Hi Darling Ones,

I’ve had a lot on mind. Well, I always do. But lately I’ve been thinking about the two finger-snaps in Dire Straits’ “Romeo & Juliet” and if the are significant in some way, if they are meant to symbolize something.

You’d be surprised by how much I think about this. It is more than a lot.

However, since the federal government shutdown I’ve been thinking about other things. Namely the boundless cruelty of the USA and the people who govern it. Also, the fathomless greed of the wealthy and all those people who could put an end to hunger and poverty and houselessness if they chose to throw their money at that problem.

More selfishly I’ve been thinking my writing and my situation.

It’s clear I love writing here. I’ve been doing it for 25 years, and I continue even though the physical acts of typing and reading are difficult and exhausting after the stroke. You can sorta see what my vision is like in the image at the top of this post. Spoiler: it’s not good.

One of my vague goals for iwilldare.com is to share what it’s like to be a single, 6’5″, white, GenX woman at this moment in time. And by this moment, I mean all the moments in time when I post. Now that I’ve become a single, 6’5″ white, disabled GenX woman during some massively horrifying historic events I feel as though my writing is more navel-gazey than ever.

It feels kinda gross to be so self-focused during the horrors thrust upon us by the government. This is a time where showing up and being a member of the community is important. Instead, all I do is sit in a chair and worry about if I’ll ever get on the dole.

With SNAP and WIC benefits running out because of the government shutdown I thought abut donating to the local food shelf. Food insecurity is one of those issues that really get me in the old ticker. I know what that’s like. I grew up with food insecurity and have gone hugry many times (yes, a hungry food insecure fat girl, it happens).

Sadly, I checked to see how much money I could spare. I can spare exactly $0.00. I’ve got exactly $3,713.41 to last me until, I’m not sure when. They haven’t even scheduled my Social Security hearing yet, and I don’t know how long it takes to get a verdict or money.

Bah!

Now, you can see how my thoughts have been going the past few weeks. It’s becoming a well-worn spiral — horrors, my writing, horrors, my own situation. How do people other people do this? How do you cope with personal tragedies or problems in the midst of bigger, more pressing problems?

Pondering Romeo & Juliet was way more fun and it helped me sleep at night.

Just another one of your deals,
Jodi

P.S.
In 2020 when I donated to my local food shelf I got an email from the Executive Director thanking me because I was the first person to ever use the online donation form. He told me he googled me and because I was a Replacements’ fan he offered me a gig. I built a beautiful website for them that they never used because the new Marketing Director, hired after I started my work, either did not like me or wanted to put her mark on everything. I didn’t get to stick around long enough to find out. I’m sad to report they still have an ugly ass website.

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Hola Darling Ones,

Since I learned I was diabetic I have become one of those people who care about carbs and protein. I hate that for me. People who talk about their diet are insufferable. I do not care. Eat what you want.

I’m also not a fan of people who talk about “earning” food or being “naughty” when eating certain foods.

Diet Culture makes my skin crawl and at 52 I’m still trying to get myself out of that toxic quagmire. And now I’m both fat and diabetic. The horror.

There is a large portion of society that believes I deserve diabetes or that I brought it on myself. I do not like those people and wish that when they try to open something where it says “open here” that it never opens there again, ever.

Because I want to continue living and I enjoy when my doctor praises me for having a good A1C I’m conscious of my carb intake and try to cram protein in my body whenever I can.

However, I do love food — making it, watching other people make it, reading about it, eating it, talking about it. All of it. Food is good. And fun.

Now that I’m diabetic I try to be more thoughtful about the food I consume. I didn’t too bad a job pre-diabetes. That’s why I don’t an air fryer because I know I would live on mini corndogs until my heat exploded or my pancreas fell out.

Since I have more time on my hands and little money Supergenius HQ has become more of an ingredient household than it was before.

This is why I’m in the process of making homemade hoagie rolls.

You gotta really want a meatball sub to go through the hassle of making hoagie rolls. Darling Ones, I really want a meatball sub.

Last week I really wanted chocolate cake so I made a chocolate pound cake. My mom & Sister #4 really love this new era of my life because I give at least half of everything sweet I make to them.

They aren’t getting any of these hoagie rolls though. These things are making me nervous. I’m scared any time I use yeast. It makes me feel like a sorceress calling on the dark arts. RISE my dough, RISE!

Baking with yeast requires both magic and faith and I’m not good at either of those things. Not a fan of “trusting the process.” What if the process is bullshit and you trusted it and now you have a lump or crap?

Thank you for reading 447 words of yeast-anxiety. This is what I did while waiting through the first proof.

Your spicy meatball,
Jodi

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Hello Darling Ones,

How’s February been treating you? Things have been alternating between awful and amazing here.

My sister had a breast cancer scare that required surgery and all that hullaballoo, but it’s benign.

There was also a sisterly job loss, but a better job came along and she’s so much happier.

There was a mouse in my house, but Los Gatitos hunted the teeny guy down and I got him into a box and released him outside.

Mostly, I spend my days trying to keep my mind and my hands busy so that I don’t think too much. Since I can’t work much this requires extra effort on my part.

I try to avoid thinking because nothing good comes of that. I’m creeping up on two years without a steady income and my savings have gone from five numbers to four numbers and soon to be three numbers. Just writing that sentence makes my breath come a little faster. We’ve enacted severe austerity measures here because I’m not optimistic about getting on the dole considering the current state of affairs.

From there my thinking spirals out into the current state of affairs and that doesn’t go well, then I get to add a sprinkle of shame on top of everything for being selfishly concerned about myself and not doing enough to change things.

