Pop and Internet Culture in the Time of COVID

Senior pictures my parents did of me,
in a parody of Friends shirt, made in
my hometown.

Like so many high school seniors now college-bound in this country, I had a unique graduation story and a unique final high school experience. In early March, we went entirely online, our proms and graduations cancelled until further notice. It was a strange time, and the more I think about it, the more I realize how surreal it was, at a time when we were sure the lockdowns would end soon, when our old lives were commingling with the new ones we would soon inhabit. I couldn't tell you where that shift occurred. It just happened, and we came out the other side different, changed. And there is perhaps no better example of this than pop and Internet culture. 

Instantly, there was a light-hearted nature on social media, at least in my hometown. As our graduation approached, people and businesses began selling masks and shirts with cute sayings and parodies of logos. My friends and I had shirts that were a parody of the Friends logo and referenced quarantine, and I had senior pictures done in it and a mask distributed by my high school. This was far from the only example, however, both nationwide and in my hometown. Mask-making became a popular trend, with images constantly appearing in the media and on social media sites like Facebook and Instagram. Even my mom got in on the trend, breaking out her sewing machine for the first time in years. Late night shows made jokes and exacerbated these trends. At one point, my sister did photos in her dance attire, holding wipes and disinfectant spray. It was all lighthearted fun in the frightening times we had entered.

On other sites, such as Reddit and news-sites, conspiracies began to abound, with individuals claiming

A photo from an early quarantine dance photoshoot
of my sister.

that the virus was fake, or produced in labs in Wuhan, or simply a conspiracy for governments to gain more control of their citizens. Misinformation flooded the online ground, and with new updates occurring constantly to contradict previous ones, unease and unrest only continued to rise, with some refusing to wear masks or change their habits. Social media sites began posting bulletins for the most up-to-date information and taking down false claims. The results in the beginning were two-fold, a stark juxtaposition that has carried over to into the modern-day and continued to unfold. 

But as one month became two and two became three, the fun of quarantine had started to falter. The sentiment both online and off was one of exhaustion, wondering when these mandates would come to end. Arguments ensued about how to handle graduations, how to reopen schools in the following academic year, and how to keep people in work. Conspiracies continued to unwind, and protests soon followed. I ended up staying off of social media for as long as possible in the worst moments of it, because in a time when we should've been banding together, we were tearing each other apart. Everything online was either hate, a conspiracy, or both. Maybe I was simply following the wrong people and pages, but it seemed like there was no relief from the virus. Even as celebrities continued to post about wearing masks, complete with pictures of them donning their own, the fun of those lighthearted moments had disappeared. 

My dad testing out a mask
made by my mother.

The era of Friends and The Office, of contemporary music artists, and of other comedic and cheery entertainment had departed. As of May, trends began to swing in the opposite direction, with heavier dramas like The Handmaid's Tale and Contagion taking the predominate spots on television and film streaming services; classical music listenership increased by around 13%; mystery, crime, and political books became the preferred reading material. These trends show the more introspective side of humankind during this pandemic. With so much time to think, deeper questions are being asked and explored, and our entertainment reflects this change. At the beginning of the lockdowns, we could believe the end was near, but at this point, we've accepted our predicament and settled down for the long haul. 

To check out more statistics and trends from this pandemic, I've provided the link here to the work I used in this piece. It's a very interesting read, though I highlighted the meat of it in this post. For other trends not highlighted here, however, you can go here for trends in religion or here for a great look into the history of conspiracy theories and pandemics. 

Family and COVID

My family donning masks in a store on their way 
to visit me at UK two weeks ago.

We live in turbulent times, our lives a wash of ever-evolving restrictions, and the no-visitors policy currently enacted in the University of Kentucky's residence halls perhaps illustrates this evolution better than anything. I knew college life would be different, difficult, and at times, a seemingly endless struggle; it was my longest trek away from home, and though I would be less than a two hour drive away, it was still a frightening prospect. One that was mitigated ever so slightly, however, by the illusion that my family would be able to visit regularly. After all, with them being so close by, and Lexington being a trip we had taken together often, surely this change wouldn't be too major. Right? I was very wrong. 

