Hi Darling Ones,

Just a quick note to let you know I continue to exist on this planet, despite everything trying to kill me (that’s me being dramatic).

BFK & Atom took me to Urgent Care and then the ER Friday since I only have medical crises when my fam is out of town. One MRI and some chest x-rays later and they determined I didn’t have another stroke nor do I have heart issues. Why I’ve been constantly lightheaded for nearly a week remains a mystery. I suspect medication side effects or anxiety. For sure I have determined my brain hates me. I talk to my doc tomorrow, so place your bets now.

This weekend was absolute misery with the lightheadedness tipping me into frequent panic attacks. Have you ever had 15 panic attacks in one day? Don’t. It’s exhausting and no fun. Today, there’s only been one so far. Progress!

In super sexist news, I got an MRI from the hottest guy I’ve ever seen inside of Shakopee city limits. Related: once again ,I chose to listen to Frightened Rabbit while inside the clanky magnet. This time it must have been on some kind of shuffle. Songs I heard included:

• Old, Old Fashioned by frightened Rabbit
• In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel
• Skinny Love by bon iver

There were other songs. I just don’t remember them or didn’t know them. MRIs are not conducive to note-taking or memorization.

More updates when my head stops being so floaty.

Love,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

My anxiety is off the charts at the moment, which means I sleep all the time.

I have two ways of dealing with anxiety: talking about it incessantly until someone wants to murder me or sleeping. Since I’m a lonely old spinster who lives alone there is nobody to chatter at. Instead, I’m sleepy all the time. Today I’ve taken two short naps after getting a solid seven hours of sleep last night. I’m already looking forward to bedtime.

Most of my anxiety is circling around tomorrow’s vaccine appointment. Every night I have a different dream about being unable to get the shot: can’t find the place (I live 2.5 miles from the Canterbury Park where my appointment is), Disney Villains impede my progress to the shot, and last night some fucking teenage boy kept stealing my vaccine card so I couldn’t get shot #2.

Some of the anxiety is due to current events in Minnesota (i.e. our cops being racist murderers and our government punishing a grieving community). Some of it, I think, is because my Uncle Terry died which brings up a lot of complicated family-related issues that I don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with right now. And I have even less capacity for more grief.

On an unrelated complicated family issue, I nearly made Sister #4 cry the other night when she was here because I mentioned something about being the half-sister. It floored her because she does not think of me that way, and I was defensive because no matter what she thinks that doesn’t erase my actual feelings and lived experiences. It was awkward and I backed away from it quickly because I did not want to cry an ocean of tears and explain to her how I never feel like I fit in anywhere.

That was fun.

Nothing is fun right now. It’s been grey and rainy for about 3716 days in a row here in Minnesota. I’m uninspired and uninspiring. I’m hopeful tomorrow’s shot will alleviate some of anxiety and I can get back to thinking about other things like Joshua Jackson’s back and if I should get that lemon-lime philodendron I got my eye on.

In the meantime my brain jukebox is serving up an endless rotation of “Anxiety” by Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit b/w “A Shot in the Arm” by Wilco. Fucking brains, man.

Way down in it,
Jodi

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Oh, Darling Ones, I just died on the couch tonight.

It was boredom. Boredom killed me and now I’m a bored ghost haunting the same fucking couch I died on.

Boredom is my #1 enemy. Sometimes I get so bored I have panic attacks. These attacks are usually induced by really long guitar solos at rock & roll shows. I’ve had panic attacks thanks to Elvis Costello, Wilco, and Low. This is why I hate masturbatory guitar solos they hit all the boredom receptors in my brain and then I panic because I can’t escape. Also, they feel like a personal attack because shouldn’t Nels Cline and Elvis know that I can’t do really long guitar solos? I mean, come on!

I had my first boredom induced panic attack when I was like sixteen or seventeen stuck at the shittiest pizza place (J’s Pizza) in Blaine with my parents and some friends of theirs. Only, we didn’t call them panic attacks back then. I think I just called it the worst thing ever.

Part of the boredom is due to a book that was kinda boring yet I wanted to see how it ended (Days of Distraction by Alexandra Chang). I finished it when I probably should have put it down.

Another part of the boredom is due to deleting all the dating apps. They were making me sad and frustrated, and being lonely is better than being sad. Plus, my ego is fragile right now and I don’t have the self-confidence at the moment for being ghosted by someone who doesn’t want to hear all my fun facts about whatever I’m obsessed with that hour/day/week. Learning all the random fun facts I know is literally the best part of dating me.

And right now, I got no obsessions. At least none that come with fun facts I can share with you, Darling Ones & Potential Crushes. Someone I love is going through some turmoil, and while I hate to be vague it’s not my story to share. However, it is weighing heavy on my mind. Hopefully, it will be resolved one way or another at the end of the week and I can move on to what is going to be a new/old obsession: Jeff Tweedy. I downloaded his book about writing one song as research before I re-write The Beast in 2021. Try to contain your excitement.

Did you just die of boredom too? Sorry.
Jodi

The post The COVID Diaries: I Just Died on the Couch Tonight appeared first on I Will Dare.

