mask up, specifically targeting groups known as “anti-maskers.”

Hundreds, an estimated 600, of fake vaccines were shipped to Hong Kong and internationally by a group led by "Kong". These vaccines consisted of nothing but saline solution or mineral water. They were being sold to medical facilities and other places at inflated prices. Officials in China have made at least 70 arrests in relation to this case with more suspected. It's reported that the group made an estimated profit of 18 million yuan or nearly 3 million U.S. dollars in this scam.

It is an article about an innovative vaccine from COVID that is not two-phased, but one-phased.

An image of this bar front was shared on this archive almost a year ago, on March 31, 2020, at the beginning of the pandemic: https://covid-19archive.org/s/archive/item/11917. On February 10, 2021, I passed by this bar on my way home from an errand and remembered it being shared on this archive. It looks different now, so I wanted to document it. Aside from the weather depicting a more solemn image, the next noticeable difference is in the fact that in this posting, the bar's front window is boarded up, with a most likely spray-painted tag in green ink. The boarding up is most likely a remnant from 2020's late spring/early summer protests that took place around the country in response to racial violence, which was kickstarted by the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis, MN. In addition, Green Mill also has posted a flyer in the circular window of their front door. In March 2020, the pandemic was still so new that many didn't know what to do besides close their doors for the time being. Now, in 2021, with more understanding of COVID-19's severity, many businesses have some sort of signage indicating that they are closed and encouraging readers to follow the social distancing guidelines set forth by local, state, and/or federal governments. This is most likely the sign posted in window. Hopefully, in another year's time, we'll get to see Green Mill open and lively with the sounds of jazz music, the coronavirus pandemic only a memory of the recent past.

As the COVID-19 vaccine rolls-out, nursing and retirement homes across the United States are starting to open up again. In many places, this means dinner, game night, and a select few visitors.

Starting on March 9, one university email followed another; the rapidly spreading pandemic meant that campus residents like me had to immediately find new housing. Unhappy and depressed with my dorm, I was actually glad at this chance to move. As soon as March 11th, I was already searching for a new place to live. Though I was relieved, I basically had to abandon my end-of-term schoolwork to secure an apartment. This came with consequences and I ended up taking three incomplete grades. I signed a lease on March 21, 2020. A year later, COVID-19 continued to spread and I recently renewed my lease. From top, these are my mailbox, unit, and building keys to my ~220 sq. ft. Chicago studio.

During covid, like most people life was isolating for a reasonable amount of time. The people one did stay around managed to get on our nerves anyway. I am however luckier that most because we’re some 11 months in now and I have my health as does my family, and I have discovered a new passion. Since many restaurants were fully closed the only way to eat the food I was craving was to cook it. In this simple activity I found a passion that very quickly turned into something relevant to me as I found a job at a restaurant cooking, and getting paid for that passion.

