Saturday, March 10, 2001

Bowe, who’s now divorced and back to Atkinson, is on now. She gave me two lunches for helping her serve. The roast beef is the best lunch meat they have.

The coffee cart hasn’t come and it’s already noon. I’m sure this means they’re not coming at all. I can’t picture it coming later than 8:30. They want you to have to be woken up for things like that.

I really do scare the shit out of the night crew, though I don’t mean to. I scared Lumia, who’s been switched to nights. She likes to leave the dayroom all lit up.

I was thinking about making my own address labels directly onto the envelopes when I get home. I’d put a small picture where the return address label goes, then type in the address below it. We can still get cheap, boring-looking labels to slap on bills, though.


The coffee cart did come, after all. I really thought it’d be something we’d always have to get up for. I got chicken noodle soup and hot chocolate which were good. It warmed me up, too. Next time I’ll get the veggie soup.

When I was talking to Tom earlier, we were discussing the fact that something up there has a definite obsession with me being stuck in places I don’t want to be, and he said that the next place I’ll be stuck is at home with him forever.

Oh, how sweet! I want to believe that, and truthfully, my bad post-release vibes have faded a bit. I’ll still be paranoid and looking over my shoulder for years, though, I’m sure. Something like this, despite the many cool people I’ve met, stays with you for years. Maybe even forever. The cool part will be looking at the clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays and knowing I can see my husband right there at home. Not through a piece of glass!

I can’t wait to take a shower when I want it, however hot I want it, and in total privacy (other than Tom, of course).

I miss waking up leisurely with coffee.

I’m still going to expose that bastard. All this was, was a case of non-whites ganging up on a white person in a day and age when they know they have the upper hand. A vindictive non-white got the help of a fellow non-white to gang up on a white girl because they knew they could get away with it. There are two things I’d like to say to Mr. Bias – to think first before he tries to tell someone something’s “over” when he knows it’s not, and to think before he coaches his friends into trashing someone’s life.

I doubt I’ll get a celly over the weekend, but I still think Jackson and Jill are going to rearrange us again. Probably next week. I find it awfully hard to believe that the last time they did it was just a one-time deal.

The more I think about it, the more appealing the idea of farming is to me, regardless of how many people consider that to be outdated something like that may be. I’d be scared of horses at first, but hopefully I’ll get comfortable enough, with Tom’s help, to be able to take the horse out riding myself if I wanted to. It’d make me feel more free and more independent.


Took a nap into 2nd shift. Gibb’s on now.

I’m starving, but I know it’s going to be hot dogs tonight. We rarely go for more than two nights without them. I just hope it comes with something that’s edible enough to fill me up.

As I begin the last 7 weeks of this dive, I’ve decided on a simpler title for my little jailhouse book: Life in Estrella Jail.

The juvies are going spastic like they tend to after dinner. Sometimes it’s hard to believe they’re teens and not toddlers.

Anyway, I was right about the hot dogs and they were totally inedible with the way they were overspiced.

I still fear that something up there’s preparing me for something by having me go through all this shit. I don’t see how it could be a good thing, either. I’m sure it’s freeloader-related. My whole life is freeloader-related so it seems over the last few years. I just won’t know the details until it happens.

No comments:

Post a Comment