It all quickly devolves into hopelessness and nihilism.

See why thinking is bad? So bad. Awful. Zero stars.

The problem that arises is that writing requires thinking. I love writing. I miss writing, but see little use in repeatedly writing about going bankrupt and being homeless while the world burns. It doesn’t even feel cathartic. It feels like shovel coal into the fiery furnace of anxiety.

So what’s a supergenius to do? I got a plan for that.

Between shoving murder mysteries into my brain and binging tv about cults, cons, and social media influencers (all kinda the same thing, no?), I’m reading Open Socrates: The Case for a Philosophical Life by Agnes Callard. This is, I’m sure, going to solve my problems. It’s been 30 years since I engaged with So Crates (in political theory classes not just “Bill & Ted’s”). With this book and magical thinning I’m going to get to a place where I can write about how much I loved Neko Case’s memoir and why social media influencers and family vloggers are so creepy and fascinating. Best of all I’m going to be able to do this without shouting about being destitute and being shipped off to a childless cat lady on SSRIs camp.

It’s gonna work. Right? RIGHT?

Not yet philosophically yours,
Jodi

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Oh, Darling Ones,

How are your hearts and your nerves?

If you are the type of person who cares about other people, even the ones you don’t know; the type of person who wants to limit suffering and make sure everyone has enough, your faith in humanity, your heart, and your soul took a beating this week.

Mine sure did, and I’ve spent the last few days yelling with people who agree with me.

Something sure as hell happened and it was not good. At all. I’m not in the right head space nor do I have the emotional capacity to dig too deep into an election post mortem. There’s plenty of recriminations to go around. I do lay a lot of the blame at the feet of cis men and the masculine bubbles they live in. Maybe we’ll talk about this more later.

Maybe it’s the near-death experience (sounds dramatic, but strokes kill people all the time) or the fact that we’ve done this before (2016-2020), but this time around I feel more intellectually devastated than emotionally.

I did not spend yesterday in a teary puddle. Instead, I spent the day doing things that make me happy. I ate homemade banana bread (thanks, Sunday me), switched back and forth between listening to Doppelgänger by Naomi Klein and Joy Oladokun’s “OBSERVATIONS FROM A CROWDED ROOM” while crocheting. I spent the evening shouting on the phone to my friend EM about how my new life’s mission is to make men uncomfortable about their casual sexism whenever I can. Men make me uncomfortable all the time. It’s only fair.

Very different from 2016 when I spent most of the day crying helplessly.

I was uncharacteristically optimistic making all kinds of vows (privately and publicly) to love harder, rebel joyfully, and not let the fascist rob of hope. Doesn’t sound like me, does it? But it’s how I feel.

Frankly, I am more selfishly frightened this time around. I’m newly disabled with poor people’s insurance. Things can go pretty bad for me really quickly if I lose that insurance. Even if I had the ability to work full-time I’d never be able to cover the cost of my macular edema treatments. According to my insurance claims those cost $18,089 each time I go. I go every four to six weeks. I won’t make enough money this entire year to cover one appointment.

I’m only getting by financially because I’m draining my savings. That won’t last forever.

So yes, scary as hell. Or at least it might be. Thanks to Lexapro (please don’t take that away RF Brainworm) I can calm myself enough to not worry about it until I know I have to.

Until I have more concrete things to worry about I’m going to love hard, rebel joyfully, and make things to share with people.

It’s okay if you’re not in the same kind of place. We’re in the upside down and nothing makes sense. We’ve been through this before, hopefully we’ll make it through again.

Love, love, love
Jodi

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Hello Darling Ones,

How are you holding up the day before something happens?

A long time ago when I was seeing the TTHM he always dealt with my anxiety over something nebulous and impossible to know by saying, “something will happen and then you deal with it.”

I carry that bit of wisdom with me and probably will forever. Thanks, TTHM.

Here’s what I’m doing while I wait for something to happen.

• Googling: Is it illegal to take a picture of your ballot Minnesota. I filled out my ballot and sent it in awhile ago. It was accepted on October 7th and will be counted according to the MN Secretary of State website.
• Listening to ol’ Pappy John Cougar Mellencamp. The Coug is my sonic security blanket. If things go poorly tomorrow I’ll pull out the Paul Simon and Frightened Rabbit. But for now, it’s all about The Cougs.
• Randomly shouting “PEACEFUL TRANSFER OF POWER” at the cats/
• Checking in on my friends to make they have a snack plan in place. This is not a drill, sweet and salty must be at the ready.
• Making calico beans in the crockpot. This is my new favorite comfort food. I eat it with a grilled cheese. I cannot vouch for that recipe, I didn’t use it. Recipes are for unimaginative fraidy cats.
• Writing this list.
• Last night I bugged my family about getting matching Christmas pajamas. We had to act fast because they were on sale for $5.70. I can’t wait.
• Doing a little bit of work (yay!)
• Soon I’m gonna turn all the rotten bananas in my freezer into banana bread (see how I’m gonna have my sweet snack base covered)
• Reading The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry because a social media friend suggested it. “I come into the peace of wild things
  who do not tax their lives with forethought
  of grief.”

All these things are doing a pretty good job of keeping me sort of focused but unfocused at the same time. I keep reminding myself to take deep breaths, unclench my teeth, and relax my shoulders. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about my tremor which goes off the charts when I’m stressed out. Maybe if there’s a peaceful transition of power it will go away completely?

Be kind to yourselves, Darling Ones. Something will happen and then we can deal with it.

Optimistically yours,
Jodi

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