Waiting on the Inside

And the bureaucracy strikes again

2011-12-18T19:17:00.000-08:00

Here's another example of bureaucracy at work.

I had a visit with my parents today, and I was told by the officer in the back where the inmates enter that I would be having a non-contact visit behind the glass.

"That's not right. Would you mind checking up front to make sure?"

After a quick phone call: "Yeah, it's non-contact."

We only get three contact visits each month here, so I started doing the math in my head. I've had one contact with my parents and will have another with my brother next week. New Year's Eve I have some friends coming but...ah, my parents think my friends can have a contact visit so they are saving one for them. They don't know that only family can have contact visits.

I told the officer my deduction and said to clear it up as soon as I got to the window.

As soon as I sat down across the plexiglass from my parents, I picked up the phone and explained the situation. My mom left to ask the front desk if we could move to contact. One officer seemed to be congenial but the officer on duty would not allow it. Next, my father went to talk to the warden.

My parents had called ahead to schedule a non-contact visit instead of contact. The warden said he would change the visit to contact except the visit had already started. We had not been sitting for more than 30 seconds out of a two-hour visit while I explained the situation to my parents! Thirty seconds! I think it was actually that he did not want to go back into the computer to change the visit and instead did what was easiest.

On my way out of visitation I told the officer in the back what had happened. "If they called back here, I would have told them your visit had just started," he said. "You weren't in there but maybe 30 seconds."

My thoughts exactly.

Silly school

2011-12-17T18:50:00.000-08:00

I came to this unit to take a four-month class before being paroled. I'm not entirely sure why I'm required to take the class since I had three years of relevant counseling before prison and did not commit a new crime, but had technical violations that revoked my probation. I even wrote a letter to the parole board that shared my history and counselor's high opinion of my rehabilitation.

I started the class last week, so apparently the parole board neglected my letter and I must stay until at lest March 30th. The teacher is a short Hispanic woman in her late fifties who was fired when another re-entry program, Project RIO, was shut down by the state, then rehired to teach this class. She has made it clear that this is not rehab or treatment, but merely and educational class.

As I paged through the workbook we were given I saw that all the material is a less-detailed version of what I went through with my counselor. When I mentioned this to teacher after class, her response was, "Well, I guess you'll have your answers prepared and you can help me teach the class."

It seems to me that if there are so many people waiting for this class that my own parole is delayed eight months, the system could do a better job of prioritizing who does or doesn't have to do the class. All of this is done to appease the public - "See, we do rehabilitate these guys before putting them on the streets." - and take advantage of grant money. I know I'm dealing with a giant government bureaucracy so I shouldn't expect anything in the neighborhood of perfection but, c'mon, I've done this stuff before. Let me go home.

2011-12-10T10:43:00.000-08:00

"...He found a way to live with the aloneness, to say "Yes" when he asked himself if the Pearl would be worth the price he paid, day after day. Night after night. Year after year.

Who could speak of such things? Not Emilio Sandoz who, for all his facility with many languages, remained tongue-tied and inarticulate about the center of his soul.

For he could not feel God or approach God as a friend or speak to God with the easy familiarity of the devout or praise God with poetry.

And yet, as he had grown older, the path he had started down almost in ignorance had begun to seem clearer to him. It became more apparent to him that he was truly called to walk this strange and difficult , this unnatural and unutterable path to God, which required not poetry or piety but simple endurance and patience.

No one could know what this meant to him."

~ Mary Doria Russell, The Sparrow

Empathy AND Common Sense

2011-12-06T10:29:00.000-08:00

It didn't take long for me to get my first disciplinary case at this unit. Once I finished working last night I sat down at a table in the dayroom to finish a letter i had started earlier. As I penned the last line a guard came in and told me to stop writing and get back to work. I replied that I had completed my job but she told me I needed to sit on the benches anyway. When I got tot he benches i put the letter in its envelope and waited to be allowed to shower.

The next morning I was called out by a sergeant at 6 AM and made to wait outside in the freezing weather for thirty minutes in my jacket without a hood or zipper. Finally I was called in and told I had received a case for "failure to obey a direct order, namely continuing to write when told to stop."

"What's your statement?"
"I did stop writing."
"That's it?"
"Yes, sir."
"What really happened?"

I told him what occurred and added that I was actually working on my day off. At this remark the sergeant's eyes narrowed in a questioning manner. We don't have enough dorm janitors so I come out on my day off and clean the two dorms some nights. Did he really think it would be fair to punish someone who picks up the slack?

"Don't worry about this case and I'll look into getting more janitors assigned to your building. But, in the future, don't be writing while you're working, OK?

"Yes, sir."

Amazing. Empathy and common sense.

“A house without books is like a room without windows.” *

2011-12-01T09:22:00.000-08:00

I'm really beginning to dislike this unit. In Venus many guards had at least a little bit of empathy and common sense but I haven't seen much of wither here in Dayton. Today I went to the mailroom where I had three books denied to me. TO understand my frustration better (although having books denied for any reason is frustrating) allow me to give a little bit of background.

I had heard that while I am in the education program I am not allowed to receive books, so when I got here my mother called the unit to ask if I could receive books or not. The answer was yes, I would receive them. She ordered the books that day but they arrived the day I started the program. Somehow that day was different than the day before and the books were denied.

When I went to the mailroom I was given paperwork to sign and when I started to ask questions, the lady snatched the paperwork form my hand and said I would have to leave. I have been blessed with an enormous amount of patience so, even after being treated so rudely, I calmly asked to talk to the mailroom supervisor. I explained the situation to her but she was adamant that I could not get the books just because I had started the program. I told her that I could get the same books in the library if they were on the shelf. Her to that was that she doesn't think we should be allowed to use the library, either. Really? What kind of crazy rehab doesn't allow you to educate yourself?

The books I will be sending home - at a cost of $4.46 postage and $1.27 for the jumbo envelope - were as innocuous as they come: Quantum (about the the history of quantum physics), Innovator's DNA (about what makes entrepreneurs successful), and Luminarium (a sci-fi novel.) I was told the only books I could receive are religious texts and textbooks. I feel like a blanket denial on everything else is just plain wrong. I worked as a librarian in Venus because I believe education changes people for the better. If you feel the same way, let me know by leaving a comment on my blog or, if you want to do something more active, write the TDCJ Programs Director:

Madeline Ortiz
Director, Rehabilitation Programs Division
PO Box 99
Huntsville, TX 77342-0099

* Horace Mann

A (true) Nightmare Story

2011-11-23T13:33:00.000-08:00

WARNING: The following (lengthy) report of events will probably only serve to increase your seething frustration with unjust government bureaucracies, specifically, the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (a misnomer if there ever was one.)

Six months after I was supposed to leave for a rehab program and more than a year after I originally received my parole answer, I am finally at the unit where the program takes place. This entire week has been nuts so far because of the trip and all the unknowns through the process.

At 1 a.m. Monday morning I was wakened and told to pack my stuff. I was on transit. No one could tell me where I was going, just that i was leaving. I could be going straight home, to an evaluation and back to Venus, or to a four-month rehab program. Or I could be going anywhere because TDC does whatever they want. I quickly got a nervous, sick feeling in my stomach and was constantly drinking water to keep dry mouth at bay. I hate dealing with unknowns like this.

I packed my stuff into three plastic mesh onion bags - one that would go with me filled with hygiene products, books, and legal paperwork; the second to be picked up by my family filled with old letters and card games I can't take with me; the third filled with the rest of my property that didn't fir into the first bag to be sent to me in a few weeks via TDC truck mail.

Around 4:00 a.m. the cell doors were opened for breakfast and West came out to talk for the last couple of hours before I left. We kept trying to figure out what was going on and where I might be going. No progress was made.

As we talked, people kept coming to the table and wishing me luck, some that had never said a word to me before. When we went to breakfast, I saw a few friends and asked them to pass on the news of my departure to guys in other parts of the unit.

The call came at 6:30 a.m. for me to grab my mattress, pillow, and clothes and to head for the chain room. The chain room is where all incoming and outgoing inmates are processed into or out of the unit, exchanging TDC clothes for MTC (the private company that runs the unit that I am leaving) clothes. "Chain" is prison for "transit" due to the chains of handcuffs we are put into for each trip.

While in the chain room my friends Omar and OJ dropped by. It was probably wishful thinking that told me I was simply going to an evaluation to decide whether I would be put in the rehab program. Since professionals in the past have told me that I am the lowest risk for re-offending that they have ever seen, I figured that it would be quickly determined that the rehab program was unnecessary and I would be sent back to Venus until a parole address was approved. With this process in my head, I told Omar and OJ that I would be back in a couple of weeks. When the mailroom lady stopped by and asked if she needed to find a new Elvis for the talent show (see blog entry Friday, December 3, 2010), I told her the same thing.

At 8 a.m. all of us on chain were shackled individually - hands to waist and feet together - and corralled onto a small bus that looked like it belonged to an assisted living center. Three hours later we reached our first drop off in Huntsville, then hit the second near noon. I wasn't scheduled to get off until we reached the Huntsville unit in "downtown" at 1:30 p.m.

The Huntsville unit, also called the Walls, was one of the first prisons in the state, going back to the mid-19th century. This is where every execution takes place and the red brick walls have many stories to tell. The corner of the unit where I came in contains the crumbling state prison rodeo stadium where it is said that inmates would attempt to pluck $100 bills form the horns of a bull. The rodeo is lone since defunct and I overheard the officers say that the winning bid to tear down the stadium was just over $40,000. Despite the nation's progress toward newer prison operations, the Walls' outdated form of incarcerations lives on in Texas.

After arriving at the Walls I had to wait outside in a cage (a common theme of the trip - I felt like a head of cattle) until being ushered past the industrial buildings of the unit and into a converted gym. The industrial building was built in 1949 and was dedicated to the governor at that time, Shivers. The gym's side walls had closed in like a trash compactor and the floor had a series of six cages where inmates were being stripped, inventoried, and sorted. This process took a couple of hours with lots of standing around waiting. After being sorted, I was given a cell assignment on the sixth floor of an old-school cell block overlooking the gym floor.

The cell already had one occupant, a German who had been there 33 days. That doesn't sound very long until you realize that this cell was the smallest I've encountered yet - just six feet by nine feet - and had most of the space taken up by the sink, toilet, bunk beds and property we carries. The walls were covered with scribblings of departure dates (the Walls was also where everyone was released until a change last year), Scripture and artwork. The art varied form portraits of family or Christ to sexual images and gang symbols. It felt like the most cramped and unclean place I had seen yet. I was grateful to know that this was only an overnight stay.

Dinner at the Walls came at 8 p.m. and we walked through a courtyard where we could see where executions take place. I was told that two executions were held a few weeks ago - probably one of the Jasper "truck draggers" - and the bodies were wheeled out as guys walked past on their to dinner. Creepy.

After dinner I read a few pages before going to sleep. I only had one hour of sleep before being wakened for chain that morning, and I was exhausted physically and emotionally. Unfortunately, I was wakened at 10 p.m. to begin the departure process, which was the same process done earlier that day, only backwards and we a had two-hour break for breakfast around 2 a.m. From the cages inside, we headed to the cages outside to wait for our transportation to arrive. At this point I still did not know my final destination and was still hoping to do a short trip then back to Venus before going home.

While waiting in the cages outside, rain began to fall around us. We were protected from above by a corrugated tin roof, but collecting rainwater on the ground threatened to soak our property, so I was forced to hold mu bag of books and such off the ground. This same storm hit Venus as we were leaving the day before and I would see it again getting off the bus at my current unit.

My bus arrived at 6 a.m., two hours after I came out to the cage. I headed to Hightower, the unit in Dayton where I spent a month over two years ago. My heart sank. No evaluations are done at Hightower, just the rehab program. If I start the program as soon as i arrive there, I will get out in April or May with only a month or two before discharging my entire sentence.

I was upset that I wasn't picked up last May as scheduled and more upset that my lawyer and nearly every other official involved in my case had told me that I would only be incarcerated for two or three years at most. If I had been picked up for the program on time I would have been home with family and friends now for the holidays. Instead I'll be sharing the holidays with me, myself and I over a tray of poorly cooked prison food. I may still have a chance at trying to the administration that I don't need the program, but that chance is very slim.

We arrived at Hightower in the rain and had to wait in another cage outside. I kept my back to the wind and held my property close to my chest so the driving rain didn't get to it. Hours later, our stuff was inventoried, the guard told us to carry our property into the rain and to strip to be searched. All my effort was for naught as my legal paperwork, letters and books got soaked. I was angry and in disbelief, but far too sleep-deprived to do anything. Once we entered the unit we were made to wait in yet another outdoor cage to see the warden, classification and. I was given a job as a nighttime janitor, the same job I had last time I was here.

When I got to my cell around 12:30 p.m., I unpacked everything and laid it our on my bunk to dry. It wasn't until after 3 p.m. that I received dry clothes and a mattress (no pillows here). About five hours in wet clothes. After dinner at 4:30, I crashed out. I'd had only four hours sleep in the last 58 hours, so I was knocked out quickly.

This has been a long and crazy week so far, but I'm one step closer to coming home. Too bad I'm nearly 300 miles form home and back to the authoritative arms of TDC. I just hope this time flies by and I'm home before I know it.

In-and Out (not the burgers...)

2011-10-13T13:03:00.000-07:00

Here's another story of mind-bending logic form behind prison walls. This unit has recently started doing in-and-outs (no, not the burgers). The cell doors in each dorm are now supposed to be closed at all times, except for two short intervals near the top of each hour. During those intervals we are to get anything we want to take to the dayroom with us and to use the restroom. Or we can stay in our cells for the hour. This doesn't work well here because we don't have restrooms outside the cells like other units and we don't have panic buttons in the cell if something happens. Anyway, on with the story.

West's morning routine involves brushing his teeth in the shower each morning so he doesn't wake his cellmate. This morning the officer did in-and-outs while West was brushing his teeth in his boxers. After West finished brushing, he asked if his door could be opened so he could get his clothes and stuff for work.

Most of the time officers don't really care if a door is opened. They are usually accommodating and practice common sense. If someone needs in, the door is generally opened, then closed after the inmate is finished. Because the policy is so new, however, the practice is far from consistent; even the length of intervals is different depending on the officer on the floor.

This morning the officer denied West's request. Even though West needed to go to work fifteen minutes later, the officer would not open the door for him. West asked the officer to call a sergeant to come resolve the situation, but the officer said no again. The officer encouraged West to go to the security office himself but West protested that he was only wearing his boxers. The officer told him to go anyway and opened the door to the hallway. When West stepped into the hallway, the officer called him back and said would call a sergeant.

When the sergeant arrived she told the officer to immediately open West's door and instructed West to get clothed and come to the security office before going to work.
While West got ready, the sergeant told a lieutenant, who just happens to have had a target on West for years, what had happened. As soon as he arrived in the security office, West was handcuffed and taken to segregation because he had "caused a disturbance." Crazy.

Hopefully, he will be let out of segregation soon, but in any case, the situation defies logic and shows the complete lack of power inmates have, even when they are right.

Passing the Buck

2011-10-04T12:55:00.000-07:00

Last October I received a parole answer saying I would be enrolled in a rehab program in May 2011 and released on parole in September 2011. Obviously, neither has occurred. I sent a letter last month to both the parole board and to the director of programs for Texas Department of Corrections asking what the delay was and what I could do to speed up the process.

I just received as "answer" from TDC tonight in the mail, two weeks after my initial letter. The director of programs thanked me for writing and stated that she would forward my letter to a manager. Thanks for passing the buck!

Bad Teacher! - Part II

2011-09-28T12:07:00.000-07:00

Remember the crazy business guy that taught my friend, Shane, the wrong stuff so that he would be dependent on his teacher to be successful? Well, I ran into him a couple of days ago - easy to do on a unit of 1,000 men - and he said that he would give me a shot with my business questions.

The reason I came to him in the first place was because I want to start my own graphic design business when I get out and, while I know a bit about the graphic design part, I don't know much at all when it comes to business. I hoped to get a good idea of how to actually operate my business.

Today we started on accounting and how to get the business off the ground. I can tell he doesn't have a good idea of what a cash-strapped start-up needs to do because e keeps giving advice for pricey services like a CPA and an attorney, but most is solid, like how to organize costs and revenue.

