M204

My first guess happened. The herm returned, but I didn’t get sent to A Tower. I got thrown back in the big cage next door instead not even 5 hours later! I’m pissed!!! Real fucking pissed. And depressed. And in need of taking a dump, but too embarrassed to do it in front of all these people. I hope I can go when the lights go out. I’ve adapted to peeing, but not to shitting.

I was so pissed that I pounded on the door, not caring if I got on restriction, and hoping I could get back to A Tower. Even if I had two cellies, I could at least have a more private toilet.

The sergeant came, and damn was she an insensitive bitch! No one but Tom understands my problem as far as mixing with people goes, even if the people aren’t bad, and my sleep problem. I didn’t mention the sleep thing. I just tried to explain why I wanted to go to A, and the rude bitch goes, “Do you live alone? Do you go to the store?”

“Actually, I pretty much live like a hermit,” I told her, “and I do it for a reason.”

But she didn’t get it. Nor did she care, and besides, I didn’t owe this bitch any explanations.

So here I am stuck with loud-mouth Lora and the others again. When Lora and Madeline are up, they’re so loud and obnoxious.

When I came back here last night, I slept on the floor because Deanna didn’t want to give me her bottom bunk this time around. That’s OK. As big as she is, I understand how hard it is for her to climb up there. I didn’t think I could get on this one, though, because there’s no desk near it to step on. All there is a little foothold on the wall. So I step on Deanna’s bed, then the foothold, then up on my bed. To get down, I slide down to Deanna’s bed, then step off. Getting down is a little harder. I can live with it, but I’d still prefer the bottom. I can’t get onto the tent’s top bunks because they’re higher with nothing to climb up with.

Madeline says she doesn’t like Deanna because she thinks she snores on purpose. Madeline and Lora say that when they call out to her for chow she wakes right up, but when they call out to her to shut up, she ignores them. They fucking woke me up calling to her and I was pissed. I’m so exhausted and I wish to hell I could have one quiet, normal celly!

Crazy Melinda talked to me earlier as if nothing ever happened. She did say my screaming at her scared her, though, because I laughed in the midst of it, and she wasn’t sure whether or not I was joking.

Whatever.

She told me earlier how happy to be alone she is, but now she’s got a celly. We warned the poor girl as she walked by just what she’s in for.

Bunch is working now. What a weird name.

I changed my mind about contacting April on the outs. I’ll have other things on my mind and I won’t feel like striking up friendships. Also, she lives way out in Snottsdale.

M205

I’ve been through major stress and hell starting at 3 AM Monday morning, but what can I expect? This is jail. Once again I had to get out of where I was and now I’m in 205.

Lora and Madeline said they miss me and that I’m welcome back any time. That’s very nice of them, but no thanks!

Anyway, I don’t know if I have a sign on me that only others can see, begging to be with all the sickos of Estrella jail, or what! These sick twists belong with each other in funny farms. How the fuck can they put these people just anywhere and with just anyone? The sickos name was Melinda Brinkman. She was short, bone-thin, with very dark hair and eyes. Her wavy hair was shoulder-length. She was a mix of things, but all I can remember is that she’s part Apache.

There I was, glad to finally have just one celly so she wouldn’t have anyone to gab with, yet she’s fucking talking to herself! She just wouldn’t shut the fuck up or sit still for two seconds. She was jumping all around the cell as if she were on speed. I’d have broken the 80-pound anorexic dopehead in half if I wasn’t moved when I was moved. I’d have gladly gotten on restriction and sent back to the hole if I’d had to in order to get away from the sicko. This psycho sparked a rage in me that made me wonder just how the hell I controlled myself around her. Even the DOs know how warped in the head the little shit is.

Officer Temple, a really nice black DO with freckles that’s on nights, said I ought to threaten to kick her ass. I guess that’s what Madeline did to get her out of next door. Everyone here hates the loony tune. She was constantly chatting and singing to herself, screaming out the door, climbing the walls like a little monkey, tearing up magazines and trashing the place. I can see why one of her charges is for littering.

When she’d talk, she made no sense, switched subjects rapidly, interrupted me, and made a zillion contradictory statements. The little pig asked for everything I had, so I just gave her some stuff I didn’t like anyway. She’s definitely not skinny from starving herself. It’s drug-induced skinniness.

I also learned that D2 can only keep its nuts for a few days. I know one of two things will happen within the next 72 hours and I don’t have to be the psychic that I am to know it, either. The herm will return needing this room and I’ll be shipped to A, or I’ll get another crazy celly. Maybe they’ll throw me back next door.

Officer Temple was kind enough to warn me in advance that I’d be in for a new celly and to decide whether or not I wanted to stay on the bottom or jump up on top. That was so nice of her. Once she brought the psycho in, telling her to be nice to me, she told me she had court in a little while. When she returned to get the sicko for court, I asked that she come back afterward so I could talk to her, and she did.

After giving me suggestions about threatening her, filling out a tank order, etc., she and I got to talking a little about my case. She agrees Arizona has stupid laws (tell me about it!) and how a woman did time because her little kid swiped a bottle of cold syrup without her knowing it. Temple said that for all she knew, she could end up here over some stupid thing. I told her I hoped we’d be cellies if she did!

It’s true, though, that the laws have got to change. Laws that should be laws aren’t laws, and laws that shouldn’t be laws are laws. Too many people get set up, too. If what happened to me could happen to me, it could happen to anybody. It’s really scary. Laws such as those forbidding gays to have sex really burns me up. Who the fuck is anybody to tell others who they have sex with, especially when it’s two consenting adults?

I slept from about 6 AM - 10 AM when it was our hour out. She was still at court, though, and didn’t return till noon. Then they let her have her hour out and I got another much-needed hour of sleep. Meanwhile, I couldn’t sleep again till she did, as that was the only time she was quiet. I only managed to get a measly 3 hours, though, till black Officer Perry woke us up for no apparent reason. She opened the door and said to Melinda, “Hey, you’re back.” Then she asked her if she still stank.