During the start of the school semester of spring 2020, talks of a very contagious illness stated to spread. Most students on campus believed COVID-19 to be a threat nut one month later, all colleges across the world shut down. While moving out, my friend's dad said we would be back that same semester. I believed him until infection rates increased across the United States. States started to shut down including the one I lived in. Restrictions, isolation, and guidelines were enforced to ensure public safety. Instead, thousands of people went into depression including me. Not being able to leave my house during the pandemic was difficult. Not only was I hundreds of miles away from my friends at school, but I couldn't see my friends at home too. My experience with online class didn't make interacting with people any easier. Most of my classes didn't require the camera to be on, while the other class didn't even meet online. This was very difficult for me because I was used to being around friends everyday. I started to become depressed as I spent 2 months without interacting with anyone but my family and my teacher. Fortunately, restrictions eased up as the spring semester came to a close. I was able to get a job at a donation center for the summer. I still wasn't allowed to see my friends which made for a disappointing summer but working helped the time go by. When it was time to go back to college, I was relieved. My college was fortunate enough to have students on campus for the fall 2020 semester. I was overly excited to see any friends after months. I counted down the days until we moved in. But I knew the semester would be different. When arriving on campus, I learned that several rules and regulations were implemented to "keep the community safe." Some of these included no visiting anyones dorm room, scheduling when to eat, certain doors were entrances while others were exits, no guests from off campus, must wear a green bracelet at all times, must get randomly tested, etc. I made sure to read the rules and regulations but unfortunately, my roommates didn't. The very first night on campus, my roommates decided to have friends over. I told my roommates that it wasn't allowed but it did not matter. The guests stayed until there was banging at the door. The Resident Assistant working that night wrote us up, and we had to meet with the Dean. While meeting with the Dean, I explained how it was not my fault and I was against having guests over, but I was charged with a $200 fine. Completely upset, I change all my classes to online classes and moved back home. I did not trust my roommates enough to stay. The last thing I wanted was several fines that weren't my fault. When I got home, I was really depressed. I was the only one home out of all my friends and I was back to remote learning. I couldn't see anyone while home and I felt betrayed by my roommates. I felt like my life was crumbling as another semester of my college experience was being wasted. This caused me to have a mental breakdown, and lose all motivation to do work. Four months passed by slowly and I escaped the semester with mediocre grades and a crippling mind. Fortunately, my parents noticed I was not in the best shape of mind. They had me see a therapist and find new activities to do during the pandemic. This got me back on my feet and my friends from home started returning from school. The gap between semesters when well and I was joyful again. However, it was time to decide if I wanted to return to campus for the 2021 Spring Semester. I was torn because some of my friends were staying home that semester and I still did not trust my roommates. I thought rationally and contacted them to see our their semester went. To my surprise, they received 4 fines and one of them had to quarantine. This gave me reassurance that I made the right choice on leaving campus during the fall semester. Currently I am taking the 2021 Spring Semester all remotely and I am happy. I am seeing friends and have synchronous classes. I am confident that I will keep seeing my friends at home and keep a good mindset throughout the semester. I wish for everyone to stay strong during the pandemic and seek help if you're depressed.

On February 21st, 2021, one of my professors—while on an exceedingly off-topic tangent during a lecture about Medival Spain—flippantly remarked that in the age that we currently live in, there is now such a thing as “BCT” (“Before Covid Time”) and “CT” (“Covid Time”). According to him, we are currently living in both the year 2021 AD (or CE) and the year 1 CT. Our life as we know it, in the eyes of my professor and Julius Ceaser, is measured and marked by the birth of Jesus Christ and the contagious disease known as Covid-19. And just as it was for the birth of Jesus Christ, it exceedingly easy to pinpoint the exact moment when such a shift in time, from BCT to CT (at least in the United States), had occurred. It was the second week of March. Or, to be more exact, the 12th of March, the day when everything changed for a college student such as myself. On March 8th, 2020 (both AD and BCT), I had awoken as an average American college student in my dorm room. I had just gotten back from a spring break study abroad trip to the country of Cuba, and I was excited for classes to start back up the following day (and continue for the rest of the semester). Nothing was out of the ordinary. Life was continuing as we knew it. Covid-19 was an intangible construct at that point in time, some unseen nightmare way off in the distance that could not reach us. Nothing we needed to worry about, especially as young college students. There were hardly any reported cases yet if any in the United States. Everyone used to say, “oh, that Covid thing? Yeah, it’s just in China. Or Spain. Or Italy,” and then they would go about their day, not giving it any more thought. It was hardly even anything newsworthy. When I was in Cuba that first week of March, the only news we ever received (when we got signal or wifi, which was not often) was about the election, nothing Covid related. People even made jokes about it. That was just how life was in BCT, even a week before everything changed. Hell, even a few days before. On Monday that week, everything was normal, college life as I knew it continued—I saw my friends, got my meals in the ever so crowded dining hall, and went to classes with the max capacity of students. On Wednesday, the college Instagram meme page had posted a Covid update for the first time—there was a confirmed case not too far from campus—yet things continued as usual. However, on Friday, March 12th, 2020, almost a week after I had been partying it up in a packed club in Cuba with absolutely no awareness of the elusive plague that thrived halfway across the world, the shoe suddenly, and finally, dropped. I had shown up to my “Basics of Math” class to find that there were only five people (other than me) in attendance, and not even six hours later, we were given three hours to pack up and leave campus (pictured, me in the midst of packing up). I did not know it then, but we would not be allowed back on campus for another five months, almost 160 days in total. It is no exaggeration when I say that from that moment on, I felt as if I were a Depression Era family, evicted from their home, with all their belonging out on their lawn, with no knowledge of where to go from there. Even though I had my childhood home to go to, I felt, for lack of a better term, “out on my butt.” It was as if I was displaced, uprooted, cut adrift, and lost. I had not even unpacked any of my belongings when I arrived back home. I lived out of my haphazardly packed—and it was haphazard; I had packed up my dorm room in a sweat-inducing and crazed rush—suitcase until it was time once more to pack up and go back to college five months later. And my physical being was not the only thing that felt disoriented. Just as I imagine it was with most other college students during this time, the 2020 spring semester was one of my worst academically performing semesters to date. Although now, almost a full year later (entirely in Covid time), I am most adept at zoom life and the socially-distanced way classes are held, at the time, absolutely not. With every single one of my classes now on Zoom or some virtual variant, it became most difficult for me to adjust to the new way of things. Not even the professors knew what they were doing. Everyone was struggling. And it certainly did not help that my house had now taken on the most distracting nature ever to date. My sister, my mother, and my father were quarantined with me at home. That particular combination of people and location was about as conducive for my studies as it would be if I were studying amid an active circus. Not even when I was in class could I be completely unbothered. With no desk in my room, which I shared with my sister at the time, I was forced to partake in class and do my assignments while sitting next to my mother taking business calls, my sister playing on her Nintendo switch or watching a tv show, and my dad listening in on his own classes or playing the drums. It was a breeding ground for distraction. I would go as far as to say that I was lucky I even got the grades I ended up with that semester. It truly was an abysmal time. Although I certainly do not have to tell anyone that. Life as a college student during CT had proved most difficult. And it still has not entirely let up. Although for the 2020 to 2021 academic year we have thankfully been allowed back on campus, student life has not yet reverted to how it once was (for better or worse). Classes now have a capacity limit (with socially distanced desks, six feet apart), the dining hall tables now only sit two, we have to make reservations for every meal (to limit how many people there are at a certain time), you are not able to frequent any dorms other than your own, masks must be worn at all times, some classes are held over zoom, or even outside, off-campus travel is prohibited, and there are only specific entrances and exits you can use for every college building. College life—a time which was always regarded as the free-est time of one’s whole life—is now the most massively regulated. And all I can say to that is, “c’est la vie.” Such is life in “Covid time.”

