Lockdown again

June 28, 2011

Yes, it did indeed get better! Had to tell the poor chap that it is very important that he give me my time alone. He’s kinda scared of me now, but I can’t help that, just as long as he stays out of my way. Paint me crazy because I don't want to be constantly surrounded by men.

Then, my uncle came Sunday morning, so that was a pleasant surprise! It was warm but breezy outside and as always, we got along great. My mom is supposed to come this weekend.

Had to write a grievance to get the mailroom to tell me that it’s going to cost $5.10 for me to mail the book 70 yards. Crazy! I’m pretty sure that they are scamming on the stamps, but I can‘t prove it.

Well, there’s more to write, and more to respond to, but I’m running right now. Still, you know where my heart is.

Love,

July 10, 2011 8:53 pm

Man, I’ve been thinking about you so much here recently and finally sat down to send you a few lines. Believe me, I’ve been wanting to write, but it’s been so stick-miserable hot, I’ve dreaded sitting up, sticking to every surface writing, but here I am.

Thank you for keeping the letters coming! You know you keep my spirits lifted and I’ve grown to depend on your love.

So much has taken place since I last wrote! It’s like I live in a bad reality T.V. program. Of course, we are on lockdown. AGAIN. Yeah, I know, it’s like every fifth letter is a notification of lockdown. With each day that passes, I despise this clown “running the show” more. And the bastard still has not replaced my property despite his promises. In my opinion, a man isn’t a man if he doesn’t keep his word.

The lockdowns don’t bother me as much as the person behind them, but even the officers are growing weary of his oppressive rule. They don’t want to be bothered with shaking us down and are giving a real halfhearted effort, which is good, makes it easier on us. The heat doesn’t help. I bathe so many times a day, I might as well just sit in a puddle of soapy water.

Loving the job, hating the time away from it though.

Had to have a heart to heart with my celly, made him quit smoking and acting like such a moron. He’s really not a bad dude, just needs guidance. Shame that I keep having to provide guidance to men nearly a decade my senior, but somethings can’t be helped.

My uncle came today! The frequent visits are great, but I know once the NFL lockout is over, he’ll be running with the Cowboys again. It’s cool. I’m grateful just to have him in my life, in any capacity.

Now that he knows he can send photos, he sent me nearly sixty pictures. Mainly of South Beach (where he was following the Mavs during the NBA finals), San Francisco, where he was with the Rangers in the World Series, from the NBA All-star weekend, and of the Dallas Cowboys traveling and practicing. I got a few really cool pictures of D. Wade from the Miami Heat speaking to Rev. Jesse Jackson, Dwight Howard of the Orlando Magic, Kobe Bryant, Shaq, T.O., Ocho Cinco and some others, plus some really good family pictures. His photography of nature, like Joe’s, is awe-inspiring.

He thinks a cookbook is a good idea. I’ve already come up with 47 recipes, not including sweets. I love a challenge.

I see a few people are buying the book. That’s cool. It’s slow but better late than never. My cousin bought a few copies, as did my aunt for some HCC campuses in Katy and Spring Branch. I can never repay you for where you’ve brought me mentally and emotionally!

A very revealing letter came from my mom. I guess you were right. I’ll do my best to reassure her that I’ve never stopped loving her and I never will. We’ll work through it. She and my brother should be here this weekend, but I won’t hold my breath. I do hope that they come, but that’s all I can do is hope.

Being as how it’s lockdown, I began reading The Sound of Thunder (Wilbur Smith) and couldn’t put it down! I didn’t know it was the sequel to When the Lion Feeds. Excellent books. And I see that there are several more. I will make it my mission to read them all!

It was so honest and relative. That’s what I love in a book, the power to make me relate. Although I’ve never been to Africa, mined gold, or hunted elephant, I understood the ups and downs and internal struggles of the characters. A masterful storyteller!  Kopje, Donga and Mehneer are words I didn't understand. Ask Joe if he’d be kind enough to translate again? Please. I mean, I used context clues, but I want it from a pro.