Perry came back a couple of hours later to get the little weasel for court again. Afterward, I asked Perry to move one of us, and even she admitted just how crazy Melinda is. I gave her the suicide blanket she wasn’t supposed to have, too. Perry’s exact words were “Yeah, she’s fucked up, man.”

She said she was waiting for the sergeant to call her back and would give me a tank order if she didn’t. Neither of these things happened.

Meanwhile, because of all the anxiety, I never fell back asleep until around 7:00. I didn’t get up till 1:00 when Officer Quinentilla moved me.

Although I’m thrilled to be free of that wacko, I wish they moved her ass, because that cell’s nicer. Here, I had to block the exposed incoming air vent by gluing cardboard with toothpaste onto the vent, and it’s noisier here because of the vent connecting next door and the two cells downstairs.

Quinentilla’s mood must’ve changed, because when I asked her to sharpen my pencils before her shift ended, she rolled her eyes, took the pencils, then never returned them. I had to ask the 2nd shift DO, Hann, to get them for me. She brought them to me, unsharpened.

Now, why couldn’t Quinentilla simply have said that she didn’t want to sharpen the damn things?

Quinentilla’s a young plump Mexican, and Hann’s older – 40ish with blond hair.

I’m glad Lora’s leaving in a week. She’s so loud! Like black kinda loud. She’s woken me up while down on the phone, and now she’ll wake me up next door. At least I can pee in private, and have no psychos around (yet).

Melinda got back an hour before dinner, asking why I moved. I told her I moved because she was so fucking crazy that I was about to kill her. She ignored that and asked if I left her any food. I left some of the lunch I didn’t want. It’s too bad I couldn’t have poisoned it first.

She asked if I stole any of her stuff. Damn! That’s what I forgot to do, I told her. But no, I didn’t steal any of her stuff. It was probably as worthless as she is, anyway.

Later, she was at the door again. I was surprised she wasn’t asking anything about the missing suicide blanket. The little shit asks to borrow my thermal instead, and this is when I really let her have it, telling her to fuck off and just be glad I didn’t fuck her up and beat her beyond recognition. I thought she’d be screaming and pounding on the door, but she just said I was sick (that’s an understatement) and ran back to her cell to pick her nose, eat her snots and hopefully choke on them, too.

I was bummed not to have met with Kara yesterday. Didn’t hear from her today, either. Maybe she’s on vacation or sick. If I don’t see her by the end of next week, I’ll put in a tank requesting to see her.

God, I’m so sick of the same fucking bag lunch day after day – disgusting slices of meat, 2 pieces of bread, and kiwi or a cucumber. I just drink the juice and eat the snack, which is usually a small bag of cookies or crackers.

Lunch and breakfast are served on trays. This morning’s breakfast was barely edible – cold, hard-as-rock waffles. I ate a little of the melon and even some sausage. I don’t like sausage all that much, but I was hungry. We got chocolate milk instead of regular milk, but I only had a little of the milk. It’ll play on my stomach if I have too much.

After thinking about it some more (I’m the curious type), I wonder why Nottelmann didn’t put the white girl in with either myself or next door. Why did they move her out of M altogether?

Damn these fucking beggars! Deanna came over to thank me for the gross lunch meat I slipped under her door, then she asks to borrow my mascara. I can’t find it, I told her. Then Lora slips a spoon under the door for some hair protein. I gave her some, then I let her know she wasn’t getting any more. If I lend my shit out all the time, I’ll never have anything left for myself. Even alone they bother me! I may end up giving away my conditioner, though, because the shit’s so heavy.

Well, I made it through a month here with no write-ups or fights. There may have been a fight between me and Lora or me and Madeline if I hadn’t been moved, though. And I wouldn’t have gone any easier on Madeline just because she’s pregnant. If you’re dumb enough to get in a fight while pregnant, you should accept the possible risks involved. I wouldn’t have been the one to swing first, either. That’s a new charge – assault. Although with my shit luck, no one would’ve believed me, and I’d have been the one to go down. I’m always the one to take the fall while others get away with shit! That’s why I’m in here. It’s so humiliating, too. It’s as unfair as it would be if someone got raped, then went to jail while their attacker went free.

That tongue-clucking fucking dude Madeline went to court at 2 AM. I was surprised to learn they get you up and ready for court in the middle of the night here. She still isn’t back yet and it’s now 2 PM.

Today’s DO, whatever her name is, isn’t too cool. She won’t even sharpen my pencils. Isn’t that her job? Or do some DOs expect us to do it on our hour out? They’re the only ones who have access to the sharpeners, along with trustees, but there are no trustees in M taking care of people on their hour out. At least she didn’t let me sleep through this morning’s bras, panties and towel exchange with her loud mouth. Tomorrow’s stripes and sheet exchange, but they don’t do thermals inside.

A freckled-face black DO on last night is actually pretty friendly. She caught me teary-eyed from homesickness, asked what was wrong, and we chatted a bit.

Black Johnson’s on now. She sharpened a couple of pencils for me (without breaking them). This Johnson’s pretty ugly. She’s short and fat with squinted-like eyes. She’s neither cool nor uncool. She’s just Johnson. There’s no comparison between the two Johnsons when it comes to looks, though!

Miller walked by earlier. She started to walk past my door, then she stopped and asked, “So, how are we doing today?”

This is when I apologized to her for grieving her over such petty BS. Lora was nagging the hell out of me to grieve her when I should’ve had a backbone of my own and not done anything I didn’t really want to do.

The showers were lukewarm today. I hope this doesn’t mean they’re on their way toward being freezing cold.

I both like and do not like the fact that the same DOs only work here once every one to several weeks. The good in it is that you don’t have to deal with the same ones day after day that you don’t like, but the bad side of it is that you don’t see the good ones often enough. From what I hear, the DOs don’t know where they’ll be assigned to work till they come in for work.

Kim said Nottelmann recently turned 20. You mean I’ve been babysat by someone 15 years younger than me? Damn!

Nottelmann’s about average height, thin, with blondish hair and light eyes.