This is the creative project I've been working on in Minecraft to handle the stress of attending grad school during the Covid19 pandemic. Minecraft and other video games have been sources of stress release and social interaction since forced isolation/quarantine and restrictions on social gathering has resulted in more people playing games and joining online communities for the needed social interaction for the maintenance of their mental health.

My homeland, Orange County, has not been a place to be very proud of during COVID-19. Between anti-maskers, inept leadership, lack of transparency, and inequity in access to both COVID-19 testing and vaccines, this year has been a roller coaster in our little coastal chunk of CA. The vaccine roll out has been a massive headache. For the past month on Instagram, I see post after post of people younger than I who are getting their vaccinations because they live in another part of the state or country, while locally it's only health care workers I know that have been able to be vaccinated. Although other parts of CA (and the country) have begun to vaccinate teachers and food workers, Orange County is stubbornly (as I was told in a meeting today) waiting until 50% of the over 65 population is vaccinated before they open it up to the next tier. Though this causes me endless anxiety - will I be able to get a vaccine before my high school of 2500 opens for in person instruction - the one relief of the week was that my 65 year old mother was FINALLY able to get a vaccination appointment. The Othena system is a joke - she tried numerous times and couldn't get an appointment for the supposed super pods. Kaiser is still only vaccinating 75+! The Nextdoor app clued us in that a local hospital (where my mom has her insurance) was starting to vaccinate. Despite logging on in the very beginning of February, the earliest appointment she could get is for March 3. She took it, but I wanted to keep searching, because I worry that if the next Tier opens, she may have trouble getting a second shot if she waits until March 3. Nextdoor again clued me in to Rite-Aid, where a friend of my mom's outside OC got her vaccine. Best part - you go directly through Rite Aid, so no Othena! Success! My mom made her appointment on Saturday for tomorrow. We were jubilant! I told both my best friends about the Rite Aid trick, and within three days, they had their elderly family members signed up. Today, an hour after my best friend texted me that her dad got his Rite Aid vaccine, my mom sent me her cancellation message. Apparently the current winter storms have delayed the arrival of vaccines. My mom got lucky again, because it turns out that our school district is vaccinating employees 65+. Though retired, because she is a part time employee, my mom received an invitation today. Once she got the Rite Aid cancellation, she made her an appointment with the school district. Tomorrow is the first day the school district is vaccinating, so we have no idea what to expect, and are a little nervous because her insurance is not one of the carriers of the school district. Fingers crossed that she can still get it! Though I am genuinely happy for everyone getting vaccinated, it is frustrating that it is so much work here to try and get one. Using the Othena site hasn't worked for anyone I know - everyone I know has been vaccinated through their work or somewhere like Rite Aid. Honestly, if I see another post of someone with their vaccination card with a "do your part!" message I am going to throw my phone at the wall. I do want to do my part, if only Orange County would get their act together and manage this whole roll out better. Come on Orange County, you can do better.