I think I will learn some essentials over our next few sessions but I also think I would learn more by watching the processes. My biggest problem is not knowing what to ask about. I'm just that oblivious. I can't wait to get out and dive into it, though. Experience is the best teacher, right?

Databases, code and fantasy football

2011-09-22T11:48:00.000-07:00

My friend, West, works in maintenance as a clerk and has just taken over in the parts room. He has to keep track of what was ordered, when and how often parts are issued out for jobs on the unit. With that info, he gives a monthly report on how much money was spent and how much the department needs to order for the next month.

And it is all done on paper.

West asked me last week if i could build a database for the parts room to make things work more smoothly and easier. After getting permission from West's boss, I went back to maintenance and built a structure for the in Access. It took a while since I didn't know everything the database needed to it would be used. Once the skeleton was assembled, I asked West to populate it with fake data and make some forms to help see how it would be. He also me a list of functions wanted as we discussed project back at the dorm.

With the foundation in place and an idea of what needed to be done, it was time to get dirty. Access is not the best or easiest-to-use development tool for making programs, but it is the best we have available. I probably wouldn't be good at any others since I have almost zero experience. Most of the functions need to be added in with Visual Basic, which I am slightly familiar with after working on the book cart program in the library. The first bit of work on the parts room program was easy to set up. Then West kept asking if this certain thing was possible or if this tweak could be made. All of what he has asked for is possible, I'm sure, but I just have to figure out how to code it. Sometimes the process of discovery can take days, though joy of figuring out the solution is definitely worth it.

To give myself a break from the parts room program I have been fine-tuning and adding functionality to the fantasy football program I made to track stats and scores for the seven leagues in the unit. It's a lot of fun taking a rough product and transforming it into a lithe, easy-to-use beast. Hopefully, I can do that with the parts room program before I leave.

LENIN - AND OTHERS - FOR BEGINNERS

2011-09-13T10:52:00.000-07:00

During lockdown last month I read a graphic novel called A Drifting Life that is a history of post-war Japanese culture and comics, as well as a kind of autobiography of its author, Yoshihiro Tatsumi. When I mentioned the book to my parents, my dad asked, "Oh, is it like Lenin for Beginners?" I'd never heard of it, so he explained that it was a comic he read in college that was a biography of Lenin and his place in the Russian revolution.

Yesterday I received a pass to the mailroom that stated I had a package waiting for me. When I went to find out what came in, I saw that it was a copy of Lenin for Beginners with a companion, Trotsky for Beginners. Interesting. Even better was that they were both original editions from the late 1970s. It's wild to me that books sympathetic to communism were in wide circulation while the old War was far from over.

Today I received two more Cold War-era comics from the same series: Marx for Beginners and Nuclear Power for Beginners. My cellmate joked with me that my dad was trying to turn me into a communist. Far from it, I thnk he was trying to expose me to some cool history in an engaging way. I can't wait to dig in.

Bad teacher! Bad! Bad!

2011-09-09T10:22:00.000-07:00

When I get out I plan to go back to school and pursue a degree in architecture. However, that won't be until next fall. Untill then I will be working at least part-time with the non-profit I worked for prior to my incarceration and also trying to start my own design/advertising business in the Metroplex area. I should be home later this month or early next month, so I've been trying to take advantage of my time to plan out the business.

My friend, Shane, had a mentor here that taught him quite a bit about busness. I've talked to his mentor in the past and he seemed to be sharp, so I figured he would be a good resource to tap into to help me with my plans. I asked him Tuesday if he would be willing to give me some assistance, but didn't get a straight answer. He just asked me to come back the next day to talk. I've been looking for an answer each day since and didn't get one until I pressed him today and he said no. Along the way I found out some pretty sketchy things, and part of me is glad he said no.

All week he has complained that the inmates in the state prison are liars and don't follow through with what they say they will do. He says his students in the federal prison actually wanted to learn and weren't just learning to have something to do. I think part of that is because inmates in the state don't really have any responsibilities and are often looking for ways to pass time while expecting handouts.

The thing that upset me was that he said he doesn't teach correctly - on purpose. The whole time he teaches he feeds lies to his students until they get out. Then he instructs them to contact his lawyer for further instructions. He makes his students beholden to himself rather than independent. Sketchy, eh?

The reason he told me "no" was becasue I was going to be independent and he wouldn't profit from it. In defending himself he tried to use Harvard as an example. People pay huge amounts of money to go to a school like Harvard. He said he was like Harvard. However, I countered, Harvard recognizes talent and will provide scholarships for excellent students. There is such a thing as a free edcuation. It seems his only satisfaction comes from money, of which he will get none from me.

If it's fall it must be football

2011-09-01T09:53:00.000-07:00

Fall is here (well, almost) and you know what that means - football, and along with football comes fantasy football. I shouldn't be here too much longer, but the fantasy season will help pass the time. This year's should be better than last year, too, since we have a fantasy football approved for rec.

A few weeks ago West and I got to talking abou the season and he mentioned that it would be cool to get more people playing or if we had a unit-wide fantasy league. It sounded good to me, too, but how would it happen? We had an idea - if basektball, chess and volleyball had tournaments at rec, why not fantasy football?

For a rec activity or tournament to be legit, it must first be approved by the assistant warden. West and I argued over who would ask permission before we agreed that West would type up the paperwork and I would ask the assistant warden to sign.

When I walked into his office, the assistant warden greeted me and said, "Come on in and sit down. Sheesh, every time I see you, you always look so serious. Lighten up!" That was certainly not what I expected. I explained that we would like to start fantasy football leagues at rec to get guys interested in the football season and keep them at least a little occupied. He was all for it on one condition: the paperwork at rec and in the dorms had to be neat. No problem there. West can type stuff up at work in maintenance.

We had over sixty guys sign up, which gave us enough for five leagues. This whole week has been a string of drafts for each league. It's been busy for me but gratifying to see so many guys excited aboout the season, even guys who have never played fantasy football. Should be fun.

A different kind of job

2011-08-25T15:22:00.000-07:00

This morning I was sleeping nicely, with my covers over my head and a few sheets of thick paper in the window to keep out the light, when my door started clicking, meaning the picket officer wanted our attention for something. When I opened the door to see what he wanted, I saw the commissary lady standing below my row.

"You want to help with the commissary truck?" she asked.

I'd been in my cell for the last three days on lockdown so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get out and move around.

My dorm was shaken down (searched) yesterday so now I'm free to work, as long as I am called out. The library isn't doing inventory this go 'round so they don't need my help. But most of the commissary workers are still waiting to be shaken down and there was a truck outside waiting to be unloaded.

I spent the whole day taking commissary off the truck and moving the inventory to different warehouse locations around the unit. It was the most physical labor I've done in a while - not hard work, but enough to get me tires by the end of the day. When I came back to the dorm, I took my first shower in two days and napped listening to All things Considered.

I liked the library much better. I still had enough energy for rec in the evenings I worked there. Escaping the cell during lockdown was great, though.

2011-08-22T15:15:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to me! And what's my gift from TDC? Lockdown!

I really can't think of a worse way to spend a birthday than on lockdown in prison. This is definitely the worst I've had. And I get at least four more days in my cell all day long.

On the bright side, I had all day to read and write with the only interruptions coming from having to face away from my cellmate as he used the toilet five feet away and from forcing him to do the same when I took a restroom break. Ah, the joys of lockdown.

The day was much brighter when I received my mail for the day: seven birthday cards! Thank you to everyone who sent a card. That was an incredible show of love and I really appreciate it. And, like I said in my last posting, I will be out next year, which should save y'all some postage. That's worth looking forward to.

The last birthday on the inside

2011-08-21T14:51:00.000-07:00

Tonight's birthday celebration wasn't as good as last year's - less food, less friends, and self-funded - but it was still alright. I made a cheesecake-ish pie and my "famous" orange chicken and rice. The pie slices were spread to many guys in the dorm while the orange chicken and rice was split with West.

I made the pie by mixing powdered milk, powdered whipped topping and orange fruit drink. The crust was crushed vanilla wafers with a layer of chocolate syrup and flattened pieces of candy orange slices. The milk mixture went on top in a gooey consistency and thickened to a kind of dry cheesecake. All the different textures worked very well with each other, and I ate almost half the pie on my own. :-)

The orange chicken and rice was made with my "orange slices in barbecue sauce" recipe and turned out quite well, too. For the first time, West ate his whole serving on his own, but maybe he was just hungry.

The best thing about this birthday, though, is that it will be my last in prison. Even if parole is taken for some reason, my sentence ends in June and there is no way to keep me here any longer. Next year I will be able to celebrate in freedom with family and friends and that's worth celebrating in itself.

Goodbye to the library woes

2011-08-15T14:37:00.000-07:00

Over the past few weeks I have grown increasingly stressed about getting out of here. Through prayer and counsel from friends, I decided that quitting my job in the library would be best for me so I could relax and get out of that negative environment.

Yes, the library is a negative place, despite my efforts to transform it into a place conducive to learning. My boss has always had a foul mouth and she also loves to talk badly about others while complaining about her own life as a young single mother. Sorry, but at least she gets to go home to family instead of sharing a prison cell with a stranger. I've encouraged her to go to school so she wouldn't be stuck at this dead-end job but, apparently, none of my ideas are any good. If she's not going to try to improve her situation, I wish she would stop complaining.

Of course, since this is a prison library, the patrons that stop by are not the most polite bunch; in fact, most are quite rude. I'd rather not serve rude folks all day since it just wears me down, so I told my boss a week ago that last Friday would be my last day. The only response I got besides "OK" was a comment that, if she called me out, I would have to come. Even though I had one of the best coworkers yet, I would not be working at her beck and call, and I told her as much. I will go in on Monday and Friday afternoons to help out, though.

Today was my first day without working and it was great. I woke up around nine, read a book until lunch, then spent the afternoon at rec running and working out. I will probably be helping the maintenance department with an inventory tracking system every now and then, but I hope to spend most of my time on personal projects like writing poetry, making progress on my book list, and drawing. I also have a graphic design business to make plans for.

I have to make an effort to be purposeful with my time, but making only a little positive progress is better than treading water in the toxic library until I leave. And my release can't come soon enough.

LOTR

2011-08-12T13:09:00.000-07:00

I've been a fan of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings since first picking up The Hobbit in middle school. Tolkien created a world I could see in my mind's eye and filled it with characters I could hear in my imagination. I was so excited to see the world come to life on the big screen that I saw Peter Jackson's "Fellowship of the Ring" five times in the theater. You can imagine my elation when a Lord of the Rings card game appeared that expanded on the written canon.

The card game, which came out earlier this summer, allows you to play as a group of heroes working to complete a mission. Instead of pitting players against each other, players cooperate to defeat a deck for each mission, and the game can be played solo, especially good for me because it can sometimes be tough to find people who want to play games.

My friend, West, and I broke in the game today and were surprised at the level of difficulty - not in game play but in defeating the missions. That should provide good replay value as well as a scoring system to compare past accomplishments against. There aren't many options for building player decks but that should get better as the monthly adventure packs are released.

The Lord of the Rings card game isn't the best game I've ever played but it is certainly above average and is a good first experience in the new "living" card games - games with monthly packs that expand the game.

Still ...

2011-07-29T20:13:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been getting impatient. I received a parole answer last year that said I would be picked up in May for a four-month rehab program and get out in September. Like most things around here, I expected everything to come together later than scheduled but here it is almost August and there is still no sign of me even starting the program.

I think it goes without saying I am pumped to be home soon. Though most of my friends have moved on and away, I still look forward to spending time with family, I can't wait to get this institutional structure off my back and out of my head. These things - and more - I have anticipated for years but last November the jets were turned on.

Last month I began my process of detachment from this place. First, I found an extra coworker for the library and showed both he and the other coworker the ropes. That backfired. Both guys are no longer there and I'm back to only one coworker. I tried to step away but now I'm back in the thick of it, working and training the next guy.

Second, I pulled back my extroverted self. I used to interact with a broad spectrum of guys but, since I'm laving soon, I don't want to invest in relationships that I'll just snap in half in a short time. I'm pretty much just hanging out with West and Le now that Shane is gone.

Third, I'm getting rid of physical stuff I don't want to carry with me and I'm preparing my mental stuff for when I get out. I gave away my role-playing books and sent home a load of literature to empty my locker a bit. I'm holding on to about a dozen books to read during transit and at the program. I've been planning a budget and studying business to try to ready myself for starting a small venture on the side. Through all of this I am keeping focused on the Lord, knowing He has plans for me but clueless as to His schedule.

And that's what has been getting to me lately. I'm ready to leave, was ready a month ago, years ago, but I'm still here waiting. I feel like I am at a restaurant waiting for the lighted buzzer in my hand to go off with no results. I wish they had not told me I made parole if they were not planning to uphold their end of the bargain. They are three months behind and the waiting is killing me.

Hope to see you soon, friend

2011-07-22T19:59:00.000-07:00

Shane left to go home this morning. He has been my best friend since our days in the choir at San Saba and one of the few guys I plan to hang out with when I get out. My release shouldn't be too far away now.

Shane and I talk about anything. He is a passionate believer in Christ and we would discuss Scripture and theology regularly. He would often come to me armed with a question or two that had been on his mind and we would wrestle together, both of us unhappy with trite answers. Since I'm the more bookish one I would supply him with Christian books that I especially enjoyed and we would talk through them, arguing over authors' points and backing with Scripture. Where most guys in prison sharpen each others' criminal skills, we were honing our spiritual disciplines together.

I hope to hear from him soon. Wherever we are next spring, we plan to do a road trip on the west coast as a way to reconnect and share adventure. I'm looking forward to it.

So very close

2011-07-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

Another loss in a championship for American soccer. This time it was the women in the World Cup who fell to Japan in penalty kicks. This team had captured more attention than any since the 1999 champs with their spirited comeback win against Brazil last week.

Brazil, the number-one rated team in the world, was up 2-1 and has one more player after a crazy referee's succession of red card and penalty kicks in the second half. Amazingly, the U.S. scored a tying goal just before full time was called. Each team scored one goal in overtime.

In the closing seconds a cross flew across the face of the goal and was hammered into the net by the head of Abby Wambach. My jaw dropped. We had to go to our cells for count while the teams battled through penalty kicks but a friend gave me the results of each kick as he swept the floor. Down a player, the U.S. had beaten the number one team in the world.

That excitement carried through the semifinal win over France and it looked certain that the Americans would beat Japan for the championship. Between games I discussed tactics and favorite players with two friends, John and West, who are also enthusiastic fans. It was odd to be talking women's soccer at all, much less in an environment like this, surrounded by testosterone and junkies of a different sort of football.

The final was going well for the Americans until Japan tied it in the closing minutes of the game. In overtime the U.S. scored, followed by a goal from the Japanese, My stomach churned as I realized that this game was eerily similar to the Brazil game. The only difference was full squads on both sides.

The Americans' usually sure-handed goalie, Hope Solo, allowed three goals to pass, while the American shooters met similar luck, missing the first two shots. were interlaced atop my head in nervousness that proved to be well-founded when Japan scored their final kick. My Jaw dropped. The Americans had lost. It sure was a fantastic journey, though.

Discovering Harry Potter all over again

2011-07-14T08:03:00.000-07:00

Last weekend my friends and Betsy came to visit me. We often spend much of our time together talking about books and movies, and, of course, the media has been abuzz about a significant juncture of the two - the final Harry Potter movie.

I started reading Harry Potter in sixth grade and loved it. I was so excited when my seventh grade English teacher told us we would be reading the first book in class. The books captured my imagination and I was right there in Diagon Alley or eluding Fitch with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Unfortunately, the release of the books was too slow for me to maintain interest and Goblet of Fire, the fourth book of seven, was the last I read for years.

Five years ago I tool a college-level British literature course from a teacher who was wild about Harry Potter, so much so that she assigned book six, The Half-Blood Prince, for our modern literature book. I was ambivalent at first but quickly got right back into the story. After devouring book six, I went back and read book five to see what I had missed. This time I was seeing the amazing craft and bigger themes that J.K. Rowling had included - references to history, mythology, classic literature.. My mind was blown.

