Letters to Self, 2020
A short lived self-analysis
(View from New York Cabin)
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February 4, 2020
How do you feel right now generally?
You don’t feel very good about yourself. Classes are going to get tough. You’ve been spending a lot of time studying your French — speaking and reading it as exclusively as you can while still socially functioning. It’s only the start of the second week of classes, but you don’t feel like you’re making good or immediate progress.
Mom and Dad have promised to wire you some money in the near future, but as of right now you’ve got about $700 in the bank.
You’re probably going to break up with S—tomorrow, and you know that will make you feel terribly lonely. It’s dark and cold outside, etc.
You want to get a gym membership. Your room is a mess. Did you ever go to Vermont with A—?
Does everything end up ok? Do you pull it off? Does anything cool happen at Harvard the way it did last spring when you thought you’d blossomed and you thought you’d made good friends with N— and J—. Are you doing anything new?
Are you happy?
I feel like I have more to say.
For June:
Have you created anything nice?
Have you had any revelations?
What would you do differently if you were in my place now?
Who have you met that I have no idea exists?
What’re your new problems?
Best,
Us
June 14, 2020
Physically, I’m a bit achy. Yesterday I hiked the ridge up to Mount Lafayette just short of 9 miles. I feel okay now, but I have been feeling particularly guilty about some lethargic and unhealthy habits I need to get myself out of — the too human way I am when I know I won’t be perceived. More on that in a bit; lately there is absolutely no push to be or present yourself as a civilized, healthy person.
I read The Legend of Sleepy Hollow again today as well as another Fitzgerald short story that I don’t remember the title to. It’s the third story in Flappers and Philosophers about a woman who is recognized as a better writer than her husband.
I haven’t eaten much today. In regards to your letter: It sounds like you’re getting hit with a little seasonal depression. In retrospect, from the view of June, the dark stretch of the year from New Year’s to March feels more dreamy and melancholy than miserable. Take special notice of the pretty night lights around Boston. Think of them like little cousins to the moon. You made a good habit of studying your French, but pretty soon you’ll find that your professor is an infamous cock and won’t move an inch with any help towards your success in the class. You’ll drop French and eat $2k. [Update 2024: You will take and succeed in advanced French in ‘22. The professor even tests you under suspicion that you’re already fluent, which feels fantastic.]
The money mom and dad send you ends up being a little more than you really needed. You’ll get a job at a cafe in a week or so. You’ll enjoy it and make enough money to be comfortable.
S— will come over on a day you’re feeling particularly bad, you will break up, and then she will encourage you to act and direct in a play you’re contacted to work on literally as you’re breaking up. More on that play later. As of right now you don’t talk to S— much at all, but there is no ill will whatsoever.
I’m not sure how prominently it’s been featured in the news as of your present, however, Coronavirus will soon become so common and deadly that Harvard students will be sent home by March 15. You’ll stop working soon after that but remain on the payroll, making about $100 less for absolutely no work. There are a few events before this that may end up being some of your last memories at Harvard as it was, although as of right now who knows what will happen.
The first thing, your show ends up being very small. I don’t remember anything about it too well. We performed in the Hasty Pudding rehearsal space on March 7th and 8th, only maybe 20 people came between both nights. There were maybe 3 or 4 scenes between maybe 5 actors. On the final night, you’ll talk to J— and A— about Coronavirus which is just now gaining steam as a true threat to public health. You’ll talk about whether or not Harvard will host a commencement considering how many families would be coming from Italy or China.
On March 10 there will be a now-infamous university-wide email telling everyone to evacuate within 5 days. Students will be enraged for a number of reasons, one being that this decision was made just after the refund period for courses had expired. Princeton and a few other ivies had already made the call, Harvard seems to have waited to make that call to be sure their money was safe.
The afternoon of ‘the email’ you go to Pfoho to drink straight hazelnut liqueur on the lawn with K— and her friends. She leans against you. Everyone is gloomy and you stay until well after dark. You have work at 5am the next morning. You go home and take several melatonin tablets, have some seriously vivid nightmares, and get no sleep.
The entirety of the campus in those five days feels post-apocalyptic. Students all over the university drink somberly in broad daylight. There is a larger campus police presence but they do not seem to care about the public benders. There are many people carrying boxes around, as if they had been fired from their corporate job on short notice.
Many students, especially those from Italy or China, are unsure whether the university has a plan to keep them from homelessness, they cannot go home. You’ll see an entire senior class struggle to process having to say goodbye to the life they’ve been living and the friends they’ve made in under a week’s time. A few days later there is a party in Currier, you mix far too many gin and tonics, and black out in the bathroom. K— and E— will put you to bed on some common room couch and that may be the last time you see any Harvard friends. It still bothers you, but as of June, we’ve had some time to calm down. We’ve struggled with severe anxiety in the past, but this is something far larger. It’s your anxiety and the anxiety of everyone you know now scattered around the planet — no one in Cambridge. You will have terrifying dreams for a period of time.