As a student who goes to a very tight knit Catholic College, nothing has split the community on campus quite like this. The issue comes with balancing the benefits of an in person education with maintaining a healthy social life compounded by inconsistent rule enforcement. From my perspective, there is a scale for how seriously people follow the COVID protocols, on one end there are people who religiously follow every rule, and on the other, people who go at great lengths to break them and think nothing of going to a packed club. The student body sits everywhere in between these two poles. The difference in opinion causes the people who follow the rules to resent the people who break the rules. They see it as reckless and selfish that some students hold their interests in a higher regard than the well being of their classmates. The people who break the school’s quarantine were tired of never leaving their dorm and argue that college is meant to be fun and if you have to bend the rules to see friends that's acceptable. I’ve seen these disagreements split dorm rooms, best friends, sports teams and classmates. Without a common area to communicate our differences we are only left to passive aggressively hate through social media. Very often people's views on following the “Community Care Covenant” depends on how convenient it is to them. It is very easy to condemn off campus partiers when it is a Thursday night with no plans to go out and a lot of homework to do. It becomes just as easy to mock the frivolity of the rules when your friends are going out and leave you with the option of being lonely or finding enjoyment. I have been both amused and exasperated to see some of my acquaintances with strong liberal views condemn Trump and anti-maskers on all platforms for refusing to accept the sound science of social distancing and covering one's mouth. Then not even an hour later they will post from the same account a picture of them at a two-hundred person house party, drink in hand, and not a mask in sight. As if them claiming their intentions are pure makes their actions irrelevant. I have seen this every weekend and am dumbfounded with the lack of self awareness some people show. In the name of honesty I will admit that I feel this contradiction personally. I scroll through my phone and get jealous and annoyed by posts of my college peers in large groups, without masks, clustered together. Unfortunately, even though I agree with all the social distancing precautions things change when I have the opportunity for fun. One year into having almost every single conversation being with the same eight people, I long for the college experience. As much as I dislike going against rules that I personally agree with there is no end in sight to this pandemic. Besides, I rationalize, my friends and I are all healthy and would not purposefully endanger elders. So despite people like me self-righteously shaking our fists and quarantine breakers, I do feel strong temptations to do so. For example, I had not seen my girlfriend in weeks and the new relationship we had started was dying due to long distance. Do I break protocol by taking her on a date and spending time with her? Yes, I did. When friends I had not seen since first semester freshman year asked me my second semester sophomore year to join them for drinks. Do I follow the rules and stay in my dorm watching television, or do I go into junior year with more than two friends? There is a huge culture of hypocrisy at all levels, whether it be the students or the school itself. The school, sadly, is not innocent of responsibility for some of these divisions. The school refuses to allow men and women to visit each other in their dorms, but as the saying goes “out of sight out of mind” as the athletic teams and others have off-campus parties just a mile away the school would have to be fools not to notice. My friends and I are not allowed to play basketball in the gym. But if we are out of the public eye in a secluded part of campus, fifty people can play pick up sports. Sure the campus police will not break up bonfires in the woods and won’t bat an eye when several packed cars leave campus at the same time but four people can not eat lunch together. Most people seem to be concerned about covering their own behinds rather than any sort of actual safety. To conclude, this is not an easy time for anybody. There have been plenty of tough decisions to make and things are not so black and white as campus rules would like to believe. Having fun is hard work in COVID America. The social pressures at this school continue to weigh heavily on those who do their best to do the ‘right thing’. Like I said earlier, there is a large scale of where people's beliefs over COVID policy lands, but I think I can speak for college students everywhere when I say, I cannot wait for this to return to normal.

