Real Sicko Hours
I lost a subscriber last week lol
General News
Sickos who write newsletters on Substack be like, [see above]. Over the weekend, Illinois welcomed 40 Texas Democrats as they fled quorum over a gerrymandering map proposed by the Orange Cumrag. Every time I consider moving back, something happens that reminds me of why I don’t want to. Then again, Illinois really isn’t indexing higher on the “not having concentration camps” metric. Health care facilities are still capitulating to the Orange Cumrag’s fake demands. At least there’s this? Man…just when I was starting to think this wouldn’t happen again…
Personal News
This is gonna be TMI. Look, I’ve been having a ROUGH time. A couple of weeks ago, I had an Intrauterine Device (IUD) inserted into my cervix, which was super uncomfortable and painful. Thankfully, the doctor whom completed the insertion made sure that I was well prepared. Prior to the procedure, I informed her that I had a failed attempt when I was 21 years old, back in good ol’ Denton, Texas. As Bestie Tyra pointed out, “Getting an IUD at the campus clinic is so unhinged.” Yes. Don’t EVER try to get an IUD at the University of North Texas campus clinic. Anyway, the IUD insertion was successful this time around and I started to feel better after a few days. Unfortunately, I was supposed to begin my menstrual cycle. Which I did. And the pain? Good God. I felt like I was going to throw up for four five days.
I also purchased a round-trip flight to [redacted], Texas, for my 30th birthday this year. I look forward to seeing Bestie Tyra, my little brother, and, of course, my dear love Jimmy Cash (I keep dreaming of us getting married, I wonder what that’s all about…). I missed Jimmy the last time I was in Texas, but I had a great time visiting the besties and my brother. I wrote a bit about it over on no comment. I’ve been thinking a lot about Turning Thirty and What that Means to Me. It’s pretty wild how much changes, yet somehow stays the same. The older I’ve grown, the more I’ve leaned into the things that I loved when I was younger. I think about the years I spent in Cult-Recovery Therapy and discussing the things that make me who I am underneath all that conditioning and trauma. All of the things that have endured and helped me to survive.
Anyway, do I have any news? I’m in the midst of cooking up that book review I keep mentioning. Which reminds me, I need to finish the book soon. I reached out to the author to see if she plans on speaking in Chicago, but nothing is planned yet. Perhaps something will come up. Perhaps! Hey, don’t forget to make a donation! I’m halfway to some extra PTO. Help me out. Speaking of work…
Poetry
Last week, I hosted a poetry workshop at work titled “Crafting Futures of Care.” I’ll share what I had to say about this workshop, as well as one of the poems we discussed.
I don’t have to say it for you: Things are really not great! The current political climate has us asking harder and harder questions about the future than we may have previously asked. The day-to-day tasks may feel heavier and heavier as more and more crises are created for our neighbors. We may even be asking ourselves, “When will things go back to normal?” Instead – today, in this space – I encourage you all to ask, “How can I make today better than yesterday? How can I make better sustainable for myself and the people around me?” I don’t want to go back to the conditions that created the reality we live in right now. I want to imagine better. I want better for myself, for you all, for the clients and neighbors in our communities, and for everyone I have yet to or will never meet. Things are really not great. What can we do to make them just a little bit better?
“Crafting Futures of Care” came to me when I was thinking about what community care can look like outside of the world that we’ve grown so familiar with. I mean, where does one even begin when we start to think about community care. What does that even mean? I tend to start small: myself and my dog. How am I tending to my own needs and the needs of the creature I love most in the whole world? They say you can’t pour from an empty cup. I want my cup to be full so that I can pour out into the communities I encounter. How am I tending to my roommates and neighbors? How am I tending to my colleagues, peers, clients, and family? How am I tending in those brief interactions with strangers and baristas and bar tenders and tellers? Am I showing up with a full cup to pour from? Is anyone?
Today is a space to fill that cup. As you approach the workshop, I encourage you to look deep into your heart and mind, and ask yourself, “What inspires me to keep going?” In what ways are we tending to our communities? In what ways can we resist injustice to preserve what we value? How can we address disparate gaps in our communities to create abundance for everyone? Indulge in the power of your imagination. Be honest with yourself and your feelings. Maybe today isn’t the day to imagine a better future. Maybe you just want to sit with the dread and the frustration and the confusion and all those muddy, messy feelings that are hard to talk about. Shedding those feelings can also help you fill your cup. There is no right or wrong way to approach the questions I’ve asked. If you’re feeling unmotivated and uninspired, that is okay. What matters in this workshop is that we’re able to hold space for one another and remember that we’re not alone.
This week, you get two poems from me! One of which, as I mentioned, was shared during the workshop last week. The other is one I pulled from a collected works I own of Muriel Rukeyser’s. From the Poetry Foundation’s website: “Muriel Rukeyser was a poet, playwright, biographer, children’s book author, and political activist. Indeed, for Rukeyser, these activities and forms of expression were linked…Over her five-decade literary career, Rukeyser was central to both American modernism and Leftist political communities.” She was born on December 15, 1913, in New York City, where she also died on February 12, 1980. Rukeyser became very well known and remembered for her work The Book of the Dead (1938), which is a blended work of poetics, documentation, and journalism over the Hawk’s Nest Tunnel disaster in Gauley Bridge, West Virginia. It’s an incredible work, transforming the struggle of migrant mine workers into a Hegelian meditation on power.
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