Instead, the pandemic has forced us to alter our plans. Originally, my dad spoke of grand times together in Lexington, exploring some of the famous sites that I hadn't had the chance to visit previously, going to book signings and comic cons like we did together before, and finding new places to eat. But right out of the gate, things took a turn. Before I moved in, we learned that only my parents could come with me, due to the restriction placed on the number of individuals allowed to accompany students. That left my younger sister and my grandmother to stay behind, despite their plans of joining us. It seems like a small thing to be upset about, but it was my first move-in day of college; of course they wanted to come. The day went smoothly, and pictures sufficed for those who couldn't come, but it was still a let-down. Even worse, however, was the fact that my parents couldn't stay long, due to another restriction placed on the amount of time they could spend in the residence hall. 

My sister in a grocery store
during the pandemic, helping
pick out groceries for
my family and I.

Despite this, my introduction to college went as easily as one might expect. My mom cried, my dad wished me well, and I found myself alone, putting my room together as efficiently as a newcomer could. I had almost two weeks before my classes started, and so my family decided to visit me after a few days of settling in. I didn't bring my car for my first semester, so they took me out to eat, bought me some groceries, and then we said our farewells once more. Unfortunately, thanks to the pandemic, many restaurants and stores are closing earlier than usual, cutting their visits shorter than we all would often like. 

And each return trip has gone this same way, with little fanfare, exploration, or journeys to events. When I visit home, which has been several times, the same is true there. We carry our masks with us and try to avoid stores as much as possible, as the mask mandate is more lax in small towns, and I have little desire to be quarantined on my campus. Though are lives have begun to return to normal, they are far from returning wholly. One has to wonder if they ever will. I have little hope for that, but I can't say for sure that it's a bad or good thing. Perhaps it just is. 

As far as my familial relationships go, some have grown stronger while others have been shaken. With my parents, sister, and grandparents, my relationships have gotten better. I value them more than I did when I had them around constantly, and I find myself genuinely enjoying talking to them on the phone and in person. We're closer than we used to be. With my first cousins, aunts, and uncles that I used to be close to, however...I've barely seen or talked to them since my move to college. Some I haven't even talked to at all. It's an interesting dichotomy, and a saddening one, too. Time seems to get away from us all sometimes. It doesn't seem like there's ever enough of it anymore. Even when I visit home, I'm stressed trying to get to see and spend time with everyone. It's a weird time, and while the pandemic isn't the main cause of it, it's certainly a stressor on top of everything else.  

What Now?: Life at the University of Kentucky

My girlfriend and I donning masks
amid the COVID-19 pandemic.

Where do we go with our world, our society, from here? Since around March, our lives as we knew them have been remolded, and though we have made great strides for change, with the number of cases of COVID-19 still soaring on campus, it begs the question: what's next? 

It will likely be many, many years before we come to understand this pandemic and the differing ways in which it was shaped, for better or worse. Some countries have fared well, and some have not. Some states have fared well, and some have not. Some universities have fared well, and some have not. These things land on a certain spectrum, and oftentimes, our locales fall into the center of it. Sure, we understand that there exist certain correlations between income, sex, age, and more, with COVID-19 deaths and infections. This is natural and makes sense; the current evidence seems to support this. But at a time when cases are increasing steadily, it should force us to reanalyze our knowledge and decisions. This is not to say that the knowledge we have is bad; it is merely to suggest that, in order to understand where we are going, we must analyze the decisions we have previously made. 

Already on the University of Kentucky campus, things are evolving rapidly. Within two weeks of arriving on campus, we were required to be tested. This post isn't about the test, but I'll be the first to admit that it did hurt. Not immensely so, but it did hurt. Luckily, I came back negative, and my college adventure began. Right away, we were told that only UK students were allowed in our dorms. This was a bummer, but it was expected. We were also immediately informed that we must wear masks in any public space while on campus. A bummer, as well, but this was even more expected. And most expected of all, the majority of our classes are online this semester. It was safe to say that my introduction to college was a strange one. 

Still, things weren't bad. Frustrating at times, but more than manageable. And then...things began to change. In week two, one of the guys in my group in an Honors class mentioned that a friend of his had been taken into quarantine. Whispers of hazmat suits -- expected, yes, but still a little eerie -- became the buzz before and after class. Then UK announced that they would begin re-testing students, specifically in Greek Life, where the numbers were soaring disproportionately. That same week, a girl in my only in-person class was quarantined. Texts began to come through each weekend, warning us to be safe, wear our masks, and apply social distancing standards. Now, we are barred from entering any other resident hall save for our own and our wastewater will soon be tested. All of this in about four weeks. One has to wonder: what now?

I don't know. Honestly, I'm not sure what to expect anymore. I strongly feel as if visitors to our rooms will be barred completely. That trend, more than any other, seems very obvious. Beyond that, I'm not sure. Will we stay the full semester, or be shut down once more? How much more limited will our already limited menus become if this pandemic continues to grow worse? Will even the few in-person classes become online, too? Will events be canceled? 