This photo, taken at the Detroit Institute of Art, is a glimpse of the drastically different pandemic-era museum experience. Upon entrance to the museum, guests are masked, tickets are bought online, temperatures are checked, and then one can wander the silent, empty galleries. Diego Rivera’s monumental Detroit Industry Murals are even more awe-inspiring when drifting around the cavernous hall distraction-free, with only sentinel machines keeping one company. Presently, Rivera’s personal history of political conflict and pandemic-related loss ring especially true. Although museum visits have adapted, one can still experience a powerful connection to art, in a new, maybe even improved way.

I have been living in fear of getting others sick rather than what will happen if I were to be the one to get sick. My FAMILY MEMBER is immunocompromised, so I have spent most of 2020 in my house. I have not been scared of coming back positive because I have had cousins who have been sick but have had no real issues. The reason I have lived a full year with fear and anxiety is the idea of giving the disease to my Diabetic FAMILY MEMBER. Part of the reason I came back to campus when the semester started was to get away from my FAMILY MEMBER and the fear that I could be the one to kill THEM. Coronavirus has made this past year one full of fear, but the main character of my fear, meaning my FAMILY MEMBER, has talked me into feeling comfortable enough to return to college. I knew people who had impaired immune systems had to watch what they did even before Covid-19 came into the picture. These days, immunocompromised individuals can barely leave their houses so I have followed the actions of my FAMILY MEMBER. If THEY has felt comfortable enough to return to teaching for middle schoolers and working at a camp with young children who were just learning to wear masks during the summer then I can go live on campus. I actually have a close friend in my dorm family unit who keeps me in check. My FAMILY MEMBER and my friend do a great job but sometimes, I think I stay home and away from people more than some individuals I know with compromised immune systems or pre-existing conditions that put them at risk of dying from the disease. That thought will not dissuade me from continuing with my partially-quarantined lifestyle. I am confused and hurt by those who have not even tried to protect others or change anything in their daily life. With the numbers that are currently being released in the United States and at my college, I will keep living in a way that will not increase my anxiety or the chance of my fears coming true. If my college continues to see rising positive cases, I hope we get put into a full campus lockdown or I have a little warning of being sent home so I can be tested and have a place to quarantine away from my FAMILY MEMBER. Everyone has Covid-fatigue but I will push through and stay as safe as I can. This year has taught me that when this pandemic is over, I need to live my life protecting immunocompromised people even if I do not know them. If I get a cold, I will wear a mask. I never want to be the one to blame for someone else falling sick or dying.

The story I uploaded explains how the Covid-19 pandemic has changed my experience as a college athlete. This is important to me because playing a sport in college is a huge part of my overall college experience.

I am uploading pictures during the pandemic that I took. It shows how empty the streets/bridge were that are normally crowded with thousands of people and cars.

With all of the free time suddenly on my hands due to the pandemic, I was forced to find new hobbies that would occupy the time. Some of the hobbies that I developed over the course of the pandemic and specifically during the quarantine are following along to Bob Ross videos, fiber arts including latch hook and cross-stitch, and I have rediscovered my love for reading mysteries. These hobbies have helped keep my mind off of and cope with COVID and everything else that is going on in the world these days. Despite the negative effects that COVID has had on the world and individuals, it has allowed me and many others to delve deeper into new and old passions due to the amount of time that we have on our hands that we never had before.

