February 2001 in 2000s

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 2001
Yesterday I got a letter from Tom, mostly telling me about his raise and the new visitation rules before he knew I knew about them.

I gave him Mary and Myra’s names to check out online and told him not to bother with trying to find the best complaint address, since the water’s still hot, believe it or not, and now that I’m down to 60 days left. Two-thirds of the way to the finish line.

LaBorde fixed my leak. It was coming from the water well upstairs. She gave me an extra towel.

Everybody’s been kind to me today or at least ignoring me as I’d prefer. I was chatting like old times with Mary and Myra. Even Brandie, who never said a word to me in the past, or smiled, was smiling and friendly.

Nancy actually ignored me today on her hour out. Maybe she felt hesitant for fear of Myra defending me and yelling shit out at her.

Since the DOs know they can break rules and cut corners and get away with it, they do. LaBorde let Mindy out while I was out on my hour like she wasn’t supposed to, but I stayed right where I was, pacing around the dayroom. I wanted to see if she’d be dumb enough to make a move on me under LaBorde’s nose. Of course, if she had, I’d have broken every bone in her body, but she ignored me.

Yesterday’s biggest surprise, although it wasn’t that surprising, was a letter from Ida. I got a kick out of how Hann said, “Oh, so you’re going to tell her I said she was a complainer, huh?” when she saw I wrote her back. I laughed and said that she was a complainer. Yes, Ida was the queen of grievances and she knew it, too.

Ida’s letter was only a few sentences long. She just wanted to send me the articles she wrote in ‘78 for the Mesa Tribune. I wasn’t too impressed with the porcelain article, but the German castles were quite impressive.

As I asked her to, she signed the letter, “Fuck you, Sylvia” in German. “Fricke dich” is “fuck you.”

In my letter to Ida, I filled her in on the jail’s ups and downs, then informed her of what Espi told me about the newspaper she was in for stealing 5 years ago.

No, my leak is not fixed, and it stinks, too. Damn it, LaBorde! Can’t you do anything right? I could end up in A Tower till this is squared away like Myra said she once did, and I’m not sure I want that.

I asked the old geezer why she wasn’t taking the mail I put under the door, and she told me she couldn’t bend over to pick things up. Then she shouldn’t be a DO. How’s she going to defend herself if she gets in a fight? This woman has gotta be well into her 50s. Too old for this job, unless she’s just being lazy. That’s always a possibility, too.

Anyway, what Espi said was that Ida was here 5 years ago.

So this wasn’t your first time in here, you little liar! What did you lie to me for, you old fart?

Anyway, I guess she was in for some probation violation. Something about reading a neighbor’s newspaper that she intended to put right back. Yeah, I knew she was in for something stupid. Most of them are, as Espi herself said.

I broke the ice with Bryant last night, though I didn’t mean to. It just happened like it does with most DOs once they get to know you unless you give them a reason not to like you.

I said hi to her and told her I had 60 days left. She asked if I’d be back. “Hell no!” I told her “I ain’t getting framed twice.”

“Good,” she said, “then you won’t be scaring me no more.”

I thought she was referring to my evil laugh, and I apologized, saying I didn’t realize I was that scary to her.

Then she goes, “Yeah, when you pop your little head up in the door you scare me.”

After I thanked her for handing me my breakfast in the morning, she said, “Mhm,” which is the first thing she ever said to me unless it was in response to my asking the time.

My current least favorite DO is Pancake Face Smith, OKA Barbie. I’d take Misery over Pancake Face Smith any day.

Bunch is on now. Guess there’s no need to worry about anyone coming into Ad-Seg tonight. I remember when 3 was empty and she was like, “I’m not going to say anything.” I guess that means she doesn’t exactly enjoy checking people in here.

When I think of Tom I feel overwhelmed with gratefulness for all he’s done for me. I also feel guilty for all this shit. It may not be my fault, but because they fucked me over, they fucked him over, too. Yet amazingly, he’s still with me! Very few people stick together through shit like this. They gotta dump each other as soon as they have a bad day. That’s why so many people break up. That, and because being the extremists most people are, they seek mates that are either too similar or too different from them.

I just thank God, as mean and as unfair as he can be, that he didn’t have Tom end up framed and in jail, whether or not I did, too. Then I’d not only feel guilty beyond words but our lives would literally be ruined and over. If he couldn’t work, nothing would get paid for and we’d lose everything. I just wish I could handle this place as well as I know he could. The only thing that I think would be hard for him to deal with would be the food.

I just want to go home! Why has God been so obsessed with having me stuck in so many places I didn’t want to be, both as a kid and as an adult? I just want my life back, even though nothing will ever change. The freeloaders will continue to victimize whatever white people piss them off. Judge H will continue judging people and situations he doesn’t even know. The public defender will still lie to his clients, tricking them into confessing to things and signing plea agreements for things they aren’t even charged with. The pig will continue to coach and prep fellow blacks and pit them against whites, ruining their lives without a care in the world, all because their ancestors’ lives were ruined by slavery. The ones responsible couldn’t pay for it, so those of us who exist today have to pay for it.

How many more centuries will it take for these vicious, sick degenerates of society to move on???

Nancy’s still here, but I’m hoping she’ll be gone sometime this week. She’s never going to make it 3 years in prison. She’s going to threaten the wrong person. Some lifer with nothing to lose.

I can’t get that subhuman pig off my mind. How can I prove it coached her? How can I prove it planted evidence? What can I do to fight back and protect myself in the future?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Once again the Gods have protected my abusers. All I know is this fucking over Jodi and getting away with it won’t cut it anymore. I can’t just sweep this one under the carpet and “forget it.” I can’t sue for money I lost, I can’t get the time back I lost, but this pig needs to be exposed. If nothing comes of it other than to let the truth be known and to protect myself in the future, as well as others from going through the same thing, fine.

The question is – how? The direct approach? Go directly to him or his superiors and let them know that although I can’t prove it, I’m onto him and his schemes? Or should I reconsider going to the paper? I’m not so sure they’d print what they’d call an “unfounded accusation.” Besides, once it’s been established that a victim is a victim and a perpetrator is a perpetrator, no matter what the real truth is, that’s the way it stays. I’m always going to be seen and portrayed as the perpetrator in this case, even if everyone involved were to publicly announce what they did to fuck me over.

I don’t see how I could trust the media. Not after channel 3 edited out everything I said and added their own words to my face. If they just want to hear only what they want to hear – forget it.

I was talking to Bunch about my ordeal. She didn’t have any advice to offer me, but even she agrees that the system is a joke and that this could happen to anybody. Even her.

I think it’d be best to start with making the pig’s boss aware of the situation, even if he’s automatically going to jump to protect his own and side with his own. At least this way, though, if he’s dumb enough to fuck with some other unfortunate white soul, at least his boss will know that he’s been said to have caused trouble before. So even if there’s no proof and the scumbag covers up his tracks, they may at least keep a closer eye on the stupid fuck.

Now they’re being really fucking weird next door, with Myra as the leader, as usual. She was yelling up to Mindy, “Do you have the morning-after pill? Mary’s going to claim you as the daddy of the baby she just had.”

Dinner’s here. Fuck! It’s those fucking mother-fucking hot dogs! I’d like to cuff that fucking pig to a chair and stuff them down his throat one by one and see how he likes it!

I had Bunch let me out to ditch the extra towel because it was getting pretty smelly. I’m using pads to sop up the wetness, though with the rains calming down, it’s been drier. At least I can flush wet, smelly pads.

The pencil sharpener is broken. Again? I think I’ll just spend the buck a week it’ll cost me to get the weekly limit of 10 pencils. I need pencils, paper and batteries like the air I breathe.

When Nancy went up the stairs after dumping her tray, I lay on the bed where she could see me, curious to see if she’d say anything. She didn’t. We just stared at each other without a word.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2001
It was great to see Tom earlier, who got a raise! We agreed we’d meet for a half-hour on Tuesdays and an hour on Thursdays. Meanwhile, I’ll write Helen and tell her not to bother visiting and that I’ll contact her when I get out.

He promised, at my request, to get poles up with No Trespassing signs, since we still don’t have exterior fencing. No Trespassing signs are good to have regardless of whether or not you have freeloader/media problems. He says the media won’t come to the house. Let’s hope not. I couldn’t call the cops and have them there in 5 minutes, not that I’d trust them, anyway.

Speaking of pigs, Tom’s sure that whether or not the black bitch works for the courts, she knew the pig (Jerry O) and he told her what to say. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?” he asked.

No. Truthfully, I haven’t wanted to remember that horrid day, and when I was in court I did everything I could not to look at her to keep me from either throwing up right then and there or ripping the snot out of her. Thinking back, though, to what little I was forced to see of them, they did seem pretty chummy and that was quite a speech from such a stupid fuck. She wouldn’t have brains enough to come up with bullshit like that on her own, even though she’s a natural liar. She had to move twice, so she claimed. Why? Because she harassed her other neighbors too, and they ran her out? She never did associate with whites which I got the impression from the get-go she hated, so her fellow black pig pal makes sense. I’m sure he gave her our address, too. I dare her to show up on our property, and truthfully – I hope she does! Anyway, I knew she had to have some kind of connection in order to get such bullshit pushed so far, besides just being black.

“And sweetheart, you’re not here for the journals. You’re here for a letter you were supposed to have sent.”

This is when I was like – a letter?! What letter?! Then we were talking about the stuff the public defender showed us 5 minutes before sentencing that we’d never seen before, remembering the way he tried to hide some of it.

“He was in on it! That mother-fucker was in on it.”

Tom nodded.

I think I was then I vowed never to trust another human being again.

Just how do you expose corrupt pigs, though? Why is it always OK to fuck over Jodi S and get away with it? Is there any justice in this world when it comes to people shitting on me? Is there anyone anywhere that ever fucked me over that’ll end up paying for it? How sweet of God to allow these freeloaders the right to victimize me for years at just a few feet away, then to send them some piggy friend to help do it all over again from a distance. What God’s allowed to be done to me is completely unforgivable. I will never forgive him at this point after 35 years of bullshit. What? Was I their slave master in a former life or something? Is that why he’s punishing me with these black assholes? He really wanted these people to fuck me over good. And get away with it, too. How many more years must this go on before I’m either driven to suicide or driven to run? God, I wish there was a way to wire someone and get that pig to spill his guts on how he coached the fucking black bitch!

All charges were dropped against Lisa, who went to court today and then home. According to Deanna, she told her that she was in for having her 11-year-old niece pose in lingerie for her boyfriend.

Anyway, before she left, Myra tried to pit her against me, but Lisa told her I haven’t said anything mean to her.

Lisa told me she saw Tina, who said to say hi to me, and that she and Bob are having a great time as pen pals.

Espi was on today. I missed her and was so glad she was on. She’s definitely one of my favorites. She and I would be chatting and laughing every other walk. I told her I wanted her for a mom in my next life. She said, “That’d be fine with me, kiddo.”

Kiddo? She’s only 15 years older than me in this life.

Myra wasn’t too happy with her because of the way she sided with me.

I filled Espi in on all the shit that had been going on. She said it made her comfortable that I was alone.

Me too. It’s a shame it can’t stay that way for another 60 days. She also told me Nancy didn’t need to be here, she’s a spoof (I know), and that she’ll probably be gone tomorrow, referring to her as a ringleader.

The phony cunt kissed up to Myra so she’d stop harassing her and so she could join in on the taunts and threats against me, but Myra isn’t buying it anymore. As Mary pointed out to her – all this shit started when Nancy entered the picture. Get it? Nancy + Nancy = trouble.

She came kicking at my door on her hour out but I ignored her, pretending not to hear her because of the radio.

The second time she came kicking, I munched, savoring a candy bar as she was going upstairs, rubbing in what she was missing. She goes, “You’re sick. You really are.”

Sicker than you know, bitch!