I miss my blogs, too. I truly enjoy them and the adventures within. The Spider Story and A Car Full of Monkeys are my favorites (intoafrica2012.blogspot.com). Or should I say “favourites”?  Don’t fret about the blogs. I know I’ve been inactive on them, but there are at least three darn good ones recorded in my head. I’m just waiting for a nice rainy day so I can comfortably scribble away.

My uncle was able to send 24 legal pads without static from the gates of hell (mailroom), so that’s a blessing. It’s going to cost me $5.10 to mail the book, so I’m just waiting to go back to the commissary whenever we come up.

Well, I hope that catches you up. My sheets are damp under my body and I can’t stand it. Sorry. Still, I love you dearly and will be thinking of you. And writing.

Love,

P.S.  I need a calendar of birthdays so that I don’t forget.

If you have time, I know you are very happily busy, could you see if you can find any workouts that are Maximum Intervals but require no weights or bands? Something that I can do in my cell and burn a lot of calories? There is one called Insanity, but it’s only on DVD as far as I know. Thanks. Trying to get stronger. My workout doesn’t challenge me anymore.

  

Blog - The Running Man

All last night, I ran.

Didn’t sweat much, but I definitely ran, chased by one nightmare, then another.  No, not nightmares with mutant clowns or blood thirsty psychotic panda bears.  Real nightmares, the ones that seem so real that you awake still feeling the pressure, disoriented, then relieved.

The scariest part of it all is I realized that I was just confronting my own demons.  And no matter how many times I woke up during the night, looked at the clock and dozed back off, I still drifted into yet another set of events that were impossible and heartbreaking.  The ones about being stuck in prison forever are always bad, although too close to my reality.  Plus, I hate spending sleep time, valuable time that I could be free, dreaming about prison.  But I can manage those dreams.

It was the first nightmare that set the tone for the night and left me upset even after I woke.  My ex-wife, who has proved herself evil in every possible way, was the monster. I was free, and the woman refused to let me or any of my family have any contact with my children, even going so far as to continually move, relocating so that I could never track down my babies, but sending hateful, taunting emails that shattered my mother, wilted my aunts and broke me down so thoroughly that I felt a hatred so pure and raw that I had trouble praying clearly this morning.

Yet I prayed.  I gave it all away in exchange for a new day, devoid of human monsters and impossible circumstances.  Oh, I’m surrounded by the worst people and awful situation, but in reality, I can navigate through dark around evil.  In my dreams, I’m still at the whim of my subconscious.

The beauty of it all is that I can so easily rid myself of ill outlooks, ill attitudes, foul emotions, like shrugging off a filthy coat, letting it fall to the floor and walking away from it.

Sometimes we stay cocooned in the darkness for so long that it hardens, becomes a shell, cutting off our light, trapping us within our own chaos.  It’s harder to break out of that shell, but it can be done.  Anything can be done, if you believe.

Am I some sort of holy roller?  No, but I believe.  I don’t even call myself a Christian.  A title or label is not necessary for me.  Who am I trying to convince?  I have a relationship with God, it is what it is.  No lightshows, no fancy or heavily worded proclamations.  I can’t recall seeing His face, but I see His hand all of the time, reaching down to help me up, to stay me, to steady me, to push me forward.  His touch has become familiar, causing me to glance to the heavens with a knowing smile.

At my most destructive point in life, I embraced the saying, “Hated by many, loved by few.”  Though, in hindsight, I can only remember one person who hated me.  Me.  Now, having learned to love myself, it’s more like “Loved by many, and I love them, too.  No room in my heart for hate.”  Honestly, I can’t think of one person that hates me, and I don’t hate anyone, not even my ex-wife.  Oh, I dislike several people, disgusted by some, but only because I see the evil that they do and spread amongst others, infecting the good with malice and doubt.  Misery loved companionship, hence the state of the world.

