Jason ponders his life

Trade My Blues

When I was a little boy I wanted to be a race car driver like Al Unser Jr.  I wanted to be filthy right so that I could buy a mansion with sixty rooms so all of my family could live there.  We’d have three big hotel kitchens and a huge backyard with a pool and a race track.

When I was a little bit older, I wanted to be a doctor/policeman so I could heal people, rescue kittens and lock up the bad guys.  (Never imagined that I’d be one of the bad guys.)  I’d drive a Porsche and have lots of girlfriends.  Life would be good.

As a teenager, I wanted to be an All-Pro NFL QB/HB/WR/Free Safety and a rapper.  The football was because I was good at it, the rap because I wanted to tell my story.  All of it would make me rich, but my sports cars became Cadillacs with candy paint.  I was going to show the world how we do it down South.

By my eighteenth birthday, I’d smoked away so much of my ambition, drank and squandered my hopes, dreams and scholarships, and one-night-standed my hurt into a constant state of mistrust.  Sports required too much energy, and I could rap my behind off, so well that somebody would find me and offer me a record deal.  So I kicked back, fired up blunts, slept with my gorgeous woman as I could and watched life pass me by in a cannabis saturated daze, resentment brewing below the surface, the oppressive clouds of higher expectations hanging over my head like pregnant thunderheads.  And when lightning struck, thunder cracked and the afterbirth of failure rained down on me.  I didn’t even seek cover.  I just sat there, wet and high, wishing I was somebody else, anybody but me.

Life continued like that for years, perpetual storm clouds hovering, smothering any budding hope, the floods of failure swimming around me, licking at my chin, threatening to drown me, threatening to extinguish the ever burning, ever present blunt between my lips and make me surrender to my awful reality.  Between the inside outs of jail, my inability to stay faithful to any woman in my life, my drug dependency, I would have gladly traded places with someone else because I felt that I was ruined, a lost cause.  My kids deserved better, my mom deserved better, my wife and my girlfriends deserved better and all I felt was  that I deserved to die, to be at peace.

You know, it’s sad . . . my kids are and have been the brightest thing in my life since their births, but with the exception of them, the brightest thing about me had become the orange ember flaring at the tip of my latest blunt.  I really wanted to be a chef or a zoologist, anything working with food or animals, but those people didn’t get rich and it was all about the money, wasn’t it?

After seven long years in prison, more than my fair share of trials and tribulations, ups and downs, spiritual highs and emotional catastrophes, I don’t dream the way I used to.  I still dream often, but it is the quality of my dreams that is different.  No more are the dreams of mansions, Italian cars, super stardom or any such foolishness.  I don’t ever dream of being someone else.  I tried to imagine what it would be like to be Jay-Z, the money, the status, the beautiful wife . . . but those are his dreams from his journey.  None of that moves me anymore.  Just the thought of trading my life for someone else’s seems absurd.

Now I understand what Maya Angelou meant, “Wouldn’t Give Nothin for My Journey Now:  This Is My life.”  I cannot undo the past, but I can make the most of the present and stride proudly into my future.

Even with my struggles, my circumstances, the odds against me, I do not wish for a shortcut or an easy way out, because this is my journey.  I must go through this as I climb towards greatness.  No longer am I in the shadows of hustlers, thugs and dope dealers.  No, my aspirations will leave me in the presence of the Kings, X’s, Kennedys and Lincolns.

It’s a hard journey, but now I’m wise enough to know that this journey is part of who I am to become, it strengthens the power of my fight to righteousness, it glorifies the mercy and goodness of God, it proves that God will bring you up from the lowest of the low and use you for good.  I will touch and inspire a great many people because of who I’ve become, of who I’m becoming.  I may never rush for or pass for 200 yards and score four touchdowns in front of a stadium of people, I may not ever take the checkered flag at Indy, I may never rock a sold out arena of screaming fans, but I will stand before many crowds and tell of my journey . . . sometimes I’ll cry, sometimes I’ll shout, sometimes I’ll laugh, console, hug, pray with . . . but I’ll always reach and reach and reach because only my arms can touch them.  I am God’s tool.

My journey . . . yeah, my journey is priceless, my struggles are my struggles, my stories are my stories.  No, I wouldn’t trade my blues or my simple dreams of fishing, spending time with my kids, or cutting my lawn.  I am who I am because of my journey, and I wouldn’t trade my blues.