I think there's a strong possibility of everything, in every direction, and I think it will depend on how much our administrators are willing to risk. I don't have the answers; I'm not sure they do, either. But I do know this: we're all going to keep doing what we can, and we'll face everything as it comes. That's all we've been doing for this entire year. And as disheartening as it may be to realize it, we aren't out of the woods just yet. 

Classes Among Corona: Zoom

In so many ways, our lives have been drastically changed by COVID-19, and this is perhaps exemplified best in my life by education. My high school closed all the way back in March -- we lost our prom, baccalaureate, graduation, and so much more. All of that is to say, I've been partaking in Zoom classes for a while now. But I wasn't prepared for the difference between high school and college classes, even on the same platform. Really, I wasn't prepared for the reality of classes in college amidst a pandemic, and in a lot of ways, I don't believe any of us -- professors included -- were.

I have five classes this semester, which is fairly typical, and only one of those is in-person, which is less 

Each class has a designated link for 
Zoom in Canvas.

typical. One of them is a hybrid class, so every other week, I have two in-person classes, but I know many individuals -- my roommate included -- who do not have any in-person classes. And this isn't specific to the University of Kentucky. My girlfriend attends Middle Tennessee State University, and she, too, has no in-person classes. It's a strange dynamic and one that has drastically altered my approach to my education. I never expected to be planning around so much technology; I certainly never expected to log onto Canvas and see a specified link for Zoom on each of my classes -- including one for office hours to even discuss topics with my professors. 

And while many students may prefer this method (after all, so long as your professor doesn't require you to turn your camera on, you can take class in bed, in your pajamas, while eating snacks), it does come with its own problems. For instance, with so many students relying on the WiFi on campus in order to attend and complete their classes, when the WiFi does fail, it can be more than disastrous. I've already missed one class this semester due to this issue, and another class due to issues with Zoom itself. Which brings us to another point: Zoom can fail, and it isn't simply students relying on the program to work properly at every necessary moment. In many cases, businesses and many other essential services are relying on the video communication program, as well. And while Zoom isn't the only program being used (my sister's high school is instead utilizing Google's video communication services), Zoom is the one most associated with the current pandemic and the one most commonly employed.

In some classes, breakout rooms 
aren't even used. Discussion occurs 
mostly through chats.

Beyond technological malfunctions, issues with communication and certain class styles arise. My hybrid Honors class has certainly given me a good baseline of comparison for this. I specify Honors classes because they are more likely to induce a discussion-based class style, although this style isn't specific to Honors classes. Oftentimes, it's much harder to form connections to classmates and professors alike when the only time one is seeing them is through a computer screen, and even some of my professors have highlighted their regret in these regards. I, for one, find that discussion in class feels much more natural and human than over break-out rooms in Zoom. During the first week of my hybrid class, which was online, I didn't feel like I was connecting to my peers in any real way, but after a week in-person, I felt as if I were forming genuine bonds with the people in my group. It was a strange realization, but this more than anything has opened my eyes to one of the most prominent issues of hosting classes in this way.

In my second Honors class, though it is in-person completely, group work is often done over Zoom, as there are few places to congregate and complete such work. Last week, we were assigned small groups to research and create a presentation over different ecosystems in Kentucky. My group was assigned streams, and though I feel we did well when we presented on Monday, it created an odd energy. All of the work was completed over Zoom, and we each had different areas of research to comb through and put together in digestible pieces for the presentation in Google Slides. Then, we joined back together on Zoom to run through it together. Although this solved any issues and helped us complete the work successfully, again it felt less like we were making human connections and more like we were simply going about our business together in a very forcible way.

Lastly, the very structure of certain classes makes teaching via Zoom very difficult. One of my

My first guitar assignment
uploaded privately to YouTube.

requirements for living in the Creative Arts LLP is taking an arts course, and so I decided to try an Intro to Guitar class. I'm very grateful for how patient the instructor is with us, as I'm certainly a beginner, but the constraints of Zoom are often frustrating in such a class. Though we break into smaller groups for our Guitar Labs later in the week, even demonstrating our playing in a small group is difficult. Many times, microphone quality can be poor and camera quality too insufficient to allow him to see and hear our playing well enough to give feedback and correct us. He does his best, and this is very well in many regards, but other times it's simply an aggravating situation. Likewise, our assignments are videos of us playing certain snippets of songs, and thus must be recorded and uploaded privately to YouTube -- just another example of how technologically skilled we must be in order to succeed in our newfound educational environment. 