Kahn was escorting today. I don’t know why she escorted me from my cell and not M’s entrance, but she did. She seemed like she was in a bad mood. I asked when she’d be back in M Dorm and she said, “Hopefully never.”

I wonder why? Did something happen the last time she was here?

Right after Tom left, I ran into Mary, who had also had a visit. Right away she told me she had nothing to do with what was going on and I assured her that I knew that. I know she, Brandie, Lisa and the people above me have nothing to do with it. It’s Myra, Mindy, Nancy, Peaches and Carol that are causing the trouble. I let Mary know I still like her and always will.

Mary and I were discussing the situation with Hann when we got back. I told her how Myra threatened to cut my tongue out, and Hann goes, “Did you ask her how she plans to do that with no cutting materials?”

I had to laugh at that one!

Hann also pointed out that they were all watching us talk (referring to those in 1 and 4), but I didn’t give a shit.

Mary defended me concerning Nancy, saying how she’s been causing a lot of problems, is using Myra, etc. Mary also said she’d talk some “sense” into Myra, who leaves for prison in about a month, and get her to shut up and quit her childish, asinine antics, but as I told Mary, I don’t give a shit what Myra says/does. I’m not the one with any deep, dark secrets to hide.

As soon as I was locked down after telling Hann some jokes and after she asked me what happened to the little old lady (Ida) who used to complain about everything, Myra and Carol started in with their shit. It may’ve been Peaches too, but as always, it was mostly Myra. So, that was my cue to remind everybody of her wonderful deeds and she was not happy about that at all, frantically yelling, “I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want others to hear it, there’s a new girl here!”

Some anorexic-looking girl who looks like Pat Benatar took Lisa’s place in 4.

Myra was furious earlier with Espi for not sending me to A Tower for the things I was saying. They threatened to grieve her and Espi was like, “Go ahead.” Myra knew Espi was on my side and she also knew that Espi knew I’d done nothing wrong or illegal (she mentioned that book she dreads so much again, spilling out the truth about her that she’s so afraid to face).

I was also right about the toilet flushing getting to her. Whenever she’d yell up to Mindy, I’d start flushing it because she’s so loud and that’s so rude of her, too. She went off on me about it, then broke down in tears after I reminded her yet again that if she wanted me to shut up about her and her dirty little crimes that bad, she knew what to do.

A little while later, Mary called to me and asked me to come to the vent. I did, and she said Myra had something to say to me. Myra then pleaded with me not to mention her kids, she’s not like that, and if I had nothing to do with what Nancy said, I could just say so.

I did say so days ago, but at that point, I was like yeah, yeah, whatever, I wasn’t publishing a book, and I’d be willing to drop it and quit yelling if she’d shut up.

So now my enemies aren’t my enemies anymore and I have mixed emotions about that. It’s nice to have a little more peace and quiet around here, but there goes my extra Keep Out sign that was on the big cell’s doors.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2001
Thanks to Nancy for threatening me at my door at 9:00, I’m in for another day of being exhausted.

God, get this toothless wad of acne with her septic tank breath out of here! Although now she might try to stay here just to harass me. And people say I’m not being punished? Yeah, right! I’m not short either. I just look it.

I heard Myra tell Lisa that Nancy apologized to her.

Obviously, Myra’s too stupid to know that she only did that to get Myra and everyone else off her ass and so she could join them in tormenting me. They just love her now. They can have her! They’re all good for each other.

Nancy and Myra bragged about having my PO Box address. I hope they do write because I will go to the cops, as much as I hate them and have no trust or respect for them. The freeloaders taught me well.

Anyway, I don’t care what people are in for. As long as they respect me, I don’t care if they’re mass murderers.

As far as Mary goes, the best I can tell is that she’s here for neglect because they feel she allowed her daughter to be killed by being too scared to leave the abusive guy she was with. She’s also testifying against him.

Myra’s case is totally different. She and her boyfriend abused and molested her kids. Her boyfriend got 44 years for his part in it. If what Ruby said is true back in A Tower, she let her kids go down on her to please her boyfriend. That’s sick! Totally sick! Hopefully, she’ll get killed in prison. That shit won’t fly there from what I’ve heard. Being in Ad-Seg will be useless to her because other inmates will sign themselves in there just to kill her.

Mindy, another one that’s a pitiful excuse for a human being (this one’s involved in a child pornography ring) said she wants to break my neck.

Mindy, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me, girl, and like the DOs would really give you the chance to try? Right!

Tomaszewski wouldn’t even let me out for underwear/towel exchange till room 1 was locked down. “Slam the door,” she told them, so she could be sure it was locked.

I’ve seen Tomaszewski before, but she’s never worked here since I’ve been here. She’s a mean-looking older lady, but so far I haven’t had any problems with her. No one else likes her, though. She told Nancy and Myra to shut their mouths when they said I needed to go to A Tower.

I learned exactly what buttons to push to shut Myra up when I don’t feel like drowning her shit out with the radio. I had thought that keeping my mouth shut would cause her to get bored with running off at the mouth and not getting any response, but it’s just the opposite. When I got fed up this morning and gave her a piece of my mind concerning child molesters, she got extremely distraught and even more paranoid. She was literally in tears with rage and embarrassment that others were trying to calm her down by telling her not to let me get to her. So now that she knows that every time she dishes shit out she’ll have to take it right back, the child molester may be hesitant about provoking me into airing out her dirty laundry.

Great. Now the Arizona Republic wants to do an interview with me. I declined, of course. Especially after channel 3 played like they were on my side, only to end up making a fool of me all in the name of entertainment. They may go and slander the fuck out of me now that I refused their interview, though they’d do that anyhow. People hear what they want to hear and believe what they want to believe. Always gotta hype things up, twist things around, and even downright lie. The truth just isn’t exciting enough.

Why 4 months into the sentence, though? If they haven’t forgotten about me by now, maybe they never will. Maybe they’ll be waiting for me at the door when I get out, and even worse, maybe they’ll harass me at home.

Chavez just came on.

I teased the fuck out of Myra when she was on her hour out, saying she could have the “papers” they’re all so afraid of. Then when I made like I was going to slip them under the door only to burst out laughing at her instead, she was furious, threatening to have the sergeant search this room.

Is she that stupid? I could write “Myra’s a sick child molester” a million times and it’s still not illegal. Not yet, anyway. I’m sure Arizona will be the first state to make it illegal, though.

If I’ve got my schedule straight, Nancy’s out first tomorrow, which means I gotta get up at 8:30. Wait till I tease her with commissary. I’ll make like I’m going to slip her a candy bar as a peace offering, then laugh my ass off at her, too.

I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel guilty for torturing these animals. They provoked me and I’ve had all the shit I can take from them. What people just don’t seem to understand is that you can’t fuck with people and not expect to get shit like this in return. They’ve asked for everything I’ve given them. I always try to give what I get, so if they fuck off, I will too, but not until then.

I’m a magnet for leaks even in jail. The rain’s dripping down through the vent and forming a little puddle by the sink. I doubt it’s coming from the sink because it only happens when it rains. That explains why it smelled like rain in here.

Gracie said hi again when she was going up the stairs, and the big girl she’s with asked for books and bread.

Now that I’m standing up to Myra, she’s backing off a bit. Sometimes two wrongs do make a right, so to speak, and sometimes you just can’t turn the other cheek or depend on others to go to bat for you.

Nothing was said for hours, and just when I thought they’d surprise me by keeping their mouths shut, Silvia returned from court. Myra told her she missed it today because I started in with my bullshit, then boy did I shut her up faster than hell by reminding everyone just what she’s all about! They’d still be going on if I’d kept quiet, too. I told her that every time she started, so would I till she finished it. The ball’s in her court.

A few inmates told me a while back that one day I’d be laughing at this shit. Well, I’m already laughing, believe me!

Dinner left me starving with an inhumanely spicy hot dog, so commissary couldn’t have come on a better night. Their only fuck-up is that they’re colorblind. I checked lipstick and wrote “pink or none,” but what did I get? Same old red stuff. I’ll take the extra tube home. There’s now no longer any dollar limit to how much commissary you can buy. It used to be $65 was all you could order. I guess the jail’s really desperate for money. I usually get $20 – $30 worth of stuff.

I almost laughed loud enough to be heard when Chavez was threatening Myra and her cellies with A Tower for shoving God knows what down the toilet and making it overflow. Just before this, Myra was going wild, louder than hell with her high-pitched obnoxiously girlie laugh, saying how she’s having a nervous breakdown, this jail’s going to kill her, etc. She’s not laughing now, but as usual, hers in the voice I hear most. Always gotta be the center of attention.

Speaking of toilets, I know this has got to piss her off – I start flushing the toilet (these toilets are as loud as Niagara Falls) whenever she yells up through the vents to Mindy.

God, I am sooo bored! Maybe next week I’ll buy the $3 book of crossword puzzles. Maybe there are some word finds in it which I prefer. I’m lousy at crosswords but Tom likes them and I can always bring home what I don’t do.

Poor, poor Nancy all alone up there with nothing to eat. Well, if you hadn’t been dumb enough to threaten me, you’d have gotten something for the pen, you stupid shit (although what she wanted was ridiculous for a pen she never paid for)!

Her stupidity did me a favor in the end. I really was fed up with her and we really needed to be separated. I’m just glad I could stop her from ripping up my shit like she started to and that Chavez had perfect timing because I’d be looking at an assault charge right now for sure and I’d be hungry as all hell, too. I never would’ve been able to keep a lid on my fists if she had fucked with my stuff.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 2001
I’m up early and surprisingly not so tired for someone who only slept 4-5 hours. Guess my body’s getting used to this shit, although I may nap later. I’m amazed I slept through the tent doors slamming. Sounds like bombs exploding in here!

Nancy and next door haven’t been out yet, but 4 has. All they’ve done so far is stomp real loud going up the stairs to lock down once their hour was up. They won’t go yelling shit till late afternoon – early evening.

Wait till I tell Helen I’m not so likable after all!

Last night I heard Chavez say, “How is it against the law?” when she was passing Nancy’s door. I’ll bet you anything that was over her bitching about my journal.

Nine weeks (63 days) left of this shit!

Well, it looks like I have a friend upstairs. Gracie, the one headed for prison. She looks a bit butchy but seems nice. She came to my door and said hi and asked me how I was, then asked for bread. I don’t know if she or her celly would make good cellies, though. They beg for bread constantly, so that may mean they’d beg for commissary, too. They’re also religious because I see them meet with the religious lady, and those are sometimes pushy. However, at this point I’d rather a religious beggar than some psycho who’s calm one minute, laughing the next, then crying, then bitching, and so on and so forth. Speaking of a certain psycho – it looks like it lost its hour out. I was first at 8:30. They don’t start doing hour outs before 8:00–8:30. After me came 4, 5 and 1, but no 3.

Of course Chambers couldn’t be on today when I really could use a little chat with her, but Brea’s cool enough. She knows what’s going on and reassured me that I’d be OK. I hope so! You never know in this jungle.

Wouldn’t it be funny if Arajo was on tonight? Arajo does not like Nancy and she’d be worth mentioning the pen and blankets to.

I thought about scribbling a threatening note from all of them to me, but I know I’d be the one to go down for it, so I’m not going to bother. I’d rather ignore these people as long as they’ll let me. I’m surprised room 1 wasn’t at my door, and I haven’t heard any vent shit yet, but it’s early.

I don’t know if Brea knows about the shit I’ve been getting from 1 and 4, but she knew Nancy threatened me, so Chavez did keep her word about informing others.

She offered me a book earlier and smiled and waved before she left.

Gibb is on now. I guess I don’t have to worry about spreading the word. The DOs are all telling each other. I saw Brea gesture towards this room, and Gibb said she knew about it.

I just dread my next celly! If they can’t shut up – fine. If they beg – fine. I just don’t want some moody nutjob judging shit about me they don’t even know. It just ain’t hip to be a homemaker in this day and age, but I’ll be damned if I’ll kiss society’s ass and mold myself into what it thinks I should be. I am who I am. Period. If you don’t like me, then don’t have anything to do with me.

