It’s been all over social media and the news for a month: the Trump Administration is expected to make an announcement about the future of DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) tomorrow, an Obama-era executive order that protects children brought illegally into the United States by their immigrant families and gives them a (heavily-vetted) opportunity to get jobs, attend college, and hold a “protected” status from deportation. They must renew this status every 2 years for roughly $500 in order to remain protected.
Last night, a rumor about Trump’s decision exploded into the American media stream: Trump has decided to end DACA, albeit with a six month grace period for political leadership to revise it and come up with a better plan. As you can imagine, DREAMers (as DACA participants are often called) are now mobilizing to figure out what happens next to them and their families. Details are few and far between, given the fact that Trump won’t give his official announcement until tomorrow, Tuesday, 5 Sept.
Height of laziness: I could go back and see if I’ve ever mentioned this, but I’m not going to.
have I ever mentioned the University of Chicago?
If I have, sorry. You’re gonna hear about it again.
Remember how I mentioned in my last post that I was three chapters away from finishing my novel rough draft and maybe I would tell you about it some day?
Happy Friday, let’s talk about writing!
There are a lot of things that have been happening since July hit. My graduate school preparations (including moving halfway across the country) are well underway; I’m busy at work trying to do as much as I can before I leave; I’m three chapters away from finishing the novel I’ve been writing for the past twelve years.
First and foremost, I’m not writing this to make a martyr of myself. I’ve hurt people and manipulated and abused them before and I’m sure I will do it again. I don’t blame anyone for seeing this side of me and taking their space from my confusing hellhole of a life. I am not, by definition, a “good” person.
I made a Spotify playlist this morning. ^That was the title.
All this week, I’ve been asking myself: “why the fuck is this still happening to me?” I’m following the rules: going to therapy, taking over 10 pills every day, trying to get 8 hours of sleep, staying hydrated. That’s the formula, isn’t it? If you do these things and decide to be happy, you should just be happy, right?
Happy Thursday morning, my dudes. (PS I don’t post all of my poetry here, so if you for some reason are really into bad poetry, keep tabs on this blog instead)