Chambers is pretty much the same, only she’s a major zit face, the poor thing.

Rule was slightly plump and kind of short with dark hair, though I can’t remember the eye color.

Just had what was the best jailhouse dinner yet, aside from that Thanksgiving dinner. We had chicken on the bone. It wasn’t cold and tasted almost as good as KFC. With it was corn on the cob, mashed potatoes and coleslaw.

What a twisted black bitch. She came and asked me why I didn’t have a roommate and now she’s screaming in the day room that she can’t stand it here because it’s too quiet and she wants to go back to A. Then why’d the fucking black bitch go and run her celly out if she’s so lonely and in need of noise? Typical, typical black – it’s too quiet here. Yeah, it would be too quiet for you, wouldn’t it be?

Now the bitch’s in her cell, screaming and slugging the door. If she wants to go back to black-loud A Tower, all she has to do is make like she’s going to attack someone.

One of the juvies just called over here from next door, but I just ignored them. I don’t like to talk with people. I’m simply not a people person. I have to be really damn impressed with someone to want to chat with them for more than just a few minutes, and that’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing for me.

Why did they move Tara just because they moved the other girl? I wonder if she’s coming back here or if she’s in D2 or A or B tower? B’s where Loretta Greer is. She killed her two kids and has been here 6 years fighting her case.

I didn’t think I’d ever take a dump two days in a row while being in this place (I’m sure not having a celly, even if they have the decency to turn away, has something to do with it).

Assuming I heard right, that black bitch tried to get in here with me and Johnson told her I wanted to be in here by myself.

Cool. But how did she know I’d prefer to be alone?

Officer Vasquez, who’s really nice, is getting me a tank order. I realize that despite my good memory, I ought to describe some of these DOs. Vasquez is in her late 30s – early 40s. She’s somewhat tall and thin with blond hair. She’s not ugly or pretty.

Anyway, I want to have the tank order ready for when it comes time for me to request a notary republic to notarize the documents Tom’s sending.

He hasn’t gotten anything from the PO. That, he should get tomorrow. He did get the SS letter which he says he thinks it’s just old records, but that he’ll call them.

There are 4 empty beds here right now. Alex the hermaphrodite went to D2.

Oh, that felt so good to take that dump in private! I’d been stuck for ages, too.

I guess I was a big hit with Deanna next door because Vasquez asked if she asked me about moving in here with me. If I had to choose between Deanna, Madeline and Lora, I’d choose Deanna in a heartbeat, but she snores like a mother-fucker and she likes me. She snores worse than Tom. As for her liking me – I know she’s harmless. I’d just rather be alone for as long as I can. I only hope history doesn’t repeat itself with a closed custody case needing this cell, then I go back to A, enjoy Palma again for a while, then wind up stuck in a 4-man cell all over again.

Officer Dixon is on now. She’s short, stout, black, and seemingly nice. Don’t know her well enough to judge.

With beds available here, I’m surprised Jessica isn’t over here now. Maybe she went home, or maybe she’s on restriction for fighting with Kim. In that case, she’d have to remain in A, I’d think.

I’ve really gotten to know a lot of people here. Back in A, I would wave to Becky in the 200 pod. She and I came in together. We, like many other girls, laid back to back in the freezing holding cell for body warmth.

I also saw April again right before I came back here. Someone jumped her in the tents, but she was released the next day. She was as glad to see me as I was to see her. I gave her my name and booking number, and she gave me her name, address and phone number. She’s someone I would meet on the outs. Not just because she’s pretty, but she’s clean, from what I can tell. On the other hand, I almost never get together with those I say I’ll get together with unless they really mean something to me.

According to Tom, Houdini’s acting out in ways he never did with me – darting in and out of rooms, climbing up Tom’s leg while on the computer, etc. It’s obviously because he’s not getting the attention he’s used to getting.

Thanks, freeloaders. Thanks for trashing my husband and pet’s lives, on top of my own.

Cool! Nottelmann’s on tonight. I said hi to her when she walked by and she said hi back. I said I didn’t know she worked over here. She said she does only when they make her, then complained about not having anything to do for 8 hours. I told her we could swap places before she asked me if I had any good books. I told her I put a stack down on the table. They were already in here when I moved in and they didn’t appeal to me. I told her that I wasn’t going anywhere, unfortunately, so she could stop by and chat if she got really bored. She smiled, then continued her walk.

Nottelmann’s been chatting downstairs with Kim and company. Guess she is bored! So am I. I have reading I could do, but I’m sort of bummed that I’m out of stuff to write about. Perhaps this is good, though, because if I get more to write about, it probably wouldn’t be anything good.

I wonder if this Nasonex is going to be as good as the Vancenase. I haven’t had any major sneezing fits yet, but I am sneezing here and there. I suppose I can’t be too surprised. This cell may be pretty clean, but the jail, in general, is loaded with dust. I’m glad I didn’t end up having to sweep all of the dust out of next door.

Just had another burrito dinner with a bun, salad, potatoes, and a small piece of corn on the cob. Sometimes you don’t get margarine and are stuck with bland potatoes.

I’m still sneezing on and off. Maybe it’s something about M Dorm that makes me sneeze.

I’m tired, but I don’t want to try to sleep till after I fill out my commissary sheet. She’ll probably pass those out within the next hour or so.

I think before this month is out I’ll have written 100 pages! There’s not much else to do in this joint, and I can’t stand reading for long periods of time. I already exercised, but maybe I’ll do some more.

Well, I was sleeping peacefully, but some loud-mouth black woman that just arrived with some white woman woke me up. This is your typical threatening, aggressive, loud black bitch. It bullied the white lady out of the cell (the other small cell up here) and now I’m afraid they’ll throw whitey in here.

Doesn’t look that way. Black Johnson and Nottelmann just escorted whitey out of M altogether. She was a little loud and a little nutty too, judging by the way she was bragging about having been in prison for 13 years to the people in the big cell downstairs.

So now we have 3 empty beds and I know the one in here will be the next to be filled. Please, God, let it be a quiet, non-demanding person!