Tom feels it’s not important who gets the money, as long as one of us gets it. His attitude is – so what if he gets the money and the groceries, as long as one of us gets it? And so what if I do the laundry and the cleaning, as long as one of us does it? Most people don’t feel that way, though. In today’s world, you don’t cook, you don’t clean, and you both work, gay or straight, male or female.

I feel like a ticking time bomb here. There’s only so far I can be pushed and so long I can keep a leash on my temper before it explodes. If I get threatened again by a celly, my temper’s going to blow, I’m going to beat the shit out of them, and it won’t matter who’s bigger or with more muscle. I have muscle too, on top of a killer temper and that’s often all it takes. That, and being underestimated.

It’s ironic how Rule told me to lie about being threatened, then I come here and get threatened for real! Must be my payback for threatening Ida. I figured it’d happen sooner or later. It does to everyone in here, just about.

This cell is colder. Lower-tier cells always are.

I have my head where it’s just a couple of feet from the desk to give me a little more privacy from the stairs, figuring – what the fuck? Even though the next bitch will be stepping right by my head in order to climb up to the top bunk, she’s going to be waking me up anyway, so it doesn’t matter where I lay. I can sleep through most outside sounds, but I can’t adapt to sounds inside the cell.

What the hell? What’s Lisa doing smiling and waving to me? She’s not nearly as bad as her cellies, but isn’t she supposed to be one of my enemies? Well, I waved back. I can see right through the underside of the stairs when people go up and down.

I did snitch on Nancy, after all. Gibb found the news interesting when I told her what goodies she had. I don’t know if she found them, but she took one of the mattresses out of that room.

It’s obvious that the DOs are on my side. If it weren’t for their support and encouragement on top of Tom’s – forget it! I could never survive this zoo.

Gibb was telling me that the reason I’m probably getting it worse from Myra and Mindy is that this was their little cell, but that’s not just it. They’re pissed because I told the rude religious lady to beat it because we were starving after our food was sitting there getting cold for a half-hour, and because of Nancy’s yelling shit at them while I was unfortunate enough to be her celly at the time. They consider me to be a part of it, even though I never said a word.

Boy, are Nancy and Myra really paranoid about the journals! I would be too if I were them. Myra’s already threatening to have her layer slap me with a lawsuit.

Gee, I’m really scared! These people are so fucked, so immature and so stupid that it’s almost funny.

I know it’s raining outside because the radio told me so, but why does it smell like rain in here? Oh well. It’s better than bleach.

Wow! That’s 4 edible dinners in a row. Tomorrow’s weenies for sure, but that’s OK. It’s commissary night.

I hope Tom’s not going to be overwhelmed with the way I’ve been writing like crazy. I have nothing else to do, and it’s my only real way to cope and vent all this shit. Thank God we moved. I can just imagine how many of these envelopes would’ve ended up at the wrong place!

I stupidly gave Nancy our PO Box address when she had me feeling all sorry for her for being alone (now I know why she’s alone). She’ll probably never write, but if she does, since I know just what kind of letter she’d write, should I trash it without reading it? Read it, then trash it? Or go the freeloader way and run to the piggies with it?

I’ll probably be an adult about it and ignore mail I’m not interested in. She can’t make me read anything I don’t want to.

Everyone was laughing, including myself, at how Gibb pissed her off. Nancy thinks I owe her “rent” for using the pen the 2-3 days I used it, and she was bitching to Gibb that I owe her commissary. Gibb was like, “That’s your problem. No borrowing, trading or lending commissary.”

When Gibb asked me about it and I told her I didn’t owe her shit, she said she didn’t think so.

This next part, I must admit is funny. Nancy yelled down from her room when I went to get my dinner that I still owe her. Then when she came down to dump her tray she yelled, “I want those journals! I want them, OK?”

Yeah, I’ll just hand them right over, bitch.

Like most cells, this one’s got its pros and cons. It’s the second room to get served chow instead of the last, it’s further from the TV (although I sometimes wish they’d crank it up and drown out these animals), and a quicker walk in the mornings for clothes exchanges. I don’t even have to take the time to put my shoes on. I only do when I’m on the upper tier because these grille stairs are a killer to bare feet.

I’ll finish up this page and get it safely into the tower by saying – I want to go home! Fuck the fucking freeloaders that put me here!

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2001
Another day of fewer than 8 hours of sleep with a zillion interruptions. Nancy woke me up 3 times. The first two times were for her meds and to go to the bathroom, so I can’t blame those on her. The third time, though, she was tossing fiercely and yawning and sighing really loud, like so many people here seem to do. At least it wasn’t too early when she decided to get all fidgety. It was coming up on 10:00 and our hour out. I didn’t say anything to Nancy, although I’m sure she could tell by my attitude that I didn’t appreciate her noisiness waking me up. There’s no excuse for this shit. I also didn’t say anything because I knew it wouldn’t do me any good and it was her birthday. She also filled out a form to get out of here. So, she’ll be leaving soon and then I’ll have to deal with someone else’s shit for a while. Fortunately, someone gave her a couple of books that she says are her kind, so that should keep her quiet and out of my hair till she leaves.

If I’d known better upon coming into this jail, as Nancy did, I’d have complained of back pain at Medical to get a lower bunk slip. Hopefully, I’ll never have to go to Medical again, so I won’t bother. And besides, I’m two-thirds of the way through my time.

Now the two big cells really hate us! Chambers, who I’m now kind of attracted to, was on yesterday. At one point, she gave Mindy a pair of panties to give to Nancy, which she slid under the door. Nancy was pissed that they were being dragged on the floor and Mindy was threatening her, saying that unfortunately, she didn’t have the keys to the cell, etc.

Chambers came up and told us all that if we said anything more, we’d be rolled out to A Tower (wouldn’t hurt my feelings all that badly).

To back up a bit, I was just waking up and turned towards the door to see who was on when I heard keys jingling. Just as I did this, Chambers passed by, then she doubled back and said hi and asked how I was. “Just getting up,” I told her.

How nice of her to go back just to say hi to me! I don’t know what it is with this white, blond-haired, blue-eyed exception, but she’s so cute! Actually, I think her eyes are gray and her hair is a light sandy brown. Also, she’s only 18 and I’m never attracted to anyone that young. I like the 30s-40s group.

Later, Chambers and I exchanged more jokes. I told her one, and she told me about this couple who was expecting a baby. When the woman went into labor, the doctor explained that there was this new machine available to put some of the pain onto the husband and take some off the wife. So the doctor started by setting the machine at 10% and the woman felt better, yet the guy felt fine. The doctor upped it to 20% and still, the guy felt OK while the woman felt even better. At 30% the guy still felt OK, so he told the doctor to go ahead and up the machine to 100%. “You sure?” the doctor asked. The guy said he was sure and the doctor upped the machine to 100%. The woman had the baby very easily and the guy never felt an ounce of pain. Then when they got home, they found the mailman dead on their doorstep.

So now two DOs know I like them and another knows about it. She knows about Palma, anyway. Yeah, Chambers was going by when I called to her from up on my bed, but she didn’t hear me. Nancy was at the door, though, and she yelled out, “Hey, Chambers! Little Miss-I’ve-Got-A-Crush-On-You has a question for you.”

This is when I asked her age. Chambers blushed but came back anyway. I wasn’t as embarrassed as most people would’ve been, but I was caught off guard and laughing my ass off at the same time. It was funny if you ask me, and I do like those I like to know it, although they usually never do. I knew Nancy was the type to say something like that, but I didn’t know she was going to say it at that very moment.

I guess she wasn’t offended because she still talked with me and smiled at me, as usual. Maybe next time she’s on, I ought to say I’m so very very sorry about what Nancy said, just to see what she says. I hope she’s on tomorrow! I don’t know, though, if I could call this a crush. It’s not like I picture us in intimate situations. I just like her and think she’s cute, that’s all. She’s a little too young and not attractive enough for a girlfriend.

Chavez is on now. She’s one of the ones I can tell is about to do a walk before she even leaves the tower, because I hear the door separating the pods unlock by the controls in the tower. Some unlock them with their keys as they’re going through, and others do it up front from the tower.

Nancy was reading, then dozing, then playing with herself, and now she’s bleeding. She says she just finished her period too, and thinks she may be having a miscarriage.

God get rid of a crackhead’s baby? That’ll be a first! She already has 3 boys in Indiana, though, so he didn’t do it soon enough. Why he gives kids to the wrong people isn’t my only question. Why give them to people who are going to do a significant amount of time and not be able to be there for them?

Nancy got Chavez to call Medical for her, but she’s totally lost it. God, I want her out of here! I’m sick of her moods. I understand it’s her birthday, she may be miscarrying, and she’s in jail, but that gives her no right to snap at me and take it out on me. She’s lucky she can take me or else I’d be beating the shit out of her.

Nancy’s not pregnant. She had a pregnancy test twice in the last week and they were both negative. She doesn’t believe it, but stress and age makes us irregular. She says a tubal pregnancy wouldn’t show up in a pregnancy test and that it’s not normal for her to bleed after a period. Well, it wasn’t normal for me to spot a week or two before my period. Now it is. Still, I want her out of here!

Nancy and I had an interesting talk with Lopez last night. Lopez said she did remember to say hi to Palma for me and that lately her week has consisted of A Tower, Medical and Escort. I wish she’d escort when Tom visits because then Tom could probably see her.

What I meant by when I said a DO knew about my crush on Palma was that Nancy told Lopez I have a crush on her. Lopez didn’t seem the least bit shocked. Crushes in this place are plentiful, anyway. There’s got to be tons of them with the hots for Palma. I can see where some would describe her as a little too masculine and even mean-looking with her distinct features and jet-black hair and eyes, but lots of people get off on that, and she’s still feminine enough at the same time. I realize more and more that I don’t seem to be as into the ultra-feminine scene as I used to be. Tom would probably say she was harsh-looking and ugly, but most women who have ever been attracted to other women would drool over her.

I can already smell the weenies I figured we’d be getting tonight because the last two dinners were OK.

M202

And now I’m down in 202, the least private 2-cell. At least it is a 2-cell and at least I’m alone, even though my next nightmare will be rolled in any second.

No, Nancy didn’t leave Ad-Seg yet, but she did threaten me. As I figured she would, she denied it to Chavez. And this is the same person who said she’d never lay a hand on me and that fighting doesn’t solve anything. The same person that wanted to lick my pussy – ugh!

The reason I didn’t get into it with her is that I didn’t want to get an assault charge or lose my visitation or commissary. Also, I knew it was my ticket to being alone, if only for a few days, even if it meant losing the pen. I just wanted to get away from her and her moods! Lastly, as tough as I’d like to think I can be, and despite all the cellies I’ve had that I could beat up and that I admit to bullying around a little, I don’t think this one was one I could’ve beaten. It bothers me, either way, to be forced to cower down to her, in a sense, to get what I want, but that’s life sometimes. It wasn’t easy to do, either. It took every ounce of strength to keep myself from hurling myself at her, and if this had happened somewhere else and under different circumstances where I had nothing to lose, I would’ve in a heartbeat, whether or not I thought she could take me.

Chavez’s timing was perfect. She was on her way by just as the little fuck was threatening to rip up every journal page with her name on it if I didn’t do it myself. At first Chavez was like, “But you guys have been together almost a week.” Then she looked at Nancy and said, “Well, you have made threats before.” Then she told me to roll up and to go down to 2. Not fair, if you ask me, since Nancy was the one that made the threat and she was the one with the lower tier/lower bunk slip, but life isn’t fair and I wasn’t about to argue. I just wanted to get away from the madwoman!

Nancy became more and more unpredictable. One minute we’d be engaged in an intelligent conversation and the next she was either crying or bitching about something. Her moods were unbelievable. This was bordering on schizophrenia without the evil voices.

I don’t remember what started it. Something about her insisting I was too lazy to work. Farming ain’t “real” work and neither is homemaking, she said. Also, “You’re using Tom, who works really hard for you.”

