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

The joy of a phone call

October 10, 2011 9:12 pm

Dear Jan,

Well, I’m really lost for words this time…and I’m not. Because there’s so much to say and I don’t know how to start.

First off, it was beautiful to hear your voice! Can’t say why, but you sounded so different from what I anticipated. Your voice in my imagination was not as high, crisp, or refreshing. I smiled like a kitten with a bowl of milk for the entire 15 minutes of our call, and then for hours afterwards.

You guys make me feel so special, and hearing the love and excitement is someone’s voice was thrilling. I wanted to call right back and perhaps try to be more calm and composed, but I decided to ride the high and look forward to the next one!

Tell Joe that I didn’t mean to annoy him. I have so many questions but at the time, it was the freshest thing on my mind that I could recall through my excitement, And I do understand that he didn’t study spiders. I just thought that the topic might interest him and he’d want to know for himself as well as for me. It never crossed my mind that people probably ask him random crazy questions all the time. I do apologize.

He sounded pretty much like I’d expected.

That’s the first time I’ve used that phone down here. Crazy how much you learn to appreciate things you once took for granted.

Your poor Broncos. Maybe if they’d started Tebow… I don’t think he’s a good quarterback, but he finds a way to make the plays. He’s exciting to watch. My Texans gave up, but my Saints are playing very well.

Yeah, the “celly dilemma.” I really wish they’d match IQ’s when they pair people. I have to deal with dumb people all the time and it gets frustrating.

However, I develop patience and tolerance with each passing day, each interaction…each time I rise above the normal expectations, I count that as a victory. I win.

I’m really very excited, not only about talking to you but also about the progress of the book! I meant what I said. You guys have invested so much time and work into the book, I want it to do well so that you reap the benefits.

Much to say, much to think, much to do…a day at a time. I’m going to listen to a bit more of this Lions-Bears game and sleep for tomorrow. Long day today, trying to go to commissary. Finally made it, now it’s time to get back in the groove.

In my thoughts, in my prayers, in my heart!!!

Love,

P.S. Did I ask if you’d seen that Google Chrome commercial? Cool stuff!

BLOG Art Lessons

I’ve got my dilemmas, predicaments and misery is a companion I’d love to choke the life out of.  My ex-wife left me high and dry when I was at my lowest and has forced me out of my kids’ lives.  I know that my momma loves me … I think, but she has the strangest way of showing it.  I live amongst murderers, rapists and child molesters.  What I call home is a cement and iron box about six feet wide and nine feet deep, the toilet is two feet away from the head of my bed … er … um …bunk.  And I don’t see the parole board until 2025.

Yeah, it’s that bad.  But is it really?  I mean, don’t get it twisted.  I go through it, I’ve got my blues.  The same imagination that helped to usher me through an eventful yet happy childhood takes me places that I’d really rather not go.  For me, it’s easy to wonder if the world will be less like the place I left and more like Minority Report upon my release.  Will cars fly, will you be arrested for thinking a crime?  Will paper money be obsolete?  “Yes, can I get a #4, super-size the fries and sprite?”  And the robot at the window scans my retina.

If that’s the world I have to look forward to, so be it.  I’ll adjust and adapt.  It’s better than the simply stupid world that I live in now.  But that is not my biggest fear.  Everything that I’ve gone through, I’ve dealt with.  And everything that I’m going through, I’m dealing with.  Experience leads me to believe that everything that I will go through, I’ll deal with.  Do I feel like I have or can do it all by myself?  No.  I realize that my strength to endure has come from loved ones and God.  I’m no fool.  Foolish maybe, but well aware that the man that walks all alone won’t walk for long.  With that knowledge, I stand taller, smile when others sulk, and pray every day. 

When my life was all about me, I was miserable.  If my heart was here with me, it would probably wither, blacken and stop.  However, my heart is in Georgia, Austin, Colorado, Indiana, Houston, New Orleans, Shreveport, Fort Worth and in the heavens.  From all of those places I receive nurturing through love and kindness that my once selfish heart rejected.  For me, love equates strength.  I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been.

Iron bars, flying cars, life on Mars … none of that’s in my control.  What is in my control is my perspective and my peace.  There are the ups and downs.  Any journey has its share of turmoil but instead of letting the land conquer me, I use it for conditioning.

I’m far from perfect, but striving.  Even still, I have my moments of perfections, when a joy so radiant and consuming devours me, washes away my doubts, cleanses my senses, sharpens my outlook and warms my heart.  It is at once humbling and refreshing.  I’m reminded that I’m only a man but clearly aware of my purpose.  My purpose.  At 31, I feel blessed to be aware of what I’m meant to do, what’s expected of me and I’m ready.