So Darling Ones,

I did a thing! Even though I’m still feeling pretty much like the Grinchster Goddess of Minnesota, I had a lightning bolt of an idea for a Christmas Gift and it was so brilliant that I created it and bought it and shipped it out this morning before I even finished my coffee. I wouldn’t be so cryptic about it, but you never know out of all the people whose addresses I know which one might decide to read this post right now.

For the most part, I don’t think the people in my life read this blog very often, which is fine by me. It allows me to be freer without having to deal with the “why didn’t you tell me that?” or the “I had no idea!” Barf. It’s almost like people don’t realize it’s easier for me to type things than to say them. This might come as a shock, but I’m kind of a closed book in my actual life. I don’t often reveal emotional things unless people ask. 99.9% of people never ask. Plus, I ask a lot of questions about everything all the time because I am nosy and curious and it keeps people talking about themselves and not about me. It’s a sneaky reporter trick I learned in journalism school.

Anyway, I’m pretty excited about these gifts. I pride myself on making and/or giving thoughtful gifts. I get really grouchy if I’m just giving someone something they put on a wishlist. In fact, I had to do that today for Sister #2’s birthday gifts. I included a note that said, “these are just placeholder gifts until I think of something better.” My BFK and I, whose birthdays are a day apart, have vowed to only give each other gifts if we see something that make us think, ‘that’s perfect!”

The best gift I ever gave was probably a super-rare (I think there was a typo in the jacket copy or something), signed copy of Infinite Jest to an adorable orange-haired boy who is the reason this website exists. I got him that book because for my 28th birthday he gave me 28 tiger lilies. So adorable I could puke. Still.

The best gift I ever got was a copy of Cat’s Cradle that was personally inscribed to me, “Dear Jodi,” by Mr. Kurt Vonnegut himself. So thoughtful I could puke.

This is not to slight other gifts I’ve gotten over the years, I’ve loved each one and I can tell stories about half the crap in my house. Owl penny bank on the coffee table? Christmas gift from Sister #4. Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret bookcover poster on the wall? Just because from FFJ. LEGO First Ave? LEGO Back to the Future Delorean with Marty & Doc? Both from Jaycie and Max (though Sister #2 chose them for me). That orange vase at the tippy top of the bookshelves? A Valentine’s gift from Seamus.

Don’t you love when I just list random shit I have around my house? Me too!

Speaking of gifts, my Christmas present to myself came today. It’s a Norfolk pine tree that I named Janis, because of course. Between reading that biography and then watching the documentary, I got Janis on the mind.

Last night I confessed in the family group chat that the pine tree was coming today.
“JODI,” Sister #4 typed in all caps. “WE TALKED ABOUT THAT!”
“Girl,” I typed back. “I did it.”

Then I got lots of HA!s for my excellent use of a TikTok joke.

It’s the little things, Darling Ones. I need to find and hold onto as many little things as possible because there’s a very real possibility that I won’t be seeing another human being until December 23rd.

Thanks for helping me stay sane,
Jodi

P.S. I remembered all the words to Cornershop’s “Brimful of Asha” today. So I like to believe I haven’t slipped into dementia yet.

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Greeting & Salutations, Darling Ones,

Forewarning: I’m so exhausted from lack of sleep I feel a little drunk. I’m the kind of slap-happy last-one-up-at-the-slumber party kind of tired. Every time I go to the bathroom I stare at myself in the mirror and remind myself that I’m not drunk. Also, I am sitting in the dark listening to The Replacements. Specifically, I’m listening to “If Only You Were Lonely” on repeat. This is vital information you need to know.

There are two things that I want to remember about this day in this interminable, sleepless nothing time before the election, a time where my brain can’t think past Wednesday and I’m about 85% convinced that at 12:01 on Wednesday, November 4th Porky Pig is gonna pop out the sky and say “Th-th-th-that’s all folks!”

ONE
On Halloween 2002, I posted a conversation about Halloween costumes I had with my pal Wondergeek. At some point between then and now I told him how much that whole exchange delighted me. Today he tweeted at me, “Wearing my favorite Halloween costume today @jodiwilldare The Handsome Stranger.”

This super delighted me because not only did he think of me, he told me about it. A lot of the time I feel like an untethered, superfluous person kind of floating out here all alone having little impact on anyone*. I’m super afraid of slipping into the ether unremembered. I’ve read A Brief History of the Dead. I know what happens to the unremembered.

TWO
Today while I was talking on the phone with my friend EM (she lives in Madison) the topic of Lucinda, my guitar, came up. My niece, Jaycie, always calls it “la guitarra” because ella estudiviste español en escuela y yo estudio español ahora.

EM and I talked about our guitars and how we both bought them under the misguided notion that our high school/college musical skills would translate to guitar.

They did not.

“Really, I was hoping my guitar playing skills would entice cute guitar-playing boys to fall in love with me,” I said.
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she said.

Then I went on to tell her how Wolfodgg busts out Lucinda every time he is over here and then lectures me about tuned-ness and rusty guitar strings.

“It’s basically the opposite of a guitarboy falling in love with me,” I said.

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