The last book, Deathly Hallows, was still to new at the time for our prison library to have a copy and I didn't know anyone who had it, so I had to stop again. When I arrived here the library had a copy, but I was always finding other things to read. I promised my self I would get to it eventually.

Sandy and Betsy both mentioned their excitement about the movie release. When Betsy heard that I hadn't read the last book, she said in her choir teacher voice, "Whatever you're reading right now, put it down and read book seven. You have to." I did as I was told.

I finished the book today and the first thing I did was sit down and write a letter of gratitude to Betsy for waking my senses. Deathly Hallows is a perfect culmination of events from the first six books. I've been talking to my friend, Lee, about it all week - the layering and significance of little bits, parallels to Scripture.

Now I want to go back and read them all again... and maybe I won't put it off so long this time.

A peaceful proposal

2011-06-07T19:30:00.000-07:00

Today's event was set into motion nearly a year ago when the assistant warden approved many card games to enter the unit. My friend, West, immediately had many cards sent to him for the most popular trading card game out there - Magic: The Gathering. This game prepared the way for Pokemon and Yu-GI-Oh! to come years later, but still outperforms in sales and strategy.

I learned the game from West and got some cards of my own. I didn't have many cards to start with, but was able to trade a couple of my good cards for unopened ransom packs of new cards which, of course, opened new opportunities for trading, hence, the name "trading card game." Each of the cards has a different purpose or action in the game and trades happen so people can get cards that are more powerful or better match their other cards.

Several of us organized a tournament for Magic: The Gathering when we saw how many people had picked it up. With the cards I had I developed an idea for a deck that would play in a very different kind of way from most. Instead of attacking and killing the other players with my cards, I would empty the cards out of their decks so they couldn't play. I had a little help form other guys who lent me some cards to use but I was ready to compete.

In the tournament I struggled at first before advancing into the knockout round with big wins. I won the knockout games all the way to the final today. My opponent told me he just wanted is picture taken so he could send it home. He won the first of these games when I had a terrible draw of my hand. The second game I won easily - no contest. The third game was very close. He won one turn before woudl have emptied his deck, which would have been a win for me.

My peaceful deck almost won the tournament but, bigger than that, we completed the first tournament for a card game at this unit. That's plenty big in itself.

Flaming motorcycle while juggling monkeys blowing bubbles

2011-06-06T19:08:00.000-07:00

I got a very good sign of imminent release today: my blood was drawn. This is usually done 90 days before release, which could mean that my day is coming up soon. Needless to say, my excitement is running high.

This morning I was called out of work in the library to the infirmary a few doors away. Sitting in the sparse waiting room (no magazines, cushy chairs or gross posters on the wall here) I spotted a friend who got the same parole answer as me at the same time I did. While we were chatting about what we are looking forward to upon release, my name was called. We call this "being sucked by the vampires" because we often come out with several holes and a transformed attitude.

In the infirmary I sat on a chair and laid out my right arm to be tied off with a rubber tourniquet. The nurse, a young blonde that everyone has warned me about, asked polite questions about my plans for release. As I answered, looking away, I felt the prick in the bend of my elbow.

"Uh oh, you rolled," she said.

After a few moments of feeling a weird sensation in my arm, I looked down and saw the needle twirling in my arm making circles as she tried to find my rolled vein.

"You know, that is petty uncomfortable," I told her.

"Yeah... okay, let's try the other one," she replied. "You have great veins, they just roll."

ON my left arm the nurse missed again, blaming another rolling vein. This is what I'd been warned about. Little did I know I would be assaulted for my blood so Texas Department of Corrections can run tests for AIDS and Hep C. The nurse decided to call in a substitute who drew blood on her first poke. I did not foresee the necessity of performing as a pincushion but, if it means going home, I will ride a flaming motorcycle while juggling monkeys blowing bubbles.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it! (after censoring, of course.)

2011-06-03T13:34:00.000-07:00

My friend, Lelan, started a unit newsletter a few months ago to share events that happen in the unit and give some positive messages. It was a great idea and fairly well-executed. He asks inmates to contribute ideas for articles, quotes, recipes and news items so it stays well-rounded, too.

Around Christmas Lelan asked me to write the feature. Somehow my words came out remarkable similar to his draft for the Thanksgiving newsletter, even using the exact same in places. We had a good laugh about how our brains operated n the same frequency.

This month Lelan asked me to put together the whole newsletter from material he had gathered. I've been helping with his work in the ACA office because he's been swamped and I haven't been working in the library much n ow that I have two able coworkers. (Dawson's departure allowed for the addition of a Hispanic guy named Ant.) Now, instead of doing tedious paperwork, I'm able to exercise my creativity.

Lelan does the newsletters with MS Publisher, which is like the Ford Taurus of publication design. It lasted forever and gets the job done, but the result is inelegant even after struggling against the program itself. I had hoped that my little bit of design savvy could help make the result look a bit more professional. No such luck. As they say, a mechanic is only as good as his tools.

The material I was given wasn't quite enough to fill two pages, so I came up with what I thought would be a nifty little column: a monthly "list of five", with a random selection of five related things and a short fact about each one. To fit this month's theme of keeping promises, I made a the first list the Five Languages of Love, followed by examples of each, such as writing an encouraging note for the language of kind words.

In an example of how silly prison can be, my list of five as shot down by Lelan's boss because anything I put as an example for the physical language would be "encouraging inmates to touch each other." Really" The inmates who touch each other in loving ways are going to touch each other regardless of what our newsletter says (that may be the first acknowledgement of homosexuality in prison for this blog, a reality that has been around me since my first unit 3 1/2 years ago.) The column is not meant for inmates to use on each other, but for their families at home. This is supposed to be a unit for reintegration.

Instead, I put together a quick list of five offbeat books with a quirky summary for each. Even with my effort, the design didn't end up very aesthetically pleasing. However, it is complete.

Horned Frog Radio

2011-05-31T10:07:00.000-07:00

My world of music just got much better. For the first time since arriving at this unit, I am able to pick up the TCU radio station, KTCU 88.7. That was the first station I looked for on the dial when I got here and I was disappointed that I found static in its place. The TCU radio station was one of two stations I listened before my incarceration, the other being KERA, the local NPR station.

Shortly after I arrived here a new station came on the air that played indie artists that I'd heard of. KXT started out great, but has been playing more and more 70''s and 80s music, moving away from the new stuff that I wanted to hear. My friend, West, had repeatedly told me about brief periods of time where he picked up KTLV. This gave me hope. College radio was out there and I was going to tune in.

After stripping the cord to a broken pair of headphones and manipulating the coverage for about an hour to find the sweet spot, I was met with success. KTCU came in stereo and even with some static, it was worth the effort. College radio, in all its goofy,

eclectic glory, is mine to hear once again. That includes Fanboy Radio, a weekly talk show about comics, to indulge my nerdy soul. The only thing better would be making my own playlists. Hopefully that isn't too far away, either.

Leaving for $$$

2011-05-19T14:35:00.000-07:00

This afternoon Dawson, my coworker, was called out by a friend and told that he would be on chain the following morning. He will be going to a unit in Lockhart, the only place in Texas I know of where inmates are paid to work.

Really? Do they have any kind of screening in place? This guy took advantage of every perk in the library, dug through and rearranged nearly everything behind the desk, and made mistakes beyond counting. It seems to me that if a unit was going to hire inmates for pay they would at least find out how they worked elsewhere.

I'm glad for anyone who has the chance to make money for themselves. I just hope Dawson is able to pick up some work habits to take with him when he gets out.

Soccer (without cleats, of course...)

2011-05-17T14:15:00.000-07:00

Time once again for the unit-wide soccer tournament. The draft took place last week and my team is truly horrible. I was our captain's first pick, followed by one other actual soccer player. Everyone else West picked was completely inexperienced in the sport. I don't know if the field of players was really so bad or if West just didn't recognize available players. Either way, we were s_____d (rhymes with "dude").

Our first game today was ridiculous - a 4-0 stomping. Most of our inexperience was placed on defense. It was there that they displayed not only their inept soccer skills, but also their lack of fitness. If they weren't in our goalie's way they were miles away from the ball without any desire to get any closer. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but not by much.

My style of soccer is as a play-maker. I usually need someone who is able to finish the play I create. Often the opportunities take one or two touches to capitalize on for a goal. That didn't work at all, My ball control isn't rust-free so i couldn't weave the defense either, so we were just stuck.

After this loss, we have one more game to redeem ourselves and stay in the tournament. In order to win that one, we will need to find some unrecruited players and come up with a good game plan. Anything less and we're gone for good.

Mess makers

2011-05-13T11:57:00.000-07:00

With the two new guys n the library and my release coming anytime this summer, I'm trying to take a step back form work and let the new guys take over. I figure that I can show them how to do the uncommon tasks, like adding or deleting books, when the opportunity arises. Just in case, I do leave before I'm able to teach them, II typed up a how-to manual for the library, complete with daily tasks and screenshots for walk-throughs of the trickier stuff.

Unfortunately, one of the new guys didn't wait to learn and completely ignored the walk-throughs when adding and deleting books yesterday. He seems to be in a massive hurry to get everything. As we all know - or quickly discover - mistakes pop up like weeds when you rush through something, even when the task is almost second nature. I've told this guy, Dawson, that most of our work is not time-sensitive, but it's like screaming at a submerged swimmer form above the waterline.

It took two hours for me to clean up the mess in our database and another hour to fix the tags on the books themselves. We probably could have done the entire process together in about an hour. That's the cost of impatience.

Yeah, this is a prison library where the workers don't apply for the positions and aren't paid anyway, but the lesson carries to the streets. The habits formed here will stay with him.

I hope Dawson can pull a 180 - or at least a modest 90 - because I don't want to see all my work wasted. I don't want these guys on the inside deprived of a decent library on top of every other thing missing in their lives. I hope the new guys will maintain the progress achieved over the past year and a half.

li·brar·y: [lahy-brer-ee] - noun

2011-05-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

For the first time in a couple weeks I have coworkers, two of them. That makes this the most workers in the library since my first week. There's not much room behind our desk, so I've been sitting at one of the four tables in our tiny library. The fire code only allows fifteen people inside at a time. After my boss, my coworkers and myself, there is only room for eleven, technically. In reality, we pack twenty during our busy periods.

My main goal right now is to get these new guys trained. I'll be leaving soon and I don't want the library to fade into disrepair when I leave. For the past six months, I have done nearly all the work myself - my boss and coworkers have been pretty lazy. It's like that old maxim: if you want anything done right, you gotta do it yourself.

I think these two guys will be able to do my job just fine. The question is - do they want to? Will they care enough about providing something for the other guys to look forward to - a good library with good service? Time will tell.

Doing a

2011-04-30T14:42:00.000-07:00

I've been in a foul mood for the past couple of days. I'll be leaving sometime this summer and I want to leave the library in good hands so my work isn't wasted. Unfortunately, the guys that are there right now don't seem to want to work, just hang out instead. This has been added stress on top of the stress of going home soon and facing all the unknowns that will meet me there, including the challenges I'm not even aware of right now.

I went to the worship service tonight. On each fifth Saturday of the month - usually one out of every three months has one - a worship band from Midlothian or Red Oak comes to do an all-music service. When I was in the choir, this was the only time that I was able to actually worship and now it's the only service I attend. All the other services have messages that I can't really relate to.

During this service I was able to just sing and allow God's love and grace wash over me. Music has always been a powerful force in my life and tonight was no different. I feel buoyed after praising my Creator, knowing that He has it all covered.

After the service I went to one the volunteers to talk and pray. He was about five years older than me so I figured he would be able to relate at least a little, I shared my concerns for my uncertain future and worries about the library, and the guy gave me reassurance that it is normal to stress out and reminded me that God is ready for my trust. After our prayer and farewell I was in a much better mood. It sounds silly but I feel like a pulled 180 tonight out of my funk.

New roommate...again

2011-04-21T13:39:00.000-07:00

My cellie Freddy left on Monday and I now have a young guy from Weatherford here with me. He ha only been in prison for a couple of months and this is his first cell. Everywhere else has been like a warehouse full of bunks. The cell offers much more privacy and quiet than Jeremy has had before, so he has been staying in the ell all day long since Monday.

Some other guys in the dorm have noticed him absent from the dayroom and rec.

"Do you have a cellie?" they joke.

Yes, I have one. Right now it annoys me that he is in the cell all the time - I don't get any privacy - but I definitely understand why he stays in.

I've already told him to enjoy it for a little while. If it goes on too long, I'll have to give him the same speech I received when I stayed in a cell reading all day: We share the space, but we each need some alone time to unwind.

Side note: The Principal has been fired for her mistake.

A strange occurrence

2011-04-14T21:05:00.000-07:00

Today has been pretty surreal.

I was insulted to the core by the principal, my boss' boss. She and the counselor came to the library this morning and asked me and my coworker to go to the hallway. After about ten minutes we were invited back in and the principal talked to all of us about the magazines we were ordering. It was during this conversation that she said the following:

Mr. Johnson, I've heard that you are a member of the Aryan Brotherhood. That is a group that hates blacks, hates Jews, and if you didn't know your boss' boss is a Jew, that's me. If I hear anything about you hating on anyone, I will put my hands on you and they will have to take you out of here on a stretcher and they will have to carry me off the unit."

When I heard this my jaw dropped. A look of confusion formed on my face. After slowly turning from my boss to my coworker to see their reactions, I said, quite naturally, "I'm confused."

Mr. Johnson, I'm not going to allow you to speak right now," directed the principal.

I stayed quiet.

When the principal and counselor left, my boss went to the front to tell her mom, who happens to be the warden's secretary, what had happened. I went next door to my friend, Le, and his boss, who is responsible for keeping the unit accredited. My adrenaline was flowing so fast that I couldn't even talk for five minutes. When I was finally able to spit out what had happened, Le's boss told me to write a statement. That would have been easy enough if my hands were still in control instead of shaking like a jackhammer. Thirty minutes, two cups of coffee and a water bottle later I started writing my statement.

First, I couldn't believe that the principal thought I was an idiot gang member. As a Christian I try to show Christ's love to anyone who receives it and I don't know how she got the impression that I hated anyone.

Secondly, she physically threatened me, something that many people end up in jail for. I don't know what will happen to her, but I hope she stays gone. She was escorted off the unit this afternoon and I'm told it is likely that she will not keep her job.

Storms on the outside

2011-04-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning around 2 AM when the power went out. My fan stopped blowing and the sudden lack of white noise slapped me from my sleep. When I looked out my window I couldn't even see the perimeter fence or lights that stand about twenty yards from my window. Sheets of horizontal rain flew by my window from the northwest. This intense rainfall was only visible by the frequent flashes of lightning all around. I heard the rumble of thunder for the firs time in years through those soundproof concrete walls. That's when I knew it was a big one.

In the dayroom I heard the exhaust vent in the ceiling flapping, first infrequently, then louder and in quick intervals. After a few minutes of watching out the window I heard a roar beginning to accompany the clattering. It sounded like a massive waterfall was hitting directly on our roof. That's when I started to get a little scared.

When I was nine or ten years old an F5 tornado hit Jarrell, a town about ten miles from my family's home. The small town was practically removed from existence, everything gone except concrete foundations with short pipes marking former kitchens and bathrooms. That stark environment had left an impression on me ever since.

Not that it would do any good if a tornado did hit, I took my face away from the window, put my head between my knees and prayed for safety. I knew that I would get sucked out the window at any moment and the roaring whistle from the vent was a great indicator that the moment was imminent.

Well, I guess since you're reading this, I wasn't sucked into oblivion by a force of nature. As far as I know, the unit came out unscathed. Others in the area were not so fortunate. One of the ladies in the mailroom said her daughter had her A/C unit come through a kitchen wall after the windows had imploded and shards of glass imbedded themselves in the drywall. Today that house in uninhabitable. Weather can be quite fearsome.

Dixit

2011-04-09T13:16:00.000-07:00

My family has been a board-gaming family for as long as I can remember. There were many evenings or Sunday afternoons [passed with a couple rounds of Pit, Othello, or any of the other games that occupied the top shelf of our entry room closet. Now I hear about game nights that my family hosts along new games I've never played. One game they raved about was Dixit, a French import that I had read great reviews for. Best of all, it's a card game so we could get a copy here.