 A psychic I’m not.  What the future holds, I can only imagine.  With my heart in the right place … places.  I only know I’ll be happy.  And isn’t it happiness that we all seek, the ultimate pursuit?

Prison, paternity suits, parental paradox, perverts, predators and past passions perished, I prevail, for my peace is priceless.  Perhaps worth pondering?   Predictions, prescriptions, presumptions, prosecution plus the possibility of prosperity persuade the petty with pretty promises.  In the end though, that which I hold most precious is hope.  Hope provides the power to keep on pushing.

Life is only as good or bad as we see it.  When you paint your picture, trying using the colors of love.

Finally a letter from Jason

August 14, 2011  8:29 pm

Woe. So sorry it’s been so long! Truly. First, I didn’t have any stamps because of the lockdown, then when we came back up, there was so much work to be done at work that I had little time for much. Still, that’s no excuse. Plus, I’ve been trying to avoid Mr. Moron. That takes a lot of my time away because I get angry when he speaks to me. It’s not a good situation. I just got through cleaning coffee off of the walls and pencil splinters off of the floor. (I don’t drink coffee or smoke cigarettes). Anyhow, it’s a task living with someone so stupid, but I’m sick of complaining about him.

How are you? Hope you weren’t worried about me. You ought to know that I’m a big boy by now. Aside from Mr. Moron, things have been pretty good. I keep myself busy, so the days are shooting by, and the sooner we escape into September, the better. This heat is unbearable. Nearly 50 days of 100+ temps. Then I’ll read how it’s 122 in Saudi Arabia and thank God that it’s not that hot here.

Thank you for writing anyhow! And the pictures, as always, were beautiful. Often times, I match the photos you send to scenes locked in my mind from books.

My uncle has been busy with training camp so I’ve not seen him. But he will visit soon. Speaking of visits, my mom and brother were supposed to visit this weekend but I guess something came up. It’s okay. As long as they are all right. Oh, I’m disappointed, but life goes on. I know that they aren’t intentionally getting my hopes up, so I remain in good spirits. Got enough here to keep me miserable.

Yes! Football! I am thrilled about the coming season. I got a chance to watch your Broncos play Dallas. Your first team looks good, especially Knowshon Moreno. But Tim Tebow is clueless. God forbid Orton gets hurt. And Dallas is the same Dallas from last year. I can’t believe that they didn’t do anything to strengthen their secondary. They still suck. From what I’ve read, my Saints and Texans both beefed up their defenses. Great! I can’t wait for the season!

I’m gonna need your help again. Not only am I playing fantasy football this year, I’m running the league. And as commissioner, I’ve had to do a bunch of work. Now I need to scout. I know you are busy, but I also know that you don’t mind doing favors for me when you have the time. So, I need lists of the top 50 players at each (fantasy) skilled position, ex: QB, RB, WR, TE, DEF, and Kickers. You don’t have to print the photos out like last year, just the rankings. They can be found at NFL.com or ESPN or USA Today. Also, I need a few images. I’m trying to make a few extra dollars and I need some logos so this guy I know can make stickers for me. The logos I need are the Pillsbury Dough Boy, and two from Houston record labels. One is “Swisherhouse” and the other is “Screwed Up Click” or S.U.C. If you can’t find them, no big deal, but anything you can send on fantasy football will be greatly appreciated. In all, there is $300 at stake this season and I plan to win as much of it as possible.

I can’t believe Rick Perry is running for president. What a jerk!

Not only did I enjoy the Wilbur Smith books, many people have asked to read the books. He’s a pretty popular author. I also enjoyed Centennial. It started slow, but it was really good and informative.

No, no, I wanted to know when you guy’s birthdays were. But a calendar is a good idea. I’ll gather all of the dates.

Got a few blogs here, but waiting for one more before I send them.

Next week I’ll be changing my visitation list. Do I need to put you both on it or just who the phone bill is named for? Because you guys are my Aunt and Uncle, you’ll be added to my contact visit list. The information you’ll need can be found at 866-806-7804 or www.Texasprisonphone.com. It will be a special treat to speak directly to you!

The Ice Princess sent my mom pictures of the kids. They are growing so fast! My goodness! And my baby girl looks just like me. I really miss them! I continue to pray that she’ll eventually let me be a part of their lives, but thinking about them causes me so much pain.