Then she starts talking to herself for the first time, telling herself to shut up.

My response to that was, “Yes, why don’t you for a change and not judge those you don’t know or who live differently than you do.”

That’s when she threatened to yank me off my bunk and beat me up, telling me that when I go to A Tower, she’d follow me there, I’m worthless, etc.

Believe me, I’m so fucking fed up with these sick fucks here that a part of me does want to go to A Tower and I don’t care if this is considered to be a luxury dorm or not. But I don’t want to give up being in a 2-cell either, even if those damn tent doors do sound like earthquakes in here.

I knew my luck would run out.

The good thing about having the whole pod threaten me through the vents like they’ve been doing is that I have the luxury of being on the bottom again. They’re not going to stick any of these people in here with them threatening to kill me, so I don’t have to worry about being moved in with them so someone else can have my lower bunk. The only ones that aren’t in on this shit are Lisa, Mary, Brandie, and the two that are in 5. It’s mostly Myra and Mindy, as usual. I’m letting each DO that comes on know about this shit, too.

Chavez had yelled at them to shut up. For a second, the thought of hauling off at them verbally myself appealed to me, but you know what? I really don’t want to know they exist. They’re not worth my time and energy, so I tune them out with the radio. I could snitch on Nancy for having 3 blankets and a pen, but these people aren’t worth snitching on any more than they’re worth yelling at.

I learned a lesson tonight – never tell anyone in jail if you’re keeping a journal! In fact, every 5 sheets of paper, even if it’ll be a little more expensive since I can fit more than that in one envelope, will be mailed out. In fact, I may even do daily mailings. And on third shift only when no one’s out that could snatch it like I snatched and tore up that tank order when they butted into my trying to call Tom last night, which I’ll get to later.

The losers in the big cell must’ve heard Nancy saying she wanted everything with her name ripped up (doesn’t she know all I’d have to do is rewrite the shit?) because they were talking about it. Until I tuned them out with my radio, I heard something about how I can’t publish it because I didn’t ask for their permission. I most certainly could if I changed names. What’s the matter with these kiddy lickers? Afraid of the truth being written/known? Do they really have that many dirty secrets to hide? Obviously so, for them to be this paranoid.

I got a kick out of how right after Myra called me a crybaby, she started crying and whining about how jail’s getting to her.

Yeah, there are a lot of hypocrites in here.

I hate this cell’s location because of how it’s downstairs and right under the see-through stairs. Not much privacy, but private as hell compared to the big ones. This room has no trap door, for some reason. The vent was already blocked with a brown commissary bag, so I didn’t have to deal with the hassle of blocking that. I like the sink better in this cell. The water gets hot fast and the stream of water arcs up higher, giving it more pressure.

I was surprised we got 3 OK dinners in a row. A burrito with rice, bread, veggies and a chocolate cupcake. It seems that all we get is chicken, beef or chicken patties, burritos and hot dogs. We never get anything like fish, macaroni or spaghetti.

The lunatic upstairs said that chewing on the wax wrapper of the cupcake was like chewing gum, and surprisingly, it was. It was better than Styrofoam, but nothing like the real thing.

About last night’s shit from 4 while I was still with Nancy – they wouldn’t let me ignore them any more than the freeloaders would. They all sang and yelled really loud so my voiceprint wouldn’t match when I was trying to call Tom. I told Lopez - either open the door and let me have a go at them one by one (believe me I was mad enough at that point to take every single one of them) or shut them up somehow. Nancy and I then filled her in on how Chambers said they were to be rolled up and sent to A Tower if they kept their shit up. By then it was chow time, and after talking with them and us, she let me out to make the call, keeping the tower monitor on, but they didn’t dare utter a word.

I wonder how Palma would’ve handled it if she’d been the one to be on that night and not Chavez? Would she have moved me, or would she have handled it the way she handled my not getting along with Tina, even though we never threatened each other, and said she’d only move me after she let us get into it, then maced and written us up? I hope not! I doubt it, though, at this point because now she knows and likes me, and this is a different situation.

I am so, so tired. I just want to go home! I want out! How can God do this to me?! And why?!

Anyway, I better try to get some sleep before the next bitch with a schizophrenic attitude comes in to steal what little sleep and peace I can get around here.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2001
Talked with Tom at Mary’s house. Boy, was it a relief to hear his voice! I knew I didn’t see him because of the security override and I knew I’d have been notified if anything bad had happened, but hearing his voice made a world of difference as far as calming my nerves was concerned.

He said everyone was told to leave and all he heard was a couple of DOs saying 100 was rocking. I’m sure they were referring to the hole which is A100. Could’ve been B100, but I doubt it. It certainly wasn’t M100. That’s Alpha. M300 is juvi, and we’re M200. “The Princess Dorm,” as it’s commonly referred to.

“Are you going to tell your husband I’m coming on to you?” Nancy asked me.

“Well, of course. I tell him everything.”

No, she’s not going to rape me or anything like that. She’s just horny as hell and wishes we could take care of each other. Sorry, Nancy, I’m just not attracted to you. That’s very complimentary of her to tell me how much she likes my “porcelain doll” face and my lips that she says she can imagine kissing, but she doesn’t cut it for me. She just doesn’t turn me on one bit. Also, although I know we could time our activities without getting caught, it’d feel weird to have sex in jail.

Nancy said she recognizes Tom from his picture and that she saw him cruising the Mesa area looking for hookers and that she ripped him off when he thought she was a hooker. Right! And I ripped off Gloria Estefan after she went down on me after thinking I was really Linda Ronstadt. Why would a guy who’s hardly ever horny anyway, go all the way to Mesa for a piece of ass? Not that I’d give a shit if he did as long as I was always his #1. Nancy and I go back and forth between fighting and getting along and she said this when she was pissed at me, so that alone tells me something right there.

She’s taken to begging more and when I put my foot down and let her know she wasn’t going to take advantage of me, she called me stingy and was even going to have Lopez put her down in 2 which is empty. That’s how it is around here when you don’t want to end up spending a fortune on all your cellies and be responsible for them; you get called stingy, but she can call me that all she wants. She’s not getting anything else from me.

She bit my dead batteries, saying that makes them last longer because it condenses them. It seemed to help, but only through a few songs.

She asked Lopez about the racket behind us. They’re setting up new female and male tents (N and O). O’s going to be the women’s tents, and Lopez says she connects the word ovaries to O so she remembers that O’s going to be for women. A and B towers are female, C and D are males, E is women, F and G are males, H is male tents, I is female tents, J, K, L and M are all female.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2001
There’s a security override in effect right now. I hope Tom isn’t here yet waiting for me!

Starting on the 26th, Tom will be able to sign up for a whole half-hour visit if he wants to. We get a total of 1½ hours a week, but we were only allowed visitors for a half hour at a time. Not anymore. He can see me for an hour on Tuesday if he wants, and a half hour on Thursday.

Jill came by to ask people if they wanted to stay or not. I wonder why she never asks me. My 90 days are up on 3/7, and I’ll put in a tank requesting to remain in Ad-Seg for the duration of my sentence.

Nancy returned at 3:00. It was great to be able to sleep till 1:00, even if I had to get up for clothes exchange twice. The last time I slept late and woke up on my own was when Ida went to court.

As predicted, Nancy will be here for at least 60 days. It looks like, according to her public pretender, she’s going to get 3 years for the violation and about a year to run concurrently with that for fighting that pig.

Nancy said she was sure she fucked up her friend’s address, then found it on some paper, so I gave her another envelope and a piece of paper. She says she’ll pay me back. I’m not worried about it. It’s cheaper than bugging Tom to call her.

Tom said he might be here earlier, but I guess not because it’s already close to 4:00.

I wish I had more to write about since I don’t want to listen to music and miss hearing the call for my visit (Nancy’s asleep now, so she couldn’t listen for me).

I’m scared shitless right now, even though Mena and Nancy say I shouldn’t be. Tom never made it to visit me today. There was a security override and no reports of car accidents, according to Mena, yet I’m still worried. Mena let me call home at 8:20, but there was no answer. I hope to God he was asleep and unable to hear the phone! I’d die if anything happened to that man! Mena says I’d have been notified by now if anything had happened, but being the worrywart I am, all kinds of possibilities run through my head, like what if he’s in that house dead from a heart attack and no one knows yet?

A part of me almost feels like telling him that as much as I love seeing him, just write till I get out and don’t visit because it drives me crazy with worry when he’s late or doesn’t show up.

Because I slept so well today, I know I won’t get shit for sleep tomorrow. Nancy crashed after dinner and I know she’ll be up early and I know she’ll wake me up, too.

Half the pod hates us now. Everyone in the big cell next door, and probably the one downstairs too, isn’t too happy with us. Nancy’s considering signing herself out to the dorms because she can’t stand being with so many kiddy molesters. She was yelling out the door at Myra, then we were both yelling at the religious quacks for holding up dinner when we were starving. It was totally rude of them.

Mena came in and lectured Nancy about judging Myra.

When we finally got our dinner, Mindy, Lisa, Silvia and Carol next door, yelled at us for yelling at the religious ladies. The thing they were particularly mad at was my telling them to beat it because we were hungry. They yelled at Nancy for that and I let Mena know that I was the one that had said that.

“Tell them,” she told me.

So I went up to their door and tried to tell them, but before I could get more than a few words out, Mindy was screaming for me to get away from the door, slapping at it in a threatening way. That’s when Mena yelled, “Hey!” and opened their door. She yelled at them, saying they were just as bad and told them all to shut up.

If anyone has to hate me while I’m here, I’m glad it’s those in big cells so I don’t have to worry about getting stuck in there with them. I’d hope they’d be threatening me if someone tried to put me in with them, but if they didn’t, I’d either remind the DO that they did earlier or I’d do the threatening myself. Again, a part of me wants to go back to A, but I don’t want to have to have 2 cellies.

Ad-Seg can be so crazy! Nobody fights like Ad-Seg girls do.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 2001
Nancy’s at Medical now getting an inhaler for her own asthma. I searched through her stuff to see if she had the juice packet I’m missing and I didn’t find it. She either drank it without my noticing, or more than likely, commissary fucked up and shorted me one.

Some DO I’ve never seen before that was breaking for Laborde, asked me what I’ve been doing. “Now that’s a stupid question,” I said to the DO. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Playing with myself?”

As always, I enjoyed my visit with Tom yesterday, but was sad to hear Cocoa died. All that’s left now are Gizzy and Freddie, but I’m sure they’ll be gone when I get home.

I told him I wanted to reapply for disability even if the PO were a sweetheart to save as many of the $40 monthly fees as possible, but he said we’d still have to pay that.

Figures. The freeloader always wins.

He started planting vegetables. Things like peas, asparagus, tomatoes, cauliflower and more.

Vasquez was on yesterday and the day before. That woman is “the bomb,” as they say. She’s so cool. She told us a little about herself and gave us extra lunches on both days.

She was telling us that part of their training at the academy requires them to be maced with pepper spray and stun-gunned so they know what it’s like.

Ugh! I can’t imagine going through that shit!

Yesterday was funny because I woke Carol up when I was chatting with Silvia, Mindy and Lisa. She was pissed! Good, because she woke Marilyn and I up so I owed her one.

Lisa said she sleeps all night and is up all day. Forget it. I don’t want her as a celly.

I slept better last night and feel a bit more comfortable with Nancy now that I’m getting to know her.

Both sides of the original earbuds are shorting. So I tried the newer pair again and both sides work! Guess I can hold off on getting another pair.

Merci beaucoup, Nancy! Nancy swiped the pen I’m writing with from Medical. It’s so nice to be able to write with a pen again, although it’ll be even nicer to type on my computer!