                                                                                                                                                                     

Lesson #40

“If we wall threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab our back.”

Lesson #13

“Don’t compare your life to others.  You have no idea what their journey is all about.”

Regina Brett

Author of The Plain Dealer

Jason write a long letter

November 15, 2011

The days are too long, the nights aren’t long enough. Yeah, I’m fine, mainly because I’ m better equipped, better adjusted and because I have to be.

You have so much going on, and interesting things, too! I was very excited to see the BookCrafters website (http://self-publish-your-book.com). It looks very good and professional! It seems like you guys never rest. Y’all are always doing this or that, traveling here or there, helping he or she (or me), learning, growing, and giving.

Again, I have to say how much I enjoy and look forward to our conversations. I know it seems to have cut my letter writing. It’s not that though, my days are just so full. I hope that the few blogs are able to capture some of my expressions. Having to deal with such a wide range of emotions and feeling can be taxing, but I know that every circumstance I battle through makes me stronger and better prepared.

Not much going on that I have not mentioned on the phone. The past few days, some dudes have gotten “violated” by their homeboys (translation: Beat the hell out of by two or more members of your gang for committing some offense). It’s becoming an everyday thing. So glad I don’t answer to anybody.

Well, I just wanted to get a few lines your way along with these blogs. Had intended to write a good long letter but my celly needed to vent so I talked to him for what turned into two hours.

How bout them Broncos?!?

Love,

December 5, 2011

Wow, believe me when I say that time is flying, that I’m not exaggerating! Fast time is good, but I do not like writing on the run. Soooo, I decided that I must dedicate some special time to my special people. If I’m tired in the morning, oh well. Better to be a little tired and a lot loved than to be rested and to neglect those who do so much for you.

Hope the turkey day went by well and you guys were well fed and stuffed. I wanted to send my card but I’d already sent it to you once, plus, my hand turkey hasn’t improved in a quarter of a century.

The story you sent me about that guy who’d been imprisoned was moving. I too, see myself succeeding now that my life has turned for the better. Not being afraid or paranoid about slipping through the cracks and getting over on the legal system makes tons of difference. I think that once people are able to be honest with themselves, it changes the quality of their lives. Living a lie is so stressful and problematic that it never ends up being worth it. I can remember being caught up with 3 or 4 different females, telling them all that I loved them, scrambling to cover my tracks and keep up with my lies. A horrible existence.

Yeah, my uncle has been great, especially when I remember our true relation! He was here this past Sunday. That he finds time for me between flying all over the country is monumental to me. Don’t think I’ve ever loved, I mean truly loved so many people before in my life. When we have a visit, they send a written pass to our cell block so we can get dressed or whatever, then go out to the visitation area, strip, dress, and visit for the fastest two hours ever.

You make light of all the work that you guys do! You two stay busy. But that’s good. I completely understand. It’s kinda cool to look forward to the next day, anticipating the challenge of the tasks ahead of you. I do that with my free job now.

Vegetarians should eat turkey too.

I received the card! That was really cool! I get chills every time I see that book cover!

Speaking of books, the urge to write has been particularly strong lately even had new book ideas in my head. I’ve got a feeling that I’m going to go into one of those zones here real soon. Hopefully.

See, that’s the type of stuff I look forward to, donating to the ARC. I just want to live, give, and love. The rest will come.

As always, Joe’s blogs were very interesting and entertaining! I’ve only seen elephants in the Houston Zoo and from a distance. No, wait, I don’t remember any elephants at the zoo. That was the circus. I couldn’t imagine being charged by a creature of that magnitude. From the videos that I’ve seen about rogue elephants, I know that an angry elephant is nothing to play with. Is it really true that they never forget anything?

I do apologize for being so down lately. My mother’s limited role in my life has weighed heavily on my shoulders and as much as I want to just get over it, that’s impossible. Some hurt can’t be ignored.

Anyhow, it’s important that you know that you are appreciated. You have been a major contributor to my positive outlook and my ability to endure through tough situations. Man, writing myself crazy! Better not get carried away. Just wanted to get a real letter off to you.