My mom sent a copy of the expansion, which can also be played as a standalone. Tonight was the first time we played and it was a hit. You play by describing the picture on a card in such a way that everyone else contributes a card to make a lineup, at least one person, but not everyone, guesses your card.

The cards have very trippy artwork, so that it is difficult to even come up with a description at times. It is a game that almost anyone can play, which makes it great for this environment where not everyone has the brains for a strategy game.

We spent the whole game holding our ribs from laughter. The descriptions and cards that matches them were so off the wall that you couldn't help but chuckle. I can tell we will have fun with this one for a good while.

I'm a prison guard and I have authority (kinda sorta) - Part II

2011-03-26T13:01:00.000-07:00

I just wrote about gung-ho guards that think they are the bee's knees, but, on the other end of the spectrum are the guards who don't assert themselves enough. That brings bad results for both sides as the following example shows.

As I was coming back from work today a guard was waiting for the door to my dorm to open so he could let me in. On the other side of the door were a few inmates waiting impatiently to go to dinner. When the door unlocked, a few inmates pushed it open and rushed down the hallway. The guard tried to call them back with no success.

About fifteen minutes later a sergeant came into the dorm and told everyone to get in their cells. After we were all locked in our cells, the sergeant and a couple officers tore apart the dayroom, ruining the game we had in progress. We were kept in our cells for two hours for seemingly no reason before our cell doors were unlocked.

It turns out that the guys who were let go down the hallway were caught out of place and the guard in my dorm got into trouble for letting them out. The guard said he was pushed out of the way when he tried to stop them, and that is how the sergeant got angry enough to lock us down for a few hours. There was never any physical contact; I saw exactly what happened. If the guard had just been more assertive in his position, none of the later events would have occurred.

Praying for a friend

2011-03-24T12:55:00.000-07:00

My coworker left today.

I don't know how he's doing as far as his faith goes, but I think he has a good head on his shoulders. He's been gone from the world for eight years, so he has a lot to adjust to.

I pray that he would establish a good track record that would give him confidence to head in the right direction in all areas of his life.

I'm a prison guard and I have authority (kinda sorta) - Part I

2011-03-11T12:33:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I just have to laugh at the new hires and their gung-ho attitude toward their jobs. I had a run in with a new guy at lunch today and he sure was eager to show off his new-found power over inmates. I don't think it turned out like he expected, though.

At lunch I sat with two friends, eating and sharing conversation. The new guard, a short, round-faced black guy, came by and knocked on the steel table twice and moved on. Usually, when a guard knocks on the table, they add "time to go" afterward as a way to get us to finish up. However, inmates also knock the table twice as a way of saying "excuse me" before getting up from the table. Since the new guy didn't say anything when he knocked, I joked that he must have been telling us "excuse me" before leaving.

The guy next to me quipped that the guard reminded him of Carlton, from Fresh Prince. We all turned to look and chuckled at the resemblance. The other guy started humming one of the songs from the show and we all laughed. The new guy was too far away to hear the comments but saw us laughing and came over in a huff.

"Oh yeah, you think that's funny?" he asked as he leaned into my face. "Will it be funny when I take your ID and write you a case?"

"Really?" I gave him a quizzical look. "Here's my ID. Good luck with the case."

I knew he had no reason to write any of us a case so I didn't mind letting him show off his "authority". This knowledge was confirmed when I was called to the sergeant's office later.

"Johnson, it says here that you received a case for disobeying a direct order, but you were laughing at the table? This doesn't make sense."

"I was never given an order to do anything, sir. That includes handing over my ID, which I did voluntarily because the guard suggested it might be funny."

After a short explanation, the sergeant leaned back, put his hands behind his head and grinned. "You may leave now, Mr. Johnson."

The case was gone.

“To believe in God is impossible - to not believe in Him is absurd” *

2011-03-03T21:27:00.000-08:00

While waiting in the hallway for our boss to show up this afternoon, my coworker surprised me. He told me he received a positive answer from parole and he would be leaving soon. That wasn't the surprising part, though. This guy is an atheist but he broke down earlier this week and asked God is He was there and, if so, would He show Himself somehow.

"So, is this a sign or what?" he asked me almost nervously.

"I don't know for sure one way or the other. It would be something worth asking God about. I think if Someone that big wanted your attention He would probably get it. I also think He loves you enough to give you a decent answer."

"Well, it kinda freaked me out, but I guess I'll look into it."

I think it's so cool that God is working on this guy and that he had the courage to ask me about it. I can't give him all the answers, but I can point him in the right direction.

*Voltaire

Setting a new record for moving...

2011-03-01T21:18:00.000-08:00

I moved into a new dorm today, thank goodness. It took a little bit of work this time. I wanted to make sure I made it into a peaceful, quiet dorm and had to wait for a bunk to open up in the right place and the right time to talk to the guy who would move me. After a couple of weeks of vigilance, I was rewarded with a bottom bunk in a big cell in a quiet pod with a few friends.

My new cellie is a short, stocky black guy named Freddy. I know who he is from his frequent visits to the library and I know he's a decent guy. He was excited to see me, I guess because I'm an easy access to books and a different sort of guy than most in here.

This first night I was invited to a table where five other guys were playing a card game. If we game this much I'm sure I ended up in a good spot!

Drunken phone call

2011-02-26T18:37:00.000-08:00

Wow, I have to move out of this dorm. I just had a drunken phone call, you know, when someone gets drunk, then dials an ex to make pathetic slurred apologies. Okay, so I didn't get an actual phone call and the caller wasn't an ex, but... well, you'll see what I mean.

In my attempts to minimize contact with Ereman, I've been going to as much recreation as possible and reading in my cell when I am in the dorm. Tonight Ereman came to my cell and knocked on the door. I put a bookmark in its place and hopped down from my bunk.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Is your cellie asleep?"

"Yeah." Though that might not have been true since Ereman had knocked on the door. I could see his eyes were a little bloodshot and his speech didn't sound right.

"Would you come to my cell, then?" he asked, "Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything. I just want to talk to you."

"Alright."

On the way up the stairs to his cell, Ereman stumbled and I realized that he was drunk. Oh, great...

"Okay. First, I didn't write the stuff about your boss."

Yes, you did.

"And I didn't know that book was yours."

Yes, you did.

"And I really don't have a problem with you."

Then why slander my name to everyone you meet? Oh, never mind. Continue, please.

"I just have a favor to ask."

Ah-ha! There it is. He probably had to get drunk to work up the will to approach me at all. The favor he wants is a copy made of a picture of Boba Fett (form Star Wars) and, yeah, I'll probably get it for him. Maybe I'm too nice, but I figure if I show him some kindness he will see - as well as others - that I'm not here to judge, but show compassion, even for drunken phone callers.

New digs

2011-02-15T18:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I moved out of my old cell in to a situation that is an improvement but not by much. My cellmate isn't bad: he just talks nonstop, keeping me up to all odd hours of the night when I have to get for work fairly early. The main problem is that I share the dorm with the guy who stole a book of none then tried to fight me last year. Yeah, non other than Ereman is in my new dorm.

Because of his toxic attitude I have avoided Ereman as much as possible and will continue doing so until I move out of this dorm. Yes, I'm trying to move again. It was stupid of the administration to put us in the same dorm and I don't mind telling them as much. I'm going to try to have a say in it this time. I only have a few months left before I leave on parole and just want a place to do the rest of my time in peace. Sounds silly, I know. This is prison; get over it.

Really, you would be surprised at how different each dorm is. Some are deathly quiet, while others are as raucous as a NASCAR race. I have the benefit of knowing which dorms are which due to my many book cart runs. Hopefully, my pleas for a move will fall on compassionate ears.

Thank you for not smoking

2011-02-10T19:19:00.000-08:00

My cellmate, Chris, went home last week and has been replaced by a nut. The new guy, Rico, just got out of administrative segregation (locked in a single-man cell for 23 hours each day) for having a tattoo gun. Unfortunately, that seems to be the least of his vices. For the first few days Rico was incredibly chatty, which is understandable considering is previous solitude, but I discovered that h e talks even more when his is craving a cigarette.

I know it sounds crazy that someone removed from society for so long in a "tobacco-free" environment could have cigarette cravings. The truth is worse: so much tobacco flows into this unit that one side of my dorm always smells like a bar. And that's just one out of 22 dorms on this unit.

Honestly, I wouldn't mind Rico's cravings as long as he satisfied them somewhere other than my cell. Ever since he moved in I've had a sore throat form the smoke and bleach that he uses to cover up the smoke odor. I've asked him several times to either smoke elsewhere or not at all. He says he wants to change and stay out of trouble but goes on smoking anyway.

Now I'm resorting to desperate measures - I'm moving out. I've been in the same ell for almost a year and a half, but this too much to stay around for. I told my friends OJ and Omar about wanting to move. They had been the only thing keeping me put as the rest of the dorm got worse and worse. Although disappointed, they understand. I'm going to talk to the warden about getting moved pronto to a no-smoking cell.

"It ain't over 'til it's over" *

2011-02-08T19:04:00.000-08:00

The unit volleyball tournament is now underway and somehow I was wrangled into being the referee for the entire thing. The guy coordinating the tourney asked me if I would help out by being a line judge. I said sure. Calling on and out was going to be my only responsibility. Then the coordinator found out I had a little bit of volleyball experience and figured I should be referee.

"Uh..." came my hesitant answer.

"What? Your schedule is free, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, but...that's not what I'm worried about."

In my head I'm remembering chairs thrown at a TV for a bad call in a football game. While there aren't any chairs at rec, I'm much closer at hand than the zebras on TV.

"Oh, don't worry about that," the coordinator said, "You've been here long enough. People trust you."

"Alright. If you say so."

I'm in good health as I write this, but it's only the second day. We probably have a week or so left. Most of the complaining comes from the sideline but it really has not been too bad. I've missed some calls but I try to make consistent calls. Because this is a prison tournament, not professional, I don't call every little thing. It's tough to draw the line.

Life as a referee isn't much fun but I see it as a service, as a sacrifice so that no one has to go through the jeers. One more week...

* Yogi Berra

2011-01-27T06:11:00.000-08:00

One of my best buddies, Cameron, left the unit a couple of weeks ago to go to a rehabilitation program before going home. I met Cameron in county jail when I saw that one of his letters came from a familiar family name. It turned out that he was dating the sister of one of my old soccer teammates. After that initial connection we found that we shared many nerdy interests like Warcraft and computer hacking (not the bad kind.)

He arrived at this unit several months behind me and we got to know each other better. We have shared both good times and bad (see November 24th entry). While we have very different views of life - he is an atheist while I believe in a living, breathing God - we got along like coffee and cream. He could be bitter, but we always had good conversation.

He just came back to the unit with great news. He took a psych test at the other unit and was told that he did not need the rehab program after all. As soon as he received approved address to parole to, he would be headed home.

This news bodes well for me, too. I am scheduled to do a rehab program this summer and go home in the fall. With this new option I could be outside these walls eating real pizza by mid-May. That outcome would be a definite positive answer to years of prayer from hundreds of folks. Anything to speed release is welcome and I'm happy for Cameron's upcoming release, too!

This is not April showers!

2011-01-20T05:43:00.000-08:00

Usually the showers around here are pretty predictable. Scalding early in the morning, progressively colder as guys wake up, hot again around noon, then chilly going into the evening. It works out nicely because I can wake up and take a shower before work while the water is still piping hot. If I wake up too late to shower before rushing out the door, I can shower during my lunch break when the water warms up again.

Lately, however, the water temperature has been as unpredictable as summer weather in Texas (or any season for that matter.) Even when I woke up extra early I was blasted by a jet of icy needles. Obviously something is wrong with our water heater, but instead of fixing the problem, the administration just introduced new ones.

The "solution" is to allow us to shower in dorms down the hallway that have working water heaters. This creates more work for the officers who have to keep track of who is coming and going, and the inmates, who have to ready an entire clean wardrobe instead of just soap, shampoo and a pair of clean boxers.

And for me, it's weird enough taking a shower in the middle of a dorm filled with guys that know; it's much weirder showering in front of perfect strangers. at least we have 2-foot tall curtains for our nethers. Still, there are some strange folks in prison.

Hacksaws are handy cutting tools that are useful additions to a homeowner's toolbox or small garage shops.*

2011-01-11T15:04:00.000-08:00

Have I mentioned that I share the label "inmate" with some real idiots? Yes? Well, here's one more anecdote to defend my statement.

I was in one of our hallways playing guitar, practicing for a possible talent show for the staff, when a sergeant came rampaging down the hallway. He and two other officers entered a three-dorm pod and shortly thereafter we entered lockdown. The whole unit was locked in their cells all night and I thought we would stay that way for a couple of days, but this morning all was back to normal. Almost.

It turns out that the sergeant had found a hacksaw blade in someone's cell. Why the guy had it I have no clue. This unit is too sedate to need a weapon and I can't think of anything else to be made with a hacksaw. I thought we would be back on lockdown at lunchtime because the maintenance records showed fifteen blades missing. Goodness!

Of course, I'm surrounded by idiot inmates and the records had been messed up by one of the maintenance workers. Blades are some of the most sensitive items in the department, for good reason, and the care of them was like that of the stepmother toward Cinderella: just forget about it.

Seemingly small mistakes can have far-reaching impact around here. I am often lambasted by other inmates for taking my job seriously, but they don't realize that a few slip-ups can ruin the library for everyone. I know inmates aren't generally thought of as bright individuals, but I wish at least common sense was a little more... well, common.

*From "How Stuff Works.com"

A Friend from Far Away

2011-01-03T14:48:00.000-08:00

I had a real treat yesterday. I got a visit from a friend I hadn't seen in nearly four years and we were able to talk for nearly four hours.

Eric is a friend that I met at the church I attended. While working on a degree at TCU, he also played drums for our college worship band. Through the whole legal process he has been a big support and we have kept in contact through letters during my entire incarceration (even if some of our correspondence had long breaks in the middle.)

After he graduated Eric did some traveling in Central America and ended up settling in Columbia teaching English. My letters are scanned by my mom and emailed, and his replies are received by my mom via email, printed out and mailed to me. Not the most elegant way to communicate but it works.

Last week my boss got a call from her mom, the warden's secretary, and asked me,"Who is Eric Tabone?"

"How do you know that name?" I responded with much surprise that she knew my friend's name.

"He just got a visit approved for four hours."

Awesome! Two weeks in the states and he's got me on his itinerary.

When I saw him yesterday he was the same Eric I remember, maybe a little slimmer than the last time I saw him. We jumped into conversation like we hadn't missed a beat. I got to hear all about Columbia and his plans to start his own business teaching business English to employees of multi-national corporations. And I shared my experiences from behind these walls. It was a really fin time and it made me even more anxious to get out and share conversation with more friends. I got a lot of encouragement from him.

It's friends and family that have made this experience bearable through letters, cards and visits. And Eric is no exception.

2011-01-01T21:09:00.000-08:00

"Always with you this freedom! For your walled-up country always to shout 'Freedom! Freedom!' as if it were obvious to all people what it wants to mean, this word. But look: it is not so simple as that. Your freedom is freedom-from: no one tells your precious individual U.S.A. selves what they must do. It is this meaning only, this freedom form constraint and forced duress... But what of the freedom-to? Not just freedom-from? Not all compulsion comes from without. You pretend you do not see this. What of freedom-to. How for the person to freely choose? How to choose any but a child's choices if there is no loving-filled father to guide, inform, teach the person how to choose? How is there freedom to choose if one does not learn how to choose?

"Now the story of the rich man.

"The rich man who can afford the cost of candy as well as food for the children.: but if he cries out 'Freedom!" and allows his child to choose only what is sweet, eating only candy, not pea soup and bread and eggs, so his child becomes weak and sick: is the rich man who cries 'Freedom!' the good father?"