Lately, I’ve been hiding away up in the mountains and reading. I still feel like I’m wasting time, but I’ve calmed down greatly since early May. It’s Summer now and I’m looking towards the fall and wondering what it will look like. I don’t know if I’m happy, so I must not be too happy. I’m morbidly lonely. Quarantine has made me feel functionally 14 again. I don’t know that I’ve made any revelations either. To be honest I wouldn’t want to be you right now. If I were to give you advice I would say to appreciate your moments at school now because the dynamic will change forever on a world scale. Also don’t drink so much gin at that party because I’m sure the girls would prefer to not have to scrape you off the bathroom floor and put you to bed.
You will meet a girl named J— from Yale at some point online in April. You’ll get along well, but unfortunately, I’m still unsure how far that’ll go with the world being so unpredictable. You go out stargazing with her by the lake a few times. You learn all the summer constellation names and where they live. You learn Lyra and remember that Orpheus play you wrote a few years ago.
We never go to Vermont with A—.
For September:
What are you doing right now? What have you done today?
Do we keep our job? Our Apartment?
Are we able to take as many classes as we’d like to in the fall?
Does Harvard go back to any normalcy or is it entirely off-campus?
Is the virus still as much of a threat?
Does anyone we know die?
Do we feel better than we did in June?
Best,
Us
October 5, 2020
It’s 1:30 AM on the dot. I’m sorry I didn’t respond with another letter in September, I labeled this document as “For October” for some reason. Right now, I am laying in a massive bed that’s half covered in clothes I’ve been too lazy to put away for three or so days. I am living in an obscure town called Shandaken, NY in a cabin well up the side of a beautiful mountain in the Catskills. J— from Julius Caesar and Romeo and Juliet invited you to live with her and some friends sometime in July.
Today I woke up around 2pm in J—’s bed, who I’ve been romantic with for a little more than a week now, although I’m starting to get cold feet. It might pass. We were all up late last night to calm A— down from some little stress-induced psychosis, which J— told me is worse now that she is living in a hostile environment back home. I made some breakfast and sat on the porch. I wasted the entire day and still managed to get my work done. I had a company meeting with A—, a girl named (?), A—, and J—. J— made dinner. I’m sleeping in my own bed for the first night in a few nights. I’m still up later than I would like to be. I need to set my alarm early and chug a glass of pure espresso to shock myself back into some kind of groove and be so tired by tomorrow night that I’m forced to go to sleep at a normal time. I’m feeling nostalgic as I always do, although I’m sure you’ll look back on this and have nostalgia for the cabin. I’m listening to piano music.
No, you do not keep your job or your apartment. You get let go on the last day of July and haven’t spoken with M— or anyone since. You think for sometime that you wished you just gave up the apartment once you left in March, but you will meet your roommate P—, and you have great times with him and S— once you reconnect with her in early August. You leave Cambridge a few days before September, then move to New York on September 8th.
I miss that apartment and job dearly. COVID ruined everyone’s expected projections of the future and still everything feels very uncertain and death is morbidly normalized. I’ll never work at the cafe again… Who knows what school or work will look like in the future? It’s all still very sad, but I am having a good time here. I’m lucky to be ending this awful year, which I’m sure will continue into ‘21 and ‘22 or whenever a vaccine is developed, here at this cabin with these people.
We are taking enough credits this semester, but I could certainly be trying harder as always. Not that you’re doing too poorly.
Harvard is only partially on campus, but the majority of the student body is scattered. I don’t think I know anyone there right now. It might be mostly freshman who were determined to be on location for their first semester, but I don’t know.
I’m not sure whether the virus is more or less of a threat now than it was in late spring. You hear people saying that it’s going to get very deadly in the Winter and Fall, but right now it doesn’t feel nearly as awful as it did in March and April, which feel so long ago now. I don’t think we know anyone who died of COVID, you’ll hear about peoples’ relatives but none of your own so far, thank God.
You feel much better than you did in June, but you look back on June fondly like you’ll look back on this fondly and another us will look back on that fondly from a close future that feels so far away to both of us now. I’m having fun. I’m also aware that something like this is what I’ve wanted for a long time. I haven’t had close friends like this since high school. If this response seems melancholic it’s because it’s late and I’m in my feelings right now. There’s always plenty to be sad about, but I am not sad.
For February ‘21:
What happens in the cabin that I should look out for?
Is everything still okay?
Do you still enjoy living your day-to-day life or are you restless?
How is everyone from the cabin doing?
What are they up to now?
How was Christmas and the holidays?
How is our family?
What happens with J—?
How are classes?
Are you working?
Best,
Us