Who knows when I’ll be able to get back to sleep? If the bitch had pitched its fit in the daytime, I’d probably be able to fall back asleep, but this nocturnal body of mine just doesn’t sleep well at night. Especially when it’s not on Melatonin, at home in its own bed.

Now the black bitch is singing at the top of its lungs. Oh, God! I suppose this is what it’ll do on its hour out, too. Typical I-gotta-be-loud black! And I remember that voice from A.

Damn, I’m hungry! If the med nurse just came, though, like she did, that means it’s only around 8:00, so I have to wait 9½ hours for food.

I forgot to mention earlier that Tom said he’s going to put chicken wire on the walls of the big cage so Harry can move in there and Houdini doesn’t have to be alone. This is really nice of him, but why go to all the trouble when he can throw Houdini in with Harry until Harry’s big enough to be in the wire cage without escaping?

It’s change of shift now. I’ll probably be up till after breakfast. I’m going to wash my hair tomorrow like I do every other day. I’d say the floor doesn’t need sweeping yet, and I don’t need to make any phone calls, so that’s all I’ll do tomorrow.

I think tomorrow’s underwear and towel exchange. I hope I don’t sleep through it.

Some black DO’s on now. I think I’ve seen her before, but I don’t know what she’s like.

Kim was telling me she got maced a few months back. I guess a few inmates were fighting. Here, they don’t bother to pull them apart, they just mace them.

I asked Nottelmann if there was any way I could be closed custody, and she said I never could be because you have to be mean, evil and nasty for that. I guess I’m just not a big enough bitch. Too bad.

Another day of being in this goddamn cell! This is almost as bad as the tents, only it’s not freezing and I don’t have to worry about keeping a schedule.

Right now they’re quiet but sometimes they get so fucking loud and obnoxious! Trying to sleep when they’re up is not an easy task. This is why I want just one celly; because she won’t have anyone to talk to when I’m asleep unless she’s talking in her sleep or to herself.

I have nothing against these people, but they really drive me crazy at times.

Deanna’s the quietest, except for her snoring.

Lora’s a major nag who can’t mind her own business.

I thought Madeline was going to be the quietest, but she’s runner-up to Lora. She’s driving me crazy with her very limited vocabulary and the way she clucks her tongue. She’s not what people would describe as ladylike. Every other word out of her mouth is dude or fuck. And I thought I swore a lot! She’s so cockish! She actually speaks better Spanish than English. Especially for a white girl. I translated a letter into Spanish for her, since I know more of it and can spell it better. I forgot just how much Spanish I knew! I’m quite impressed with myself for translating that letter if I do say so myself.

M203

I’m finally out of that horrid cell!! I thought I was going to strangle Lora and Madeline! Their big mouths were really getting on my nerves when I was trying to sleep. Even when I wasn’t, they were still obnoxious, grating on my nerves. There was nothing worse, though than dealing with that toilet! It wouldn’t be much different than sitting my ass down on a toilet on a street corner.

Another problem with so many cellies is the fucking begging. I tried to tell them up front I didn’t want to be used for my shit, but it was useless. They wanted conditioner, lotion, mascara, etc., not that they didn’t offer me anything in exchange, because they did. Lora gave me an envelope so I wouldn’t have to wait till Monday.

It was Johnson who finally moved me and I told her that if she needed a positive word from an inmate, for whatever reason, I was the one to come to. I did her the favor of cleaning out this cell in exchange for her letting me move into it. Agent Tara and this crazy girl were in here and they trashed the place. Madeline said she drove this crazy girl out of next door.

I promised “clucking, fucking dude” Madeline that I’d still translate letters for her. She’ll just slip a note out to me when I’m on my hour out, I’ll translate it, then slip it back to her.

I’ll be slipping Kim a note, letting her know how much I love and miss her, though we’ve told each other a few times since I’ve been back. I also told her why I hated the big cell.

Anyway, the crazy girl was trying to get bonded out of here last night and Officer Mena said I could take her place if she left, but she didn’t. Instead, she left today in cuffs after kicking the shit out of the door. Then they moved Tara. So Johnson said she’d move me if I’d roll her stuff up (I guess she’s in D2, the psych ward). The cell was filthy, all right! I gathered the crazy girl’s shit up, put it outside the door, then swept, mopped and wiped shit down.

I certainly wouldn’t want the vent totally exposed, because it’d be too chilly and drafty, but I didn’t want it completely blocked, either. It made me feel like I was going to suffocate with no air circulation, so I exposed a tiny part of it.

So I’ve been in all 3 cells on the upper level. In 205 with Kim, 204, and now 203 at the end, right by the door leading to the next pod. I hope Palma works here every now and then! And Chambers. She’s not a looker, but she’s cool. You know I really gotta be attracted to Palma to miss a gruff like that. The one everyone thinks is a bitch, which is true at times.

---

Oh, she’s so nice! Johnson just sharpened my pencils for me and she didn’t break them (I have them taped) like Palma does. Then she was nice enough to open the door and hand them to me when she didn’t have to. She could’ve just slipped them under the door. After she left, loud-mouth Lora screamed over to ask what Johnson said to me. Nothing, I told her.

So now she’s going to yell over here regularly? At least I don’t have to cell with that mouth anymore! She makes me seem like a very soft-spoken person. I’m just sick of her. I’m sick of everyone!

Officer Miller, who seemed pretty cool, isn’t so cool anymore. She let 101 out for 2 hours simply because they were last. It was unfair of her to play favorites like that (if you’re going to play favorites, you should at least be discreet about it), and Lora, Madeline, Deanna and I all grieved the French poodle-haired bitch. I didn’t add this to the grievance, but I know it’s because of Kim and Lisa. She kisses up to them so she can learn more about the AB (Miller works Gang Intelligence).

White Johnson, who signed off on them, seemed pretty pissed when she went to take them out of the door. You know, there’s something about this woman that really appeals to me. She looks hot even when she’s pissed.

It would be nice to have Nottelmann work here more often. I totally dig the nails she’s got. They’re airbrushed. She was funny the other day, moaning from inside the tower about how she broke one.