I almost feel guilty for telling her I’d have Tom call her friend for her to have her remove her long-distance blocks, when in fact I never even gave the number to Tom. I didn’t think she’d be here long, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized she would be here for a while. She was arrested on a probation violation which escalated to assault when she fought that cop, so now she’ll be bound over for trial unless she pleads guilty, but even if she pled guilty, she’ll be here for at least a month. Maybe even a few. She’ll know more when she talks to her public defender, or as she more appropriately puts it – public pretender.

We’re hiding the pen inside her mattress. There’s a hole in the seam and we jam it in there which is a place not even Palma would look. We agreed that if we get caught with it, the person it’s on at the time has to take the fall for it while the other says they know nothing about it. So if I get caught with it I’ll say I found it on the dayroom floor. I’d probably get on restriction for 10 days.

Arajo’s turned out to be OK, though her liking me is far from mutual. Yeah, she’s given me the eye a couple of times. I came back from visitation crying and she asked me what was wrong. I told her I still had 68 more days, and she said that’ll go by real fast and told me a little bit about when she was in the army and it was her first time away from home when she was 26.

I had warned Nancy that Arajo would treat her like shit till she got to know her, but Nancy might’ve sunk her chances. She had the balls to ask the 6’, 200+ pound bull butch if she was a butch, and Arajo was not happy about it. Nancy had asked her earlier about going to Medical for a breathing treatment. As I expected, Arajo wasn’t the least bit sympathetic any more than Johnson was when I tried to tell her that no, I wasn’t just having an anxiety attack as she insisted, but was having trouble breathing too, and needed to go to Medical for an inhaler. She asked Nancy, “Why are you having trouble breathing? You’re talking.” Then she looked up at me questioningly and I just shrugged. Nancy still insisted she needed to go and Arajo said she’d call Medical, but we knew she never did. Anyway, Arajo said in response to her question, “For someone who’s having trouble breathing, you sure do ask rude questions.”

I must admit it was pretty funny, and Nancy was like, “Well, it’s an honest question!”

Although Nancy and I have had a few laughs, I still don’t think she’s all that good of a celly. I wish she’d leave or something. Later, when Arajo caught me crying again after Nancy had fallen asleep, she came in and asked what was wrong and I told her I was homesick. I also mouthed, “I don’t like her,” and pointed below me. She’d said she’d tell the next shift, whatever that means. I mean, what are they going to do? Move me tonight? Or move Nancy?

It turned out that Rylel was on next. She asked me how I was. By this time, although I was exhausted, I felt better. I told her she could shut our lights off. I crashed around 1:00 and got up at 9:30. We both slept later. She napped for a little while today, too.

Nancy has court tonight and was a little wound up, so she got off while I stayed up on my bunk so she could have some privacy. She loves to play with herself from what she tells me. She loves women, too. Like most people, she likes equals. I like opposites. She likes white girls around her size. I usually prefer Hispanic, Indian, or something dark that’s bigger than me. I like them to be at least 5’ 3”, preferably taller. The tallest woman I’ve been with was 5’ 6”.

Nancy likes redheads. Yuck! Redheads suck. The only good-looking redhead is Johnson, but I’m thinking of becoming one myself when I get out. Not bright, fiery red, but a deep, dark coppery red.

Nancy and I were singing earlier. She’s actually not that bad.

She made me a paper box (I put the aspirin the DOs pass out in it) out of magazine pages. She made the box out of a picture of ballerinas I picked out, and the lid with a picture of a girl in a bikini. We were both drooling over that body! The flat stomach, the straight, thin thighs…

“At least you still have that hourglass shape,” Nancy told me.

Yeah, a rather exaggerated one. I’m about 36-28-36. I miss my old measurements of 33-24-33.

Nancy loves licking pussy, she told me, but that’s mostly because she’s the dominant one in relationships, unlike me. It’s something I’ve never done before or even cared to do. I’ve been the receiver as far as that goes.

Right now, though, I’d be content just to have Palma come in here and give me a hug and a kiss and chat with me for a while. Her undivided attention would be sufficient enough since I can’t just go home now.

We’ve been judging the DOs. She said she’d do Wilder.

How boring.

We both agree Kahn’s OK and that Espi’s one gorgeous 50-year-old, though I wouldn’t want them. She thinks Bryant’s gay, but I never would’ve pegged her for being gay.

I totally dig Johnson. She’s not that butchy. She still has long hair. Yes, you can tell she’s gay, but she’s not dyky like Arajo is.

We were debating whether or not Palma’s part Indian. I don’t think she’s part Indian. I think she’s part black. Especially because of the kinky hair. Indians don’t have kinky hair.

Anyway, if you swipe something like a pen in jail and you don’t intend to use it much, it becomes money. Nancy said she wanted to sell it and I told her I’d buy it from her. (it’s full) I’m buying her a few bucks worth of treats, but she says she’ll share them with me anyway. She might get money on her books soon because she remembered her friend’s address. Good. Then Tom’s not calling won’t matter. I’m keeping the pen under my mattress where it’s out of view, but if Palma’s ever on again, or if I do go back to A, I’ll keep it on me.

Fucking LaBorde noticed my extra towel because I was dumb enough to forget to cover it, so there goes my pillow again. I’m getting pretty known for extra towels and rubber bands. I get them – they take them. They know just what to look for.

Got a letter from Tom. It was shorter because he wanted to get those doll pictures out to me. So now I have a good variety to show people. He said he’d look for jokes online. That’d be cool.

A part of me misses A Tower. I know Palma’s been there way more often than she’s been here, there’s the mice, of course, and as funny as it may sound, I slept better there than here.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2001
Nancy is not turning out to be a very good celly. She doesn’t ramble on non-stop at the mouth, and she doesn’t beg too much, but she doesn’t try very hard to be quiet when I’m sleeping. She slept on and off for nearly 24 hours and got up around 7:00. She woke me up by roughly opening the Styrofoam breakfast trays. Her movements, in general, are quick and rough like she just doesn’t give a shit. She’s just like Carolyn, Monday and Deanna – very self-absorbed.

She insisted she tried to be quiet and didn’t mean to wake me up. Then she goes, “You’re the one that was up all night, not me.”

I said, “Oh, so that means you can’t respect my schedule because I’m a night person and you’re not?”

“How come you can rustle papers and shit like that, but I can’t?”

“Nancy, you told me it didn’t bother you, so I assumed it was OK. As soon as you tell me it bothers you, I’ll stop doing that while you’re asleep.”

She had told me that all she does is sleep and to make all the noise I wanted to while she slept because she’s a heavy sleeper, but just like with most phony people, she’s obviously not what she said she was. Now the radio even bothers her, but just while she’s trying to fall asleep, she says. After that, it doesn’t matter. So I keep it turned down till I hear her breathing like she’s sleeping.

Another thing is that when she first came in here she was constipated which is great when you have to live cramped up in such a tiny room, but lately she’s turned into a regular little shitaholic! She’s grossing me the fuck out, and I swear – if this bitch doesn’t quit her shit, I’m gonna plug up that butt hole of hers really good with a pad or something!

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2001
Marilyn’s gone. I’m happy for her and sad for me since I still have an eternity to do here. She was one the best cellies and I’m going to miss her.

Not even 4 hours later, I got a new celly. It was 4:30 when Marilyn woke me up. “Bye, Jodi. I love you. I’ll miss you.”

“Me too, Marilyn. Take care,” I said.

By 8:00 I had my new celly. This was the girl who was in 5 bragging about the pig she beat. Her toilet got clogged up in there so she came in here to use the toilet, asking if I wanted a roommate.

“No, but I guess I don’t have a choice, so, are you quiet?” Not that I expected the truth.

She nodded, saying she sleeps a lot, then she moved over.

Her nickname is Gidget, but her real name is Nancy K. She’s about 5’ 5” with a hideous face and a nice body. She’s slim and solid, but it’s mostly because of crack. Actually, although she’s proportioned nicely, she’s a little too skinny. I like something you can really hang onto and there’s just not much meat on this one. Lots of muscle, though. She said she helped her dad build houses in Indiana. Her baby-fine brown hair is boring. It’s a little past her shoulders. She has plain-looking, almost mean-looking brown eyes, a face full of acne, a body full of ugly tats, and only half a mouthful of teeth. She’ll be 29 on the 24th. She’s in for cop-beating and drugs. This is her fifth time in jail.

So far, with the exception of our hour out, in which I called Tom to update him, and lunch, she’s been sleeping. She doesn’t seem to gab non-stop and she doesn’t talk to herself. I’m not really sure what to think at this point, but she’s definitely not a Rosa or a Mary. Not even an Ida or a Marilyn.

She told me she was glad I was sane, and to make all the noise I want when she’s sleeping because she’s one of those heavy sleepers I envy. When I told her I rock to the music, she was pleased, telling me I’d rock her to sleep.

I wish I could sleep like her and Marilyn! I fell asleep around 2:00, got up at 8:00 after a zillion wake-ups, and although I’m tired, I can’t get back to sleep. The question is – how will she be when she’s up longer? Will she talk non-stop then? Always be under my nose? Or will she stay mostly in bed and out of sight reading? I wonder how often she’ll sleep.

She says she’s had no luck with men and is going to get a woman when she gets out, which she says she’s become more and more attracted to over time.

Vasquez was talking to us earlier, and even she knows that most cops are lying macho assholes. A pig tried bullying her son once, she told us. She says she sees a lot of injustice within the courts and all the time people are getting unfair sentences. She says the judges seem to think it’ll help their careers if they sentence people as much as they can. I think it’s mostly a control thing. Makes them feel powerful to know they can trash people’s lives like they do, while the POs want to keep all the clients they can. It’s not just a control thing, but a business thing. The more clients, the more money.

Anyway, she’s a very caring, compassionate DO.

For the first time ever, I lied when asked why I’m here. Normally, instead of bothering to lie, I just don’t talk about things I don’t want to talk about. But Nancy’s not exactly someone I respect and care about and I’m sick of getting into it. Also, I thought the punishment ought to fit the crime for once. So, when Nancy asked me why I was here, I said I was in for assault. I said I beat the bitch up, and believe me, I wish to hell I had!!! I’d beat her to a bloody pulp if I had to start all over again. She’d be completely beyond recognition when I got through with her. I’d do to her what my mother did to me, letting me starve, then beating me up and leaving me in the woods for dead, although there aren’t any woods around. With the way the laws are out here, I wouldn’t be in this mess if I had done that from the get-go like I should’ve and wanted to. If only I hadn’t let Tom talk me out of it! I told him she and her people would never be a problem to us again if he’d only let me handle it my way. I totally regret listening to him on that one!

Anyway, I don’t want to get on another freeloader trip right now.

Nancy’s favorite DO is Espi, who according to her, gives her coffee and cigarettes. Espi drinks a pot of coffee that she brings to work with her and lets Nancy empty it out in the shower room (when she’s in the dorms), only Nancy empties it out in a bottle. I miss coffee and could sure go for a cup myself right now.

Did a little trading with Nancy. I gave her a brownie and a bag of nuts for 5 envelopes (stamped, of course). I gave her a little shampoo too, just because I wanted to and felt like helping her out.

I would be very hungry if it weren’t for commissary. Dinner wasn’t so bad. It was different. Chunks of beef in a thin beef sauce. However, between the 5 bites of that, 5 bites of potatoes, and a mouthful of dead lettuce, I’d be starving!

Nancy says she’s seen Mary on TV a lot, and something about Mary knowing her dead daughter was in a swamp and her not saying so. I don’t know what the fuck the real story is with Mary, but I sure am curious. I’m going to see if Tom can find anything online.

Chambers is definitely one of my favorites. Yesterday I was stressing over Marilyn’s leaving, and Chambers saw that I was crying when she came in to tell me a joke. She said that since it was Sunday and psych wasn’t in, she’d be there for me if I needed to talk. How sweet of her. I really appreciated her being there for me.

Nancy was crying earlier, scared of going to prison, afraid of being all alone. She gave me the number of a friend and asked if I’d ask Tom to call her and tell her to get her long-distance blocks off her phone so she can call collect. She doesn’t know this girl’s address to write to her. Nancy has no family nearby and she doesn’t get along with them anyway. I offered to write to her so she doesn’t feel so alone.