Many years ago, there was a public service ad that said ‘This is your brain on drugs.” It featured an egg cracking into a frying pan, sizzling crisply. I feel the same way about my neck on zoom. It is a horrifying sight. For many of us, ZOOM is the funhouse mirror we do not wish to look into. It has been suggested that staring at ourselves on ZOOM calls sucks the life out of our brains and that it might be better to simply not be able to see ourselves. Apparently, you can block yourself from being able to see your own face while allowing your fellow ZOOM-ers to gaze at you. Honestly, that seems worse to me. What if I look like a Salvador Dali painting? And what about my NECK? Chin high, neck elongated is my mantra. Channeling Audrey Hepburn helps. Otherwise, I look like a candidate for a Thanksgiving carving board. This is what COVID hath wrought. Not a fear of disease or death (although THAT is responsible for the extra furrows between my brows), but a conversation about inner beauty and wisdom vs. gravity and slackness of skin. For women of a certain age COVID has brought a dollop of fear, and a hefty helping of self-pity at the mere thought of newborn grandchildren we cannot hold. And it has also rendered us as insecure and self-conscious as a teenager with a pimple on the tip of the nose. The state of the skin beneath my chin should not matter, and yet it does.

entertainment was a huge part of this pandemic

I am submitting my experience during the pandemic because it is important to share with others who may be feeling the same way that I am. We all are learning first hand how to succeed during this pandemic and it is important we share with each other what our experiences are so we can grow together

During this drawn-out pandemic, I have had the misfortune of living alone in my apartment, essentially stranded. This was not helped by the fact that I have recently been left without a car. I have no family that lives close by and I have relied a lot on my friends' willingness to carpool with me if I need to get anywhere. I generally must walk to and from the grocery store and have many things shipped to me. Additionally, my commute to work is always on foot. These minor inconveniences are not as unbearable, however, as my inability to travel to the gym. The gym had become a daily routine for me pre-pandemic. On occasion, I would drive to the gym twice in one day to stay occupied. My lack of transportation was, thus, a major hit to my daily routine. About a week had gone by without exercise before I hatched an idea. I purchased a simple, $20, 25 lb weight to be shipped to my apartment. This weight would become the nucleus of my workout routine for the next year. With This 25 lb weight, I can mimic virtually any exercise that exists at the gym. Instead of 20 lb shoulder raises, I do 25 lb shoulder raises for a shorter set. Instead of 35 lb dumbell curls, I do 25 lb curls for a longer set. If an exercise would usually be done on a bench or mat, I could simply set down a few pillows and achieve the same effect. The transition was a bit awkward but easier than I expected. My pandemic-grade, simple, at-home weight room may appear underwhelming. It is, indeed, cheaper and of lower quality than gym equipment. However, my make-shift gym has kept me busy throughout the entirety of this pandemic. I am now back to my daily "gym" routine, sweating just as much in my apartment as I would be at a gym.

In this episode, we at the Podcast of the Plague Year were granted the opportunity to record interviews with two organizations assisting refugees that have been relocated to Arizona- RICE and Lutheran Social Services of the Southwest. Refugees are those who have been forced to flee their country because of a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, or political opinion. Almost 3 quarters of a million refugees have been resettled in the United States since 2008; they often come with very little resources to begin life anew once resettled. Life for refugees during resettlement comes with hope, but also with struggles to learn a new language, navigate new employment and educational systems and integrate into a new society. It is easy to imagine how a pandemic could intensify already existing struggles.

During the fall of 2020, a local homeless shelter was unable to offer beds to people in need during the COVID pandemic due to space and resource restrictions. It was hard to witness these organizations meant to help people also need extra love and help during the pandemic whether it be for medical, physical, or financial reasons. In response to the need, my church was able to step up to make sandwiches that the shelter could hand out to the people living on the streets that they were unable to serve at the time. We wore masks, took extra safety precautions, and socially distanced in an assembly style line outside in the church parking lot where we made packages of chips and sandwiches. While working together to make the sandwiches for the homeless shelter, I was reminded that we are still a community even when we cannot be together in the same ways we were before the pandemic. Finding pockets of community in the turbulent pandemic has been a blessing and chance for me to truly appreciate those around me and think of different ways that I can reach out to the community and be a part of it despite the circumstances. Distance did not have to mean silence and stillness. People were able to help in any way possible. If they were unable to help make the sandwiches, they prayed for the mission or donated money for the supplies. People shared what they could and came together when it mattered the most. This story highlights how even in times where we stayed apart to remain safe, we were still able to come together in another way to support each other. Communities didn't have to disappear during the pandemic, and this is just one example of their power to persevere in dark times.

