Got a couple of letters with words for Tom to look up the signs for as he requested. Words like rat, doll, music, rainbow, etc.

We had fish for dinner tonight. It wasn’t bad. I just get sick of lukewarm or cold food. I was surprised we got watermelon and a scoop of half-melted ice cream yesterday. I like it half-melted, though. We get bread with every meal because they want to fatten us up. Everyone tells me they’ve gained weight in here, so I’m trying to limit my bread intake. Poor Kim came in here at 125 pounds and now she’s 160. I’m 108-109 right now. I asked Kim why they don’t just let us have candy bars all the time if they want to fatten us up and she said they don’t because that would be being nice. Candy tastes good and it would give us the energy they don’t want us to have.

Believe it or not, I finally got to the doctor yesterday. Some big black lady with a funny accent. She was nice, though. I still can’t not be nice to a black person who’s nice to me, but when I think of blacks in general, I want to puke! I had to wait 2 hours before seeing the nurse, then another hour to see the doctor. Some people waited for 6 or more hours!

Kim was there to discuss the not-so-good results of her pap smear. She’s got some kind of sexually transmitted disease, but at least it’s curable.

Because Kim and I are Ad-Seg, we weren’t put in the big holding tank. We sat at the main entrance with Officers Brea and Lumia, who were really nice. Brea was really cool because she let Kim, some nosy black bitch who’d butt into our conversations and myself, eat some of her lunch. The DOs get way better food than we do. No meager portions of slop for them! She had a huge tray full of tacos and burritos.

Brea burst out laughing when I told her why I was here because she thought I was joking, that’s how ridiculous it is. Everyone I’ve discussed it with agrees it’s outrageous and guilty or not, the sentence I got for my supposed crime is ludicrous.

They throw you in jail for 3 months if you fuck up on probation. Even that seems crazy. I can see anywhere from 10-30 days, but 90 days for a backslide seems a bit overkill. I guess they feel that the stiffer the sentence, the less likely people will become repeat offenders, but obviously this doesn’t work, since most of these people are exactly that. That leaves money. The more business, the more money.

They didn’t cuff us this time going to and from medical. The DOs talked to other DOs with their walkie-talkies that were escorting people around. I felt like I was back in school again on my way there!

“Walk single file, ladies. No talking in the hallway, ladies.”

I was like - Oh, go shove a fucking broom handle up your asses!

Same old bullshit every day.

The nurse shocked me by mentioning work furlough, which I didn’t know I was even eligible for. There’s no way I’m doing work furlough. I’ll be damned if I’ll give the money to the jail like you’re required to do. Besides, who’d hire me as a convicted felon?

Anyway, the doctor did a physical on me (no pap) and told me I was strong after doing a resistance test on me. I better be after exercising and lifting weights consistently since last April. Between housework, taking care of the animals, and working out, it keeps me pretty fit.

She gave me a Ventolin inhaler and a nasal spray similar to the one I had at home. She also recommended one 300mg tablet of Theodur a day, rather than one 200mg tablet that the nurse brings around, but I think I’m going to have it stopped. It makes my heart too racy. It made me really miss how Tom would comfort me when my heart got racy. Kim tried comforting me with hugs, but it’s not the same.

Kim and I did laundry. We washed our underwear in the sink, but scrubbed shirts and pants on a huge plastic bag.

These mice are getting brave around me! Now I hear a couple of them fighting in the supply closet next to us where they live.

Believe it or not, I’m sleeping through a lot of the noise around here. Perhaps it’s because the noise is pretty continuous, whereas if I fell asleep in peace and quiet, then 4 hours later there was noise, it’d be harder to sleep through.

There are a couple of things I forgot to mention about court. The DA mentioned not being able to find the Mexicans – well – first of all, I don’t buy it for a minute that they moved like she said they did. Secondly, why would she want to find them when they’ve been dropped from this case since I didn’t go to trial? It’s just between me and the black bitch now, so who cares where they are? They were fucking illegals, no doubt, with God knows how many warrants out on them. They probably ran when things heated up. Like I said, people will put themselves out to spite others.

Another thing the DA tried to do was get her way with me based on racism. Since when is it illegal to be a bigot?

I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do with journaling once I get pads. I’ll either send whole pads home in manila envelopes as I fill them, rip out and mail a few sheets at a time, or just keep them all.

Right after I left medical, I had a visit with Tom. I was hyped up and rambled on and on. I let him know I felt better now that I had my meds, although I’m still taking much less of the inhaler.

He was kind enough to put $90 on my books, but $30 of it went to rent.

He also said he’d mail me the post-conviction relief form to sign, as long as I don’t want him to make any changes in what he’s going to say, that is.

He also told me I won’t necessarily be on probation for 3 years. That’s only the max, but it’s up to the PO. The PO can also sign me out of here anytime they want to, too. Now that I know that, I wonder just how persuasive I can be at striking any deals with whoever this person may be (Tom’s going to call and try to find out next week). I’d rather 10 years of probation than 3 years of probation and 6 months in jail! Tom’s hoping I can live at home while I see a therapist multiple times a week. That’d be a dream that ain’t likely to come true. Like I said, something up there obviously wanted to hang me really well with these freeloaders and it’s not about to set me free of them anytime soon. Plus, life isn’t fair. So the more unfair my sentence, the more likely it is to stick.