Some of the people dearest to me are not big on God.  Fortunately, God is big on them, people so blessed and special that the Devine is clearly visible in them.  How funny that God doesn’t even abandon those who have abandoned Him!  And He continues to work through them.

Sure, times have been hard, (mostly my doing), and I’ve doubted as I’m sure many have.  A spark of faith is all it takes to kindle the flames of hope.  Hope is worth chasing.

So when I’m not running from myself, I’m running towards what my potential may earn.

Why race myself when I can pace myself.  Tonight, I'll run again, but on my terms.  I’ll run towards my goals.

Jason begins a job in the library

June 6, 2011 9:54 pm

 

And it is pleasant to hear from you, too! Yes, I’m in a pretty good mood. Our friend, Warden Scott, walked through this morning and decided to let us off of lockdown as long as they don’t find anymore weapons. (That will not go over well). He promised that the next time he locks this cellblock down, they won’t get up until Christmas!

He complained about not receiving a copy of the book!  Can you imagine that?  But he is good advertisement.  Every time he sees me he starts in about it to whoever will listen. Unfortunately when I tried to ask him about my property, he became busy and had to run. Last time (last Friday) I spoke to the investigating Sargent, he told me that the Warden knows, but has to be reminded.  So that’s my mission, to see that he gets reminded, because I’m out of there right now. Hadn’t heard anything about any money, then we aren’t scheduled to go to commissary until the 15^th.   We’ll probably go sooner, but you can never say.  Won’t matter much to me if I’m broke.

In other unfortunate news, not even a full hour after they let us up and replaced our TV’s (another cell block’s inmates were in our dayroom yesterday because their cells were being searched – they slashed both of our TV plugs), some idiot, a idiot I know very well, stole the officer’s cup.  Of course, this infuriated the officer who had been nothing but nice to us and made sure we got out of the cells A.S.A.P.  Once again, I tell you, these are the worst people on the face of the earth!

I have to get a job and get off of this wing!  In the chow hall, a dude told me how stupid I was for turning down the kitchen job numerous times and that I must like suffering.  I had no argument.  Now my mercy is in the hands of the librarian. We’ll see.

No, if I get a job and move south, those cellblocks do not go on lockdown half as much as the one’s on this end, and when they do, they come up before this side.

Yes, the North side of the building is the “trouble” side.  Why I’m housed on this side, no one could tell you.

Yes, on lockdown they bring us brown bags, usually with some type of meat sandwich and a peanut putter sandwich.  And since I don’t eat peanut butter, you can imagine what it’s like for me.  Several times last week, they fed us back-to-back bean (cold) burritos, followed by egg salad sandwiches, or corndogs.  Kid meals, snacks, and bad tasting at that.  If you don’t have food in your locker you lose weight.

If you get caught with green money, they drop your trustee (time earning status) several notches and change your custody level, like from minimum custody with privileges and dayroom time and the ability to spend $85 at commissary, to medium custody, no privileges, little dayroom time, and a $35 restriction, plus loss of good time (days counted toward parole) and other restrictions.  Often times there is some solitary in the equation but usually only a few weeks.

I still get excited about the book!  I’ve been writing here and there but awaiting something…can’t put finger on it, but it’s coming.

Went ahead and began reading When the Lion Feeds (by Wilbur Smith) and found myself unable to put it down!   Very, very entertaining.  I have so many questions because the vocabulary throws me.  I figure that most of the words I don’t know are words describing animals and plant life.  But I need to know what “BRAAIVLETS” means?  I’d like to know how to properly pronounce certain works and names.  Like the whip they use for beatings?  Or how do you pronounce “Mbejane” and “Nkosi” which meant what, exactly?  My curiosity can be a pest.

Speaking of daddy long legs again, my spider had a huge sack of eggs in her mouth.  No, I don‘t like it, because I know there will be hundreds of babies on the ceiling!  Not cool.  And I learned something.  I could have sworn that I read that they were poisonous. Feels good to not be ignorant.