She fell asleep shortly after dinner. Hope she’s not up too early! She’s a bit of a restless sleeper. She tosses and turns so roughly in her sleep that you’d think someone was attacking her. Hopefully, it won’t bother me when I’m sleeping.

Unless there’s some delay or fuck-up in court, she won’t be here for more than a couple of weeks.

Sharon brought me a new inhaler. She’s the only dependable nurse around here. She says they’re moving them around a lot and isn’t sure where she’ll be. I hope she’s here as long as I am!

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 2001
It’s turned out to be an all-Chambers weekend. She’s on again.

The girl in 5 is bragging to next door about how she kicked the shit out of a cop.

God, I hate cops! I could never trust them again after what’s happened. If I were being held hostage at gunpoint in my own home, I still wouldn’t call the cops. Besides, I’d probably be dead long before they could get there, anyway.

Myra took another shit fit. That lunatic is always raging about something when she isn’t crying or laughing. She was crying to her mom on the phone that she’s not going to have a life if she gets 18 years. She should’ve thought about that before she and her boyfriend molested and smacked her kids around. I wouldn’t put a hose to her mouth if her brains were on fire, that’s how sick she makes me. I hate people like her! They all ought to be killed.

God and life are so cruel and unfair! I should be home with my husband right now, enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon together. Not forced to be here, worrying about who I’m going to be forced to live with next, all for some freeloader’s vindictiveness and the courts who cater to people like her.

From Chambers: This old couple goes to the doctor’s and the doctor says to the guy, “I need a urine and a stool sample.”

The guy says, “Huh?”

The doctor repeats himself louder. “I need a urine and a stool sample.”

“Huh?” he yells again.

Finally, his wife says, “Just give him your underwear.”

I was right in guessing we’d get spicy weenies tonight. Along with it came wilted salad, 2 pieces of bread, and a skimpy portion of beans in this brown sauce that looked like half-dried puke.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2001
Chambers asked me if I knew any more jokes and I gave her my joke sheet to check out.

Brea will probably be on tomorrow.

Bryant was on last night and I laughed really loud on two of her walks, just like Mary and I did. Even Marilyn was laughing.

Julia’s gone home and Peaches (Jane), who’s supposedly Kim’s aunt, is down there now. There’s someone new in 5 too, but I don’t know who.

Off goes Chambers and on comes Futch. Chambers went into all the cells and did a half-assed search. Thank God it was a half-assed search, or else I’d have lost my spare panties and socks. I’d rather lose those, though, than my juice bottle. She did, however, take my extra towel because we were “too clean and no fun and she had to take something.” Marilyn will leave me her extra towel and I’ll exchange it on Monday.

Not a bad dinner tonight by jailhouse standards. The meat patty, though God knows what it was, was pretty edible, and the rice wasn’t dry and stuck together for a change, either.

Marilyn slept most of the afternoon, but now she’s sitting in front of me drinking an endless amount of water and will probably sit there guzzling till the nurse comes at around 8:00. She’d get out from under my nose if I asked her to, but as long as she doesn’t bug me when I’m trying to listen to the radio, I’ll live with it because tomorrow’s her last day anyway. She really is one of the best cellies I’ve had, though, and I will miss her.

I had food stuck between my teeth and I flossed it out using a few strands of hair. I know it’s gross, but it worked.

That’s the second time the fire alarm’s gone off.

This is the longest Palma’s gone without working here since I came back to M. When will she be back? I want to give her these joke sheets and I want to see her before I leave.

From Marilyn: What kinds of birds don’t fly?

Jailbirds.

As much as I’d love to move down to the bottom bunk after Marilyn leaves, I won’t chance it. It’d be nice to get someone in here that I was compatible with who had a lower bunk slip. Then we wouldn’t get pulled unless someone was fighting with someone somewhere, or Jackson and Jill came in to play house with us again.

So far, Ida’s been my longest-running celly and that was the longest I was in the same cell consistently (29 days).

Sharon’s definitely the best nurse. She’s totally cool. She says she ought to be here Monday evening and to ask her then if my new inhaler is on her cart.

As far as Tom and I sleeping together when I get home – I don’t know what to do or when to do it. I think I’d like that to be his call unless he says otherwise. I trust his judgment. Me – I have poor judgment because I so rarely get to make my own decisions in life.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2001
I slept the longest I’ve ever slept since being here, and all night, too! I fell asleep around 9 PM, right before the nurse came. I remember asking Hudgens if she’d turn the TV off and she said she would on her next walk. The next time I opened my eyes for a sec, it was dark and quiet. Then the next time was when Temple was waking us up to go down and get our breakfast, but neither of us was interested. I didn’t get up till 7:45 when Bangert let us out for our hour out. I showered, shaved, and walked at a brisk pace for 20 minutes.

Everyone was asleep when I was out, and I saw that Carol moved in to take Maria’s place.

While I was showering, I heard Bangert call for Rec.

That’s right Bangert! Call for rec while everyone’s asleep and I’m in the shower.

I hope and pray my next celly doesn’t need me to be their source of entertainment. I hate cellies that smother me with always needing someone to talk to. And I hate it when they don’t stay on their beds, making me feel like I’ve got even less space/privacy, though I’d rather see a celly too much than hear them too much.

Lunch just came and I made myself eat a boring ham sandwich in case tonight’s dinner isn’t edible.

I asked Misery when the meal cut is supposed to take place and she said she didn’t know. She said it’ll be the same number of calories. (2900) It’s awfully hard to believe we get that many calories. To me, it seems more like 1500-2000.

Nottelmann’s on now. I was wondering if she’d ever work here again while I was still here.

Believe it or not, after all I slept last night, I took a long nap. Not without waking up a zillion times, throughout it, though. Marilyn said she tried to be quiet, yet I heard every move she made. I heard the water running, the movements, the coughing, the heavy breathing, etc. Then she yelled out to Bangert about going to Medical for her shot, then Bangert came back later to tell her they’d pull her later for it. She was gone all of 5 minutes for her shot, which she says is for mental illness. She’s still one of the nicest, sanest psych cases I’ve met so far, but that’s OK because technically I’m a psych case myself. I just won’t take meds for it. ADD is a bitch to deal with either way. The hyperness causes insomnia which fucks up my schedule and causes me to have trouble focusing and concentrating on things for long periods of time. That, my childhood, and my being scrawny (for most of my life) is why I have so much trouble dealing with people, be it with jobs or relationships of various kinds. Some haven’t exactly liked dealing with my being hard of hearing, either. Of course, it depends on where I am and how much background noise there is. Everyone wants you to be perfect and over 5 feet tall. I’m convinced that Tom’s the only one in the whole world who could ever accept me as I am. I’m really careful of what I tell people when they ask about me because I know certain things could be used against me as unfair and irrelevant to the present as it sometimes is. I didn’t tell intake I tried to kill myself, for example, because they could use that against me, even though I was only 17 years old.

It’s nice to think of all the things Tom and I are going to do in and out of the house when I get out, and over the years to come, but I hesitate to plan too much. Life isn’t what we plan it!

Some plain-looking DO named Redpath is filling in for Nottelmann while she’s at the sergeant’s office, or so I heard. I get the impression this isn’t a very nice lady, but when you’re new to a DO, they never seem nice. Believe me, there’s a huge difference in how the DOs treat me now, versus my first couple of months here.

What is it with all this drinking? This is the second celly in a row obsessed with drinking cup after cup of water.

Because I slept all night last night and had a nap, I know I’ll be up all night tonight. I wish I could sleep and sleep and sleep. It makes the time go by so much faster.

When I was downstairs walking this morning I noticed that Myra’s ID says she’s minimum security. How does a child molester/beater get to be minimum while the writer ends up to be medium? Does anything in this world make sense? Is anything ever fair?

Anyway, we were surprised with chicken for dinner. It was a small piece that wasn’t overly filling, but it sure beats weenies!

These cheap razors really suck. I’ve got major razor stubble now. Maybe I should just wait and shave when I get out with my own razor which is a really good one.

Marilyn and I were telling the nurse and Nottelmann some jokes. I showed them the rat and mice pictures, too.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2001
Hudgens is on now, and I’m waiting quite impatiently for Tom.

Ida left last night around 4:30. I’m happy for her, but so envious! I have so many days left still.

Ida left just in time because Misery was on today. When I called her Misery, she responded this time by pointing to her name tag. (her real name’s Chaicowski or something like that) I mentioned how she’s a dead ringer for Kathy Bates (but left out the part about how much misery she brings people) and she said the sergeant mentioned reading in the paper that she’s to be presenting the Oscars.

That’s the third fucking time we’ve had weenies in 4 days! What the fuck is this weenie trip we’re on?

My newfound fondness for Hudgens dwindled a little bit. First she let the fucking food sit forever so it could get cold, then she let Myra serve when the bitch has a cold. What a stupid idiot she is!

Marilyn was telling me how she began hooking to support her drug habit, but I don’t know how the hell she ever pulled it off. She’s pretty homely looking, although, for the most part, all guys want to do to women is fuck them, insult their intelligence, then dump them (Marilyn’s of average height/weight with brown eyes and curly brown hair a few inches below her shoulders, in case I didn’t already say so).

I asked Marilyn if she was really threatened and she said no. I figured as much. I think Ida was the only one who was really threatened back when she was in the tents.

Saw Tom and showed him the card I got from Helen. He’s still working a lot. He says she misses me more the more he’s at home.

Tom reassured me a little about this PO shit, but I don’t know. Something’s been teasing me as far as living in that house goes from the get-go. First it was with the set-up process, and now that I’ve been in the house for the near year I was in it, which felt like only a few months, I get yanked back out of it. Am I meant to live there or not?

Yes!! Loud-mouth, bleach-happy Maria’s going to GP, so now there’s a bed open in a big cell. Well, that could be a good thing, actually. If there was a fight in the lower big cell, they could come up to this one, rather than swap with me or Marilyn.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2001
What is it with these night DOs not turning off the lights? I’ll have to ask Tate again. Maybe there is something wrong with this light. LaBorde wondered the same thing. She had to wake me up to tell me about it, too. She came and said she was just wondering why my light wasn’t on. Now, couldn’t she have just stood outside and wondered that to herself and not woken me up from the very entertaining dream I was having? I could’ve strangled her for waking me up from the best part!

I was God only knows where with Johnson. We were standing with our arms around each other. Her hand slowly slid up my thigh and under my skirt, towards my ass. I stood up on my toes to pull her face towards mine and she began to pull me towards her, too. Just as we were about to kiss, she fucking woke me up! I was furious at her for cheating me out of my kiss! How dare she rob me of my kiss! See, God gave me the wrong gift. Being able to see past and future events is fine, but why couldn’t I have been telekinetic if only for today?! I swear that stun gun of hers would fly up out of its holster with my mind concentrating on it, and then I’d zap the shit out of that loud, obnoxious mouth!

Finally! She just cut the light but I can still write with the dayroom lit up.

Trying to sleep in M Dorm is nearly impossible! Especially when you’re on my schedule. It’s quieter as far as the inmates go, but I hear every single fucking thing they say over the intercom. A Tower has an intercom in the dayroom too, but each room also has its own intercom, unlike M, so they have to address it to everyone when someone has a visit or whatever.

In A Tower, they also don’t yell for medical tanks or clothes exchanges, though I’m kind of glad they do that here with clothes exchanges so I don’t get stuck in the same zebra outfit for weeks at a time.

There are also rec calls, too. Those are usually early so they can piss people off by waking them up, and so they can hope no one’s awake enough to want to go. That way that’s one less thing they have to deal with. Most DOs are lazy.

God, I’ve been writing like hell! There’s not much else to do, though.

It feels like it’s been years since I’ve hugged and kissed Tom, played with Houdini, enjoyed my computer and other stuff, gone to stores, had coffee and my favorite foods. I wish April 29th would hurry up and get here!

