On top of all the other things, I am completely burned out at my job. I had been fairly burned out already last year, but now I am a pile of cold ash. Completely charred and burned down to nothing. I'm professional cremains.

What's burned me out at work--prior to *gestures vaguely* everything--is just the basic dysfunction of the nonprofit workspace, tiny type. And some small failures. And some stagnation. And a lack of novelty. And some complicated reflection on the path that led me here, the mistakes I made, the right choices I made, and the realization along the way that I was never ambitious. That I only ever wanted a job I was good at, at an organization I was not embarassed by, that left me emotional and mental space to be a person in my off hours.

Which I have, in spades, and am exhausted with.

So I'm frequently angry with myself for being burned out. And also because I believe in the work and the general work environment is very good: work-life balance, dominon over projects, good-for-non-profit-salary. But I am. I am tired and ready to be somewhere else, doing something else, for someone else. 

But I don't feel at all marketable. I've also known too many people my age & education level & comparable job title who just gave up trying to find new jobs, as their searches stretched from a few months to a few years. So I should just get over being burned out.

I'm less than two years away from "being eligible for public service loan forgiveness". My org has given up our office space and transitioned to a permanent "work from whereever is conveniet" model, no matter what the new year brings. This is a situation that says "ride it out. find a way to reconnect with it. be better."

However, I suspect I just don't want to work as a professional anymore. That if, through some divine intervention, I actually get my public service loan forgiveness, I'll try to get hired at the sort of hourly wage job that does not really exist any more: file clerk, receptionist, coat room clerk at the local museum. That's a total pipe dream--and I know it--a woman in her 50's with a minimal social network, getting a non-exploitaitive, non-back-breaking job for just a little pin money. 

Maybe one of the local legal aid agencies would have a part-time job that I could get hired to do and then get fired from because I wouldn't work more than my hours? 

Or maybe I could retire. Would that not be amazing?

What to do? You can’t argue people out of paranoia. If you try to point out factual errors, you only entrench false belief. The only solution is to reduce the distrust and anxiety that is the seedbed of this thinking. That can only be done first by contact, reducing the social chasm between the members of the epistemic regime and those who feel so alienated from it. And second, it can be done by policy, by making life more secure for those without a college degree.

"They" like to remind people that when you design for the person with a disability or who needs assistance, you make things easier for everyone.

Designing a social safety net that works does not just feed the destitute and aid homeless drug addicts. It gives dignity to all wage earners and a margin of error for anyone.

There are a lot of things I don't understand about people. One is the fear that a thing which may help you may help someone else more.  Another is the belief that help you will never need has no value in your community.

 I understand anxiety and I understand feeling you have not control. I just don't understand how it leads to the belief that no-one at all should have aid of any kind.

I forgot what I was going to say.

My parents have never not ever in their lives had a Thanksgiving that was just them until this year. I don't just mean "in their married lives" (they've been married 55 years) but I mean when they were children, too, even my father's dirt-poor, no-one-had-time-nor-skills-nor-money-for-a-feast family, they always had Thanksgiving guests.

We have always had Thanksgiving guests. 

But not this year.

This is only my second at home alone with my spouse Thanksgiving. And one of only maybe half-a-dozen I haven't been at my parents. We ate very good food. Had a couple great cocktails. Relaxed. Zoomed with my family. Slacked with my best friends. Had a few texts and phone calls with some other folks. 

This year sucks. This world sort of sucks. We're lucky. We love each other. We like each other. We have stable, well-paying jobs we are able to do from the safety of our home--which is safe, warm, nicely appointed and easily affordable on our income. We're healthy. 

I have the best, most trustworthy, kind and giving friends. My beloved sister and her family are within walking distance. We're safe, safe with each other. and even though we have more than that, it's hard to care because of how grateful I am to be safe and safe with each other.

The U.S. is not safe. It is deeply unsafe for so many people. And sometimes even unsafe for people like me. And I am grateful for the things I have and grateful for the people showing me ways to fight to guarantee them to more people.

A friend had to take her roommate to the hospital this morning. They thought he was having a heart attack--it's COVID 19. I last saw her 16-17 days ago. We met outside to exchange some things. We're waiting to hear. To see what we can do for her, if it's even possilble to help. Maybe deliver soup.

The estimate is that 1 in 16 people in Chicago has an active infection. The realtor who just sold my rental property tested positive last week (I last saw her in person in August). She feels like she's recovering.