Glad that you are still busy and cheerful.  I got back to working out again after a few days break.  Finally got scheduled for a doctor’s appointment regarding almost dying the other day.  I know, I know, but that’s what it felt like, and I’m pretty tough.

Well, read some then get a few hours of sleep before breakfast. Gotta go to breakfast or wake up terribly hungry. Not an option.

Love, 

June 12, 2011  11:40 p.m.

WOW!  A very eventful week!  And I’m so tired!!  I’d decided to wait and write you tomorrow, but my heart said otherwise.

How are you?  Going to have to try to make this letter quick, have to get up in the morning, long day.

Anyhow, since you last heard from me, so much has happened.  Got a chance to go to the commissary, then forgot to buy stamps.  At least I had money.  Don’t know where it came from yet.

My mom sent word that she’d be up here at the end of the month.  My uncle came last weekend, but had to leave early to set up for the Maverick’s game.  As always, we enjoyed each other’s company.

Went to the library Wednesday and decided not to bug the lady about the job she’d offered me.  I spoke as usual, and she told me that she’d submitted my name.  I kinda shrugged if off and thanked her, not really trying to start hoping for a change.  That afternoon, I got moved to the South side.

I love the job!  The environment is great, and the A/C doesn’t hurt, plus the librarian is such a sweet lady.  It’s pretty cool. The cellblock is better, but my celly and I work the same hours and that won’t work out.  He’s all right, but he just has this vibe about him, you know?  I’m not comfortable, so I’m going to move to where the rest of the library workers are.

Yes, I got the book.  Excellent job!  Really, everyone wants to read it.  I tell them they can buy it.  A lot of people are talking about it, though, and that’s cool.  It’s really very well put together, and you did great on the editing.

However, our friend in the mailroom denied one copy because we aren’t allowed to receive duplicate copies. How stupid?  So I have to mail the second copy to the library. Whatever, I’ll do it.  It’s still stupid.  Especially because I never got the last three books that you sent.  And it’s obvious that you didn’t get them back.  Awful.  Sometimes I loathe these people.

Some other stuff has happened too, but I’m too sleepy to remember.

Cool card you sent to the Warden.  Don’t know how he’s going to take it.  Hopefully he doesn’t get too upset, if he even ever sees it.

Write more later.

Love,

Blog - I Believe I Can Fly

I believe I can fly!  Really, I do.  To you it may sound childish or absurd, but it’s the truth.  The world is the sky, and when I abandon all my worries and burdens, I can fly.

High, high, above the clouds I soar, the wind beneath my wings, making my eyes water, slanting my eyes.  I need not flap, but only hope, believe and trust.  Care to join me?

No, I’m not always able to fly.  A good deal of the time, I’m so weighted down with stress and despair that I can’t even jump.  But when I let it all go and place my faith in the hands of my merciful provider, the sky is the limit.

When we are children, just running through an open field without a care in the world made us feel so free that we’d spread our arms, bank left, roll right, swoop and spiral in a giggling wonder that only ended when our energy did, and really not even then.  Even a graceless crash into the high grass didn’t ground us.  We’d lay, sprawled out and giddy, chest heaving, grinning up at the blue expanse, marveling at its magnitude, curious about the dragon shaped cloud drifting directly above.

Then, somewhere along the way, we lose our ability to fly.  We grow too serious, too practical, strapping on the troubles of the world and giving gravity dominion over us.

Some of us will never fly again, too ashamed of the trust required.  Others will only learn, remember how to fly after we’ve hit rock bottom and realize that the only way out of the hole we’re in is up.  Having lost everything but hope, we recall the formula for flight, test the wings of our imagination and faith and take to the skies.

With a child’s heart, you can soar above your troubles, above your worries, and explore the heavens.

You are only as free as your state of mind.  Do you believe you can fly?  Join me.