Peace of Mind through a Psalm

February 20, 2012

My dear lady, you are so overdue for me to pour my heart out.  Yes, the shoulder still aches some but it’s much better.  I should have never tried that stupid exercise.

The weather is still mild, chilly but comfortable enough when I crawl under my blanket.  I’m not complaining.  I’d much rather this slight chill than the sweltering heat of the summer.  Unfortunately, the next major lockdown should fall right in the hottest part of the summer.  I’ll endure that when I get to it.

So far we’ve been locked down since the seventh and we probably won’t be done until the fifth of March.  Yeah, because of the warden, it takes him a month to do what should only take two weeks, then they don’t find half of the phones or knives.  It’s just going through the motions.  They already shook down my cellblock though, so I’m alright.  Still have food, paper, books…

My biggest pain has been this Viking that I live with.  This dude hasn’t brushed his teeth once.  Not one time.  But it’s not his breath that bothers me.  His body odor is….unreal!  He sleeps wrapped up in his coat.  It’s not that cold.  He sweats for 9-10 hours, sometimes more, then pops from under the coat smelling like spoiled cabbage and onions!  Not cool.  I’ve been tempted to take that coat and throw it out of the cell.  Been biting my tongue.  I want to ask how he does not smell that rank, putrid funk.  Seriously, it’s got a four foot reach,  Don’t laugh, it’s bad.  You know how wild animals smell?  That musty, wild, overbearing stink used to warn other animals of their presence?  It’s like that.  He’s just a little boy, though.  Lord bless him.  Like we’ve become accustomed to saying, prison is not supposed to be pleasant, all the more reason to get out and stay out.  I’ll leave this to the so called, gangsters and funky dogs. 

The writing is coming along.  Not forcing it, just letting it flow.  Really, it’s good that you are so busy.  Also been working on recipes.  Wish that I was where I could try them and tweak them to perfection.  How does a marinated grilled chicken breast, stuffed mushrooms, red onions, Monterey pepper jack and Colby cheese, lettuce, beefy tomatoes, thin sliced jalapenos, sliced avocados, two crispy slab slices of bacon, chipotle salad dressing, honey mustard on grilled sourdough (with a teaspoon of the chicken breast drippings spooned on the breast before closing the sandwich) sound?  With a serving of seasoned yam fries and pickles on the side.

Honest to God, I cannot wait to get out of here, run the sun up, shower, work all day, come home, experiment, test my recipes, photograph the finished products, then feed my neighbors in exchange for feedback.  I hate being out of practice, out of the industry.

More and more, I’m considering making the move the Hughes unit to go through the college culinary arts course.  Of course, I love my job now and to leave would break the old lady’s heart.  I’m tired of moving and readjusting, starting over.  I’ve earned a reputation as a gentleman here.  Then more than likely, after I complete the course, Beto will want me back to cook for them and I do not work for slackers.  This food service department sucks.  I want free reign and nurturing of my talents.  We’ll see.

I should have started writing earlier.  I had every intention of writing you one of those good, long cards on the table letters but I’ve got to sort of rush this on so I can make sure that it goes out in the morning.  These officers don’t do much and they don’t want to do the little that they do.

Mainly, what I wanted to say was that I love you!  Sometimes, I may not say it enough, but I need you to know that you’ve touched my life in so many ways and all of them positive.  It’s hard to put into words.  You’ve filled so many voids in my life, played a major part in bringing me out of the doldrums that I was lingering in.  There truly must have been an angel by my side…I can never than you enough!

I was reading A Sparrow Falls and I stopped to think about all you’ve done for me.  You are my angel.

Also, I know you are swamped, but I want you honest opinion, do you think When Hell Freezes Over is good enough to continue and follow through?  I have other stories, but I’m torn between finishing something and starting something fresh.

Everybody keep telling me to push the first one, but I still feel that it would need too much editing, too much cutting to make it respectable.  It’s good….it’s just too raw and I don’t want to go that route, not when I can do better.

You opinion means a lot to me.  And it’s not that I’m in a rush to get something printed, but I feel the need to complete something.  I’m sitting on several short stories and about twelve started novels.

