Dear Journal, it’s me… Flight Attendant Joe

I’m back writing in a journal again. To be honest, I haven written in a journal in months. Possibly a year. I’m disappointed that I haven’t kept up this tradition. But after starting again while I was on vacation, I’m writing in it daily. I had stopped journaling because I became annoyed with writing it out on paper. My hand would cramp up. I don’t want carpal tunnel because I like to write. And, who actually writes anymore? This isn’t 1964. I found a new journal app that I can use on my phone AND my laptop so… I’m back in business. 

When I journal, I don’t think about what I’m writing. I just let it flow. When I’m done, I go back and read it. If it’s something I want to share, I’ll start sharing it on the blog. I’m actually contemplating publishing my vacation journal as a short story. We shall see.

Do you keep a journal? It’s extremely cathartic. Try it.

 

Friday September 1, 2017 9:00p.m.

There’s a heatwave hitting the Bay Area. It’s not just a heatwave, it’s the fucking sun landing on the planet and burning everyone alive. Or at least that’s how it feels. If I wanted to live in Arizona, I’d move there. It would be a hell of a lot cheaper than the raping we get on rent in this place. My options today were (a) nap (b) nap or (c) nap. I went with the (d) option and ate an entire pint of Halo Top ice cream and stayed on the sofa because FUCK the sun’s heat. When I wrote (d) option, I forgot to mention I masturbated after the ice cream. Or was it before? Probably between. Thankfully, we have a/c. Everyone in this complex has a/c, but I noticed when I brought out the trash that many people have their windows open. It’s 104… WHY THE FUCK AREN’T THEY USING THEIR A/C? Are they afraid of their electric bill being too high? They won’t have to worry about the bill when they die in their apartment of heat stroke, that’s for sure. The Australians across the way have their window open and I think their one cat was on the patio sending up an SOS distress signal to Tucker and Harvey.

Tucker was playing games with me today. He’d cry at the sliding glass door to go outside, and I’d let him out, and then withing two seconds, he’d cry to come back inside. We played that game once, and then I told him to settle down before I sent him over to the Australian’s apartment so he could see how the heat really feels. He’s a total mind fucker. He’s a cat, but sometimes I think he’s my mother come back to make my life miserable. Like at the moment she was dying she thought, “I haven’t done enough to destroy him yet, so please baby Jesus, let me come back as a cat so he can find me and I can finish the job.” That bitch would have totally asked baby Jesus for something like that.

Each time I ask Google, “What’s the temperature?” She says, “Bitch, you don’t even want to know.” My cell phone basically alerted me the world was ending and people should pack themselves in the freezer to stay cool. I’m kidding. That’s not what it said, but what do I know, after the English text, it came through two more times in different languages. It’s great being in a diverse area.

Matt came home and I wanted to stay planted on the sofa reading, but he talked me into going out for happy hour. It’s like being in Phoenix in July outside. Went to Agave for some chips, salsa, and margaritas. I brought up the idea of going back to college. For what? You can’t go back to college without a plan. Nobody just GOES TO COLLEGE… do they? I regret never getting a college education past being a nurse. It’s my one regret. Matt said, “you read and educate yourself, that piece of paper doesn’t mean anything.” But it does. It means something to me. I long for an higher education. I told him I compare the longing feeling to what it must be like for a late 30 year old woman who wants a kid but hasn’t had one yet. Do I? Don’t I? At some point it might be too late and then I won’t have the chance. He supports me in whatever I want to do. He’s awesome.

By the time I got home I already started doubting it, especially when I thought of homework.

Went to Scratch for more drinks and sat at the bar. Had wine. Sat next to a black girl and an Asian girl, they were sharing a bottle of champagne that was on ice. Matt and I were talking about the Civil War and how the North AND the South were both fucked up during that time. And that Abraham Lincoln would be considered a racist if he were alive today. And (there are a lot of ANDs here) that we really should take down statues of Confederate soldiers. That has nothing to do with erasing history. It has to do with the fact that the South lost. Point blank. And those who went against their country were treasonous. And, you don’t fucking see statues of Hitler in Germany, do you? I don’t get people. I told Matt, “What if they had an Anita Bryant statue in downtown Orlando? Those Orlando queens would pull it down and drown it in Lake Eola.”

From the heat and haze, the sky was a creepy pink color. Full on pink, as if we were at a bar on Mars. It was cool.

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