In a time when people can't go to museums or concert halls, arts and musicians are improvising. Many are taking part in digital exhibitions and performances. Others are embracing the practice of street art, it always artists to continue creating art and have more exposure to the general population.

I recorded a mini oral history with my mother in law about silver linings during the pandemic. The photograph is a family Zoom, as this is a positive of the pandemic year to her.

I would say I share the same feeling as most, in that being stuck inside has forced me to venture outside more than ever. Hiking, running, kayaking, sitting in nature has become the one place of solace in this crazy, scary world. As mask mandates began to be put in place I began noticing so many people with their noses sticking out of their masks. I can not understand what possible line of logic they were operating on but what is the point of wearing a face mask if it does not cover your face. One day I was on a hike and I noticed this sticker stuck to a trail marker, I could not help to think that it is simply the best sticker I have ever seen.

A meme that questions one of the fears surrounding the Covid-19 vaccine.

Before Covid-19 descended upon Chicago, Ukrainian Village was a neighborhood of friends and acquaintances. The threat of illness has suspended neighborly activities. The neighbor whose door this belongs to has a beagle named Molly I used to pet on her walks. Now Molly and I keep our distance, lest her owner or I get sick. It’s demoralizing not to be able to trust people, not because of any personal shortcoming, but because of the potential that one of our health be jeopardized. The status friend and acquaintance has been supplanted by temporary stranger.

In 2020, I was a senior in high school receiving my high school diploma and my associates degree. I worked so hard for 4 years, taking so many college courses and pushing myself so hard at a young age to get both degrees. I was very upset when I had my senior year taken away from me. It was like I didn't know what hit me. March 13, 2020 was any normal day until we find out that was the last day of high school and seeing our friends for a while. I still tried to make the best out of the situation. My year was ruined and to top it all off I couldn't even enjoy time with my friends due to lockdown. Up until the summer if 2020, everyone was very cautious, but then people acted like the outbreak didn't exist. Sadly, I fell under that category of people. My friends and I decided that a good way to celebrate graduation would be going on vacation to Mexico. Of course with my luck guess what gift I came back to NYC with? YUP, covid! I'm not going to lie it was the scariest days of my life. I never took anything so seriously until after I had it. I was apart of the lucky people who had slim to none symptoms and only for 2 weeks. Ever since then I have been extremely cautious and paranoid of getting sick again, even going to the supermarket I'm paranoid. This was covid-19 experience so far and hopefully epidemiologists can put an end to this outbreak soon.

A cursory look into A Journal of the Plague Year reveals that the pandemic is nondiscriminatory, all of are affected. Yet, the reality is that Covid-19 is having more impact on certain populations in American communities. Arizona State University's Center for the Study of Religion and Conflict partnered with the Henry Luce Foundation to provide rapid relief funding to marginalized communities in the southwest. As part of the rapid relief program, the Center for the Study of Religion and Conflict is collaborating with A Journal of the Plague Year and the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication to raise awareness about the marginalized communities that were assisted via this grant. By joining this "Southwest Stories" project, we at the Podcast of the Plague Year were granted the opportunity to spotlight one Native American community in Arizona- the White Mountain Apache Tribe.

I recorded a mini oral history with my mom's old friend about the positive aspects she experienced during the pandemic

Covid-19 has taken many things from me over the almost year that it has been running rampant around the United States, however, the biggest thing that Covid-19 has taken away from me was the opportunity for me to attend my Opa's funeral this summer. He, unfortunately, passed away from complications related to a stroke and my grandmother was able to see him in the hospital, but it was heartbreaking to not be able to attend his funeral in person. His death was rather sudden and so my family had not really been expecting it. When I first heard of his death I immediately thought about the fact that I would not be able to go to his funeral and that the last time I had seen him the year before would be the last time that I would be able to see him.