The letters to my children continue to be positive.  Some days it’s just too hard to write them, but other days I just open up and go.

The meal you described sounded mouthwatering! Mmmm!  One day.  I’ll have to send you this recipe I cut out of a magazine for a pork roast.  It looks delicious.

Africa is in your sights, huh?  So cool!  I know you guys are going to have a blast.

Speaking of Africa, it seems that each Wilbur Smith book gets better.  I really liked this last one, but I was so glad when Dirk Courtney died, although the deaths of Ruth and Sean hurt me deeply.  I’m preparing to start Birds of Prey, perhaps tonight.

Well you know you are in my heart, in my thoughts and in my prayers!

Love,

ESSAY - Understanding Autumn

Let it go.

No, really, let it go…because I have.

And what good does it do for us to hold on to our mistakes once we’ve learned our lessons?  Understand.  Understand that I indeed tortured myself, clutching the profound stupdity of my errors to my soul with the white, bloodless fingers of my regret, replaying every minute of detail of the “what was” and grievously mourning for the loss of “what could have been.”

And then…and then…when at last it seemed I’d reached my end, a message from God sought me out through a friend.  Psalm 37, verses 8-9 said that “anger and worry” were a waste of my time.  So I gave Him my problems and I gained peace of mind, of the kind that’s so cleansing that I laughed out loud and clear, didn’t care who was listening, didn’t care who may hear.  With a smile ear to ear, I knew that I had grown, and in order to grow, one must set free their wrongs, shed them like golden-brown leaves from a tree, as the seasons bring change…autumn lives within me.

You would have to be me…to see what I saw…to feel what I feel, unblemished and raw.  For love is not meant to keep secret and hidden, it too should be freed and uncovered, unbidden.  So I did what my heart said, for my heart knows no rules, to put boundaries on love is the doctrine of fools.

If love is a crime, forever I’ll be imprisoned, criticized for compassion, ridiculed for my vision.  Don’t you see the division of the body and soul, how we’re taught to love less and less as we grow old?  Like the first bitter winds of winter…hate dwells where once was…and cold fills the void in men who’ve long lost love.

I refuse.

Yes I choose to love you, and love him, and love her and love me, and love they and love them!  I will swim on love’s currents in the ebb and the flow, and soar past the boundaries that my heart doesn’t know.  I’ll live as God sees fit, not by man’s hindered plans.  And if ever you’ve loved me, surely you understand?

Understand that I’ve changed, and for the better, because where there once was so much hatred, now there is only love.  Where there once was resentment, now there is contentment.  Where there for too long were problems, now there is potential.

Do not hold it against me that I still “feel” even in this place of bricks and stone, iron and rust, disgust and mistrust.  Instead, be joyful that I still “feel” in spite of it.

ONE

 

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.

Life in Prison gets Jason Down

May 16, 2001 10:07 p.m.

 

Oh, Prison Life indeed!  How are you?  Good, I hope. I was avoiding writing you because I didn’t want to infect you with my funky mood.  But I couldn’t continue to not write you, so here I am.

So much nothing has happened.  Can’t lie, I was disappointed to learn that the book is not selling, because you did so much work, and it makes me feel lonely, like a failure. I thought for sure that my family would have bought copies at least.  That’s so very discouraging and I don’t want you guys to feel like you’ve wasted time and resources.

More bad news, I’ve not received the books.  The mailroom has been on some stupid stuff lately about invoices, so I don’t know what’s going on. I think if you report them to the main office they’ll leave us alone. They denied another guy’s paper for the same reason, but that’s bull, nothing is shipped from those stores without an invoice, you know?

And they get away with so much because people don’t listen. This is probably one of the most corrupt industries in our country. Oh, this guy will probably write, please don’t think that I just go around handing out your address, but people ask about me and the book, and you, and the back-story, and everyone has a story. I try to be discerning…but this guy’s tales of mistreatment are unreal, and I don’t see him enough to have relayed the story. He’s probably going to die in here from malpractice, so he’s no threat, but I figured you’d want to at least hear his story.