Mena’s got the TV on now, so I gotta listen to that shit.

The place reeks of bleach, thanks to Maria. Somebody, get that loud, obsessive-compulsive clean freak out of here!

Bangert let Ida give me things earlier. She gave me about 40 pieces of paper, 3 envelopes, 5 pencils and 5 little tubes of toothpaste.

Back in December when I was in A with Carolyn and Monday, Carolyn suggested a good title for my Estrella jail story would be: Why am I Here?

But I know why I’m here. How many more times do I have to tell that to people?! I’m here to be punished for leaving a noisy city and getting a beautiful home. At first I thought I’d title it: My Estrella Jail Nightmare. However, I don’t think I’ll use either one of those.

I still can’t believe I’m in jail for something I wrote and for this long! We have freedom of verbal speech, but God help us should we write it down and send our journals through the mail! That’s fucked. Totally fucked!

Another issue is how old this case is. This was years ago! Gosh, why not punish me for the little boy I bullied around in the first grade?! And if I’m some stalker, what am I doing living out in the middle of nowhere? Don’t real stalkers prefer cities?

The more I think about this job thing, the more it burns me up. I’m really frustrated right now. What we do with our lives should be irrelevant. If I wanted my job to be dealing drugs, that’d be different, but you mean I can’t be a homemaker because of something I wrote? I gotta get a whole new job and lifestyle for that? Fuck that shit! What the fuck does my occupation have to do with anything? I’m not getting an additional job and I’m not changing my life over this shit! I didn’t kill anybody and I’m not about to be anybody’s slave, either! They can make me stay here till April 29th, but they can’t tell me what the fuck to do with my life out there! I’m nobody’s liar. I’m not telling them what they want to hear, and I’m not going to be forced to be somebody I’m not and try to handle a lifestyle that isn’t suitable for me, whether or not transportation’s an issue. I’m sick of society and the fucked up fucking mother-fucking system trying to control me!

I’m in the shittiest of moods right now! Why do I even bother living? I should’ve killed myself before October 30th when I had the bad vibes and knew something was wrong. Very wrong. Now I’m stuck having to live through this shit and if being free goes to my head once I get out of here, I’m never going to get up the nerve to kill myself!

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2001
By 8:00 I had been woken up 3 times. For breakfast, gown exchange, and med tank call. That ditz Mejia turned our light on last night thinking the mouth was in here, and it was about an hour before she remembered to turn it back off.

They didn’t have a small town, so I settled for an extra-large. Although a small fits me best, I can move around in a roomier gown easier.

The juvi mouth went off last night at 3rd shift change. How the hell can anyone hear her? She’s not vented to anyone else but us. First I asked her politely to be quiet and she did for a while, then when I told her to shut up, she did for good.

Got the usual commissary items. The hard candy I get has 5 flavors and one of them I don’t like is lemon so I’ll give it away. I’m going to get a little of everything come my last commissary order because I’m not going to be living on junk when I get out.

Silvia said to me as I was walking by, “It’s quiet today, huh (because Monkey Face Maria was in court)?”

I walked around the dayroom for 20 minutes. Once our hour out starts getting too early, I’ll pace more in the cell. I usually do that around midnight when Marilyn’s asleep. All she does is sleep night and day. It’s great. Wish all my cellies could be like her! Midnight’s prime time for me, anyway. My peak hours are from around 8 PM–4 AM. It’s been more like 6 PM–2 AM in here, though.

Saw Tom and he looked great. A little tired, though, as he said. I look forward to us doing all kinds of things when I get out. I understand flying to Vegas and taking a cruise has to wait, but that’s OK. I’m not ready for that, anyway. Maybe in our golden years. Or at least silver or bronze. It’ll be too hot for miniature golf, and I know we can’t get any porcelain dolls for quite a while, but we can go to the record store, the department store to get his razor and maybe me a Barbie, and I can catch up on Whataburger, KFC, Chinese, etc.! Can’t wait! Still 75 days away, though. Thursday I’ll have 2½ months and Sunday I’ll have 10 weeks.

I appreciate Tom’s reading my journals. He’s the only one I can share them with without getting in trouble.

He’s still sure I can stay working at home, and I want to believe him, but can’t shake the bad feeling I’ve had about that ever since I entered this dive. Why would I have it if it weren’t for a reason? Could this simply be paranoia? And remember, he’s overly optimistic and I’m psychic. My track record is too accurate for comfort when it comes to these kinds of grim vibes.

Futch is on now. Never seen her before, but she says she’s not new. She says they never put her here. I hope they don’t decide to quit sticking Palma here, but there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s in my fantasies while I’m still here, then forever in my memories when I leave.

In Tom’s letter to me, he gave me names/addresses, but as I told him, I’m not going to waste my time on useless motions. Although the living conditions have improved, except for the food, the complaint address would still be nice to have.

He’s not going to Vegas and he might not get that job he mentioned getting at the bank, but will keep trying for a higher-paying job there.

He says Harry screams like Houdini’s killing him, although he’s not.

I guess Monkey Face Maria’s not all that bad after all, but she’s still too loud and I’ll be glad to see her go. When she came back from court and was out on her hour, I asked what happened in court and she said, “Nothing.” Then she came to the door and said, “Oh, you look so pretty.” That’s what Ida said about my hair.

Anyway, she told me that after the Alpha program, she can go home. Then she said she was sorry for sounding rude earlier, but was tied up talking to someone else. I told her it was no problem and that I was sorry for yelling at her for waking me up. She laughed, saying she couldn’t stay mad at me for that, thanked me for caring, then took off.

But I don’t care. I just wanted to know when she’s going to get the hell out of here!

Christoffers just walked by breaking for Futch (I hope Palma at least breaks for someone soon)! She was friendly to everyone, but as usual, not a word to me. As soon as she’s on again I intend to return every evil, hateful glare she gives me. Although I only saw her for a second, her look was actually pretty expressionless tonight. I’d rather never see her again, but I know it’s just a matter of time before she’s on again. The question is, though, will she go beyond just mean glares? I hope I never find out!

Wow! Got a surprise from Tom, Helen and Christoffers.

Tom made me an adorable Valentine’s card on the computer with pictures of kittens and rats (my favorite picture of Houdini and Ratsy). Makes me feel bad for not being home to make him one. I can’t even make one here because I have no plain paper at the moment, and haven’t for a while. Anyway, I love his card that says: Jodi, you’re my Valentine forever. I love you and miss you.

Got a cute one from Helen with Snoopy blowing pink heart bubbles with green glitter. I did not expect this, that’s for sure. Didn’t really expect Tom’s either (we rarely do cards), so they came as a real surprise. Helen’s says: Dear Jodi – Our weather is getting wonderful again – I hope you get a chance to get out some. I’m glad you are getting along with people at all the levels while you’re there. There is a loud message there – you’re likable! Take that one in, digest it, remember it, use it to your advantage! Fondly, Helen.

Although there was a Phoenix return address (probably her home) on Helen’s card, she didn’t ask me to use it, so I’ll keep sending her mail to her office in Tempe.

Christoffer’s surprise was that she actually spoke to me. She let the nurse in for Marilyn and I gave her a mean glare and she asked if I was OK and I nodded. I wonder if she’d ever have spoken to me if I hadn’t given her a taste of her own meds?

I’d still like to know why it was that Jackson and Jill moved us, and if they plan to make a habit of it. I sincerely hope not. We move enough as it is without their help.

I never thought I’d like all these rap songs. The lyrics are so hateful, though. I guess blacks are very angry people.

I have a bad belly because of all the candy, but it’s either junk food or no food, although the last two dinners have been OK and enough to fill up on. It varies.

Saw Nottelmann working the controls on my way from seeing Tom, so she’s still around. That’d be fun working controls. I’d have that slider shutting on people left and right, and I’d make like I was going to open doors, then quickly relock them. I’d have all kinds of fun, as I was telling Chavez, who said, “Yeah, I’m sure you would, you little prankster. I wouldn’t even work here at that point.”

Tate’s on now. It looks like she’s going to keep the dayroom fully lit.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 2001
This is day 3 of not hearing the door yeller, but she did call to Maria (I just ignored her) about going to court. They must’ve chatted through the vents when she was in here. Speaking of that damn bitch, it better go to Alpha, or else I’ll find a way to silence that loudmouth permanently.

First I was woken up for breakfast and then the nurse came in and asked twice if we had any medical tanks. When she saw she wasn’t getting any answer, she left. I don’t know why these fucking nurses come asking us for medical tanks when 10 minutes before, the DOs yell for us to put them in our doors if we have any. They need to balance their responsibilities better. It should be our responsibility to put our own medical tanks out, and they should worry more about getting people’s meds to them on time.

Anyway, that stupid bitch was the first to go out and it woke me up with its mouth at 9:00. We were last out. I could’ve slept until lunch. I can go back to sleep after brief interruptions, but this was a whole hour of screaming. By then I was too pissed to go back to sleep. I spared her no mercy on my hour out while she was trying to nap, although, with my shit luck, it never bothered her.

After that mouth got locked down, the new freeloader’s mouth was let out, but for some reason or another, it got rolled out of here today. It never did move in with Maria and Silvia, either.

According to Chavez, we’re to get 3 sandwiches for breakfast and an extra side for dinner.

I spoke with Ida who gave me some Tums. Barajas yelled, “No more passing room to room. I have eyes in the back of my head!”

Then Ida asked for the TV to be turned on and I hid the remote on her after she put it down on the table for a minute. There were other things I was going to do, but I decided I’d made her life miserable enough, and Barajas is just a kid. Like with Nottelmann and Chambers, she looks like she’s only between 18-20.

Ida said she did spill the juice on Arajo deliberately. Arajo threatened her with A Tower, but obviously that never happened. Instead, she wrote her up. Ida swore to the Hearing Officer that it was an accident and the Officer said he’d look into it further. Either way, Ida’s gone in a few days.

Marilyn and I made a deal. For doing all the cell cleaning, I’ll give her drink mixes.

We got to shave today. We can’t keep the razors in our cells. Monday, Wednesday and Friday we can sign them out with our ID cards. I could tell by the little clump of hair on the shower floor that someone went bush-whacking.

I was chatting with Mary, Myra and Brandie on my hour out. As I suspected, Mary likes it where she is and isn’t too keen on the idea of moving in here after Marilyn leaves. Again, my vibes say we’ll never cell together again.

When I asked Brandie why she was closed custody, I got 3 different stories. First it was for fighting, then homosecting, then her being an escape risk. She doesn’t come across to me as being gay, and I don’t think they’d close-custody an escape risk, so I’d say she was probably acting crazy or being violent in some way.

Mary told me Melinda’s now a trustee working in the kitchen. At least she’s out of AS.

That was the second time they came to our doors with clothes exchanges. Barajas came to us for bra, panties and towel exchanges. I like it better when they come to us, so I don’t have to stumble out of bed and downstairs half asleep.

As quiet as Carol may be, I don’t know if I want to cell with her because she wants the top bunk. As long as I’m in a 2-cell, I want to be the one on top so there’s less risk of getting thrown in a 4-cell. On the other hand, no one’s thrown me in there yet. Now that I’m known by the DOs, they may not do that to me, anyway.

Sheila’s back, I hear.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2001
Shit! Here they go talking about moving again. The new Mexican lady is crying because she can’t communicate with anyone downstairs, so Hudgens is looking to move her up with Maria and Silvia. Let me guess – Hudgens is going to want to pull one of us, right? Just swap her with Lisa, Hudgens! Lisa’s in the cell she’s moving to. Every time someone moves, it seems they’ve got to move the whole pod practically, just to do it.

Brea, who was on 1st shift, was kind enough to let me out to call Tom after lunch because I slept through our hour out. We both did. I wanted to know if he remembered to deposit money.

That was a much better dinner. We had chicken again with mashed potatoes, salad, bread and a little mini cupcake.