Education as it stands is a strange new world, and we are just beginning to explore this uncharted territory. For many, the new style puts them at a disadvantage, and for others, it can be as simple as a minor annoyance -- but one that inhibits their ability to learn. In any case, however, we are striving to meet the demands of this pandemic and the restrictions it has placed upon us. And we are succeeding in so many ways. This is merely one more test of our own resolve. 

A Study on Resilience

 It seems to me that the worst times in human history are the times when it becomes clear how resilient we truly are, the times when we learn more about ourselves than at any other. Sometimes I think it takes tragedy -- or the threat of one -- to wake us up from the sleeper state of reality we too often entrench ourselves within. And no matter how you slice it, COVID is one of these times. 

Fear is a word that has hung unspoken on so many tongues as of late; it has driven people indoors and into an isolation we've never experienced before. It's hovered on the air every time we've stepped into our local grocery stores, into our work-spaces, into our real-world lives. In a very real way, humanity has been under attack. Our schools shut down; non-essential work ground to a halt; the world seemed to pause. But the question becomes one of this: was that pause the stop of its heartbeat, or a mere breath before returning stronger? 

In a time of fear, humanity has shown resilience. Life hasn't stopped, though oftentimes it may feel that way. And although many things have become more challenging and frustrating, we are resilient. In the midst of a pandemic, our schools opened back up and challenged their students to protect themselves and each other through social distancing and the use of masks. Jobs for so many have returned full-force, with similar difficult guidelines. The shelves of stores are generally full. Concerts and other events are making slow comebacks. The streets hum with throngs of people, masks donned, returning to face life -- in new ways, sure, but stronger than ever. 

We have looked into the eyes of tragedy and held our ground. Many of us have been affected personally by this virus, and many more have seen people they love struggle, fear, or grow sick. There can be no doubt that we will feel the ripple effects of this pandemic far into the future. And though it may have spared some more than others, it has crept its touch into every walk of life, across the globe. And yet here we are. On campus at the University of Kentucky. Attending classes. Socializing the best we can. Learning. That's all this has been: an experience to learn, to grow, to show ourselves as resilient in the face of a travesty. 

My heart goes out to all those who lost loved ones, jobs, and livelihoods. My heart goes out to the struggling, the sick, and the hurt. My heart goes out to so many, and the stories from so many during these trying times are endlessly powerful. We can withstand anything; we are human. And that means picking up the pieces and trying to return to business as usual, even when we don't feel like trying. Often I struggle with these posts, because I haven't experienced anything major due to this pandemic. Some disappointments, yes, but nothing heartbreaking or particularly trying. I grumble about the state of the world; I dislike wearing a mask; Zoom can be annoying and aggravating most days. But these are minor complaints.

And as I look around campus every day, at every single person who has sacrificed and continues to sacrifice to be here, I realize how minor they are. Though these times can be disheartening, they are also times of empowerment.

 Any time you feel down due to the current circumstances, I encourage you to seek out one shining moment that highlights resilience in these times. Below, I've embedded the video that inspired this post. I hope it will inspire you, too.

We are resilient.

Food Allergies Amid a Pandemic

 My girlfriend and I have been in a long distance relationship for over nine months now. She lives in

Checking ingredients is always an important
first step.

Murfreesboro, Tennessee, on the outskirts of Nashville, and attends Middle Tennessee State University, where she studies Music Business and Agribusiness. I couldn't be more proud of her. Since my enrollment at UK, she's tried to make time to visit as much as possible, and so last week, we found ourselves at a Mongolian restaurant a short drive from campus. She assured me she'd been there before and that they did, in fact, have food she could eat. See, she has Celiac disease, which is a food allergy to gluten, a protein found in wheat, rye, and barley. Therefore, she often has limited options for food, especially when we go back to my home, which is a small town in southeastern Kentucky, and because her reactions to it are often fairly severe, we're both extremely careful about where we choose to eat. 

Of course, living in the time of a pandemic tends to complicate things a bit. With many restaurants having limited menus and no dine-in option, we usually opt for the easier route of buying groceries we can be sure are gluten-free and cooking at a family member's house. But being in Lexington, several hours away from any of these locations, we were forced to eat out somewhere. This wasn't exactly an issue, and naturally we looked forward to having some time together. We donned our masks and entered the low-capacity innards of the building. In this restaurant, each customer is given a bowl, and they choose what their meal consists of in the likes of meats, vegetables, and sauces. It's a really unique set-up, and I was loving it just as much as she had assured me I would. 

