an essay on lockdown
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Somehow, we’ve made it over halfway through term and yet it feels like basically no time has passed. It’s been over two months since the vast majority of us were in Oxford, but without any real kind of change or milestones, life has started to feel worryingly like Groundhog Day.
In the midst of this, I’ve found myself working notably more than usual. This is certainly not a universal reaction to the ongoing crisis; I know that a lot of people around me are really struggling to work at all. I can understand why, I’ve never wanted to do work less – and yet, I’ve never really needed it more.
Work-life balance has effectively been thrown out of the window because there’s just not a whole lot of life going on outside of work. There’s only so many Zoom pub quizzes and socially distanced walks you can do before it too becomes part of the overwhelming sameness of lockdown. I’ve found myself clinging onto work like a raft that can protect me from my greatest fear at the moment: boredom. When I don’t have things to be doing for my degree, I find myself desperately hunting for summer internships (the end of term is looming worryingly near and with it a vast sea of nothingness), or writing articles (like this one!). The thought of having to sit alone with no kind of distraction from the ongoing situation frankly terrifies me.
I’ve found myself clinging onto work like a raft that can protect me from my greatest fear at the moment: boredom.
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