Our across-the-hallway neighbors have a steady stream of visitors. I have never seen these neighbors wearing or even carrying face masks but I have only ever run into them when I'm sitting in the back yard. 

I am frightened. I am angry. I am sad.

If your call for "unity" does not begin with the statement that Black Lives Matter, I reject it. If your call for "unity" does not start with the acknowledgement that the humanity and dignity of Black people, of Latine people, of Indigneous people is unassailable, I reject it.

If you call for unity without declaring that humanity, dignity and a basic right to exist belong unequivocally to gay, lesbian and queer people, I reject it. If you call for unity without without proclaiming that humanity, dignity and a basic right to exist belong unequivocally to transgender and nonbinary people. then I reject it.

If you cannot state that women are without exception as fully human as men, then your call for unity is false.

I will try to acknowledge your humanity, and I will try to preserve your human dignity. I will fight for healthcare that includes you, for clean air and water and climate that can sustain your children and grandchildren, for economic justice that relieves your burdens, for systems that support and feed you and your family. But I will not defend you. I will not join hands with you.

I will reject your beliefs because they are not equal to mine and they have no place in society.

​​​​​​​“A quote widely attributed to James Baldwin, but was, in fact, coined by Robert Jones, Jr. on August 18, 2015 on Twitter, succinctly states the intention of Son of Baldwin:

We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.”

A note from the author, Robert Jones, Jr.: "I said this originally in response to public disagreements between social justice activists I witnessed on Twitter. I wanted to note that despite having different ways of accomplishing what is essentially the same mission of liberation, it's important to keep each other's humanity in mind. I initially didn't think about the broader impact of what I said until it went viral. I find it especially meaningful given the prospect of a Trump-led America, where bigots have found new energy and resolve. It's a reminder that no dogma supersedes any person's inalienable right to liberty. It's a statement meant to let, for example, the queer-antagonistic business owner know that no matter how fervent their religious convictions, it doesn't grant them the right to discriminate against or dehumanize queer people in the public sphere. That's the price of living in a civilized society. What they believe in their own private spaces is one thing, but the moment they enter public spaces, they must abide by the standard of equity that is inherently ours from the minute we are born, simply because we are born. James Baldwin, someone I deeply admire, once put it like this: "From my point of view, no label, no slogan, no party, no skin color, and indeed no religion is more important than the human being."

-Son of Baldwin

I firmly believe that every single time any one of us goes to a doctor for any reason, we should write our Congress and describe in detail the existential angst and the out of pocket costs and the dread and fear and threat of complete financial ruin if there's any diagnosis requiring any follow-up care.

The calculus of out of pocket vs deductible limits, the confusion of six bills for the same visit which you just keep paying for. The the six hours of phone calls trying to figure out which medication they can maybe prescribe instead because that one is $300, but the automated nurse on the phone said there was something that was only $20 and the pharmacist said a third one was about the same but has to be prescribed as a generic.

Then end strong with a demand for Medicare for all.

These fuckers need to fix things. We need to stop letting them get away with not doing it.

We're in a complete media black out. It's less burying our heads in the sand and more accepting our impotence and protecting our nerves. I'm not working this week and had pulled together a stack of projects in the sewing room, but today I'm watching Monstrom on PBS Passport, sorting socks, playing video games. 

I made breakfast tacos. I have an appointment with a remote notary at 1. Zoom cocktail hour later. We have our late fall several day run of sunny warm weather, so maybe my sister will come sit in the yard for coffee.

All we can do is wait and hope.

I've heard and read a lot of things in the last 14 days about having a safety plan, filling the car with gas, having cash. We've got two pounds of coffee , 12 rolls of toilet paper and some flour.

We'll either be fine or we won't. Given everything of the last few years, I have little confidence any aciton I could have taken would have had any impact.

The fence is now too high to jump and I will just lie here, on the electrified half of the floor, helpless. 

Today feels like a day for despair.

Chicago's s 7-day average positivity rate is up 29% in the past week, now at 5.4%, and COVID-19 hospitalizations in the city  have risen 25% since late September. Region 8 (where my parents are--about 20-25 miles from my house in the City) recently surpassed 8% average positivity rates. The highest positivity rate in Illinois is over 11% in Region 1 where Illinois borders Iowa and Wisconsin.

I'm anxious, bored, angry, and tense. I fear the week of November 3 and all of November. I fear that November will bring quiet chaos of empty grocery shelves, but I'm afraid to do any stocking up. Both for fear of looking foolish and also because the grocery store is scary.