But the problem is, masks complicate speaking, especially in environments that are already a little chaotic (with folks eating, TVs blaring, food sizzling as its cooked nearby). And though she tried to ensure she didn't receive any of the gluten-containing items, in the end, she failed. The rest of the time wasn't quite as pleasant as the beginning of our time together. 

And this experience made me realize how much this pandemic complicates already complicated scenarios. Food allergies are a very serious issue for a very large number of people. According to worldallergy.org, "It is generally accepted that food allergy (sic) affects approximately 2.5% of the general population, but the spread of prevalence data is wide, ranging from 1% to 10%" (Fiocchi and Fierro). While many simply have upset stomachs, like my girlfriend, some can have much more serious and life-threatening reactions. I don't personally suffer from any of these allergies, but my proximity to a loved one who does makes this issue far more grounded in reality...and quite honestly, far more frightening. 

I've never been someone who is against masks, and I don't plan on changing that stance any time soon. But it cannot be denied that, for many, masks complicate the search for safe and edible food. For example, for those who already struggle with sight issues, masks can make wearing glasses even more difficult, leading to an inability to properly read ingredient labels. Then there's the issue of finding such food to begin with, as the pandemic makes certain markets and supplies dwindle or grind to a halt.

Sometimes, it seems that ordinary struggles for many people are seemingly forgotten. And in a world ravaged by a pandemic, in a time of uncertainty and fear, sometimes it's ordinary people that need to be seen the most. 

Masks on a College Campus

A mask hanging on the door-handle of my dorm. 

 

Every day is the same. Get up, mask up, go to class. It's a routine I should be used to by now, but I'm not; it's a routine the world should be used to by now, but I don't think that's happened yet either. Maybe it never will. Maybe calling this our "new normal" is just us kidding ourselves. 

Honestly, I'm not sure anymore. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever truly end. You know, they always talk about lights at the end of tunnels, but I don't think that light is always sunlight. That makes me sound depressed, but the political environment of the world at large right now is difficult not to get depressed over. Still, in my regular life, I'm generally happy.

There's a key separation between our regular selves and the self that is connected to the rest of the world. My connected self is usually upset, often perplexed, and occasionally amazed in the best of ways. The world isn't all bad; that's just what our media chooses to focus on. Humankind is strange sometimes. 

In any case, my days are generally the same. I wake up and throw on my mask of the day. I go and grab some breakfast before the sun decides it wants to warm the day to be extra hot (per usual), then attend some on-line courses via Zoom. After that, I hop in the shower, make sure I grab my mask of the day again, and head to my in-person class (or depending on the week, classes). At night, I do homework, and before bed, I pick out a new mask and balance it gently on my door-handle lest I forget it the next day. The dirty mask goes in a little net baggie for the washer. 

My bag of masks, washed and prepared for a new week.

It wasn't always like this, though. At the start of my senior year for high school, worries of remembering masks and ensuring they are safe in hungry washers and dryers were never possibilities in my mind. Before, the only time I had worn masks were in hospitals, visiting sick or dying relatives.I remember the way those masks had scared me as a child being wheeled into a operating room for surgery to repair the growth plate in my wrist, right before they stuck an IV in my arm and sleep took me away. Before this year, these were my only experiences with masks. Now, they're an everyday part of life.

For the most part, every man, woman, and child I see has one on if they are outside of their homes or rooms, and I can't count the number of times I've been incredibly surprised at how someone looks without a mask on, when I've seen them later through Zoom or other on-line sources. It's a very weird feeling, even now. It's funny how the world changes and how phenomenons simply pop up out of seemingly nowhere. I think we've all (again for the most part) realized that this is just a new part of life for the foreseeable future. I think we're all mostly okay with that. But it's weird, isn't it? Even to this day, I walk out of my dorm and forget my mask. One day, I got outside without it on and sheepishly made my way back to my room, knowing I'd be late to class but understanding I couldn't not have a mask.

It's not a bad reality, despite how cloying and uncomfortable masks can be in the heat, in classes back-to-back, in stores carrying groceries and goodies. It's not bad, and I understand that masks are good preventative measures. But it's weird, meeting people for the first time without being able to really see them, having to worry about these little face coverings so much and so often, seeing pages like this on our school webpage.

Maybe I'm just behind on the times, old-fashioned, unwilling to adapt. Maybe this truly is our "new normal." I suppose only time will tell.