This cell appears smaller than the one Kim and I shared because it’s laid out differently, but I don’t care. It’s a 2-man cell with a toilet not visible from the tower. I like how the light isn’t so bright in here, but I hated it when they turned off the light in the 4-man cell when everyone else but I wanted to sleep. I wanted to read but couldn’t, so I laid there all night listening to them snore and sigh. I just wish I could be here by myself for the rest of the time I’m stuck here! Or at least with someone who’s easy-going and sane.

---

It’s getting nippy in here. Maybe I should reblock the vent, which was sealed by throwing wet wads of toilet paper on it.

Another 2 days and I’ll have been here a month. God, that’s hard to believe!

Now what was that all about? Johnson just walked by, stopped at the door and stared at me for a minute, then said goodnight.

Now 3rd shift is on.

I hope my next celly won’t arrive till after commissary just in case she bugs me for it.

I can hear the 3 of them next door bopping around and shouting while they exercise. At least they’re all happy over there. I’m glad there’s no vent connecting this cell to them like there was in the other small cell.

I can hear the juvies next to me too, on the other side.

---

I just had Officer Pérez turn my light back on so I could write. This is one cool, yet homely-looking lady! She has nice eyes but if she or a vibrator were my only two choices in this world, I think I’d settle for the vibrator.

She was gabbing next door for a few minutes and I don’t think she was too happy. All I could make out that she said was something like, “What is this shit?” and “I don’t like that.”

I thanked her for talking with me and getting me to medical (when Johnson wouldn’t) the first time I was in this dorm. When I said I wasn’t sure if she remembered me, she said, “Of course I do, Jodi.”

Jodi? Since when do DOs ever call inmates by first names, not that I mind either way. My first name’s ugly and my last name’s stupid because it’s a word and names shouldn’t be words.

I still worry about what my PO’s going to be like and what she’s going to do as far as unreasonable demands go. Tom said the PO will be out of the Maricopa area and so she’ll know how hard it’d be for me to get out daily. Somehow I doubt she’ll give a shit, and again, if she doesn’t like where we are, all she has to do is tell us to move.

Anyway, the PO has heard from the freeloaders, the pigs, the fuckface Paul, and the demonic judge. Now it’s my turn to give my story which will be the only true version, even if it doesn’t do me any good. I wrote a letter to her expressing my concerns, etc., then I mailed it home for Tom to type and send to her.

Officer Toye, a pleasant black DO, pulled me for medical at 4 AM the other morning, which is when they draw blood. I got to see the tattooed nurse who was rude and incompetent. At least he has a slight sense of humor, telling me that in order to draw blood from the guys they punch them in the nose and catch it in a cup.

I told him I only took the Theo for a day, but he insisted on drawing blood anyway, and that I could cut my dosage down (anything to make an extra buck!). Anyway, I’ve had small veins for a long time, which he says is because of all the years I was on Theo. The quack couldn’t get a vein in my arm, so he went for my hand and the stupid shit collapsed the vein.

This may sound really conceited, but it’s really frustrating to be surrounded by so much stupidity! It’s tough when you know a lot more than most people ever will.

I signed a refusal form for the blood work, letting him know what a mean, evil vampire he is!

When he asked me where I lived, I said Maricopa, which caused the woman and guy DOs who were nearby to burst out laughing. The nurse meant – where do I live in the jail, but as I told him, I don’t fucking “live” here. This is anything but my home!

When the female DO escorted me back, I thought she looked familiar and I asked if she worked in the tents. She said yes, and I asked her to tell Officer Rule I said hi. She said she would if she remembered. Then it hit me and I thought – damn, this could’ve been Rule instead! What a pity we missed each other.

I really hate the fuck out of this cell! It’s quieter here than in A, but not only do I have to endure the humiliation of having to use the toilet with 3 cellies instead of one, but the fucking DO tower has a perfect view of the toilet! The big cell’s doors are mostly glass, and it has windows on each side of it, too.

I’m so sick of living in a fishbowl that I’m contemplating going back to the tents, as cold as it gets out there now. I feel like I’m in a giant display case. This just isn’t like being on stage dancing or singing. But I just can’t make up my mind as to what I should do! Lora said to leave it in God’s hands. Oh, like I’m really going to trust the very being that put me here in the first place? Yeah, right!

---

I wrote my last entry late last night and now it’s mid-afternoon. Having to pee today was a nightmare. I had to wait till I felt like my bladder was going to burst before I could pee in front of all these people, both inside and outside the cell.

I put in a tank order yesterday on 2nd shift and let them know how overwhelmed I was with being in such a large cell, then I talked to this really cool black DO at 4 AM when I had to go to medical for blood work, and I even lied (I’ll do whatever it takes) and said I was afraid of one of my cellies.

Or so I thought she was cool. She said she’d express my concerns to 1st shift, but when I asked 1st shift about swapping with someone in a 2-man cell, since they’re all filled up, she hadn’t a clue as to what I was talking about.

So, I filled out a grievance saying I shouldn’t have to be where I’m scared – ship me back to A till a bed’s available in a 2-man cell.

A nice, older DO just walked by (it’s change of shift now) so maybe she’ll rescue me from this cell.

It’s quieter here this time around since we don’t have 3 black bitches penned up together, but I’ll take all the noise in the world just to have a little more privacy on the toilet! And I want just one celly if I can’t be alone, not 2 or 3.

It’s warmer here too, and the showers are warmer, but I’ve got to get out of this cell! I can’t live in it for 5 months. I’d even go back with Jessica! She wouldn’t attack me. It was Kim she was after. She felt Kim was being too dominant over the cell, despite the fact that Jessica was rude and disrespectful. Turning your head away from someone trying to put a tampon in shouldn’t be any harder than turning your fucking music down. Nonetheless, I’m not afraid of Jessica. Jessica and I got along much better than she and Kim did, and although most people may be bigger than me, most people couldn’t kick my ass. They could arm wrestle me down, they could lift things I couldn’t lift, but it’s very hard to beat my ass because of my temper. I’m also in pretty good shape and I can move very fast because I’m small. So, unless Jessica put on 30 more pounds or so and sat on me, she couldn’t take me. I could probably flatten most of these DOs too, except for DOs like Palma, Arajo, and Johnson.