~ David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

2010 Books Read

2010-12-31T20:26:00.000-08:00

People often ask me what I'm reading these days, so I have compiled my annual list of books read over the last year. An asterisk * indicates a recommended book and a # indicates fave of the year. Here goes:

Pawn of Prophecy, David Eddings
Film Club, David Gilmer
Once a Runner, John L. Parker Jr. *
Best Short Stories of Jack London
New Glass Architecture, Brent Richards
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey
The Theory of Everything, Steven Hawking
Ella Minnow Pea, Mark Dunn
Halo: the Fail of Reach, Eric Nyland
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Jean-Dominique Bauby
The Siege, Ismail Kadare *
Dreaming Up America, Russell Banks
The Historian, Elizabeth Kostova *
Five People You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom
The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
Carl Haffner's Love of the Draw, Thomas Glavinic
Mistborn, Brandon Sanderson *
Philosophy of Andy Warhol, Andy Warhol
The Flanders Panel, Arturo Perez-Reverte
The Host, Stephanie Meyer
Angel Tracks in the Himalayas, Gary Shepherd
Halting State, Charles Stross
Empire, Orson Scott Card
Wild at Heart, John Eldredge
Green, Ted Dekker
I Am American (And So Can You), Stephen Colbert
The Driver, Alex Roy
Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson *
Girl With Curious Hair, David Foster Wallace *
Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery * #
Nudge, Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein
Unlikely Disciple, Kevin Roose *
Usagi Yojimbo (various volumes), Stan Sakai
Cryptonomicon, Neal Stephenson *
Fables (various volumes), Bill Willingham
Give Me Liberty, Frank Miller
Born to Run, Christopher McDougal *
Boomsday, Christopher Buckley
Return of the Dark Knight, Frank Miller
Batman:Year One, Frank Miller
The Learners, Chip Kidd
Lowboy, John Wray
Sandman, Vol 1, Neil Gaiman
A Friendly Game, Joe Pimienta
Sex God, Rob Bell
The Other, David Guterson
The Infernal City, Greg Keyes
The Marquis, Guy Davis
Eifelheim, Michael Flynn *
The Queen's Gambit, Walter Tevis
The World According to Garp, John Irving
The Prodigal God, Tim Keller
Ghost World, Dan Clowes
Maus, Art Speigelman
Reading Comics, Douglas Wolk
Searching for God Knows What, Donald Miller * #
Y: The Last Man (various volumes), Brian K Vaughn *
Rural Studio: Sam Mockabee and an Architecture of Decency, Andrea Oppenheimer Dean and Timothy Hursley

Power out!

2010-12-20T19:31:00.000-08:00

Well, this is our last day of Quarantine and it was made even more difficult by a power outage. For some reason, maintenance turned off power in our pod this morning and left it off until 1 PM. This meant no TV - the real pacifier in the baby inmate's mouth - or radio, hot pots, or lights. That knocked out 90% of these guys' entertainment.

A cheer went up when the power came back, but then some groaning. Half of the cells in the dorm still weren't getting power. Maintenance came back and it wasn't until 4PM that power was fully restored. Or so I thought.

When I went to my cell to listen to the radio, I noticed that a red 12:00 wasn't blinking back at me. My cell still didn't have power. I asked the guard in the picket to call maintenance back, but they were gone for the day. Great! The guard said they would fix it in the morning. I guess I've got an excuse when I show up to work late - no alarm.

Quarantine for no reason

2010-12-18T19:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was called back from work to the pod, which I knew could only mean one thing: quarantine. Three days stuck in the pod, even for chow. Meals are delivered to us while the sick ones stayed in their cell.

This weekend was supposed to be free picture weekend at visitation, the first time I've ever seen pictures taken during visits on this unit. And now the whole pod is locked down. the major said he would try to get pictures for us next weekend but some guys had visitors come from far away (one guy from North Carolina) especially to see them. Now they wasted money and time traveling the long distance.

The worst part is that the guy who claims to be sick isn't really. He claimed to be sick to avoid having to go to a lay-in, and when they took it seriously and called him to the infirmary, he made up an elaborate story. Now they think he might have a crazy disease and sent a stool sample to Austin to be tested. If positive, we will be locked down in quarantine for a month. I can guarantee the test comes back negative.

CHASE

2010-12-17T19:05:00.000-08:00

This facility is going to be on national TV. All day there has been a film crew here for the show CHASE, that is on NBC. None of the filming, that I know of, was done inside the unit, but they used our rec yard and truck dock. Most of the afternoon a helicopter was doing stunts and what looked like an escape scene on the rec yard.

This isn't the first time filming has been done here. The movie Bottle Rocket was partially filmed here in the 90's. And I'm sure the inmates were inconvenienced back then, too. School was canceled and everything shut down except the kitchen. They made special food for dome of the crew, which there were more of than I imagined was necessary.

Their trucks were parked side-by-side, were at least 100 feet wide and they seemed to move like ants, always moving things around. What was funny to watch were the sergeants of the prison trying to help but just getting in the way. I hope they were humbled a little.

2010-12-08T18:45:00.000-08:00

Over the past two days both work and home life (though they are both in the same building) have changed quite a bit. I have a new cellie at one end and a new coworker at the other.

On Monday, Juan moved to go to the kitchen workers' dorm and was replaced by a young guy named Chris. My new cellmate is only 18 and entered prison just two months ago. I hope he isn't dragged into stupid stuff like a lot of other youngsters looking for approval. He seems to have a good head on his shoulder, but only time will tell. I'll try to be as encouraging as I can while dissuading him from the dumb stuff.

Yesterday, Shane was replaced by a guy named Dustin. I'm not too sure about him. He goes by "Sin" because it is tattooed on the back of his neck with "666" hidden inside. It couldn't be more stereotypical of a prison tattoo if he had "Mom" in a pierced heart. As long as he works and doesn't let his gang affiliation influence the workplace, it should be okay. He says he has changed over the past two years (he's been incarcerated for eight) but, like my cellie, only time will tell.

You've Got Talent!

2010-12-03T18:25:00.000-08:00

Today was a lot of fun, more than I've had in a long time. The population put on a talent show for a few staff judges and a crowd of inmates. And somehow I wound up performing Elvis.
One of the ladies that works in the mailroom is a die-hard Elvis fan and had a few guys do one of his songs for the talent show last year. The same guys were supposed to play this year, but backed out. I noticed the mailroom lady looking kind of down one day when I picked up periodicals for the library. When I found out about the other guys backing out, I told her that I would sing and play guitar. If she could get me chords and lyrics to a song, I would talk to the organizer about filling the empty spot.

Over the last couple of weeks I've been going to choir practice to borrow a guitar to play in the hallway, working on getting "Return to Sender" down pat. To make the performance more interesting, I made a cape and scarf with letters in gold glitter scripts spelling "Elvis Presley". Today the mailroom lady brought huge gold sunglasses and glue-on sideburns. After that little bit of work, I was ready.

Most of the twenty acts for the talent show were rap songs with the exact same beat, but there were a few original R & B performances and some truly terrible covers of country and rock songs.

When it came time for me to go on I gathered some guys to act as shields to hide me from the audience while I crept up to the microphone. Once everything was set I signaled the guys to split away to leave me there, back to the audience, arms forming a "Y". I slowly spun to face the applause - and I hadn't done anything yet.

After a short intro, I belted "Return to Sender" in my best Elvis voice. It must have been alright because, by the time I finished, about half the audience was standing and clapping. I took off my sunglasses, patted my forehead, and walked over to the judges before tossing the scarf to the mailroom lady, who screamed and twirled it in the air.

As I passed the assistant warden going offstage, he just smiled and shook his lowered head.

Tares and Wheat *

2010-11-29T17:56:00.000-08:00

Many a good truth has been upheld by wicked men for their own purposes. And good men have caused much wickedness in their zealotry."

"The Armleder."

Dietrich hesitated. "That was one such case. There were good men among them." He fell silent thinking of the fishwife and her boy in the Frieburg market.

"There was a leader among the Armleder," Joachim said slowly, "called 'Angelus' "

Dietrich was a long time silent, "that man is dead now," he said at last. "But through him I learned a terrible truth: that heresy is truth in extremis. The proper object of the eye is light, but too much light blinds the eye."

"So, you would compromise with the wicked, as the Convectuals do?"

"Jesus said the weeds would grow with the wheat until the Judgment," Dietrich answered," so one finds both good men and bad in the Church. By our fruits we will be known, not by what name we have called ourselves. I have come to believe that there is more grace in becoming wheat than there is in pulling weeds."

"So might a weed say, had it speech," said Joachim. "You split hairs."

"Better to split hairs than the heads beneath them."

~ Michael Flynn, Eifelheim

*Matthew 13:24-30

A friend's crisis

2010-11-24T18:20:00.000-08:00

Prison is an especially tough place to hear about a crisis in the family. Most of our support network, if we are blessed with one at all, is beyond these walls and we are left with sinking news to grieve alone.

My friend, Cameron, has had a crushing week so far. First came news on Monday that his ex-girl-friend, who hadn't written in months, was victim to an abusive relationship that hospitalized her for some time. The girl's older brother was a childhood friend of mine, so Cameron came me as a shoulder to dry on and share his grief with. I got the girl's address and wrote her an encouraging letter, but I also did my best to brighten up Cameron.

My efforts were dashed today, just two days later, when Cameron found out his grandmother had passed away right after his address was cleared for parole. So close to getting out to see her, but it didn't work out that way. Cameron's boss caught me in the hallway and, knowing how close we are, shared the news.
"Keep and eye on him" was my missive, a very decent gesture by his boss.

I found Cameron in the library and pulled him out into a side hallway so he would be away form other people and more free to grieve. As we stood in the hallway, the supply officer came by and asked what we were doing.

" Grieving," I replied.

"Well, go grieve somewhere else" came her brusque instructions.

Like I said, prison is a tough place for a crisis. I'll try to be open and available for Cameron as he works through this time, but I know I'm not any kind of replacement for his home and family.

2010-11-22T17:14:00.000-08:00

Prison being what it is, there are many shenanigans going on nearly every day. Usually they don't have any consequences for me, because I'm never involved. However, there are instances when the craziness gets so out of hand that it affects a mass of inmates. One of those instances occurred tonight.

The guard for our dorm came in to do a cell search. The guys in the cell to be searched had a bunch of tobacco and started flushing what they could with the door closed. The guard rushed upstairs and called to get the cell door opened pronto.

When the door popped open, one of the guys tossed a bag over the rail to a guy on the ground floor, who ran to his cell, shut the door and started flushing. As the bag flew over the rail, the guard ran down the stairs to the newly closed door and called to get it opened. Behind the shouting, I heard the high-powered flushes of our toilets. When the door opened, the guy was just standing there with a smile on his face.

After this humiliation, the guard called rank. Everyone in the dorm was marched into the hallway and strip-searched. We all waited in the hall while a squad of officers tore apart our dorm, tossing stuff all over our cells. About thirty minutes passed before we were allowed to go back in. Even then, we went straight to our destroyed cells and were told that we would be locked down for the rest of the night.

The stupidest part is that because none of the tobacco was captured, the guys won't get in trouble and they will stay in the dorm to repeat their actions.

2010-11-20T17:24:00.000-08:00

Dietrich reached into his scrip and pulled out the wooden doll and gave it to their little girl. He had polished it to remove the scorches, and had replaced the charred arms and legs with fresh sticks he had found. The hair, he had cut from his own head. But Maria dropped the doll in to the dirt and cried, "That isn't Anna!. That isn't Anna!" And she ran in side the rebuilt cottage, leaving Dietrich crouching in the dust.

Sighing, he replaced the doll into his scrip. It wasn't the doll, he thought. The doll was only a construction of sticks and rags. There was nothing precious about such things. He stood and picked up the wooden cage with the clucking chickens...

Something repaired, he thought as he returned to the parsonage, is never quite what it was before. Whatever parts were replaced, the memories could never be.

~ Michael Flynn, Eifelheim

Taking Dominion

2010-11-10T16:53:00.000-08:00

Before I came to prison I played board games once a week with a group in Arlington that was led by a really cool middle-aged couple. That was always a highlight for my week and they exposed me to a slew of different games, mostly the new wave of designer board games from Europe. The most successful is Settlers of Catan, if that helps give you an idea of the type of game.

The board game group is one thing I have really missed since my arrest. Fortunately, the couple has kept in touch via letters and their annual prediction contest. A year or so ago they told me about a game that had been addictive for everyone they shared with. This game - Dominion - is so loved by one of their relatives that close to 100 games were played during a holiday gathering.

I told West about Dominion a few months ago when he asked about games without dice that we could play at rec. Now with cards approved, West has just received Dominion from his mom and I've got to say - it's pretty awesome. It plays fast and lets you approach a win with a variety of strategies, although, if too many people pursue one strategy, they choke each other out. It's not quite the typical board game night, but we still have a lot of fun.

Changes in the library

2010-11-05T16:38:00.000-07:00

Yet another change of staff in the library. West out, Shane in.

West has been on the unit for six years and, unfortunately, has gathered a couple grudges in the administration. One of the guys in classification - the department that does job changes - saw West working in the library and immediately went to the major to complain. Not even an hour later West had a job change in the TDC computer. One of the lieutenants saw him in the hall and threatened to lock him up in segregation if he was in the library. All of this and he had not done anything wrong in the library. It's just the vindictive people working here.

So now my buddy Shane is working with me. He's not official yet, but it should be moving through the proper channels soon. It's cool to be working alongside such a good friend. The job ought to be at least a little more enjoyable.

A book friend

2010-11-04T20:40:00.000-07:00

More good news for the library: we have a Half Price Books hook-up.

On Thursdays I get off work just as the Bible study is starting so I often see the visitors as they come in to lead the class. One of the volunteers, a bear of a man named Rick, brought a box full of books from home a few weeks ago that he gave to the library. So the Thursday crew has already blessed us once.

Tonight we had an uncommon visitor. Katie is a missionary who is currently living stateside and is full of spunk and, like others in the crew, has a passion for sharing the Christ-life. When I showed up for class she greeted me and asked if I worked in the library. After my affirmative answer, she asked if she could donate books. After another affirmative, I got to hear a cool story.

A few years ago, Katie was trying to start a library in Kenya. She went to a Half Price bookstore and asked if they had any books they needed to get rid of. The clerk replied that the store did not have unused inventory, but she could check their warehouse in Dallas. Upon inquiry, the warehouse attendant said that, as long as Katie had proof of 501.3 (c) status, she could get whatever she wanted. Needless to say, the Kenyan library was a success. And now Katie wants to share the blessing with our library.

I might need some help picking up the books," Katie remarked.

"I know someone who would probably love to meet you and get the books," I replied and gave her my mom's contact info. "She even has a list of suggestions to help out."

What a boon it would be to have more free books for our decrepit-yet-slowly-progressing library.

Coming and going - part 2

2010-11-02T19:50:00.000-07:00

OJ is back.

After weeks of negotiations with the major and warden about moving back to R-pad, it finally went through. It took some gathering of allies on the pod, but it did happen. Omar and I even put together a celebratory meal to welcome him back. Prison pizza followed by a couple of good games of Munchkin is hard to beat for a good time around here.

Lelan also came back last night and was at work this morning. I got to hear about his vacation during our lunch break. He had a personal meeting with the parole folks, too, a conversation just long enough to require a leave from the unit. He would have been back sooner, but somehow got lost in the system during transit. If that isn't a scary anecdote from prison - escape, lost parole, injury - and no one would know anything because the person isn't in the system. I can think of one good way to cut down that problem. Bookkeeping is easier with less to keep track of, so, let many of us go, especially those of us with technical probation or parole violations. We were sent here because we were, at most, a headache for our probation officer, not because we were a threat to society.

Someone watchin' out for me

2010-10-20T14:38:00.000-07:00

Along with my cases for the envelope and book I had last week, I also got silly case for being out of place. Luckily, that one was ripped up when I told the sergeant what had happened.

My friend, Omar, is going through some stuff with his family and I was talking with him in his cell when I was called out to visit. Technically, we are not supposed to be in someone else's cell, but it happens all the time with implicit permission from the guards. I explained that I wasn't trying to cause trouble, but help a friend.

"Alright, but if I see a case like this cross my desk again, I'm going to lock you up," the sergeant threatened.

Not even a full day later, the sergeant received my cases for the envelope and book. Needless to say, he was not happy. I explained that I always have stuff with me when I do book cart and haven't done anything different than the last ten months except work on night shift.

"I can't let you make it twice in one day," he said. "Plus, lieutenant is looking for this one to go through."