I thank God and pray for you every night, because I feel that God assigns angels here on Earth to protect and look out for certain people. And I know that rare kind hearts like yours are blessings.

Love,

Jason's excitement continues. He blogs in rap.

February 9, 2011

“ Most of my fights then and the few as an adult have been about standing up for someone who can’t.”

12:12 a.m.

As you can probably imagine, your husband’s letter “wowed” me! A pleasant wow though. Now, hours later, after writing him a book, I’m thanking you as well. Your vigilance and ability to write and write well not only keep me buoyant, but keeps me sharp. Not many people write, but those who do are educated. It makes a difference.

No, no access to a computer. No doubt, people would surf porn and a lot of escape routes. Texas is so prehistoric anyhow. The classes that have computers do not have internet access (some classes do, but the access is so limited, it’s anemic).

Right now I’m only taking American/Texas government. Not a class I’m interested in, but it’s valuable knowledge. There wasn’t money available for me to pay for another class. Ironically, my teacher instructs via satellite from the main college campus. Our notes come from her computer. I may be able to write her about it, but I can’t speak directly to her without my class and a few others hearing.

Yeah, the gals told me pretty good. Thank God everything is back to normal. I’ve increased the intensity of my daily workouts, nothing major though. Running something I plan to do out there as well. Every morning, run and start the day firing on all cylinders.

Happy to hear you’re back to work! You seem happier when busy. That’s a healthy mentality. Dealing with books, you are open to worlds of insight and possibilities, stories and histories. Sometimes it sounds like so much going on, you know? The children’s book sounds interesting. I loathe bullies. Most of my fights then and the few as an adult have been about standing up for someone who can’t.

The weather here has been dreadfully cold for about a week, warmed up, now they are expecting six inches of snow tonight. It’s chilly, but not cold like last week. It was so cold in this cell that I didn’t want to get from under the covers to pee. ): Glad at least ya’ll can be warm, safe and stationary. I worry so about the people I care about. My mom doesn’t understand that and goes for several weeks without letting me know that she’s okay. I thank you for the constant contact.

Again, your husband's blog was very informative and entertaining. I can see it all in my mind as I read. The pictures were great too! I really think the picture of you in front of Victoria Falls is wonderful! The pictures look like paintings.

Well, I’m going to write myself to sleep. Better put this out to be mailed. I’m very excited about all of this. I’ve been writing too, so don’t think I’m all talk. 

Always looking forward to your kind words! What a friendship. Who would have thought?

Sincerely,

February 14, 2011

“What you and your husband have given me is more than my passion to write back, ya’ll have given me purpose in a purposeless place, joy in the jungle of the jolted.”

9:19 a.m.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!

Have I told you how special you are to me? “Wale lal Lady, if I ain’t, then perdon me….I’m long overdue.” Honest, you are very, very dear to me, so allow me to say I love you. No, no, no….don’t blush…no awkwardness…formal smormell. We are sooo far beyond “formal.” This is life, life demands passion, passion grows from seed of truth. My goal is not to offend, but simply pretend not to pretend. You have become as near and familiar as family. You are family. Geesh, he waited until my defenses were down…what can I say? I guess I’m easy. So when I close a letter, from time to time, “with love” know that it’s from the heart, no ulterior motives, no byproducts, no preservatives, just wholesome, old fashioned love.

I’ll gracefully accept you smiling, crying (touched tears), or doing a little dance, anything else would be uncivilized.

Obviously, you’ve noticed I’ve got my mojo back! How about roasted lemon pepper chicken to celebrate? And your very best bottle of Welch’s 2010 vintage sparking apple cider. I insist. You are the catalyst, largely responsible for today’s Jason. Call your husband in the room and ask him if he would give you a big thank you hug for me?

How are you? Hopefully you’re experiencing milder weather. It’s currently warm down here, but I’ve not paid the weather much attention, been in my own world, literally consumed by words, thoughts…this past week has been productive. I’m actually glad to be on lockdown. They bring my food (regardless of how awful it is). No need to dress, to interact. Read, work, think and if there’s time, eat, work out and bathe.

