Well, I’m still in 203, but Mary’s not. Deanna’s in with me now, but she’s cool because all she does is sleep. That is when she doesn’t trade her meds in for commissary. She’s very insecure about her blackness, though. Always paranoid that people aren’t going to like her because she’s black, and it seems so important to her that whites like and accept her.

To start at the beginning, which starts right before my visit with Tom yesterday, Kitchen, on 1st shift, came in asking if one of us would go next door because one girl wasn’t getting along with another. I said no, and explained why. Mary told her she didn’t want to move, either.

“But you’re in jail,” Kitchen started to say before leaving.

I don’t care where we are. I’m not going anywhere where I’m that uncomfortable.

However, come 2nd shift when Smith came on, Mary had to go next door and she was not happy about it. Fuck that fucking Pancake Face Smith! She’s nothing but a whiny, moody, rude bitch. Everyone calls her Barbie and considers her pretty, but to me, she’s no better than average (blond hair and light eyes do nothing for me). Either way, I wish someone would cuff her to something in the tower and stick a Raid bug spray bomb in with her on their way out!

There’s this black chick they call CC that’s causing trouble with everyone she cells with. She fought with a white girl next door named Lisa who went downstairs, then with Deanna, and today she ran out some other white girl who came from God only knows where. I refuse to cell with this black bitch or any other one other than Deanna. They’re too loud and too vicious.

Mary and I agree that they should put all the blacks together. However, they’d all kill each other, and the jail doesn’t want to deal with all that paperwork. In prison, it’s different, from what I hear.

Everybody hates Deanna’s snoring, but I don’t mind. I don’t know why Tom’s snoring bothers me so much that I can’t even sleep with him. Maybe because Deanna’s snoring drowns out background noise, but at home, the fan I have running is supposed to be doing that, so Tom’s snoring is an intruder. Her coughing, burping and moaning are loud, though. She talks in her sleep at times, too.

Mary rolled out and Deanna rolled in while I was seeing Tom. When I returned, Deanna was sitting up on her bunk rocking and crying. She was afraid I’d be mad at her. I wasn’t though. I was mad at the fucking black bitch who started this whole thing and at Pancake Face Smith. Whenever there’s a fight, there’s sure to be a black involved if there’s one around. I can tolerate Deanna, though, because most of the time she’s quieter than your average black, and her craziness is more tolerable because she’s not spastic like Melinda.

Deanna had been trading her meds for commissary, so she got all wound up. The nurse said she’d crush her pills so she wouldn’t feel pressured into trading them for commissary. Deanna said she was raped when she was 3, was hearing voices that were telling her to hurt people, wanted to go to D2, and didn’t want to hurt me. I was never worried, though. Deanna’s way over 200 pounds, very out of shape, and unable to move well, so unless she sat on me, I doubt she could take me. I’m fit, I’m fast, and I’m flexible.

After taking her meds she stopped “hearing voices,” which I really think was an excuse to try to get to D2, and slept from 8 PM – 4 PM. God, I envy her! I wish I could sleep my sentence away. But I can’t, and that’s why I’m finally, since 1997, coming down with a cold. The lack of sleep has taken its toll on my immune system. The symptoms are very slight, though, and if I could just get a decent night’s sleep, I may beat it.

I woke up 5 times last night. First I woke up for breakfast, which as usual, I don’t bother to eat, then the rude nurse had to knock and ask, “Are you OK?” Then it was underwear exchange, then Deanna yelled out in her sleep, then Bowe brought commissary for Deanna and it was our hour out. She slept through it all. I slipped Mary a note and got more toilet paper and pads.

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Deanna’s finally up now. She’s rocking and whimpering. Hopefully, her 8:00 meds will knock her out for another 20 hours, so I can feel like I’m alone in here.

Smith said she couldn’t imagine being in a little closet like this cell. Better than something too open with 2 more people. Besides, what the fuck does she know? I was like, shut up, bitch! Go throw another bottle of foundation on your face.

Deanna gave me a few envelopes for a bag of corn nuts, which is great because now I don’t have to wait till next week for some. Next week I’ll get Deanna, who goes home on February 2nd, a couple of candy bars for her indigent envelopes.

The juvi chick’s been at her door screaming on and off today and yesterday, but what’s funny is that every time I yell at her through the vents, she really does shut up for a while. She was way worse yesterday, yelling all the way into 3rd shift.

As I said, Mary wasn’t happy about moving, but it’s what we agreed to do as long as it wasn’t with Melinda. I reminded her of this in the kite I slipped her. I also let her know I miss her and hope she can return after Deanna leaves, but by then I won’t be in this room. I’ll probably be in A for refusing to go in a big cell because eventually, the DOs aren’t going to compromise with me. Why is it always this cell that has to move? I can’t believe Mary was in here a whole month. Deanna was next door for two, but that I can believe.

There was a power failure today, but only for a few minutes.

My throat’s a bit scratchy. I’m a bit warm and a lot drained. I’m going to start buying daily vitamins, even if they’re an outrageous 65¢ for a daily pack.

I’m up top now because Deanna’s too big to climb easily. This is why we swapped in the big cell; she can’t pull her weight well. I’m also here so Deanna’s the one to get pulled, which she said would be OK, should they need a lower bunk. I climb like a little monkey, although I do prefer the bottom.

I made myself eat as much dinner as I could, then later I’ll force myself to exercise. Tonight we had scalloped potatoes with ham, broccoli and watermelon. As usual, I ignored the bread.

Black Johnson’s on. She and Deanna act like they’re old buddies. “It’s a black thing,” Deanna said.

Johnson said she went to New York, asked how Deanna’s daughter was, and then they discussed their braids for a minute.

Deanna and I were talking about the difference between white and black people’s hair, and after I complimented her on her color being not too light, not too dark, she goes, “OK, that’s enough black talk.”

Damn, these blacks are sensitive! Speaking of sensitive blacks – Mary told me a story about black bitch Bucket and a white racist they call Pinki. Well, Pinki was in the dayroom when Bucket decided to fake an asthma attack (Mary saw the whole thing) and so they popped her door. As soon as they did, the black bitch attacked Pinki when she was the one who called to DOs to help Bucket. Meanwhile, Bucket went right on with her bogus asthma attack and the DOs wouldn’t believe Pinki simply because she was a racist.

That was wrong of the DOs. Pinki has every right to be a racist or to not be one, and the DOs should’ve seen the incident for what it was.

Why is it that blacks just can’t handle people not liking them? If someone doesn’t like me, I just ignore them. I don’t attack them for it or go crying over it. Blacks and their poor, poor fragile, eggshell-like feelings!