Sheesh, what did I do to get on his bad side? I pretty much mind my own business, and I don't even have much business. Apparently, i have a large target on my back that just begs the rank to toss darts my direction.

Today my boss got a call from mom, the warden's secretary.

'What did your worker get a case for?"

After my boss explained the plot, she received this reply: "Tell him not to worry. It's taken care of."

Apparently the lieutenant trying to nail me is the same guy who let Ereman off with a verbal reprimand when he threatened me and my boss several months ago. I guess mom still doesn't appreciate that lax judgment, so she made sure my cases went missing. A vigilant mom on my side sure is a nice perk of the job.

Coming and going

2010-10-18T12:18:00.000-07:00

Last week during lockdown had a trade of friends - one left the unit while one came back.

It seems too often that a friend leaves around here. I've noticed myself almost subconsciously screening guys when I meet them. If you leave within the next few months, sorry, I don't want to get to know you just before you leave. However, if you'll be here more than a year, I'll hang out. Even out of the guys I've gotten to know pretty well, there have only been a few that have written even once after we separated.

When I showed up in the library for inventory, my boss told me that my good buddy, Lelan, had left the previous day. Lelan was a guy I had been in choir with earlier in the year and, for some reason, we just clicked. We spent time in the library when he needed encouragement and I would duck out and wander to the office where he worked if I needed a pick-me-up of my own. My boss said he would be back in a couple weeks, which I hope is true. I'm going to miss our conversations on life if he stays gone.

On the flip side, the same day that Lelan left, my close friend OJ came back. I thought he had left in parole, but he only went to have a chat in person with some parole folks. When he was her in my pod, he would make sure my laundry came out white like the other laundry workers' clothes. In the time he's been gone my clothes have gotten a bit dingy, so, for that reason it's good to have him back. Really though, I'm hoping he gets back to the dorm soon so we can game again.

Rules, silly rules

2010-10-16T17:26:00.000-07:00

My legacy of being a target for stupid cases continues.

We came off lockdown yesterday evening, so West and I decided to run book cart today to give people a chance to read while we did inventory. It's not a big deal that our book cart books are out because most of them ate doubles or cast-offs anyway. West also had the crazy idea to do the whole 100-man unit in one day. Now, these are guys who just came off lockdown, hungry for new reading material while the library is still closed. Book cart was busy and that is an understatement.

We started the book cart at 8:30 am and didn't finish until about 7 pm after the 6:30 shift change. It took a while to find someone to open the library for us to return the carts because the night shift isn't accustomed to the library workers being out on their sift. The lieutenant finally let us in.

As I was coming out, I pulled an envelope from under my clipboard with some poetry from a friend, grabbed my book, and headed out.

"Hold on a sec," called the lieutenant, "Lemme see that envelope."

After I handed him the envelope, he stated, "This doesn't have your name or number on it. It's contraband."

"Alright, you can have it," I conceded, "I don't mind."

"No, you follow me. You'll get confiscation papers and a case."

"Really? For an envelope? I do this every weekend."

"Not this one you don't."

When we reached his office, he filled out maybe half the paperwork before handing me off to the sergeant.

"What's that?" asked the sergeant, eying my book.

"A book. I read while I do book cart. Every weekend."

"Lemme see it."

I handed it over.

"No name or number. It's contraband. I'm confiscating this, too."

"Are you serious? I do the same thing every weekend without any trouble. The only difference is that I don't have to deal with this shift."

"Well, tonight you do," the sergeant sneered.

Now I have two bogus cases to deal with at the same time. Wonderful. What will they come up with next?

Books and bites

2010-10-15T17:11:00.000-07:00

The day after my pod was shaken down, my coworker and I were called down to the library on our inventory. This task involves printing entire collection, then checking off each book as we go down the shelves. What already a slow process is complicated by the fact that the officers doing the shakedown don't cooperate with us. We asked them to take up all the library books they find, but that has not happened. I expect the inventory to take a big chunk of time after lockdown because guys are usually reluctant to turn in their books.

We are about halfway finished now and I'm really enjoying the quiet in the library. Better than the quiet, though, is our lunch. Because the unit is locked down, the dining hall is closed. That doesn't mean the kitchen is empty. There are plenty of workers that fill the johnnies and go pass them out.

When my boss leaves for lunch break she has been leaving us in the kitchen for what we call daycare, and what great daycare it is. This first day we were dropped off, the kitchen guys made Barbecue roast beef with onions and peppers. Using hoagie buns, we made awesome sandwiches. Yesterday the guys made pepperoni pan pizza. Those two meals were better than anything I've eaten in prison so far, and they came during a lockdown!

Today West and I were dropped off too early to get in on the food so while he went out with the johnny crew, I made lunch for the two of us. Using bananas, butter, cinnamon and brown sugar, I made fried bananas to put between toasted bread with peanut butter. I had not had fried bananas in years and had forgotten how awesome the caramelized surface is.

So now I'm wondering why we can't be on lockdown more often. I'm loving this.

Spud surprise

2010-10-12T20:46:00.000-07:00

My dorm was shaken down today. After lugging my stuff to the gym and back, I was tuckered out. When the johnnies came for dinner, I was ready for a quick meal followed by a bit of reading, then sleep. However, the kitchen pulled a joke on us that delayed the meal quite a bit.

My cellie passed my johnny over when they arrived and immediately I noticed some major heft to the sack. What are they feeding us that is so dense? I was used to salami sandwiches and chips, not whatever this brick was. I looked inside and dug for the bottom to find a raw potato. Really? A potato? I showed Juan and we must have laughed for a full two minutes. What did they expect us to do with a raw potato?

After the convulsions of laughter faded, I came up with an idea: put the potato in the hotpot to cook it, then mash it up with the sour cream and onion chips we got and throw it into the spread we would make later. Three hours later (how's that for a quick meal?) the potato seemed to be done. Juan and I carried out my plan, which included a few Ramen soups, dehydrated refried beans and some beef chunks. It turned out much better than I expected.

The lesson learned: when life gives you potatoes, have a good laugh and improvise. Now I'm full and ready for a good night's rest.

Illogical logic

2010-10-10T15:09:00.000-07:00

"Hey, they want you in the sergeant's office. Just come back out when you're done."

This was the interruption to our weekly gaming session out at rec. I had no idea what the sergeant wanted me for, but I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I just had to get up and leave my fellow players hanging.

When I got to his office, Sergeant French was sitting behind the desk. He's the one who has always had it out for me since I started working in the library. He was wearing a face that said, "Gotcha this time."

"Come on in. You've got a case for having gambling paraphernalia."

"What? Gambling paraphernalia? What you talking about?" I replied incredulously. I definitely didn't have that in my cell or even hear me.

"Yep. You got a case for these papers."

He held up two sheets of paper with boxes of X's and O's marked in 5 x 5 squares. It took a second for me to recognize what it was and then it hit me.

"That's not gambling paraphernalia. That's a logic puzzle I was working on. The 'exes' and 'ohs' are for eliminating answers."

"I see the nicknames on the rows and columns here. This is gambling," French said, still thinking he had won.

"No, those are labels for the categories. I can show you the puzzle. I have it in my cell."

"Fine. Go get it."

A few minutes later I was back with the puzzle in hand and showed it to the sergeant.

"Oh, so this is a game. You didn't buy this on commissary so it's contraband. That's a case." He was still trying to nail me with something. He just couldn't stand to see me go. I don't know why he dislikes me so much, but he does.

"Hold on," called out the lieutenant from behind her desk. "Come show me how this works."

After I went through the first few clues and showed her the corresponding marks on the paper, she said, "You're OK. Go on back to rec."

I had to go back to the security office when I found that the rec doors were shut. After I asked for the doors to be opened, the lieutenant asked if I knew anything about computers.

"Yeah, quite a bit," I replied.

She turned to the sergeant, smiled, and said, "See, told ya."

Good things come to those who wait

2010-09-24T18:44:00.000-07:00

Way back in May I made an order from a comic shop down in San Antonio for a graphic novel and a couple single issues of comics. The way most comic shops is pretty cool. The huge comics distributor, Diamond, puts out a catalog called Previews each month that contains all the comics that will be released two months later. Customers fill out an order and give it to their local shop for them to pull. Then the customer waits for the release date and goes to pick up the comics. It's almost like the customer chooses the comic shop's inventory.

I expected the order made to come in July, but that certainly didn't happen. Nor did it come in August. In mid-August, I sent a letter to the shop asking what was going on with my order. I didn't receive a reply for several weeks and, when it did come, it was a hand-written letter in bright colored pen - not the formal typed letters I had grown accustomed to from the shop. The letter explained that the shop had new owners that were scrambling to get things in order. My comics would be coming soon, it said; sorry for the delay.

It turned out that the previous owner had misordered a couple of my requests, so the new were waiting for the correct stuff to come in. I sent a list of each of my orders to be sure everything showed up OK, and my mom made a call to the shop asking about progress. I'm a patient guy (a skill I've honed here in prison), but I was getting a it anxious.

Today my first two orders both arrived, finally, along with a huge surprise: the entire first order had been comped. The shop took complete responsibility for the screw-up they didn't commit, and put the money in a store credit. Wow! That's some great customer service, with handwritten letters, too. This shop, Atomic Comics of San Antonio, is definitely committed to their customers and, in turn, this customer is committed to them.

Another world

2010-09-20T18:27:00.000-07:00

These walls are much too close
Just a slit for seeing out
The window shows another world
A world of sunlight, of trees,
Of ideas, of impact, of life

I try to share this world with others
Their eyes will not see
Their ears will not hear
They continue pacing small circles
Their soles becoming calloused

But I know my eyes don't lie
There is a better world
Maybe I can go there
Be a part of real
Until then I wait
Looking for tomorrow.

Fresh air and sunshine

2010-09-14T18:08:00.000-07:00

"Eww" led to BRAKKABRAKKA, *cough*, *cough*, and "Ah..."

After this region was inundated with rain over the weekend, one o f the drainage pipes started backflowing into one of the main hallways of the unit. The smell was nauseating right outside the main dining hall as a few guys did their best to sop up the mess and squeegee it away..

This unit seems to have been built on a floof plain or former lake because our track floods with the smallest amount of rain. This means the water takes a bit longer to go away and, thus, the stench lingered.

Even though this drainage problem has most likely been present for years, it has always been dealt with in the most typical TDCJ fashion: short-term benefit, long-term disaster. Luckily, we have a new-ish assistant warden who takes care of the things the right way. He called in outside contractors to bust up the concrete hallway and fix the pipe. This shut down the main thoroughfare to the dining hall with loud hammering and clouds of pulverized concrete, To accommodate the traffic, the rec courtyard was opened up for both hallways.

I love having the courtyard opened up. Every time I go to or from work I get to go outside, feel the sun, and get some fresh air. I'm not the only one that enjoys it, either. Another nice thing about the courtyard being open is that is gives us a place to go when my boss leaves the library. Today I was playing a card game in the library during count time when my boss took her lunch break. Normally we would have to stop playing and wait in the hall for count to clear, but today we simply moved to the table in the courtyard. It was great weather, too.

I guess I shouldn't get too comfortable, though. The contractors will probably finish up before the weekend. At least the problem will be solved and I had a nice break from the norm in the meantime.

Missing!

2010-09-12T17:57:00.000-07:00

In a great example of the few screwing up something for the many, I had my hot pot taken last night. This comes in the wake of someone's "fixed" hot pot catching the property office on fire a couple weeks ago.

Our hot pots bring water almost to a boil, but some people ant the max, so they take them apart and short them out so there is no temperature detection. Of course, you have to keep an eye on these because they are prone to catch fire like in the property office.

After the fire - not a big one, by the way - some guards have taken it upon themselves to prevent fires everywhere, which is actually a good thing. The bad comes when some of those officers begin to take unattended hot pots instead of simply unplugging them like most officers do.

Last night I went to church after filling my hot pot with water to cook with when I got back. The water in my pot, at its hottest, will not even blister your tongue. Yet, upon my return from the service, my hot pot was missing. After a near-unintelligible conversation with an African officer, I received my confiscation papers.

I'm not worried about the hot pot because I know I'll get it back on Monday, but it's annoying to have to go through the trouble of dealing with meddlesome guard and no hot cooking water.

2010-09-07T17:06:00.000-07:00

Last night I received a surprise when layins were handed out. I was scheduled to have my second parole interview today. Whoa, this is very early. I didn't expect it to come until late next month at the earliest. I guess this just further proves that there is no rhyme or reason to the Texas parole system.

So, after getting prayed up and pumped up, I went to see the unit parole man this morning. I don't even know why they even want another interview. I never see anyone who actually votes on my parole and the guy I did see does nothing more than ask if anything has changed since the last time I was interviewed.

Yeah, stuff has changed. I'm a little older, wiser and more anxious to go home.

In truth, I hate going into these interviews. I feel like I'm going into a test that I've studied hard for, sitting down to fill out all the answers correctly, knowing I should pass with flying colors. then walking out having no idea how I will be graded. If there were a million things wrong with the Texas judicial and criminal justice (misnomer) system - and there are - parole is definitely one of them. I've seen guys with zero disciplinary problems and a zillion self-improvements go before parole and get shot down, while crooked a troublemaker who has been put in higher custody since coming to prison gets to leave. There's no logic to that. If they cause problems in here, aren't they more likely to cause them out there among the community that the system is supposedly trying to keep safe? It's as if the system is trying to justify its existence by showing the community their dangerous criminals while holding back those that can be positive reflections of the system's results. It's beyond me.

I just want to go home.

2010-09-03T05:35:00.000-07:00

My logic and computer skills have been put to the test over the past few days. The kitchen clerk recently received the database form his last unit, complete with recipes, menus and inventory control. This is exactly what the kitchen here has been wanting. the only problem is that it was made for a different unit with a different menu and different schedule. The kitchen captain and clerk asked me to modify the database to make it usable for our kitchen.

This is actually a pretty daunting task. Much of the database uses virtual basic to operate, which is a coding language I've never messed with. In fact, I've never coded software; only web pages.

I spent the next two hours on Saturday just getting my bearings. Since I don't actually work in the kitchen, I have to go in on my days off to get anything done. They got lucky this weekend as I was off for Labor Day today. I spent six hours there today converting the schedule and editing the current kitchen menus. I'm still far from finished, but I did get a bit completed. I know it will be a big improvement when I do finish the modifications.

The nice thing about working in the kitchen is that, since I don't actually work there and I 'm doing them a huge favor, I get fed pretty well. They usually have something other them the bland menu items in the back and I also eat at least one more desert there than the norm. If I don't watch how much time I spend in there, I might blow up. The extra food is definitely a good thing though.

Power off = day off

2010-08-31T05:20:00.000-07:00

Today was certainly and odd one. I had an unexpected day off after a power outage. Each month on the last Friday of the month the maintenance crew turns off the unit power at 7 am to test the generator system. This always knocks out my alarm clock, so i wake up late every time. This morning was no different, except that it happened on a Tuesday and the generators didn't kick on. When I woke up at 8:15, the electricity was still out and it stayed out until after the officers were finished with the morning count. This meant I couldn't go to work; the lights couldn't turn on anyway.

When the power was finally restored, I went down to the library for work. I didn't stay for long. My boss wasn't feeling well and decided to go home to rest and
recuperate. That left me with the rest of the day to myself back in the dorm.

I've got to say, days off in prison are not near as fun as days of on the outside. We really don't have much to do, and even Munchkin can wear out after too many games. I just lay in bed and read my current book, Lowboy. I would have liked to stay active and productive, but I guess one more day to add to the years isn't so bad.

Munchkins Unite!

2010-08-26T05:04:00.000-07:00

I got a treat this week along with the other guys in my dorm. My parents sent in a card game called Munchkins that I used to play before I was incarcerated. Ordinarily, card games would not be allowed (the one form of gambling not allowed in TDCJ), but the warden gave the thumbs up as long as the cards aren't traditional ace-king playing cards. This decision has freed up m any other card games such as Pokemon, Magic:The Gathering, UNO and Mille Borne. Also allowed is one of my faves, Munchkins.

I was introduced to Munchkins during my freshman year of college. Three of my friends brought it out between classes on day and it became our default time-killer form then on. The concept is similar to role-playing games where you kill monsters for treasure, except there are plenty of other opportunities to sabotage other players for self-gain. All the cards are riffs on different genres, such as sci-fi, pirates and horror, which usually brings some laughs to the table, too.

