I forgot to mention the pigeons over in the tents. They hung out by the day room and some of us would feed them.

Last night I finally got fed up with freezing my ass off, so I filled out a grievance form, not caring if it made things worse and if they reacted poorly and spited me for it (how much more can they do to me?) and believe it or not, it’s been a bit warmer in here.

Tom mentioned at least 2 letters he has on their way to me. That’ll be nice to get. I’ll probably get them tomorrow.

It scares me to think – what if I didn’t have him throughout all this? What if I still had an apartment? What would happen to it while I was gone?

My biggest fear when I first got here, which Tom and Kim helped to ease, was that we were definitely going to be forced to sell the house so I could be in the city near bus lines so I could work outside of the house. I misunderstood the fucking sentence. The after-jail part. I thought he was saying I had to work full-time and take educational classes, and do community service, and see a therapist, and see the PO. Tom says the community service will be fun. Especially if it’s signing or something like that. Well, I sure as hell won’t do any religious or freeloading-related activities. Also, if I don’t want to work, all I have to do is take an educational course that runs for a handful of weeks. Fine. Anything but jail! I’d prefer drawing classes over signing classes, though, because I can’t draw as well as I can sign.

I got to like Helen, so she’s no problem as far as seeing her goes. I just hope whoever my PO is doesn’t turn out to be the monster the judge was!

Tom says my teeth will be fine, but another thing the freeloaders have taken from me are my retainers. For reasons I can’t fathom, they’re not allowed here. Thank God I didn’t just get braces on! Kim says they’d have sent me to an ortho, but I doubt it.

Tom’s going to be visiting on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sundays are a zoo. I look so forward to our visits! They’re closed contact, though, because I’m Ad-Seg. In a way, it’s better that way because it’s easier to hear him in the little rooms (when the speakers don’t cut out), but I can’t hug him or hand him these journal sheets to take home. I’ve been mailing home about 4 sheets at a time. Kim said I’m allowed to release my property and can give a DO stuff to give to Tom. I don’t know if I trust them, though. I’m afraid something would suddenly demand their attention and they’d forget.

This big ugly butch is working right now and every time she makes her rounds, the scent of her very manly cologne wafts in and it’s not too pleasant.

The off-brands next door are quiet at the moment. They scream, laugh and sing on and off. I’d have fallen asleep earlier than I did last night if it wasn’t for them. Even the DO shocked us by telling them to shut their holes. Naturally, though, it failed to have any effect. You don’t tell an off-brand to be quiet, and as usual, they’re the loudest ones here, in their own rude, selfish little world. They had me up so late that I napped earlier while they were carrying on.

I’m still being controlled by freeloaders! Still in the city, still listening to like sickos – aaarrrggghhh!!!

At 5:30 we went down for a breakfast too gross to eat, although I think Kim ate it, then I went back to bed till 10:00 when our hour out was. I swept and mopped the floor, which we take turns doing, and tried calling Tom, but got no answer. I just wanted to make sure there was money in my account because he told me the computers were down on both Tuesday and Thursday.

He says I’m still getting birthday money this year from his Mom and that he’ll get the doll kit with it. I was going to get Marisa with Christmas money, but thanks to the freeloaders, it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to.

In another week or so (I guess he wanted to make sure it wasn’t too soon for the freeloaders not to still be involved, even though they’ll be a part of my life forever) he’s going to mail those letters to the mayor and the court of appeals. I just hope he tells them everything. Including the freeloaders’ wrongdoings, which make any of my wrongdoings seem totally innocent. He’s also going to try for post-conviction relief to get me into a halfway house. I know it’ll never work, but he can do as he pleases.

I’m more convinced than ever that Paul was/is corrupt. Tom says there was a hearing we could’ve had that he never told us about. Kim says I could get my sentence overturned if he fucked up like that by withholding information from us. Yeah, but how would we prove it? And besides, they’d only recharge me and I’d just lose all over again because of the fingerprints and voice on tape this idiot didn’t think of. This idiot also didn’t know how screwy the laws here were, either!

I hope they do clothes exchange soon because Palma took our extra clothes over in A Tower, and it’s not so easy to wash clothes here. Back in A, we took the giant plastic bag Rule gave me to put my stuff in and scrubbed clothes on it with bars of soap. We even rinsed our clothes in the toilet after Kim scrubbed the hell out of it because the toilet bowl holds more water than the sink does. It gave us something to do.

My allergies have been worse here in M Dorm. I’m OK with sneezing here every now and then because all I do is read, write and exercise. At home, where I had more to do, it really hindered my activities.

The stairs leading up here are a bitch on your feet with no shoes. They’re not solid cement-like in A. They’re metal grills that you can see right through to the floor.

I asked the butch DO why there was a lock on the inside of our cells, and she said it was for if we locked any of the DOs in.

I forgot to mention April and Angel from the tents.

April was a really pretty Asian girl who said she had her own practice as a therapist. She was in for beating up her husband and was also an 88-pound anorexic.

Angel, who was generous and helpful towards me, also liked me. A little too much. Hugging me when I was really down was fine, but I did not like it when she tried to kiss me. I pulled away, yet she understood. Single or not, I wasn’t attracted to Angel.

I used the excuse of being worried about getting caught and written up, though I told myself that that was silly and that they weren’t going to write people up for kissing. But of course, that’s what I would’ve said over mailing a supposed threatening letter, though sure enough, I came to learn that it is a write-up because any kind of sexual contact in jail is simply not allowed.

Although Kim and I are like best friends in this place, I could never associate with her on the outs. She’s a major druggie.

She’s not very attractive, either. Her 5’3”, 150-pound body is loaded with stretch marks that are almost up to her tits from having kids, and her plain-looking face has big-time acne. She has dull gray eyes and a funny-shaped nose.

She can really peel kiwis, though! She does it with the plastic spoons.

I’ve taught Kim the alphabet, the numbers, and some vocabulary in sign language.

Kim says it’d be best to stay mad while I’m in here, and wait till I get out to cry over lost time, etc. That’s certainly easier said than done. I cry every day in here, but believe me – I’m mad as hell! Mad at the freeloaders, mad at the judge, mad at Paul, mad at the pigs, even mad at myself for not just putting up with their shit till we could get the fuck out of there.

Kim and Kara have said not to let them win, but they already have won. They’ve won and have been winning since 1996.

I’m also mad at God. He just had to let this happen. He just couldn’t let us have normal neighbors. I hate him for the 35 years of shit he’s dumped on me! I’m being punished for running from Phoenix, for trying to live in peace, for the house, the land, the big TV, etc. The more I try to get away from what the Gods have ordered, the more it’s forced on me. If I were smart, I’d move back to Phoenix. I have a feeling Phoenix will keep calling me back time and time again anyway, if I’m dumb enough to live, and if I even live to get out of here. Phoenix and its chaos and noisy freeloaders won’t let me go!

How can I ever get on with my life if this were ever over? I just don’t see how I can mend from this one. I’m too depressed, too pissed, and too humiliated. I still can’t believe my whole life has been trashed over a fucking piece of mail and a phone call. I mean, this is crazy! The phone call, though, is only a misdemeanor and that’s not part of my so-called charges. Even so, phone call or not, letter or not, I didn’t do anything!