That’s white Johnson (there’s a black one and a white one) with the red hair who’s not so bad looking, even though she is kind of butchy looking which isn’t normally my type, and although she’s white which also isn’t normally my thing. I usually go for Hispanic or Indian. I’ve never been attracted to a redhead before, either. Nonetheless, I think Officer Johnson is just fine. She’s so tall, too. It’s like – wow! She’s not really what I’d call fat, just big-boned and a bit muscular. I didn’t think I’d like her at first (she wouldn’t let me go to medical to get my fucking inhaler) and I was a bit intimidated by her. I think I’d feel safe with her now that I know her a little better, even though she could probably kick the shit out of most people. She doesn’t seem aggressive, though.

She acted pretty weirdly the other day. When she came on duty, she opened the door, came and stood in the middle of the cell, looked at Madeline, then Deanna, then Lora, then stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, then left. She never said a word the whole time.

“Why did she come in here,” Madeline asked as soon as she left.

Good question.

I was too tired to go out on our hour out. I didn’t get to bed till 6:00 and I got up at noon. So this dusty floor didn’t get swept. Hopefully, I’ll be out of here real soon and it won’t matter.

I wish I could make myself sleep like some of these girls can to make the time go by faster. They’ve been sleeping for 15 hours, except for Deanna. She’s doing her hair and makeup now.

Still nothing going on as far as any efforts being made to move me, so that means I’ll either have to try to adapt to this place or return to the tents when the lady from classification comes around. Meanwhile, I try to do my pissing when the DOs are out of the tower.

M204

I’m back in M in a 4-man cell and all my cellies are sleeping. This is why I’m writing now – no distractions. Trying to get any sleep myself with 3 cellies is going to be the impossible dream! I put in a tank order requesting a 2-man cell once a bed opens up in one, but I doubt they’ll move me. I’d even take a small cell with Agent Tara!

My cellies are so-so, but either way, they’re 3 too many. Kim’s right below me with Lisa. We said hi to each other earlier when I went to take a shower that was actually hot for a change.

I’m with Lora, Madeline and Deanna.

I’ve already described loud, obnoxious Lora.

Madeline C is about 6 weeks pregnant. She’s about 5’ 3”, slightly plump, with short, wavy light-medium brown hair, hazel eyes, and one fucked up set of teeth.

Deanna T, a heavy black girl, describes me as an innocent-looking cutie who looks great for someone who’s almost 35. She even hugged me when I got to crying over missing Tom and home and moved to an upper bunk for me. The bunks that don’t have desks right by them are too hard to climb. If worse had come to worse and no one would’ve let me have the bottom, all I would’ve had to do was throw my mattress on the floor. This room is spacious enough for that. That’s what the people downstairs are doing.

According to Madeline, Deanna’s crazy.

Oh, great. Just put me in with another crazy, why don’t you!

The cell’s floor is filthy with dust balls galore, so tomorrow I’ll sweep it since it doesn’t look like anyone else will do it.

I didn’t think we would, but we ate pretty well for Thanksgiving dinner. We got 2 chicken legs, stuffing, ice cream, a gingerbread muffin, and mashed potatoes that they actually took the time to mix butter into.

Medical finally did swipe some money; $9.

Tom came to see me around noon before I came to M, and I guess they forgot about us because we ended up talking for over an hour!

Believe it or not, I’m alone! I don’t know why they picked Lora to go to M Dorm first, since I’ve been waiting longer than she has, but they rolled her and Kim up at 4:00 this morning. I just asked Limon, one of the nicest male DOs, if I could stay alone. He said he couldn’t guarantee it, but he could try. Nonetheless, I’m sure I’ll have a new celly by 9 PM tonight. It’s around 3 PM right now. A lot of girls say they’d get lonely if they were alone, but I could handle it. I lived alone for 9 years.

Last night, before they rolled out of here, the 3 of us played hangman. It was fun, but having more than one celly really sucks. When I was trying to sleep when it was only Kim I was with, she had no one to talk to, but then she had Lora to gab with and it wasn’t the easiest thing to fall asleep to.

Lora also lied to get into Ad-Seg. She said she was in fear for her safety in the yard.

Great. Now those who are on their hour out are bugging me, along with when I’m on my hour out. Someone just came to the door begging for bread, which would’ve really pissed me off if I’d been asleep. When I’m out, I can’t pass by these damn cells without someone asking for something – pencils sharpened, T-paper, etc. Why do these people need everyone else to do their shit for them?

---

It’s after dinner and still no celly! They’ll come soon enough, though. I wish I could take a dump now so that’d be one less dump I’d have to be degraded into taking in front of someone else, all for the freeloaders who will victimize me for as long as I live.

I got my probation terms and I feel so overwhelmed! I’m afraid we’re either going to be forced to run, or I’m going to end up killing myself. Once again, I trust my vibes, and I think Tom’s wrong when he says my probation will be easy. Also, it says right on the form that Mary S, my PO, can order us to move if she doesn’t approve of where we live. Anyway, the terms form said I must work or take classes full-time. Well, if I have to do something full-time, I might as well get paid for it. Besides, what can I go to school for for that long? To make demands seem even more impossible to meet, they want me to take adult education classes on top of work/school, community service, and therapy. And where do they expect Tom to find the time to make sure I can meet all these demands I could never handle meeting?!?!

Fuck this fucking system for ruining and rearranging my life! I am not a murderer!

---

It’s early evening now, and I still can’t believe I’m alone!

Anyway, I reread the thing and I only have to do 5 hours a week of community service. Not 20. Gotta do 100 in all. Community service and therapy don’t worry me. It’s the full-time shit that worries me. So Kim was wrong when she said I could take classes once a week for 8-12 weeks like I did with the sign language courses. Once a week won’t cut it. To think that this won’t be over till I’m almost 38 makes me want to drop dead! And even then, it’ll never be over.