Why is God so obsessed with having me stuck in places I don’t want to be??? Camps, funny farms, prison-like schools, with my real parents, foster homes, shitty apartments, the Phoenix house, and now jail!

Kim insists most POs do want to help their clients. Well, we’ll see just how much they care to help me by how long I end up here and what happens afterward. I have a feeling, though, that I’m not going to get your average PO. Why should I? After a lying pig, a corrupt lawyer, and an evil judge, why not a monster PO?

I jokingly said to Tom – wouldn’t it be funny if for classes I went to train as a DO? All you need is to be at least 18 and free of felonies (this is a class 6 undesignated felony that’ll become a misdemeanor in the end if all goes well). They don’t carry guns, only mace and stun guns. Even if I weren’t currently a convicted felon, and transportation wasn’t an issue, I don’t think I could stand to work in such a dismal place with so many people. I’d probably make a lousy DO, too. I’d be too lenient in some ways because I’d feel bad for the inmates, knowing what it’s like to be locked up. On the other hand, my temper would probably get the better of me. It’d be too tempting to zap the shit out of someone I didn’t like or worse.

One thing’s for sure and that’s that I could never be a pig. I couldn’t bring myself to go around lying to people like they do and taking advantage of people and manipulating them. I couldn’t live with myself for pinning crimes on innocent people simply because the real perpetrator couldn’t be found, which would be expected of me as a pig. It seems to be standard procedure.

The queen of contraband here managed to swipe a couple of razors. She said that if we’re caught with them, she’ll claim full responsibility, even though all that’d likely happen is that they’d be taken away and we wouldn’t get written up and put on restriction.

Written up. Restriction. Sounds like I’m in Valleyhead again!

We Palma-proofed the room really well as soon as we saw that the hot-looking bitch was on. She likes to toss rooms, so Kim taped the razors and pen to a hidden ledge under the bottom bunk. Last time, Palma swiped Kim’s condiment collection and her two extra sets of clothes. She also broke her pencils. Kim tapes the pencils, which are only 3” long, back to back to make them easier to hold. Kim retapes them as fast as Palma breaks them.

Kim fessed up a few days ago, telling me she’s bi-curious. She has a crush on Cindy, a girl in the next pod that she knows from the outs. So I guess she’s going to have the best of both worlds and marry her boyfriend (who’s also Aryan) and be with Cindy, too.

I don’t ever remember A Tower being this cold. It’s freezing! A Tower’s blacks don’t care. They’re still singing at the top of their lungs, screaming and yelling and being the assholes that they are, making sure to stick out like sore little thumbs.

I realize more and more just how much money the jail makes from its inmates. It’s a business just like any other. The more clients the merrier. Maybe the outrageous 6-month sentence is more money-related than I had realized. They make a ton of money off us from commissary (though there are some who can’t afford it) and by having inmates take care of the kitchen, laundry and shit like that so they don’t have to hire people, and all the food is donated. It’s not just about money, though. It’s about a white, childless person who was unfortunate enough to be up against off-brands in a US courtroom. They run the courts nowadays. They are the courts.

Kim lectured me the other day about my attitude. I got frustrated with people’s damn demands on our hour out and snapped at someone down below, telling them to get their own shit on their own hour out. Kim says jail/prison is all about respect. I can take her advice and tell them I’m busy or something like that, but I don’t care. Period. I’m not here to worry about other people’s feelings and what they think of me, and I have no respect for people in general – black, white, Spanish, etc. She says she’s only trying to help, and I know she means well, but she doesn’t always help. She gets on my nerves at times, but that’s to be expected of people you eat, shit and sleep with 23/7. It bugs me, for example, when she answers my own questions. I ran into someone at medical I knew from the tents and I didn’t feel like playing the 20 Questions game with them. I tried to brush them off, but Kim, who sat next to me, had to answer for me. It also bugs me when they call me over the intercom for visits or something like that and she answers for me.

I know no one’s perfect, though, and she’s still a good celly. It was really sweet of her when she said that since I’m stuck here, she’s glad it’s with her.

I got a rather harsh letter from Paula, though I know she didn’t mean to come off in any bad way, and even said she hoped I wasn’t mad at her. I have a feeling most of it is because of Tom, but I’ll find out for sure since flaky Paula isn’t always a reliable source of information. Before, she told me she got 30 days in jail for assault, and this time she said she got 3 months for arguing with a cop.

When she asked me why I was so “mean and evil” to this lady, I was once again like – haven’t you been reading my journals? I have a feeling that when Tom talked to her, he came off as sounding as if I picked on some poor innocent soul for no reason at all. I was sort of pissed when she said Tom said I won’t learn and will probably do it again to someone else. That’s totally something he’d say too, and I was like – thanks for having faith in me! Does he really think I’d do it again after going through this nightmare I’m stuck in? Does he really think I was kidding when I said I was just going to sit back and take it when we get stuck with blacks and Mexicans all over again? Well, let me set the record straight – I will never send journal excerpts to anyone again other than to Paula. Nor will I write/call the landlord on the blacks and Mexicans that spoil our peace and quiet when they move in behind us as is inevitably fated to be.

Today I refused my Theo and I’m less jittery.