My father also wrote and it pissed me off because he still refuses to be a father. Instead he wants to be my friend and that pisses me off. Still, I wasn’t rude or disrespectful to him.

The articles were very entertaining. I enjoyed reading about that side of Shannon Sharpe. And the photos of the waterfalls…refreshing. I wrap a wet towel around my head, place my fan behind me and pretend I’m on the beach. It works until the towel dries and the hot air from the fan starts to bake me. Come on winter! I’ll take the cold any day.

I’m still amazed at how much I learned about Colorado from Centennial. Amazing.

Well, I better wrap this up. Another long day tomorrow. Glad to see that you are busy and happy. I love my job and try to get as much accomplished each day as I can.

Trust, that even when I don’t write, I love you dearly!

Love,

Joe,

Yes, excellent books! Now I’m anxious to read the remaining ones. Thank you so much for exposing me to a whole new world!

Your blogs are always fun to read and informative. I learn so much while being entertained.

Centennial was also a very good book and from it I learned a wealth of knowledge about Colorado and it’s early people. Batting 1000 so far.

I’ll check on the other book and see if I can get my boss to order a copy if it’s still in circulation.

Right now I’m tired and need rest for tomorrow, but I still have several questions about all sorts of things that I’ll get to.

Do you know what the most poisonous spider is? I’ve been researching it at work but came up empty. And is it lore that the leopard is the most efficient killer of the big cats? I keep trying to explain to these people that panthers are just jaguars, but they don’t believe me.

Thanks for everything,

 

Blog   No Say

Love.

Just what is this emotion?  A good portion of my life has been spent pondering, daydreaming, exploring, probing, testing the limits of, basking in, recovering from, searching for, running from…and I think I know more about love as a child than I do as a 31 year old man.

Or perhaps I understand love and it’s woman that I’m clueless about?  I mean, the love I have for family, especially my kids…man, that love is complete, total, ever reaching and very much understood.

So let’s say that it’s women that has me going in circles.  Am I alone?  Doubt it, seriously.  Any man who says that he has women figured out…well, I’d bet he’s a fool or very, very gay.

Honest truth, I’ve been so deep in love that everything else in the world ceased to exist, and when that love was gone, it took me forever to overcome the suffering, to fill the void left by the absence of that special person.  I’m talking, physical sickness.  Time may or may not heal all wounds, but thank God that it has healed mine.  For the most part.

There are scars that I will wear forever.  However, those scars will protect me in the future.  Like a fighter who suffers a cut to the eye, or a broken rib, he learns to protect himself better in future fights.  My emotional scars have taught me to better defend myself.  Even as eager as I am to share my life and give my love to someone, I will be cautious about how close, how fast I let anyone get to me.  And I’m afraid that I’ll abandon a relationship before I allow myself to be hurt again.

My dilemma.  Will a woman want to fight through my amour?  Will she be willing to understand that it’s not her, it’s the women before her.  The women that I’ve loved the most, some claim to still love me, yet accidentally hurt me all the time.  This does not help my viewpoint.  And I am by no means innocent.  Oh, I’ve caused too much pain in too many lives.  Still, I have no intentions on causing any more pain, nor will I accept pain at the hands of a love.

Those former loves haunt my thoughts, when awake and in my dreams.  These women own all of my free adult life and part of my adolescent years.  They owned my heart, gave birth to my children, taught me, distraught me, caught me, clipped me and now I guess I’m free.  But am I?

No those women have a hold on me.  Lord knows that I want to hate them, but I can’t, my heart won’t allow me.  The only safety I have is to distance myself.  I cannot allow those women back into my life, or more importantly, my heart.

I will be attracted to women because they remind me of those women.  Then I will shut out women for the same reasons.  It is not fair, but it is reality.  I fear that things can be perfect in a relationship, and the first time she does something that one of them did to hurt me, I’m out the door.  Surely I’m doomed.

Am I perhaps looking for something that I’m not capable of possessing?  How can I love without trust?  Do I think I can trust any woman?  Hell no.  So I’m left to pray that one comes along and sees something in me that’s worth fighting for, and that she’s patient and persistent enough to deal with my evasiveness.  Either that, or I meet a woman strong enough to break through my barriers.

However, it plays out, whatever my reservations, I realize that I have very little say so in the whole matter.  I’m at love’s mercy.  And love could care less what I understand, what I’ve been through and what my intentions are.  Sadly enough, a woman convinced of what she wants won’t give a damn either.  Yeah, that’s love for you.