I recorded a mini oral history with my mom's old friend about the positive aspects she experienced during the pandemic

The emergence of Covid-19 definitely took me by surprise. I remember discussing in one of my classes on the Brooklyn College campus of how potentially serious the virus was in early March of 2020. The majority of the class agreed that the virus was probably not going to get out of hand and it was just being over-covered in the media. Then a couple weeks later, we were stunned of how quick the situation surrounding the virus in the U.S. became which lead to Brooklyn College shutting down the campus and going virtual online. It was an overwhelming and challenging experience adjusting to having five classes from in person to online. What made it more challenging was contracting the virus myself in April where I experienced extreme fatigue, chills and a fever a couple nights, and lost of taste and smell. Through it all, I kept my faith in Jesus and trusted Him to heal me from the sickness and get through the semester. Thankfully, I passed all of my classes at the end of the semester and recovered fully within a couple weeks. My entire family was infected with the virus including my parents but they overcame it as well. Lastly, seeing all of the death totals on the news and staggering scenes such as freezer trucks taking bodies from hospitals to be buried or cremated were both alarming and saddening. What gave me hope was the general high survival rate despite the high number of reported infections and my faith in Christ who warned us in through the Bible (Mathew 24:3-8) that perilous times would come in the last days, including pestilences. As the pandemic continues to evolve, I continue to pray for those who lost loved ones, our country and the world that we would all become stronger, wiser, and closer to Jesus after this unfortunate experience.

Truckers are not being tested or facing restrictions like other cross-border travelers. This has led to some push back as they likely see more interactions with others than other travelers, including non-essential travel such as recreation. There are talks to either require quarantine and possibility to prioritize truckers for the Covid-19 vaccine.

During lockdowns, people have taken to keeping houseplants as companions. These plants help people that live alone feel less lonely and ground them. People have had varied results with their plants, but plant influences have seen a surge in people asking for help with their plants.

I was looking at pictures from a year ago, and I see one from when I first evacuated my college campus. I was on my flight back home, the look on my face was clearly upset—but what stands out to me more is that I wasn’t wearing a mask. It’s blurry when I try to think back on details, but I guess at the time, mask wearing wasn’t yet mainstream. When exactly did that happen? I don’t really remember specific dates—does anyone anymore?--, maybe it was on a Someday or Blursday. All I know is that day, I was in the airport and on an airplane, breathing in other people’s air with no filtration. But about as soon as my previous statement became something to cringe at, it occurred to me that, “If this how it has to be for a while, I should at least make the best of it.” I wish I were referring to learning to bake bread or even watching Tiger King, but no, no, nothing that productive. Instead, I just retail-therapied the heck out of this new necessary accessory. If wearing a face mask meant I would be safer, I might as well find some pretty ones and enjoy this chance to hide my face behind some artsy patterns. Rumor had it they would be around for “a while” anyways. So, I called them an investment and spent too much time scrolling through Etsy shops. Those guys were on it! First, I ordered at least five masks off of in patterns with colors I liked or wore often, or the purple in my hair. They were nice, but the thrill wore off. That was the hardcore “stay at home stage,” so there wasn’t much need for them. Then I returned to school, glorious to be back mostly, but also to actually show my investments the light of day, while it was still seldom, in the first two weeks. Then something shifted. It was perhaps in sync with when I got the coronavirus. It was lonely. It was just me on the covid floor of my college, and a bunch of standard blue surgical masks. Believe me, I’m not trying to get pity, especially when I realized how I am of the luckier ones. But it did give me a new look on the not-so-novel (at least to me, now) virus. At that time, I wondered why I never “invested” in any neutral or plain masks, especially with it being such a generally somber time and all. The next time I was out shopping, I picked up the very first black mask I saw. Eventually I’d usually lose it, since I wore it out so much, so then I’d just do it all over again. My next “investment” was somewhere in the middle. A multi-pack or solid masks in five colors. I could probably count on one hand how many times I actually wore these. I was trying to bring back some color, but my heart wasn’t in it. They remained untouched. Instead, I started opting for the disposable masks my mom had found. That was when I learned that they make them in black. More recently, I ordered another set of solid masks. Three of the same, all in one color, just plain black. I’ve managed to keep track of all three for a while now. On especially good days, I might break out a brighter ones. But today is just regular, and I’m wearing a black mask as I type. I’ve noticed recently that many others seem to prefer a black mask too. I can’t help but think it’s representing a collective sorrow, or individual jadedness like myself. Maybe they just like the color black and all the social-distancing is just making me overanalyze the mere presence of others and their face masks. This is cliché, but I really am longing for the day we can see each other smile again.