More Bad, we went on lockdown this morning for only God and Warden Scott know how long! They found a knife over here last week.  Came back today with the professional search squad and found like 13 more, one that looked like a sword!  So we are locked down.  I knew it was coming, but I thought I’d have moved by now.  Just my luck, I’ll miss out on the library job because I’m on lockdown.

The good news is, I’ve got a little food stored up and I’ll have plenty of time to write.

Sleepy now, much more to say but it’s been a long, stupid, day! Sat in the gym for hours in my boxers being cursed out and freezing. Then I come back (9am to 5pm) to find my mat gone along with my sheets and blanket. My leg hurts, I missed my doctor’s appointment…Tomorrow has to be better! And worst of all, I don’t have, want, or need a knife. I’m tired of paying coward’s debts.

Love,

P.S. Oh yeah, college started today.  I missed that.  But my uncle asked about the book. Still haven’t received my property.

 May 22, 2011 8:59 p.m.

One of those days! Naw, nothing fouler than the norm, but it’s been a doozie.

Finally drug out of bed at noon and made myself workout, but I haven’t done much else besides lay around. Crazy too, because I made a “to do” list and kinda just loafed around. I was supposed to write you, (I’m on that now), edit those blogs, write more of the book out and write more of the short story I’m working on. I did write more of the short story, but I do better at writing horror late at night when it’s quiet and my imagination can be delightfully wicked.

That’s what happened last night.  I was writing and I kept seeing a jeep full of teenagers cut off an old Ford on a country road.  I couldn’t shake the image, so I started writing. It’s coming along. That’s how most of my short stories develop, I see the characters and they won’t let me rest. Crystal, Rochelle, Chris, and Brennan kept me up until almost four in the morning, but I got a lot of very good writing done. Plus, when I get back to the book, it’ll flow.

Good and bad news on that.  Good news:  I came up with the remainder of the book and wrote it out (summarized). Bad news:  it’s going to take a lot of writing. I’ve got 89 completed now, pre-edit. I’m guessing I’m looking at 300 plus pages. I’ve done it before, though, and I can’t cheat the story. I just can’t.

I keep stressing about stamps.  I’ve got some, and I probably won’t need to write anyone else but you, but there’s no telling how long this stupid lockdown will last.  They told us 30 days.  Could be shorter, could be longer, depends on if they find any more knives. Hopefully they won’t and we’ll be up by the next Monday, but I can’t underestimate the stupidity of my fellow inmates. They are pretty damn stupid.

The humidity is likely a factor in my laziness. Friday and today it was super sticky and thick. I was so tired after working out!  This stuff is like a blanket, draining your energy. Chilly at night, hot and muggy during the day.  Ick!

My celly is all right.  He’s not an idiot and that helps. He pretty much stays in his bunk so he’s out of my way.  I’m four times more active that he is.

Right, I can only have “money” in my trust fund.  No, no checks or paper money.  We call commissary items “money.”  Like if someone owes me $3.00, they might give me three strawberry sodas – 35 cents each ($1.05), an apple pie – 65 cents and five chili soups – 25 cents each.  All together that's $2.95. You see? However, there is paper money in here, but it is illegal. Doesn’t matter if you get caught with $200.00 or $2.00 green money, you’re out of here.

Wait, let me back track. You were referring to the celly I had that owed money?  Oh, him.  No, sometimes dudes will have someone on the outside deposit money in another inmate’s account for one reason or another.  In this instance, the dude who put money in my old celly’s account probably wanted to buy more than his allowed $85.  So he put $60 in the other guys account with the intention of paying the guy $15 to buy him $45 worth of commissary. But my old celly only bought his $15 and didn’t pay the guy his $45.he left it in his account.  That’s a no win situation though.  It’s all against the rules.

When no one sends money, my account stays empty.  The money I make from cakes is really how I survive since family is so off and on.  The major drawback is that the cake income is mostly stuff I don’t use so I have to trade it out, which is a hassle. I pray for the day that I can support myself. I could do well on $50 a month along with my hustle, and live great for $100.  I won’t give up hope though.  If I can get my uncle to get me a subscription to Writer’s Digest I’m going to consider some of those contests.  Entry fees, though.  Soon.

