April 14, 2011 1:41 a.m.
Wo! Sorry I’ve not taken the time to sit and write a real letter. I assure you that it is because I’ve been running all over the place!
The past several days have been unreal! Even now, I’m ready to pass out. Just needed to let you know that I tried to send the paper back today, but the stamps were sent back to me.
Apparently the 50 stamps ($21.20) is to send the paper back to the store in Dallas. It’ll cost me $20 more to send it to you.
I know, I know, it’s all so stupid. I thought mail was mail, but I’m too tired to go there and I have to get up in a couple of hours.
Just notify the store that the paper is coming back, (if you can). Please let me know asap so I can send it off. I’m tired of fighting these people. All this after you did something really for me, this is where these people take it.
Anyhow, tomorrow will be another long day for me! I pray that this weekend things will slow down.
Love,
April 17, 2011 9:15 p.m.
Sooo sorry to say that in all of the action of the past weeks, I don’t even remember where I left off. But you have been on my mind and I can’t neglect you.
Yes, I’m still tired. It was cold this weekend and my body is sore so I’ve not gotten much rest. Plus, this coming week promises to be pretty hectic too, so I’m going to try to do some catching up now.
I bet your cookies are great! We had a neighbor growing up, Mrs. Nemic, and she made the best refrigerator cookies! Homemade cookies need love to taste special, and I‘m sure that you put plenty of love in everything that you cook.
You did not hurt my feelings. Okay, well maybe, but that’s only because I care so much. Regardless, just because my feelings get hurt doesn’t mean that I’m right or you’re wrong. What you told me was real and what I needed to hear, and now I’m working past it. You’ve been such a blessing in my life and a positive influence, if anything, I don’t thank you enough for all you are to me!
Naw, bread is the enemy! Really, growing up, we only ate whole wheat, sourdough or other fresh breads, never white bread, and we ate a bunch of it. I like bread, but our food options are so poor that I avoid the bread most days. They serve mostly white bread, cornbread and biscuits. I don’t eat just anybody’s cornbread, and these biscuits are pretty bad so I pass. Skipping the two slices of white bread on a tray can help me avoid 140 calories easy.
I wrote about the phones, they sent me a form to fill out, like you, I’m going to hold on to it until later.
Yeah, they got to taste a few things I was bringing to one of my old cellies and now they are begging me like I begged them. I almost made the mistake of giving one of the supervisors my information, then they could have forced me to work. However, because they don’t know my name and number, I do have the option to decline their offers. They only know me by face for now, which works to my advantage.
“Pressure” is not the word I would use. Writing is a form of freedom for me. As I’ve said, I can’t talk to these people (a select few). So much gets trapped within, when my ink flows, it allows me release.
It would be a lie if I said that I have not slowed down dramatically on the writing since you told me that you don’t have time. I know, I know what you meant, but I still feel like a burden. It’s my nature, can’t help it. Yesterday I put all that stuff back on the shelf. Just don’t want to build my hopes up, you know? I mean, I know my books are good, but I’m in here…
1) On a typical day, I wake up at six a.m., brush my teeth, wash my face, take my blood pressure pill and pray. I might lay my hair down, sweep my cell out and set to making cakes, or get dressed and wrap my mind around the tasks ahead of me if I have a layin. The doors will open between 6:45 and 7:30.
I’ll go to the dayroom to wait for my layin, or if in the cell, get in the process of making cakes which takes about two hours.
Nine o’clock is count time, so all movement stops and wherever you are, you stay there until count clears, usually 10-10:30 a.m. My cellblock is usually first for show at 10:30, so I go early and go to a layin or come back to the cellblock.
I’ll come in, wash my hands, clean up and prepare to work out. I’ll work out from noon to almost two, bathe, wash my clothes that I worked out in, clean my floor and make more cakes. (On Wednesdays I go to school). Late chow runs from 4 p.m. to 7:30-8 p.m. so we may go anytime between. I study, read, or write in that time, or make more cakes. They go as fast as I can make them!
After last chow, which is mainly trash, I go to the pill window. From there, back to the dayroom until the cells are opened. I go in, about 6-7 p.m., wash my clothes, hang them to dry, pray.
I cook, possibly more cakes, depending on my day, write, study or read, or all three. At about 10 p.m. I write letters, read my Bible or lay down with a book. (In summer, I bathe again so I can get in bed fresh.) I say my prayers, wash my hair, set aside whatever I may need for the next day and drift off, usually about 12:30-1 a.m.
2) Yes, when they open the doors, I can go out or stay in. They almost never give us outside recreation and when they do, I’m busy. But some folks get in trouble and are put on “cell restriction,” they can only come out of the cell for meals, school and layins for 30-45 days. That’s not cool when you have a celly.
3) Everyone has a job assignment but not everyone works. Like my job is Inside Medical Squad 01. We are supposed to do stuff like hull peas or clean greans from the fields, but we never go out. (In-to work. Never.) Others, like kitchen or laundry workers, go to work when an officer comes for them. You get off one day. You can get a case for skipping work.
4) The rules are the rules. Only psych patients get special treatment. Handicaps get treated as bad as anyone else.
5) GED or rehabilitation classes are Monday – Friday, but college is only once a week, usually two or three classes a week. But I couldn’t afford the extra classes this term.
6) If the door gets closed and you are in the cell, you are stuck until the doors open again, sometimes several hours. I pace like a caged lion sometimes, but never long because it’s not productive.
Good questions.
You’re right about leaving the hurtful things out. I wish I hadn’t said that about the mailroom lady. Now she’s going to give me hell every chance she gets. And of course, I’m going to blame everything on her…like how I never received the paper.
I realize that I’m holding you up on the printing. I thought I wanted to include how I ended up here, and maybe I do. Just give me to the end of this week? I’ve been trying to find the strength to go through that again. Plus, I want to see the book, but I’m prepared for Huntsville to deny it because it’s the truth.
600 hits (on my blog) sounds good, but I understand that we need thousands!
Sincerely,
P.S. Thank you for the card! As always, the pictures were awesome!!!
- Loved the spider story!
BLOG - IF
If...
If I could start my life from scratch . . . well, I wouldn't. How could I? Now that I've finally found me, to undo my past, mistakes and accomplishments, would destroy the person I've become.
I could wish away the destructive relationship with my abusive ex-wife, but not without erasing my kids, the people I cherish above all on this earth. If I could undo my crime and my blasphemous time, with it go the lessons leaned from my screwups.
So instead of wishing I could do the un-doable, I can do better, do more, push forward, push harder, get stronger, grow wiser, reach higher, sleep better and welcome each new dawn.
My "right now" was then, when I chose to stop surviving, start striving, reviving the me, dead and gone--born again, just a baby, love's armor to save me, the darkness can't faze me, the sun's on my face. The moon's on my back, I walk in the light, aware, conscious, right, my sights set on beauty I once overlooked.
If "if" was a fifth, I'd pass and stay sober, throw steaks on the grill, invite some friends over. I'd do so much different than back in the past. I'd live everyday like it was my last. Hug my babies just because, kiss my lady with passion, speak less, count my blessings, be a man of action. I'd run every morning and pray every night, smile great, grand and goofy, in love with my life.
If . . . no . . . better yet . . .when.
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