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.
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 w
as 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.
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.
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.
I knew that since Alan had left an open bunk in my cell, I would be getting acquainted with a new cellmate soon. This unit, like most in the overcrowded Texas prison system, doesn't like to keep open bunks long. However, just like when I moved in, I had to wait to see who my new cellie would be. This time I was the one at work all day. It wasn't until I got back form Bible study in the evening that I found out who had moved in.
Juan is a Mexican national who came to live in Austin with his eight (!) brothers. He doesn't speak much English, so communication is not easy. I don't have much Spanish vocabulary under my command, even after my stint with a Mexican cellmate at my last unit. Juan was happy to have a white cellie because he said "blacks are too loud and dirty". Hmm...ooooookay.
I don't know how things will shake out, but it doesn't seem like Juan will be a bad guy to share space with. And really that's the only mandatory for a cellie. It would be nice to have a good relationship but it is not necessary. There are too many wackos in prison to ask for much more than a decent (by prison standards) guy.
Last week my close friend and cellmate, Alan,
found out he had made parole. Hallelujah! I know he is anxious to get home to his family, especially his kids. He genuinely wants a righteous life for himself and to be good example for his kids. He's been nervous all week, but he is excited and ready to get out of here.
Almost from day one when I moved into the cell we hit it off. We formed a friendship based on Christ, often praying for each others' hardships. It has been nice to be able to have a cellmate with whom I confide in and talk about all kinds of issues - mundane or complex. I don't know how much of an encouragement I've been to him, but Alan is often able, on those few down days, to lift me up in a short time.
There are not many people here that I just click with, but Alan has been one of those people.
He left this morning to be released later this week from Huntsville, down near Houston. I don't know who will replace him in my cell, but I pray it will be someone I can share life with in a similar way. I wish Alan the fortitude to say "yes" to the things he needs to be involved in and "no" to those he must avoid. I hope to never be his cellmate again, no matter how great it is to have him around.
There's a guy a few cells down that has been in and out of prison for much of his life, but has developed a relationship with Christ over the past few years. Chris has a lot of knowledge and is still working on some behaviors, as many of us are. He is Alan's coworker in the kitchen supply, so they have a pretty good friendship. Often, when they come back to the pod after work, Chris will come to our cell and talk with Alan about the Word or how the Word applies to something one of them is dealing with.
Usually I'm just reading with the headphones on, trying to get into their conversation, but the past few nights Chris has pulled me in, always asking for me to "tell me something good." After telling him something generally good the first time he asked, he responded that he wanted to hear something I had read in the Word. Whoa! I haven't been in a place like this with people like this in a long time, if ever.
After telling him I had read that day, the three of us went into impromptu study right there. A few nights of this have gone by and I'm realizing I'm not being fed well in just the dining hall, but also back in my cell.
