Continuing with the dance school - I danced with different instructors and a student. One instructor was saying how cute and fit I looked, then told Jim he was marrying me in a week - but wait till I get to the really shocking part. I have never ever in my life done the tango, rumba, waltz, or cha-cha. Different teachers showed me these and asked how long I’ve known them. They were shocked when I told them that was my first time. I was simply following their lead. Then Dala, another teacher, and I were talking. She wants to be an exotic dancer and I told her about it.

Then she said, “They’re hiring now so why not be an instructor here?”

I was like - what?! Me?!

She said they have an 8-week training period that costs nothing. This is certainly flattering and shocking, but I must work under the table. SS does allow you to work and earn a certain amount before they cut you, but I’m not sure what the limit is. We’ll see. I’ll discuss it with Tom when he’s feeling better.

I also got a comment I don’t usually get from women. I was sitting down and a woman named Sharon said, “You look very pretty tonight.”

Fucking Geri will be here between 3 AM-noon.

Today I got up late and Tom said that at 2 PM the idiots across the street were playing. Thank God I slept through it till it was over. The fan works great. They’ll probably blast off tonight, tomorrow night, or Sunday afternoon. I don’t think God will only have me deal with it twice in 3 weeks. I’m just never that lucky. Cuz they did it less last week and the week before, I’m sure this week it’ll be made up for tonight and tomorrow night.

At close to 7 PM we went to Denny’s, then to Payless for Tom’s sneakers, but he was too sick.

After, we went to the bookstore by the dance studio where I bought the pen I’m writing with and the next journal (57).

I forgot a stop. Before the bookstore, we went to a grocery store. I pulled $40 out of my account before Denny’s. I got female stuff (pads and tampons), lettuce for the pig, a blue marker pen, donuts, yogurt and smokes.

Gosh, I still can’t believe they asked me to train as an instructor there! I thought you had to dance professionally for a million years before you could ever teach in a place like Arthur Murray’s. This place is worldwide and has been around for a good 50 years or so.

Well, I think I’ll go watch TV now.

Oh, by the way, before I sign off - I played Tom’s killer keyboard and my guitar last night and a little bit today. I may play later, too.

Later...

I just typed a two-page letter to my parents. I mentioned Arthur Murray’s and what’s gone on in general.

One of these days soon, I’ve got to sit down and write some more songs. Tom’s been such an inspiration and so encouraging.

I gave my pig some lettuce and played with him a bit.

I also watched a little TV, but I’m really not in the mood now.

I took a tiny notebook with about 26 pages left in it, wrote gibberish on them and stuck them in 11 different NPN envelopes. I’m not putting those out and I’m definitely not putting out my parent’s letter till after Geri leaves. Although I never met this woman, I just don’t trust her. She gives me bad vibes and if she ever hurts Tom, I’ll kill the bitch. You know me, so, if she were to be as nice to me as Wendy’s been over the phone, then fine, I’ll be nice, too.

I hope my new address labels hurry up and get here. I have no more left and I want to stick them in my new journal. Actually, though, I have 14 left, but they’re stuck on envelopes that have address labels on them and are ready to go. Address labels on them to people, I mean, Fran, Bob, Kim and my parents. No! I have 10. I won’t put them on letters I send Fran as I don’t trust him. Once, he made a comment about being able to peel them off. Now why would he want to do that? And where would he re-stick them? I know Fran and do not trust him. I won’t even send them to Nervous, but I no longer write too much to him anymore. If he is in the hospital, and the guy’s got to be somewhere, I hope no one else is picking up his mail. Cuz whoever may do so, may not give it to him, call my folks, or the police. Not that I’d care if they did call my folks or the police, but I’d prefer them not to. I’d rather that, though, than for him to not get it. I’m not intimidated by my folks or the pigs.

A rough guesstimate of how many journal pages I’ve written in all is 8,000 - 9,000. Wow! And I began writing journals 2,277 days ago!

Later...

Tom got up an hour ago. He’s now talking to Wendy who just called.

Within the next two hours, I’ll be going to sleep.

As of last night, Tom’s been nauseous like I was. When he’s feeling better, we’re going to discuss whether or not I should do anything about training at Arthur Murray’s. I told Tom that a part of me wants to not bother and stay on SS which is all I know. But, a bigger part says there are too many possibilities and opportunities and I don’t want the government holding me back. Especially now that I’m here in Arizona.

Later...

I just played with the pig who I now call Desperado or Piggy, rather than Beauty, now knowing he’s a he. Every time I put him back in his cage, he screams, but he’ll settle down soon. He certainly ate enough.