I’m sending Tom a letter to type up and send to my PO. I want her to hear my side of this bullshit and my concerns, even if it’ll do me no good because I know this person is a monster, female or not. She’s going to do everything she can to violate me. She is my ultimate enemy for the next 3 years.

I wish Kim and Lora hadn’t gone and colored in the light cover. Now it’s too dark to read. For now, I’ll have to climb up on the upper bunk so I can see better, till my cellies get here. Especially when they dim the lights.

I literally slept all day today and didn’t get up till right before dinner. I was surprised to find they left my mail in the trap. They’re supposed to make you open legal mail in front of them since they’re not supposed to themselves, yet they let me sleep! Maybe they let me sleep because it was from the probation dept.

I did my exercises earlier and am still limiting my bread intake.

---

It had been quiet, but now people are yelling again. It’s going to be a long night. At least I’m finally well-rested. I thought I’d never catch up on my sleep. Just when I’d begin to nod off, I’d be woken up by something.

Although I miss my Turbie Twist, I’ve been twisting my towel in a similar fashion and it works well. I twist my hair in my towel after my shower, leave it like that for a few minutes, and my hair dries faster as it would with the Turbie Twist towel.

I think it’s around 11:00 now. God, 5½ hours till breakfast! I’ll probably be hungry enough to eat it even if it’s slop, which is gross. Slop is this gravy-like shit with chunks of morbid meat in it. I’d swear it was dog or cat food. Maybe it is.

As much as I love having Tom, Ratsy, and Houdini’s pictures here, it makes me sad. I miss them so much! I miss my old life that will never be mine again. If I thought God and society were controlling me then – I hadn’t seen anything yet!

There’s no comparison between the so-called laws I broke and the way the cops/courts fucked up with me by lying, withholding information, and creating fictitious evidence, let alone discrimination for being a woman. A white woman with a black involved in her case. Whenever there’s a minority involved, that’s quickly becoming the majority, they’re the ones who always win.

---

Tomorrow, now today, is Thanksgiving, so I suppose Tom won’t get in so easily. It’ll probably be mobbed.

A guy on nights, who has retainers, said I ought to put in a tank to the captain about my retainers, but I don’t know. Do I really want to fight another losing battle? Do I really care about my teeth anymore? Is that really a priority of mine?

I wasn’t going to write to Paula and Mom again so soon, but I had nothing better to do, so I wrote a letter to Mom and started one for Paula. When I say to Mom, I really mean to Mary and Dave, too. I won’t have envelopes till Monday, though.

“Male in the house,” I just heard the male DO yell. They’re supposed to make that announcement every time they walk through the pods.

Guess I’ll try doing a little reading now. I’ve made it halfway through a murder mystery so far.

---

It’s around 4:00 and I’m still up.

Hope I can have my hour out early before I crash, but that’s not the way it’s been this week. Lately, I’m let out at 2:00, when the chain gang comes marching back. Whenever I get out, I’ve got to get some pencils sharpened, sweep and mop the cell, and take a shower. I got this hair food Kim insisted I get, along with regular shampoo/conditioner. You leave it in your hair while it’s still damp. I guess It’s like Infusium 23, though it’s thick as shit. It smells like apples.

So what’ll be for breakfast this morning? Yesterday it was these shitty fake eggs, they don’t do waffles too often, so I guess it’ll be either slop or cereal. The white slop is the worst. It’s white gravy with chunks of ham in it. Brown slop is OK. That has beef in it.

The more I think about it, the more I’m surprised that all I got was a letter from my PO telling me to report to her upon my release. Isn’t she supposed to come see me? I thought Kim said they come to see you 10 days into your sentence.

I wonder when I’ll return to M and if I’ll be in a 2-man cell or a 4-man cell. God, I hope not a 4-man cell! It was obnoxious enough listening to people in a 4-man cell from next door, so I wouldn’t want to actually be in one.

Been doing a lot of exercising as well as reading and writing. I spend a lot of time thinking, too. God, I love and miss Tom! What would I do without that man??? I can’t bear to think of him too much. It only drives me to tears. Same goes for when I think of Houdini and how he’d be waiting for me when I’d get up, and the games we’d play. Instead, I think of either trivial shit, or I fantasize over Palma.

Eating noisily is rude and gross, says Lora. It is. So then why does she do it?

Tom should be here anytime now for our visit. I have a little piece of paper on which I scribbled notes. That way I won’t forget to bring up all the stuff I want to discuss.

For the third time, they brought me Theo and this nurse says she’ll leave a note to cancel it, but I’m sure they’ll be bringing it day after day. They bring you meds you don’t want, but when you need meds – they’re nowhere around! I also filled out a second tank order about it, but this is it. If they’re too stupid to get their shit together, that’s their problem. They can waste their time if want to.

I’m tired today, thanks to having to get up for a zillion different things.

Lora’s normal, but a bit obnoxious at times. She talks louder than I do and moans in her sleep.

I like Officer Chambers, now that I know her name. I’m not attracted to her, but she’s so friendly and easy-going. Nicer than that serious gruff Palma, as gorgeous as she is.

Kim is awaiting acceptance into the Women’s Network program, and she just told me to write that.

I saw Kara, plus two male trainees. They were very nice. Kara said I looked great (because of my makeup). I don’t feel so great, though. I want out!

Kara knew who I was talking about as soon as I mentioned the celly I had that swore she was an FBI agent.

Although I’m still mad and depressed, it’s a wonder how I can even laugh, joke and sing at times in this place. It’s been said that I’m tough and resilient. Maybe I’m too resilient, in a sense. Maybe it would’ve been better if I’d fallen into a deep catatonic state, locked away in my own little world forever, never having to deal with people and their bullshit again.

---

Saw Tom, and as always, it was great seeing him. He’s working on trying to get me out of here based on the fact that I’m hard of hearing and the pigs/courts never provided an interpreter for me.