The guys here became just as hooked on the game as I was when I started. Each time I come back from work, I hear "Are we playing Munchkin tonight?" and, unless I have some other project, the answer is yes. I think it's so cool that this new warden has opened up new opportunities for entertainment. Now, if we could just get some actual college classes going on so we can be educated as well.

Happy Birthday to Me

2010-08-22T03:31:00.000-07:00

Birthdays in prison are usually quite melancholy events. No one around knows or cares, and those that do are the friends and family you can't celebrate with. However, this year I have looked forward to my birthday for several weeks. This year is different because i have two friends here who do care and pulled together a special meal for me.

My day got off to a good start with a visit from my parents. It was the first time in over a month I have seen them and I was ready to see their faces again. My mom even brought a special treat - fizzy Skittles. That was something. I'd never tried. I guess that was the theme for the day: something new.

A couple weeks ago OJ and Omar asked what I wanted to eat for my birthday. Now, commissary doesn't have a very extensive selection, so I said I would just go with a normal prison pizza topped with BBQ beef as the meat. That was something I'd never had before. For dessert, I told them I would make a pie of my own creation. The crust was graham cracker with cocoa and peanut butter mixed in. The bottom of the crust was glazed with chocolate syrup and covered with candy orange slices. Chocolate pudding with peanut butter made the filling and the top was dressed with crushed Chick-o-Stick. It turned out better than I expected, a good mix of flavor.

I was surprised with the handmade cards that had been signed by a few friends in the dorm. That was beyond what I had imagined possible here. On my birthday, I am thankful for the many blessings that God has given me, especially friends who go out of their way to make this day extraordinary.

A special visit

2010-08-19T03:07:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I received a visit from the president of the organization I worked for prior to my incarceration. Yes, it was in the middle of the week - prospective employers have that privilege, along with clergy and attorneys. We also happened to be the only people inn the visitation room other than the supervising guard in the corner. It was certainly a different atmosphere than the usual din of the visitors all around. Nice to be reminded of quiet every now and then.

I found out about my boss's visit a couple of weeks ago and was actually quite surprised that it would take place. I never had much interaction with him at the office and have been absent for over three years. I guess it helps that I have loving parents who also work at that office, a place filled with more love for people than I've experienced any where else. When I heard that he was coming, I was at a loss for what we would be talking about. I'm fairly worthless as an employee here and don't expect to get out for almost two years.

We sat down and I was asked about my prison experiences. I was able to share how God has been working in and through me over the past few years. Then I heard about how the organization has grown and changed since I left as my boss told me his excitement about how God is shaping how Bible translation is done. It made me miss being involved in the process, even in a small capacity.

After I explained my post-release goals, including education mostly, he surprised me with a discussion of how I could work from behind these walls. Really? Apparently there's a load of writing that needs to be done each quarter for project updates that I might be able to help with. Now we're trying to figure out the logistics of getting things back and forth, if it's possible at all.

I came away very encouraged, not just that I might get work, but that the president of the organization took time out of his very busy schedule to check up on someone who has only been a small part of operations years ago. God's community continues to surprise me with amazing blessings.

Fantasy Football Inside

2010-08-18T02:31:00.000-07:00

Last night was the last night of the fantasy football draft for the league I'm in. For those who don't know, fantasy football is a game where you draft players from all over the NFL to play for points on your squad. Each game week players earn points for their squad based on their stats for that week.

The first time I played was in my high school youth group as a way to make Sunday evenings more interesting. I found that fantasy football really gets you interested in each game because most of the time at least one of your players or your opponent's players will be on the field.

This is the first time I've seen fantasy football in prison done properly. At Hightower, the fantasy was more of a pick 'em because you just submitted a group of players who you thought would perform bets, which meant that you share with everyone. This league has a draft, which makes every player unique to his team., and each week has head-up games with a playooff for the winning teams.

I like this set-up much better. My team is mine and I'm sure that by the end of the season I will be attached to a few players who carried my team unexpectedly. It does help the time fly by.

Not for popcorn!

2010-08-14T04:46:00.000-07:00

For the past few months the warden has been pushing clean cells. Each week he holds a competition where he goes around to every cell to pass or fail it. If you pass, you get a bag of popcorn on Saturday.

Juan and I have never passed.

Popcorn is not a very good motivator for me. We already sweep and mop our cell every other day. I scrub the sink and toilet to a shine with toothpaste once a week. the ony reason we fail is because of the stuff around our mattresses. We both have uncommonly narrow mattresses, so we store frequently-accessed items like books and writing supplies around the rim of our bunks. It's all neat and organized, but not what they're looking for.

Apparently, the warden noticed our pattern of noncompliance because my book cart duty was interrupted as I was told to get back to my cell ASAP. When I walked in to the dorm, I saw a sergeant in my cell on the second floor. When I looked into the cell, I couldn't see the floor due to all the stuff strewn around like trash. The sergeant had torn up our cell like a mobster making an example of a "client". everything was everywhere.

"I'm not taking anything. Just have all this cleaned up and compliant before lunch is over."

Ugh. This is ridiculous. I spent the next hour rearranging my property in my locker and hiding many of my books under my mattress to make sure everything was out of sight. It would all go back to normal after sarge came back to inspect the progress, so it didn't matter how lumpy and uncomfortable the mattress was.

It wasn't until just before shift change at 6 o'clock that the sergeant came back, but we passed his check. It's doubtful that Juan and I will put forth the effort to pass again.

Entrepreneurs and others

2010-08-10T12:52:00.000-07:00

Not everyone here is blessed to be able to go to commissary. In fact. I'd say only about half the population has any amount of money given to them by family or friends each year. However, just because the guys with zero balance don't have cash in their account doesn't mean they go without commissary. There are many ways that guys get the food and hygiene products they want and/or need. No, I'm not talking about THAT way. Some methods are legit, while others are shady. Along with bartering, these "hustlers" keep the inmate economy afloat.

The first method I'll explain is the most legit. Due to ginormous laundry loads in the unit washers and dryers, most of the time our clothes come back barely cleaner than when we sent them. Enter the hustler. Clothes washed by hand is a service performed all over the state, usually one guy in every dorm who does the washing. Hand-washed clothes come out whiter than they ever would from the unit machines.

Some guys get very serious about it and work eight hours each day. I've seen one guy who even had a menu of options drawn up - basic soap, detergent, or bleach - and a signed contract with every customer. Most of the time a washing goes for 50 cents (two soups or a stamp) per item.

Next are the guys who make and/or repair stuff. Some guys make needles to custom tailor clothes or repair shoes that have holes in them. I've had several shirts trimmed down to my size and each time it has been the gay man's work that has been best. Not to stereotype, but they know their cuts!

Others will fix hot pots so that water will boil instead of merely heating up. A few guys tinker enough that they make speakers for radios. We are only allowed headphones so a well-made speaker is a hot commodity (in more ways than one!) I've heard some speakers loud enough to rattle the pre-cast concrete walls of our cells. A tailored shirt goes for $1 (a meat pack or bag of dehydrated refried beans) while a good speaker costs around $10.

Then there are the hustlers that are just illegal, period. These usually involve stealing well-sought items from the state, whether it's the food out of the chow hall, markers form education, or wax from the floor crew. These hustlers tend to be compensated well for the risks they take, though I've seen many who do it solely for the thrill.

Unfortunately, the state does not do much to help our living situation in most cases, so, instead of waiting for the state to fix things or lift restrictions on items that are not dangerous in the least, many guys would rather do it themselves. Of course, many of the most dangerous items are stolen from the state, such as screwdrivers and ingredients for hooch.

These are just a sampling of the myriad of services that entrepreneur inmates provide to fill up their own locker. There are so many opportunities to hustle that the only who can't get what they need are the disabled, stupid, or lazy. I'm very blesses to have a supportive family that puts money in my commissary account, but, in the event of a terrible misfortune preventing that money from coming, I know I could find other ways to meet my needs.

Stepping down

2010-08-01T12:25:00.000-07:00

This morning I stepped down from paying guitar in the choir. It was a difficult decision that I had been dealing with for a few months, and I finally felt like it as time for me to go.

One of my best buddies on the unit, Lelan, stepped out in early May for many of the same reason as I did, and I've heard unhappy sentiment from a few others as well. The choir director seems to be led by ego under the guise of "the Holy Spirit." Honestly, it angers me when someone always plays the "god told me so" card because conversations with Him are usually a private affair.

While the choir director was always choosing songs that he had written, the keyboard player wasn't very flexible in playing with others. It always had to be his rhythm and lead, even when it didn't fit the song well. The other guitar player and I tried over and over to tell him that his arrangements didn't work, but he just got defensive and said, "I'm a professional musician; I know how it should sound."

I've voiced my discomfort to a few friends and choir members and was told to wait it out. "It will pass soon," they said. Well, it hasn't passed. Not only did I feel stifled in my ability to serve through song, but I also didn't even feel able to worship with the group. That's when I realized I needed to leave.

The only reason I write all of this is that I know that no one here will read i t. I don't think the director and keyboard player are bad guys; they're just a bit misguided. I pray God will use the choir to touch hearts and lead worship to bring glory to Himself. I just can't be a member at the moment.

Reunion with a friend

2010-07-30T16:07:00.000-07:00

The good news continues!

I was hanging out in my sll with a friend when someone came to tell me a guy was at the dorm door looking for me. I bounced down the stairs to investigate. My friend West was at the door and exclaimed, "Shane's here!"

"Shane?" I knew I should know who's she's talking about.

"Yeah. Shane la-la-layman, loman. From San Saba."

"Oh, really?! No kidding! Where is he?"

West works in the chain room and hands out clothes to the new guys coming in, so he took me over there to see my old friend. Shane is one of the only guys I kept up with when I left San Saba. In fact, my mom got "blacklisted" from his mailing list for sending my letters to him (inmate-to-inmate correspondence is not allowed.) Shane was a huge encourager as a Christian brother over there.

As soon as I saw him I called out his name, walked over and embraced him. We did a quick "How have you been?" and traded a couple stories before I headed back to my dorm. I'm excited to have such a good friend back on a unit with me again. It's just been blessing after blessing lately.

My new friend at Simon and Schuster

2010-07-28T15:20:00.000-07:00

More great news to pass on! Another big shipment of donated books arrived, this one larger than before.

Last week, I sent a thank you letter to the person who sent the first box of 35 books. It's the least I could do after such an awesome gift. Well, today we received another box from Simon and Schuster. We opened it up and found 60 books inside!

Their subjects are all over the place, a huge variety. They even tossed in a few signed copies of a few titles, one of which is "Jarhead" by Andrew Strosser. How crazy is that?! This relationship with Simon and Schuster has been a huge unexpected blessing.

My mom also traded in a bunch of Bible commentaries (of which we have lots already) to get more desirable books from Half Price Bookstore. I didn't count them all, but it was enough to fill up two good-sized boxes. Thank you to her and to my friends in Dallas who provided the currency for bartering.

Fun reading stuff

2010-07-22T14:48:00.000-07:00

I had an exciting package come in the mail today! Four graphic novels, on loan from Booksfree.com (a Netflix-for-books service) arrived in two separate envelopes. This service was given to me by my folks as an early birthday gift - one month early, to be exact. Just like Netflix, you set up a queue of books online. Booksfree uses the queue to send books as they are available and as many as are allowed on your plan.

I don't read books - real books - fast enough right now to make good use of a subscription. Work, rec, and church activities eat my time up faster than Pacman can eat those little balls! However, I love to read comics and can blaze through a graphic novel faster than proper books. Enter Booksfree.

Before I asked to get the Booksfree subscription, my mom scoped out the site, along with some other book rental sites, for titles and writers that I'm interested in. Booksfree happened to have nearly all of the items I asked about. So, it was Booksfree that won out. My mom used my list of titles to start a queue.

At the top of the queue: old school samurai rabbit Usagi Yojimbo. The first three collections of comics arrived today along with a collection of comic stories called "Fables", which is an offshoot of a running series. When I finish with them, I slide the books into the prepaid plastic envelopes that came with them and ship them out. Pretty cool, huh? Then I sit back and wait for the next batch to come in. That's one thing I've become very good at over the past few years - waiting.

I'm excited to catch up on some stories and artists that I've missed either form negligence while I was out or inability since I've been in prison. There's some really good stuff out there.

Each turn in the road reveals a surprise

2010-07-17T16:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's events were incredible for this inmate and I don't think there was much I could do to alter them. First, a bit of background.

This unit has a dog program called Paws of Hope, where ten dogs are brought from a nearby shelter to stay with inmates for six months. the dogs stay in the cells and the inmates spend their time training and resocializing the dogs. At the end of the six month, the dogs are graduated and have, in the past, had an adopted home to go to, usually to a family of one of the inmates in the program.

Paws of Hope is an awesome method for taking the dogs and giving them a new life while also giving the inmates responsibility for another life and training the dogs, often brightening the inmate's days when he comes home to a canine friend after a day at work.

The dog graduation took place yesterday, attended by the inmates, their respective dogs, and the inmates' families. I was waiting outside the library for my boss to show up (she didn't - she was sick) when an officer asked me to set up the sound equipment for the ceremony. After setting it up, I told them to call me out when they needed to break it down or call me earlier if they needed any help.

Around 3:00 I was called down to turn the volume down. Really? Just turn the knob! Once I turned it down, they started a video montage set to music showcasing each one of the dogs for five minutes, followed by interviews with the inmates. To save you the trouble, I'll do the math: one hour total was spent watching and seemingly endless photos of the same dogs. Can you say embellishment?

The good stuff came after the ceremony. The culinary arts clerks made two cakes for all involved, so I got to eat some yummy food after I put away the sound equipment. After the guests left, I learned that the guys were going to watch a new movie on a small TV, so I offered to put the projector and speakers together for them to watch the movie - a much better use than watching doggie portraits! I didn't expect to stay, but the officer in charge told me to stick around. In addition to a newly released DVD, we got body-shaking sound, a six-foot screen, and pizza made by the culinary arts guys.

As I watched the movie, I asked myself if I was in prison. The crazy thing is that I felt the answer was "no".

Eliminated...twice!

2010-07-15T16:15:00.000-07:00

Our second game of the tournament came today. I took off work to play this afternoon and had to have a friend help out my new coworker. I wasn't able to play at full strength due to a sore ankle from yesterday's game, and then was kicked again today by the rec boss while he patted me down. I told my captain I wouldn't be able to do a lot of running, but could still shoot and pass with my right foot just fine.

THe entire first half we weren't able to get any cohesive action going, but, luckily, the other team didn't have any success, either. Shortly after the second half got underway, I scored on a juke (fake) followed by a shot with my hurt ankle. The ball rebounded of the post and into the net. I rushed to my captain for our planned celebration and he went down on one knee to shine my goal-scoring foot on his other knee.

Unfortunately, our goalie made two gross errors that led to goals. The first one came as he called to one of our defenders that he would get a loose ball. His downfall came on his lack of follow-through, which allowed our opponents to take the ball right in to our goal.

Despite out two losses, I had fun and at least scored a goal. I also came away with an ankle that, as I write, is growing beyond baseball size. I have a feeling "Gimp" will be my name for a few days as I hobble around.

G-O-A-L-L L L !!!!!

2010-07-14T15:44:00.000-07:00

A soccer tournament has been organized for the unit, a first since I've been here. Last week we had a raft in which about seventy guys from my half of the unit went to eight teams. Despite only playing in a few games over the past couple weeks, I was picked up in the first round. The rest of our team looks decent. Hopefully, we'll get the passing done what we will need to win some games. Most guys here prefer to keep the ball to themselves.

We play on a small field with small goals - 4' X 6". We had been using rubber soccer balls, but someone donated two stitched leather balls for the tournament. They are supposed to look like the crazy Jabulani World Cup ball. The yard crew spent a couple days leveling the field and trying to take out the few mounds of grass. Yes, we play in dirt. The corners are still wildly unpredictable when it comes to ball control.

