Save for my in laws, my friend Marga and relentless telemarketers for services we avail of, no one really calls our landline. Instead, at home, the mobile phones that my husband and I have glued to our palms beep off the hook, with pings from SMS, What's App, Viber, Messenger, iMessage. Every so often, they ring. When I pick up, it's usually the Lalamove rider telling me that he is at the gate ("Pa-doorbell na lang po." "Ay, ma'am, sira ata." "Diinan mo pa, kuya... Sige pa...Wag kang mahiya..." Ding dong!). Or my brother Jonathan calling with a simple question, usually at the exact time of day that my toddler is napping.
Things were like this even in pre-pandemic times (um, like, in 2019). But back then (um, like, 13 months ago), some of those beeping pings signaled the arrival of messages like "Wru na?""On my way, see you in a bit!" or "Had fun yesterday! So good to see you!"and the like. Now I hold on to those very beeps, pings and pongs as if they are a lifeline to the outside world, which, essentially, they are. Chat groups with family, friends and colleagues, and Zoom socialization are integral parts to the ongoing process called Keeping My Sanity.
My best friends and I have a What's App group (not quite Titas of Viber...yet) that has been long-beeping and -pinging. Photos, plans, schedules, gossip, opinions, random thoughts, links, advice, news, jokes, memes, and even fights -- these have all passed through its encrypted walls. Sometime halfway through the sludge of 2020, the topic of conversation turned to Things We'd Like To Do Once The Pandemic Is Over.
The first things we mentioned all involved moving about freely to do the simple, everyday errands and tasks that we had previously taken for granted, and honestly, bemoaned. Travel, understandably, was also discussed. Nature and the outdoors were touched upon. One of the remaining social butterflies of our group, to whom Manila night life still holds some lure, threw in the possibility of going on an all-night bender with the highest heels and the reddest lips, or, in the more appropriate terms of colegiala speak, making walwal. I just might join her. As long as we're home before 10pm.
Another topic in the same What's App group, this time at the height of ECQ, was grocery delivery options. Choices were scarce in those days. Now, most supermarkets and retail establishments have leaned into another 2020-famous term, pivot, and have evolved the scope of their services. So has everybody else. To pivot is a must, from both sides of the consumer equation. My own parents, previously wary of anything e-commerce, have become masters at hitting the "add to cart" and, subsequently, "check out" buttons.
But as the stragglers join the digital migration, I find myself wanting out. As my colleagues will tell you, they have caught me many times shopping on my phone during commercial breaks of our shows. I was the annoying customer explaining the use of the QR Code to Instagram sellers (most of them thanked me). But nowadays, going to the grocery and inspecting produce in person is a treat, not a chore. I want to touch things, feel and smell them, which, of course, are probably not the wisest things to do right now. And I would really love to be able to gently push my toddler's rapidly expanding foot into a shoe at a shop, and to be able to purchase the right size instead of always getting it wrong online.
When I think about the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds of Divisoria, where each movement cuts through the thick, stagnant air, salty with condensed sweat and sour with the blend of odors of tropical fruits and waste, I'm almost wistful. I long to squander away my time standing in line at the bank, instead of quickly transacting on my phone. Plus, let's face it, a Zoom e-numan obviously leaves out all the arm-, back-, thigh-slapping one does while howling with laughter, as well as, uh, other things.
And in the part of my life where I am a responsible mother, I am constantly agonizing over my daughter's lack of socialization, exposure to societal norms, and even just human experience on this planet. Granted, she's two, but it pains me, just as it pains parents the world over, to see my child cut off from what we know as normal.
I am thoroughly aware of the privilege that comes with being so ensconced in technology and the digital world to the point that it makes me (figuratively) sick. Here in the Philippines, especially, it is the lack of access to technology that has, among other things, made this pandemic a hellish ordeal for healthy people. Tasks that I am able to do with a click of a button are impossible for those who can barely afford three meals a day, let alone any gadgets. Colleagues have passed on horror stories they've come across at work of children in remote and depressed areas engaging in child pornography in exchange for a cellphone, just so they can attend online classes. Technology, in these cases, isn't limited to gadgets like phones, tablets and computers, to platforms that have made things easier, more accessible and even bearable, like apps and streaming services. In this country, it includes simpler things, like bicycles to get around in the absence of public transportation, and also necessities in this pandemic, such as covid tests and contact tracing systems.
But at the risk of sounding like a spoiled, whiny brat, I must point out that this aversion of mine to the virtual ways of life is also valid. Digitalization can be wonderful, and can make things so much easier, but having to immerse oneself in it fully, as those who are lucky enough this past year have done, is also very isolating.
I personally don't think I'm up to the challenge to do this indefinitely. I like being offline. While I certainly welcome easier ways of day to day living, I've always relished doing things myself. While I recognize the need to adapt, I want to live my life in the truest sense. I want to do things in person. I want to see and hear, and also touch, smell and taste.
In the aforementioned What's App conversation on Things We'd Like To Do Once The Pandemic Is Over, one of my friends mentioned that her husband had been reading up on the 1918 Spanish Flu, and had come across its cause-and-effect connection with the Roaring 20s. Simply put: Pagkatapos ng Spanish Flu pandemic, nagwalwalan.
A quick Google search reveals a wealth of articles on the topic from international publications and websites, all along the lines of: Get Ready for the Second Coming of the Roaring 20s! They quote epidemiologists, sociologists, psychologists, economists, historians. They say the same thing: that human beings have actively sought out social interaction after being deprived of it following a pandemic. Many paint a picture of an eventual period of economic recovery, immediately followed by a period of spending, and perhaps even debauchery. To paraphrase: it's practically human nature to compensate for social distancing afterwards. It's like that incredibly restrictive diet you went on a few years ago. Tell me, did it work and make you want to stick to it forever?
Am I actually looking forward to the Roaring (20)20s after plague szn? Not gonna lie. Yes. For the social interaction? Yes. For the economic recovery? Yes. But also, for me, at least, unplugging a little. Taking certain things offline would be great. Doing things in person would be great. Mingling with family and friends would be great. Just as long as I'm home by 10pm.
***Edit: Daughter says I have to be home earlier. Ok.