I’m nearly out of paper, no surprise. For the last several years, I’ve only needed paper for letters, a poem or rap here and there. Now, I must have written 30 pages, front to back, in the past six days! Writing until my hand hurts. What you and your husband have given me is more than my passion to write back, ya’ll have given me purpose in a purposeless place, joy in the jungle of the jolted. And as advised, I’m not writing with dollar signs dancing in my head, but you have my word, if any money is made, not matter how far down the line, regardless of how small the amount, I’m going to do something special for you.

My neighbors kept asking how I could be so lively on lockdown, then they just started to enjoy me. Without even knowing what’s going on, they all suddenly want to read what I’m writing. (I let two guys read my first two days of writing—seeking an opinion—and they told everybody that I was “BAD!”) That feels good, though. As I mentioned before, I need constant reassurance…well, no…I guess not. ): I used to…but now…I hadn’t paid much attention. Well, that’s cool! I’m sure of myself. Cool!

Before I forget (please don’t be upset?), do you remember sending me the pictures of crawfish, turtles, crocs and catfish? Okay, the guy I had drawing that stuff for me went to jail like eight months ago. Then when he got out, I couldn’t catch him to get the drawing and pictures from him. Then, he went to jail again. Whew! So I need more pictures, if you don’t mind, if you have time?

Blog:    The Wrong Man for the Job

I’m not adverse to proper.  Proper speech, proper posture, proper behavior… There’s a proper place and time for everything.  But sometimes, sometimes wrong just feels so right.

In this place, wrong spawns unchecked, destroying everything it touches like an evilly mutated curse of Midas.  And I try my damndest to steer clear of all sources and surfaces of debilitation. 

In this place, it is rare to encounter truly good people.  I don’t mean altar boys convicted of crimes they didn’t commit.  I’m talking about good people, folks with hearts of gold who made copper choices. 

Within these walls are Bible toting evangelists who’ll stab and push your spleen through your back.  Also dwelling within these walls are stone cold murderers, inked head to toe, whom command respect with bearing alone, who pray in secret—humbled by the forgiveness of a higher power, who will fight when threatened, give to the cold the shirt off their backs, and feed the hungry their last spoon of food.

The first man is a poseur, a fool foolishly attempting to fool He who cannot be fooled.  And the biggest fool of all is the fool that follows the fools, so I avoid those types.  The second man, the man you would no doubt label a “thug” on sight, is a man of virtue.  He is my peer, for it is my perception that the blind man who gains sight is of higher value than he who pretends to have sight, shouting directions into the crowd.  The blind leading the blind.

Yes, the repentant killer is who inspires hope in me, that one can sink so low and still rise up.  Kindred spirits, no?  Because of my past, I too will be labeled and stigmatized.  He and I though, with blueprints to build highrise positives and grand productivities, will cross the Statistic River, and transform from “niggas” to enigmas.  Go figure. 

What?  Are you offended?  Please.  Maybe my words are too strong to belong outside of a rap song.  Noo, sometimes wrong is right when wrong makes the statement right won’t make.

Forsake, shake and fake, you live like a fraud. While I keep it real, like I do with God.  By God, you are blushing, hushing my soul?  With the lie that you live and the lies that you’ve told?  That’s cold.

See, I’ve sold enough dope and I’ve shot enough guns, kissed the darkness then chose light for daughter and son.  No more rear view mirrors, no life on the run.  I know who I am now, who I hope to become.  Manifested through lessons of desperate and dumb, realize I’ll move mountains by flexing my thumb!  Not defiant, a GIANT, blessings add to my sum.  Hey, I once was a bird brain, pecking, chasing the crumbs, now awakened and breathing, I am “Jason the Lung.”

Refreshing.  Undressing the wolf in sheep’s wool.  Not worthless.  My purpose?  Divine’s mighty tool.  While you frown and you sneer “he’s all wrong, he don’t fit.”  Since we be’s speaking slang, you ain’t right about shit.

You’ve missed my whole meaning, with a message so strong!  If you’d open your eyes, you’d see right comes from wrong.  See, I’ve been where you’re headed, truth is, I wrote the book.  Went from child to buck wild, crazy crook to great cook.

Accused to accomplished, condemned to complete, use the doubters as steps to success from the streets.  And I wear my wounds proudly, my war cry, my song.  I’ve found me, raw and righteous, now who’s right and who’s wrong?

Joining, coming together, meeting of the minds, do you mind? Mind?  Mine.