Journal Entries from the Near Distant Past
By Jordan Caldwell
Day 1
The Governor made the official announcement last night. I expect a call from my manager before noon telling us that we can’t work. The anxiety that kept me up last night appears to have a partner. Probably changed shifts while I was sleeping. These are definitely different nerves that I’m feeling.
Last night worriedly wailed with ache about health and safety, creating a dissonant voice to the pit in my stomach. My morning mind scrambles at the thought of only seeing the same three people. Indefinitely. How much of this is permanent? Did I have my last meal with my mother? When will I get to see my best friend again?
I haven’t even made it through the first day, and I am already scared that I am trapped here. Not sure how long my mind can make it. So much more than just finding ways to entertain. It needs conversation. Dialectic downloading of information to categorize and consolidate content. Basically how I organize everything that’s in my head.
So hopefully this will work for now. If I can’t speak it, I’ll write it down. Catalogue this journey. Try to remember my mindset to give my future-self perspective. And maybe by the time I read this again, the anxiety will have left us.
Day 6
I've been at home for almost a week staying and yet this is the first day that I felt that I could rest. Checking in on friends and family somehow seems like less effort than talking to people who are checking up on you. Saying the same sentences so often that you begin to forget the details. I’m ok is the only one people really need to hear anyway.
And now I’ve said it so much that I finally believe it. Allowed myself to wake and lie in the sun rather than anxiety. Play a game for fun instead of new social obligation. Nap for leisure not exhaustion. Today was a good day
It might just be a defense mechanism talking, but I’m starting to think I could get used to this.
Day 14
It took me almost a full decade to do it. But I am now officially a professional in every activity on Wii Sports Resort! I guess with a certain amount of hours, you can accomplish anything. I guess it helps having a private island resort where you can kick it with your friends.
Even though it is only virtual, we are so lucky to have another world to step into. All of us in the house have a killer golf game. Some are better at table tennis than others. And it's like watching a tantrumming toddler thrash about when a certain someone does rowing.
But if this is the only place to have a round of drinks, and play some games with friends then you bet we're gonna make the most of it. Poppin the blinds and soaking the sunshine while we roll through the back nine to pass the time.
Don't get me wrong, we still spend plenty of time escaping into our own different worlds. But at least two to three times a week you can find us down at the ParkWii Tavern.
And I can't wait to pour some drinks and grill some burgers, so that we can fill our bar with friends once this is all over.
Day 22
I put my work uniform on today just to remember what it feels like. To have obligations. To participate in society. To see my friends. To have an entire conversation, across the floor, about the person nobody likes to work with, in two glances and one gesture. To burst into shared laughter. To have 15 minutes feel like five. To have eight hours somehow feel like 15 minutes and 15 years at the same time.
Trying to remember, I looked at myself in the mirror and instead saw danger. Saw risk. Saw hazard to my health and my home. Saw fellow retail workers Saw nothing of increased value for increased contribution. Saw frontlines of a class war. Saw reminder for why I am at home. Saw reminder to be thankful that I can afford to stay at home.
After I took my shirt off, the weight left my shoulders. But now all I see is privilege.
Day 28
I am in a constant state of morning. Awake in my bed from broken rest. The clock says it is well past noon, but I am just beginning my day.
I am in a constant state of morning. I wake in my bed, body tangled in my fleece blanket. I don't remember if I am waking from a nap or if it is a new day.
I am in a constant state of morning. I have closed my book and am sipping my bedtime tea, attempting to relax my mind as the sun rises. But I can't stop thinking about the article that explained how normal it is to feel grief in times like this.
I think the reason it is hard to keep track of the days is because I am in a constant state of mourning.
Day 39
Does anyone even do laundry at this point? Does it make a difference when all you wear are the same three pajama pants? What good is it to be able to sleep in every day when you only need five hours of sleep? How do I know if I’m having normal reactions when people only speak in memes? Do I have to get a new personality if we can only ever interact online? What good does it do to ask questions to a lined piece of paper?
The couch gets less comfortable every day. Almost like each question brings another lump to the cushion. Never getting smoothed out because there aren’t any answers. Maybe we should stop using questions marks because there won’t be anything that follows. And even if there were, it would probably ring hollow. Weren’t prepared for the pandemic. Will we be prepared for the sorrow. Are we prepared for a new tomorrow. Where people are working on Zoom instead of zooming to work. Will it make us reconsider how this economy works.
All I hear is silence. But at least I don’t feel any new lumps in the couch.
Day 42
If I hadn’t numbered these entries, I would never believe that the first one was only six weeks ago.
Funny how when time slows down, the past feels more distant. Between here and February there is nothing but a void filled with empty days, lacking details to suture the gaps of time. I can’t stop laughing as disjointed memories fail to pull everything together.
Day 48
I return to work tomorrow. Anxiety overridden by guilt. Guilt overridden by excitement.
I’m sure that anxiety and guilt will make their way atop the Ferris wheel again. But for now, I am going to let myself be happy that I get to see my coworkers once again. Look forward to the hugs I’ll give. Confident that despite masks, our smiles cannot be hidden.
Photos/Jordan Caldwell.
Jordan Caldwell is a spoken-word poet, teaching artist, and community organizer. A member of Hi Coup Poetry and a graduate of Nevada State College, Jordan is dedicated to furthering the arts and building more opportunities for fellow artists. One of his missions is to bridge the gap between academic and spoken-word poetry. Jordan aims to help artists find the best avenue for their art and connect them with resources to further their craft. Performing as the.changeling, Jordan has competed in numerous poetry competitions including multiple Individual World Poetry Slams, 2018 National Poetry Slam, LA InkSlam, and was the winner of the 2018 Utah Pride Festival’s Queer Slam. Jordan has also had work featured at: The Utah Arts Festival, The Las Vegas Book Festival, Lush Poetry+Design Gallery, and the Nevada Humanities Program Gallery in Las Vegas.
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