My team started our first game yesterday evening an had to stop early to come in from rec. The remainder of the game was played this afternoon. I definitely liked the cool evening better. Even then, we didn't do too well. FIrst, we struggled to have a full seven-man team to show up and almost had to forfeit. Then, since we hadn't played together before, we misjudged a bunch of passes. One guy just began booting the ball when it came near. The other team had a handball in the box that should have been a penalty kick for us, but went uncalled. We lost 1-0 in the end on a goal where our goalie was far out of place. It's a double elimination tournament, so we have one more shot at a win. With this crazy goalie, I'd be nuts to expect to win the whole thing.

Help has arrived

2010-07-13T20:03:00.000-07:00

Since I've been the only official worker in the library, I've asked a few friends to help out when they are able. It's not that one person can't keep the library running; it frees me up to do shelf maintenance and add books when I have a second pair of hands. Even then I have stayed busy because my buddies aren't familiar with many of the workings of the library. I enjoy the company, too.

This morning, however, there was a new face waiting outside the library. I got a new coworker. Braswell is a guy in his mid-forties that I recognized from his work int he unit supply office and infrequent stops to pick up a book from the library. The administration moved quite a few guys who had clerk jobs with female bosses, a new six-month policy to prevent relationships from starting. What's funny is that most of the female bosses complained and got their workers back. Did they really expect all these women to just hand over work to an inmate they have no reason to trust?

Luckily, Braswell will be sticking around in the library. He's a quiet guy who has initiative to learn his job and a bit of a brain to go with it. I don't know what I could have asked for a better guy to work with. I'm looking forward to seeing him settle in and glad to have permanent help again.

A friend heads home

2010-07-11T19:39:00.000-07:00

After a month of wrestling with his local parole office over his address, my coworker finally left this morning to be released tomorrow morning. His steps to his mother's car will be his first outside in nineteen years. Yes, he has been incarcerated during the Gulf War; OJ's "innocence"; Clinton's impeachment hearings; the rise of the Internet; 9/11, Playstations 1, 2 and 3; iMac, iPod, and iPhone. The world is a much different place then when he left it. I hope he finds a guide who will show him a safe and successful path through his foreign lands.

Doing the right thing

2010-07-06T20:27:00.000-07:00

After the incident in the library last week, Ereman was put in pre-hearing detention(PHD) to keep him out of general population while his disciplinary actions were being figured out. I heard a few times that he would be shipped off the unit, but that sure isn't what happened. In their infinite wisdom, the rank let him out of PHD with a verbal reprimand and moved him to a dorm right next to mine. Not the greatest concern for security around here.

I saw Ereman moving in as I came back to the dorm for my lunch break. Not wanting him to take retribution in any way, I asked a couple guys in my dorm to make sure he didn't come into our dorm for any reason while I was gone. Security is much more lax here than other places I've been, so I needed to put a little of my own in place to make sure nothing happens in the future.

When I came back from work, OJ said he wanted to talk to me, so I invited him into my cell. He had told me that he was going to talk to Ereman when/if he got out of PHD, and knowing OJ, I thought "talk" meant "lay hands on." When OJ said he had a "talk" with Ereman, I thought, "Oh no."

But OJ really did just use words, making sure Ereman knows that if anything happens to me, he would be found and made responsible. It's crazy having someone go to war for you, especially as a nonviolent person myself. As the day went on, more guys came to me pledging their help if things go sour.

I'm not used to situations like this so I called my dad for some advice. I felt bad that I broke up a good evening with worrisome news, but I was encouraged to keep the human buffer up and pray over the situation. I decided to go a little further and write a letter to Ereman explaining how I saw things, how I wanted to see him mature and that I don't mean any ill will to him.

I don't understand how he got off so easily or got his job back, but I'm going to so what I can to be an example of Christ to him, whether he wants to see love or not.

A welcome surprise

2010-07-05T13:58:00.000-07:00

I had a huge picker-upper today in a form I hardly expected.

As I was walking back to the dorm after work, a friend stopped me to say he just dropped off a big package in the mailroom for me. He works in supply so I asked it it was our library supplies finally coming in.

"I don't know," he said, "but the box had your name on it. It was pretty big, too."

A big box with my name on it? Weird. I wasn't expecting anything to arrive. Time to investigate!

As soon as I stepped into the room I saw the box. The words "Simon and Schuster" rounded the bottom rim. How strange and unexpected - a package for me direct from a publisher. Then it struck me. I wrote a letter to Scribner last week describing out library and asking for donations. Scribner, I had forgotten, is a subsidiary of Simon and Schuster. I didn't even think I would get a reply, much less a box of books the next week.

"You won't be able to get the books until next week," said the mailroom lady. Killjoy, I'm thinking. "But we can open the box now so you can see what you got in." Woohoo!

My buddy, the mailroom clerk, opened the box and we saw hardbacks, paperbacks and a small not on a Simon and Schuster card saying "hope this helps. Enjoy!"

In my letter I said we would accept galley proofs or slightly damaged books, but, as my friend and I sat on the floor shuffling through the books, I saw that they were all final production copies. Most of them are fairly new releases, too. What a blessing!

I really hope to turn over most of this library's inventory and we are well on our way. Since I started asking for donations in February, we have added close to 850 books and this box of books only adds to the total. Our shelves are packed full, but we continue to replace the books no one checks out, dusty and yellowed. I believe education and reading can help guys stay out once they get out, and that better material gives more motivation and better options to the guys.

Thank you, Simon and Schuster and everyone else who has donated books!

Trouble with a capital "E"

2010-07-01T13:34:00.000-07:00

Today's events have been months in the making and, unfortunately, they weren't pretty. It all started when my last coworker quit working the library. when Ereman left, he took a Marvel Comics art book with the understanding that he would be bringing it back when he finished the drawing he was working on. For the past month I have been asking him to bring the book back, hearing that someone else was borrowing it, never a name attached.

Early this week a friend told me someone was trying to send out a Marvel book through the mail. When I went to identify it, the spine had our tape and the interior has the same smears. Unfortunately, it had been stripped of all ,marks that identified it with the library. A hold was still put on the book, though.

Today, someone brought in a stack of his books to be donated to the library and said that the one on top belonged to Ereman. I said he would have to bring us our book before he could take his. Even trade (except his is a $6 paperback and ours, the Marvel Comics Encyclopedia, is a $30 coffee table book.) Later, one of Ereman's coworkers in the commissary came to pick up Ereman's book.

I'm sorry he put you in the middle of this but Ereman has one of our books that he needs to bring back before he gets his," I explained. The guy sighed and shook his head before leaving as if to say "What kind of stupidity is this? Over a book?" Yeah, it is fairly petty.

A few minutes later Ereman himself showed up for the book I told him the same thing: we need our book first.

"You either give me my book or get yourself in the hall so I can beat your a**, mother-f*****r.," he shouted in the crowded library while holding the door open. It seemed as if he was just trying to make a scene and a fool out of himself.

"Watch how you talk to my worker," came the command from my petite boss. Ereman then launched into a verbal assault on her before turning back to me and demanding his book again upon threat of a beating.

"Just give him the book," my boss sighed, ready to see Ereman leave.

I handed the book to him and watched him leave. Moments later my boss was on the phone calling in the incident. Two sergeants came to get the story form my boss before calling for Ereman to be sent tot the security office and getting my story in the hallway. Shortly afterward, I saw a cart with Ereman's stuff being taken to segregation to meet its owner.

I don't know what the end result will be, but I hope Ereman wakes up to his own short fuse and deals with it in an appropriate manner. A quick temper never leads to good places. I don't think we'll get the Marvel Encyclopedia back, but it is a small price to pay if Ereman is able to change. Please pray that the situation is redeemed according to God's will.

Quick Recap

2010-06-27T13:03:00.000-07:00

I apologize for my lack of new entries. I have not had the desire to write down anything for a long time. To make up some of the missing entries, I'll do my best to bring you up to the present with a summary of events.

Just after Ereman quit working in the library, a "mysterious tip" accuse me of establishing a relationship with my boss. A few weeks after a scare form one of the sergeants, that situation, as ridiculous as it was, was diffused. I spent a week working alone until I got a new coworker who turned out to be more security than worker. I don't mind, but it leaves me busy during the day and mentally exhausted in the evening. The new coworker received an FI-1 parole answer not long ago, which means he could go home any day.

I started and completed a "contract job" for the kitchen captain. He had me help streamline the kitchen by reformatting the Excel stuff they had been using. It was awesome to be problem -solving on a computer again. I'm hoping he needs more work done so I can use my strengths again.

The unit had a volleyball tournament in which my team was in and out in the first round. Woohoo! Luckily, we are having a soccer tournament soon. Soccer has been my sport since age 8, so I'm far more comfortable with a ball at my feet. I was just drafted in the first round and our team looks decent, a few guys that can really pass the ball around.

In mid-May, I had a strange physical occurrence. My right field of vision went out in both eyes for about an hour, followed by a terrible headache that stayed with me for eight hours. I went to the infirmary and they referred me to Galveston, a trip I was unwilling to make for such an infrequent aberrance. I think it was a buildup of stress and a bit of dehydration taking its toll on me, but I've been feeling great recently.

Because of the stress, I backed off from the choir for a few weeks. That freed me up a couple of more nights for me to chill and spend time with God reading and praying. Last week was my first back with the choir and with the egoism and dictatorial attitudes I've seen, I'm tempted to step away again. However, I think right now God wants me to be right there.

And that's the whirlwind recap. Hope you enjoyed (though probably not as much as the full entries.) Thanks for your prayers and support.

Balancing act

2010-04-29T20:17:00.000-07:00

My goodness, this has been a stressful week. I feel like I have been playing UN between North and South Korea every day at work. My boss and Ereman, my coworker have been at odds and both are doing the silent treatment to each other. Both are also prying at me for information on what the other is saying about the other. It's been ridiculous.

My boss has been getting handwriting analysis done by various other staff to confirm her suspicions. Yesterday, she went to the major to request Ereman's exit from the library job. Of course, since the library is also the gossip mill because of its availability to everyone, my boss has also been asking other inmates what's going on. This results in reckless hypotheses being tossed around as I just sit in silence. I tell her that she ought to just let the job change go through and leave it at that.

I've given the same advice to Ereman, who asked for a job change Tuesday to avoid being fired. Boy, Ereman has been extremely vindictive the whole time. Even though he asked for a job change, he has been showing up in the library for work. However, he does no work at all, content to take a few magazines and supplies. The library's atmosphere is tense just because he's there. Even more, when my boss showed up a few minutes late, he told her boss in front of about ten inmates that she shows up late every day. I tried to correct it but Ereman kept interrupting.

While all this is going on, I have to do all the work on my own. It is tiresome, especially with the stress of dealing with the toxic atmosphere. My boss said I could choose my next coworker, but I don't want that kind of responsibility. I just told her she should choose someone she knows and preferably not a white guy so there is more diversity for scrutinizing eyes.

I hope this is over soon. I'm tired. I would ask for a job change, too, but I know this is only temporary and there would be no one in the library who knows what's going on. I love books too much, too. Guess I'm just stuck for now.

Mystery solved...sort of

2010-04-26T19:53:00.000-07:00

Last week a guy came into the library with a worried face and started yammering, "I didn't do it. I don't know who wrote it but it wasn't me." After a few moments we were able to calm him down enough to find out what he was talking about.

Apparently someone had written an I-60, an inmate written communication form to the staff, to the principal complaining that some people stayed in the library too long with my boss' permission. Whoever had written the I-60 had not only tattled over a non-issue, they had also used someone else's name to write it. Something shady was going on.

Today the guy brought the I-60 to the library for us to see. We always get our I-60's returned to us by mail when they have a reply, so he was bringing the reply, too. I was gone when he came in, but my boss pulled me aside before I went to lunch to show it to me after Ereman left.

"Whose handwriting is this?" she asked as she thrust the paper toward my face.

Oh man, I thought, this is not good. I immediately saw a similarity to Ereman's handwriting. "I don't know," came my response.

"Doesn't it look like Ereman's?"

"Maybe a little bit," I said, trying not to be pulled into something crazy.

After trying to compare the I-60 to stuff Ereman had written, it was pretty clear who had written it. However, I maintained neutrality and told my boss I didn't think he had done it. My request was that I not be pulled into the situation. Whatever was going on was not about me and, in a place like this, the best course of action is to stand as far away as possible. I have a feeling it will get ugly soon.

Wild at Heart

2010-04-25T20:54:00.000-07:00

In the Thursday night Bible study, we have just started reading Captivating, by John and Staci Eldredge. It's written as the woman's Wild at Heart, which the group finished just before I joined them. I felt like I ought to read Wild at Heart first to figure out the men's side before going in to the woman's book. We had an extra copy in the library, so I brought it home Friday to start chewing on.

Once I started, I wasn't content with chewing on Wild at heart; O had to inhale. I kept nodding my head in agreement or feeling my heart in my throat as I read about how God created a man and what keeps him form living up to his designed purpose. My mind kept thinking about how I don't live up to the title of "man" and where, in my past, my insecurities came from. There were many mini-prayers asking for my eyes to be opened and my deep wounds and fears to be dealt with.

I guess those prayers were answered. At no time last night was I asleep for more than two and half hours. Too many dreams that related to my reading ans thoughts woke me up. Each time, I took a minute to recall the dream and thank God for revealing me to myself. Even though I was irked by loss of sleep, it was cool to know that I was being dealt with. It's cliche, but be careful because you might get what you ask for. I'm glad my night was interrupted by m y Father's love, though.

I'm not finished with e book, yet, and even further from being who God has purposed me to be. However, I feel like a big change came this weekend in the way I look at myself and the guys around me. Some major questions have been answered and opened up to new things to think about. So far, my weekend has been nothing short of amazing and it's all because God is at work.

Pleasure of running barefoot

2010-04-24T20:10:00.000-07:00

Well, it's just been one of those weeks. Noting outside the ordinary happened. Still gossip and drama in the library, small portions of good food in the chow hall, and tough communication in my cell. I guess I felt like I had to do something to spice thins up today.

We had a light rain yesterday that left the track spongy. After a lap of walking, I thought it would be a great time to run barefoot today. I removed my shoes and socks, then jogged up to meet Doc, my bleach-white feet acting like beacons. the ground felt wonderful, like cookie dough between my toes. It was just dry enough that I could leave footprints but not be slowed by mud stuck to my feet.

Doc took a break after eight laps, but I was enjoying the massage on-the-go too much to stop. I got a few weird looks and funny salutations. They just don't understand. It felt better than running with shoes.

I always finish my runs with a faster-paced lap and a full-speed finish, so after my eleventh lap, I lengthened my stride and got going. My footfalls were deeper and stickier than usual, but it was like I gained a sense of the power of my stride.

Because it was so comfortable, I didn't think I would have any blisters. Boy, was I wrong. When I came in from rec, I had two huge blisters on my bog toes and a couple on my other toes. I drained and put triple antibiotic on them all, but my feet feel like they have been through a bad acupuncture session and acid bath. I know I'll heal up quickly. I should have known I would pay for the pleasure of running barefoot.

Three in a row

2010-04-16T19:51:00.000-07:00

For a couple months I've been taking off every morning from work to go to rec for an hour and a half. I figured out with Ereman that our mornings are really slow, so it's not hard for him to maintain things while I'm gone. The library is pretty easy anyway. Take names, number, and book info and pass it on to the boss to be entered into the computer.

Anyway, I've been working out and running with Doc again. He pushes me on the weights and I push him on the track. It's a great arrangement.

This morning, however, we had a third join us for the run. He's a guy out of my dorm who had heard about my runs (they really aren't that special but anyone who runs more than a mile is strange here) and wanted to join us.

With three in the pack, we didn't want to hog the track running side-by-side, so we settled into an Indian run. For those who don't know what an Indian run is, it is where the runners travel in a vertical line and the runner in the rear overtakes the pack on each lap or interval. Unfortunately, we did it backwards - the front man dropping to the back.

Believe it or not, it is easier to speed up over a short distance than slow down. This logic kept our front man from dropping back, which meant that the other two guys had to speed up to overtake him. Over a few laps we went from a decent jog to a medium-paced run and we only got faster. I'm not accustomed to so many speed changes and was worn out after only eight laps - about two miles. Doc and the new guy wondered what was wrong with me, but, for some reason, I couldn't keep pace with them.