April 2020

As we tried to come to terms with the quarantine and all it brought crashing down on us (farewell, UVA friends and life), we started cobbling together our recommendations for what to watch and read and play. Some of us had big lists, some small. Some of us had a lot to say, some of us little. That’s kind of how it’s all been. But big, small, loud, quiet, Iris is here for you, with our picks for getting through this thing… enjoy! And share your picks with us!

2020 was supposed to be OUR year. It was supposed to be the modern roaring twenties, I was supposed to walk the lawn for graduation, it was supposed to be good. Even the number 2020 is clean, even, almost perfect some would say. However, that is definitely not what happened. The year started off with Australia ablaze, threats of World War III erupting, Kobe Bryant being taken too soon, devastating floods in Indonesia, and then we got hit with a global pandemic. Corona is a lot of things—unknown, scary, unprecedented (this will be the most used word of 2020). It is also downright weird.

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When I think of ellipses, I think of more to come. Or depending on its placement, sometimes it means there was something before. I’m not sure where my placement of ellipses goes in this piece—or what it represents. I’m not sure where my placement in this world is at the moment.

Warning - be aware this piece contains potentially disturbing content, on the occasion of Sexual Assault Awareness Month (further information below article).

5. The Northern Mockingbirds AKA the Sentinels

I’ve never really been one to appreciate change. At least, that's the label that I’ve upheld since childhood. I can still hear my dad saying, “Yeah, Addie really doesn’t like change,” explaining away the weird quirks I refused to let go of. 

Magazines have a habit of piling up at my house. I suppose I could cancel the subscriptions, but I'm a child of the 80s and, while I value finding articles on my phone and laptop, I’m not ready to give up print magazines. My budding feminist sensibilities were formed by reading my mother's magazines.

Easter always begins the same way for my family. My mother and aunt compete to see who can call my grandpa first on Easter morning to say, “The Lord has risen,” to which my grandpa will respond, “Indeed.” Last year my mom woke at the break of dawn to beat my aunt, but generally my aunt wins. Then my grandpa will call my cousins, brother, and me to relay the same message. As a whole, we’ve always been “indeeders,” rather than “the Lord has risen-ers.” This year is so bizarre because nearly every other tradition in my family will be through the phone as well.

Since my second week of undergraduate classes at the University of Virginia in 2013, I have found a companion in my planner. My beautiful, color-coordinated, perfectly designed planner. I mean, I vividly remember breaking down in ugly tears the day I spilled my coffee on it during my Fourth year, and thinking “how will I survive without my plans?” My social life, my academic needs, my career trajectory and everything else that mattered, including “free time”, was scheduled inside those pages. It was my confidant and my sense of control: I always had a plan.