He also says I have a female PO (he couldn’t remember her name) and left her a message. He said it’ll be a week or so before she returns the call, but he’ll let her know what he’s up to.

Our visit was as it always is – great, but hard because I wanted to climb through the glass window, hug and kiss the hell out of him, then go home with him.

He’s done a lot of research and says the whole thing was illegal from start to finish because they should’ve provided me with an interpreter. As he also reminded me, though, cops and courts can break all the laws they want, so no matter what he does, I’ll probably be stuck here till April 29th.

God’s biggest plans for me throughout life were definitely to be fucked over by those with more authority than myself. I’m here to serve others, according to him, in any way that’ll hurt me yet advance them, which usually means I lose my freedom, and they make money.

So far they haven’t taken any money for my meds. If they do, the money’s available.

I didn’t write about my jailhouse mouse. One of them was quite naughty last night! It climbed up on my bunk to the area where I have my stuff which is by my head. Then it ate a corner of Gretchen’s candy bar. So, I broke off where they ate and split the rest with Kim. Then I gave Gretchen her other candy bar and told her they were out of stock on the other one, and gave her back an envelope, too. Now we’re even. The tradeoff is supposed to be 1 candy bar for 3 envelopes, anyway.

I wonder if that hot-looking Palma is on tonight? I hope so!

Kim is about to give Lora a tattoo. Ugh, how painful! For the most part, I think tattoos are ugly. I’m probably the only one here who doesn’t have any.

Here these assholes are, running the cooler in the middle of winter, yet what do they do? They heat the shit out of the visitation area!

Brilliant. Real fucking brilliant.

I got 3 letters today. One was quite a shocker. It was from the Social Security department in MA, claiming they were going to stop the SSI and SS checks they stopped in mid-1994, while I’m in here. And just where have the checks I’m supposed to have gotten for the last 6 years gone? I sent the letter (along with Helen’s) home for Tom to deal with because I don’t know what the fuck this means or what to do about it.

Yes, I heard from Helen. She said she’s concerned for me and would like to visit. Wow! She writes to me and wants to see me after just 3 visits? How sweet of her! She also enclosed a poem on attitude. I wrote her back and gave her the visiting hours.

In the letter I got from Tom today, he enclosed a couple of pictures. One’s of Houdini and the other is of him and Ratsy. I’m going to ask that he also send a snake picture and a couple of mice pictures.

Here I was thinking I was helping Tom by packing away a lot of the dolls so there’d be less for him to dust, yet he says he likes them out. How sweet!

I’m gluing the pictures to the wall with toothpaste while Kim and Lora play cards and do each other’s hair.

I finally got my commissary! I got 2 candy bars for Gretchen in exchange for envelopes, and a pad and pop tarts for Kim for all she’s given/done for me.

For me, I got a manila envelope, a legal pad, 5 stamped envelopes, red lipstick that actually looks OK as long as I blot it, mascara, lotion, shampoo, conditioner, hair protein, hair elastics, toothpaste, hydrocortisone cream, Advil, a few brownies, a few candy bars, and some hard candy.

---

I’m back a little while later and I can barely see what I’m writing because the light’s so dim. Kim and Lora mixed cherry Kool-Aid and toothpaste to smear on the clear plastic light cover to dim the lighting in here even more.

Gretchen was happy to move into her own cell, although we all got on fine together because we respected each other’s ways. Gretchen said she was rolled up from M for excessive praying which got on her celly’s nerves. I personally found no problem with it. It wasn’t like she was screaming at the top of her lungs or anything when she prayed. Even though we got along and she was fairly normal, she’s glad to be by herself till she goes home on Thursday. I wish I could be alone after Kim leaves! The only negative to Gretchen was that she ate like Tom, Mom and Andy and made loud, gross annoying smacking sounds.

Kim never ceases to be my savior in this place! She blocked the vent with a plastic bag which is held in place with spoons that are jammed through the bag and into the grill because Lora and I were freezing!

Gretchen had barely cleared out of her when Lora E, our sanest celly yet, came to join us. I’d prefer just Kim in this tiny room, but at least she’s no bible-thumper, or a moody disrespectful bitch, or claiming to be an FBI agent created from glass flies. Agent Tara also claimed the government stole her ovaries, and that she knew her mother killed her kids when her boobs suddenly got smaller. She would pace the room constantly too, scribbling profanities against herself. Lora’s loud, though. She’s about 5’ 4” with a nice body, but an ugly face. She has very dark hair and eyes. Her hair’s almost to the middle of her back.

There’s an increase in male DOs around here lately, but they seem OK for someone who’s sexist in general. I don’t prefer women simply because they look better. I also prefer them because they’re not usually the assholes men are. I would be a dedicated lesbian if it weren’t for Tom. He’s the only exception.

Lora’s leaving on 12/7. I wonder if we’ll be in M by then and if we’ll stay there or be bounced back and forth between A and M? I’m going to have a zillion more cellies by the time I get out of here! I wish I could either have the same one that I get along with after Kim leaves or just be by myself. However, if you’re not a hermaphrodite like Alex who kicked us out of M205, you have to be either a danger to yourself or to others in order to be closed custody. They’ll also put you by yourself if you have AIDS.

I forgot to mention that Tom looked up Middle Ground on the net, which he reactivated, and which Kara says helps those who were unjustly jailed. However, when Tom checked it out, he found that they basically deal with the treatment of inmates. Not getting them out of jail.

I swear I smell the faint odor of smoke right now. How the fuck can they get cigarettes in here, of all places? I guess through the trustees, the same way we got the razors. Some of them that have open-contact visits get them that way, too.

We just got a new mulatto celly, Gretchen, and she’s cool. She could almost be considered to be petite. She has short dark hair and light eyes. Palma put her in here and Kim tried protesting it, telling Palma she’s a racist, but Palma was just like, “Deal with it, Waller!”

I’m really developing a liking for Officer Palma! She reminds me so much of Gloria, though she doesn’t have almond-shaped eyes.

I hope Tom remembered to take my Charlie’s Angels tape out of the VCR.

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.