Kats get drugs from guards mostly. Sometimes from people that come to visit, but mainly the guards bring it in.  They get paid extreme amounts of money for it because it sells so high.  Like when I left, from 5 to 7 ½ grams of regular weed cost $10.  In here, 7 ½ grams will bring you $75 to $100.

Oh, thanks for the encouragement, but I’m pretty good about sticking to my guns.  Getting high becomes less and less appealing. That chapter in my life is over.  I had a lot of fun but I accomplished nothing.  Now I have to work twice as hard.  I won’t smoke my future.

Speaking of bugs, when there’s time, could you look up some information about daddy long legs (something with illustrations if possible). I want to know more about my pet and the related species. Is it a “true” spider?”  Is it true that they are highly poisonous? Female and male characteristics?

Think I told you that I 4.0’d again last term. Unfortunately, this term is screwed already Psychology will have to wait, it seems. Stupid lockdown.

Well, better wrap it up. My next letter will be a long one. Till then, oodles of joyous thoughts of you!

Love,

P.S. Joe’s blogs are awesome.

Blog - Lord Knows

“Lord Knows.”  More than just words in a Tupac song, the truth.  The Lord does know, and if you think that he doesn’t…

For so long, too long, I thought that I could hide from God, sneak around Him, do things my way, and live my life the way I wanted to. But as I lost more and more, as my life fell into shambles around me, the realization became blindingly clear that without God I am truly a lost lamb wandering, blundering and stumbling into the devil’s traps and snares.

It’s funny because we sing songs about Santa Claus knowing about being naughty or nice, but we don’t mention that the Lord knows.  Well, I know that He knows and it’s changed my life tremendously.

I can’t explain it, I’ll try though.  It’s like, when you know you’re doing wrong, that feeling of guilt or shame that hovers over your head…yeah, I got more than enough of that and decided to change my ways. Period.

The streets welcomed me at the tender age of 11, and I didn’t run the streets, I sprinted through them.  By the age of 17 I could pinpoint the headlights of any Crown Victoria, Caprice, 5.0, Camaro, and Impala through the rearview mirror.  Any car that a law enforcement officer might drive, I knew it front and back, headlights to taillights, daylight or night time. And that was something I was pretty proud of, felt like I was one step in front of the law.  Maybe I was. However, I wasn’t smarter than God.  Lord knows.

There comes a point in life when you get tired of running, tired of looking in the rearview mirror, looking over your shoulder, or at least I did.  I got tired of running from the law, running from my responsibilities, running from my potential, and running from God.  Even after my incarceration, I continued to drink, smoke, steal from the kitchen, running from reality, running. Run long enough, you get tired.  You can run yourself to death, collapse on the side of the road, or stop, get your bearings and begin to walk toward your goals, because you can’t outrun God.  Lord knows.

My former cellmate was a complete loser, in every sense of the word.  He was unclean, unkept, unmotivated, and uninspired.  He lied for no good reason, refused to get up and go to work, or shower, always hopping up at the last minute, running around the cell in a collared shirt and boxer shorts (not cool anywhere, definitely not in prison) like a chicken with his head cut off.  He’d gamble obsessively with money that didn’t exist on teams he didn’t know anything about.  Then he’d talk about his “Christian brothers” and how he just strayed a “little” from his “walk.”  He played dangerous games, and kept playing until his life was in danger then caught out (left under the protection of a Sargent) owing nearly $80 unpaid.  I’m glad I didn’t have to live with him anymore, but it’s sad that he thinks he’s out run his problems, that he’s gotten away.  He’s too foolish to realize that the Lord knows.

The Lord always knows, and knowing that he knows, I no longer carry the shame and guilt from doing wrong but instead, catch myself smiling up at the heavens as I recognize my blessings. It’s easier to do the right thing, so I do, and I glow, because I know that the Lord knows.