Now for some good news – razors have finally come to Ad-Seg! It’s about time. I was surprised when I first came here and found there were no razors here. After all, we’re not on restriction or in a psych ward, even if some people here should be. I’m still going to try that Nair on the outs.

As for the meal cut, Marilyn heard from Mindy that this was to begin Monday, but I don’t trust anything Mindy says. Child molesters just don’t seem like a trustworthy bunch to me. What are they going to do, though, give us bologna every morning at 5:30? Marilyn said she thinks they’ll serve us at 9:30. Well, I’d rather get bologna at 9:30 than phony eggs at 5:30.

Ida says Arajo accused her of spilling juice on her deliberately when she was trying to weasel the trays through the trap. God, Arajo must really hate Ida!

What language do turkeys speak?

Foul.

Another joke from Marilyn, who told me I’m the best celly she’s ever had. How nice. Her, Mary, Ida, Rosa and Kim are my favorites so far. Although Kim turned out to be a two-faced, backstabber in the end, I don’t regret our time together. She helped me a lot and was still a good celly.

Hudgens really talked to me for the first time. In the past, we rarely spoke to one another. She wasn’t a bad DO, but she never stood out in any good way, either. We talked about my case and where we live. She said she almost bought property in Maricopa, too.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 2001
Already they attempted to pull one of us. What is it with this room? Chambers was on and she told Marilyn to roll up so someone with the last name Estep could move in because they needed a lower bunk. Marilyn, who was protesting, wasn’t getting anywhere with Chambers. Chambers was like, “Too bad, girl.”

That’s when I jumped in and said, “No way, Chambers! Enough of this constant moving around bullshit!”

Then Chambers told her to forget it, if only to keep me from whining and bitching all day, and moved Estep, who I think is Mindy, into the lower bunk next door. We thanked the hell out of Chambers for sparing poor Marilyn yet another move and me another celly.

We told Chambers some jokes and she had one for us: What did the ocean say to the beach?

Nothing. It just waved.

Another thing I like better about Marilyn than Ida is that she’s a heavy sleeper, so I can blast my radio at night.

Ida asked how I was doing. She says Carol snores a little but sleeps a lot and is quiet and we might be a good match in the future. Sheila, who said she doesn’t like the small rooms anyway, just went to A Tower. I asked Arajo, who’s on now, why she went to A Tower, but she claims she doesn’t know and was simply told to move her.

Some ugly, loud-mouthed bitch with lips bigger than a black’s just rolled in. She’s with Julia.

Ida finally got a letter back about her motion to modify her sentence, but not the stay of execution of sentence due to her lawyer’s fuck-ups. As I knew it would be, it was denied. Has any ever not been denied? I don’t know why people even bother with things that simply don’t work, and why these things exist if they know they’re just going to deny them.

Marilyn and I just told Arajo some jokes. That’s the first time this bitch ever laughed and smiled at me. In fact, she really smiled. I’m perceptive enough to know just what that smile meant, too.

Forget it Arajo! Don’t even think about it. You’re too mean and ugly for me.

I forgot to mention that Marilyn woke me up a few times early this morning, but it wasn’t her fault. She got sick with the runs. I awoke to her farting and toilet flushing. I’m amazed it didn’t stink in here.

Got a letter from Helen. It was nice. She said it sounded like I was making the best of a bad situation, asked me about books (what kinds I like reading), and mentioned hearing about the meal cut. She also said not to give up on her entirely yet, as far as visiting goes.

I told her that although the food sucks, it’s cold, and the showers are cold half the time, jail isn’t that bad. Especially when you’ve got a good celly, if you can’t be alone, and the DOs know you and treat you well.

Numerous DOs have told me they know my case is bullshit and that they feel I shouldn’t be here, so I think that’s part of it. I guess I don’t come across to them as your typical inmate personality-wise, from what they tell me, nor in looks because I have all my teeth and no tattoos.

Anyway, I told Helen I was still worried about the probation thing. Also, I was unable to concentrate on reading much in here and told her how hard it is to get books here. I told her all I do is write and listen to music.

As for the meal cut, I think Arpaio, who’s no better than Hitler, is asking for riots and trouble for himself. We’re on the border of being starved as it is. We’re fed nothing but starch and empty calories, but I don’t care because I hardly eat any of this shitty food anyway. When I get out I’m going to eat like a pig and to hell with how fat I get! I’ll be fat again in a heartbeat for all I care just to get out of here, go home to Tom and the animals, and sleep 8 hours straight in a real bed.

Lastly, I told her not to worry about visiting because I know she’ll see me when she can.

Although I know this sleep deprivation curse where I sleep 4-6 hours with a zillion interruptions is mainly a punishment, I still feel I’m being prepared for something on the outs. It’s a feeling I just can’t shake.

How did Dairy Queen get pregnant?

Burger King forgot to wrap his whopper.

Another joke from Marilyn.

Marilyn was here during the riot they had about 5 years ago. She’s the first one I talked to so far who’s witnessed it up close and personal. When I interviewed her, so to speak, she told me that this was her seventh 6-month sentence. Damn!

Anyway, she was out in the tents when it happened. The guys got fed up with the place. Although they agreed amongst each other not to fuck with the women’s tents, they beat and raped Osborne and torched their own tents. There’s only a chain-link fence separating the women and men, and Marilyn said that as soon as she saw that fence was coming down, she ran. All the women were put in holding tanks in the intake area. Marilyn said they were parading one of the male DOs around in his boxers.

Now that one’s funny!

Thank God I’m in a cell in case they riot while I’m here. I’d rather be in a cell with one person than in the dorms or tents where there are hundreds.

As Marilyn agrees, no one gets along with Melinda. She flipped when Marilyn referred to her as “hard-headed.” I’d hate to see how she’d react to being referred to as a lot worse than that!

Maria says she’s going to work on getting over to Alpha after she gets sentenced on the 13th. Oh God, please get that loudmouth out of here!

Just gave Arajo the joke pages, and Marilyn went to bed.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2001
Ida and I exchanged notes today. She’s in the same cell with a partial-butch named Carol. Ida says she’s OK so far and that she’ll take me back if Marilyn doesn’t work out. That’s sweet of her and although I miss her, Marilyn and I are more compatible. She’s quieter and sleeps as late as I do. She slept for a long time. She crashed around 9:00 last night and didn’t get up till 10:00 this morning. I see her as much as I saw Ida when she’s up because she sits at the desk a lot, but she’s less fidgety. Her snoring is nothing compared to Deanna’s and she’s very sweet and polite, telling me to let her know if she bothers me, saying this is my room, etc. This is her room too, but I appreciate how kind and considerate she’s been.

I gave her a couple of packs of Kool-Aid and she’s giving me her freebies, along with Ida, when she leaves.

She doesn’t make disgusting sounds when she eats, either.

Maria and the spitter are next door with Lisa. In the big cell downstairs are Mary, Myra, Sheila and some new girl who was a closed custody case, which means she’s crazy. Even Jackson pointed out how many crazies there are in Ad-Seg. Yeah, I know! I’m well aware of it.

Marilyn’s 44 and she’s here on prostitution and drug charges. She’s about average height and weight. She has dark eyes and dark curly hair a few inches below her shoulders.

I’m surprised to find that same juvi is still next door. I’d rather listen to her shit, though, than 10 people at once.

Anyway, backing up to yesterday. I went for my visit shortly after Pancake Face Smith came on (I wasn’t too thrilled to see her). On my way, I saw Mena working K dorm and Palma working J. I couldn’t see who was working L. Mary was in the visiting room next to me. I heard her yell, “You’re the reason I’m in this mess!”

I told Tom everything that was going on, unable to hide the stress I was under. He tried to console me, reminding me that tonight the DO may not be able to do anything, but within a day or two, they could, reminding me that they know me now.

I said I wish I’d gone to trial, lost, then gone to prison, if I was going to be dumb enough not to ignore this shit as soon as Tom took me home from Florence. Then Tom said that now that we know more about my case and how I was fucked over, I should’ve gone to trial because after telling me what to say (that I didn’t write the letter and that it was apparently added in), he doesn’t think I’d have been convicted.

Johnson walked by to let Mary out and Tom got to see Mary, who told me not to worry about the moves and that we’d try to get together eventually. Even Johnson reassured me about it. I’m not so sure Mary will want to move in here when Marilyn leaves (if I’m still in here) because now she’s with Myra. They’ve been friends for longer than we have and Myra will probably convince her to stay.

Smith’s grievance was returned to me. She wrote that every situation is different and she could see the inmates in 204, there didn’t seem to be any visible threat and it didn’t concern me.

Naturally, the sergeant wrote that she concurs with Smith’s response.

I’m sure you do, sergeant! Nonetheless, I opted to withdraw it.

I heard the door next door shut, and thought to myself – here goes that mouth. Sure enough, it went right to the door to yell. I think they’re all locked down now for 2nd shift headcount. In a few minutes, I’ll be able to see who’s on tonight. I know it won’t be Palma.

Lopez is on. She’s going to let me out around 7:00 so I can let Tom know I’m OK. In a sense, they’ve been treating me like a queen since the new year.

Got a copy of Hart vs. MCSO for Ida. I thought it might interest her. I’ll slip it to her later or tomorrow. I could hear Carol yelling, “It’s freezing in here!”

I had taken the cardboard with me but had the spitter slip it to her for me.

My breakage curse lives on even in jail. One side of the earbuds completely shorted out on me, so now I’m using the original ones. They only short on one side if I move around too much.

Can you believe they served mashed potatoes for breakfast? Actually, I’d have eaten them if I weren’t so beat. They’re better than the fake eggs.

For the first time ever, one of the laundry guys came to our doors for an exchange. It was just towels and I told him to exchange the one by the door, and he sarcastically said something like, “Oh, so now I have to do it for you too,” but he did it. He threw a new one on the desk and yanked out the old one.

With all that goes on around here in the mornings, when they know most of us are asleep, it’s obvious they want to keep waking us up as much as they can. I mean, do they really need to serve breakfast at 5:30 in the morning? They can’t wait till 7:00 – 8:00? I think most of the inmates sleep late because most are hookers and druggies. Stuff that’s usually done at night.

Anyway, Smith is a major-league asshole. No one likes the bitch. The dumb shitbitch had both Ida and me go downstairs. I thought I was going to end up in 2. Ida never should’ve been put through the hassle of rolling up because she ended up staying in 5. While we were downstairs I told Marilyn that I thought we might be together from what Jackson and Jill told me. She said, “Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Nope. In fact, we hugged each other in relief when we got in here and knew for sure we would be together. Anyone but Maria! She agrees Maria’s too loud and too touchy-feely. Marilyn’s loud too, but it doesn’t bother me like it did with Lora and like it does with Maria. I think Mindy’s still in 2, but with Julia. It sounds like she’s having problems with the old hag, too. Everyone hates Julia. Julia’s going to be less happy about it than I’ll be if we ever end up together.

Dinner was as bad as I knew it’d be. Hot dogs loaded with jalapeños. It was the most inhumane thing I ever bit into! One bite and my mouth is still burning even a whole hour later.

Myra was on the phone crying hysterically. Now she’s at Psych. I heard her say something about how she’s looking at 13 years, but I have no sympathy for this one. She’s one of those that gave me bad vibes from the get-go. I just never liked her, and I know she’s guilty of what she’s charged with, too. I can see her having it in her to smack kids around and abuse them in other ways as well. Makes me want to do things to her I shouldn’t write about.

On Lopez’s next walk, I’m going to have her let me out to try to call Tom. I hope he’s home and offline.

I have 79 days left. Still an eternity.

They used to come 2-3 days during the end of the week with clothes/sheets/towel exchanges. Now they’re coming with something 5 days a week. I just don’t understand why it’s always got to be 6:30 in the morning and I don’t understand why we get new towels 3-4 times a week, but stripes only once a week.

I wish all my cellies would sleep as much as Marilyn does. If I can’t be with Mary, then having cellies sleep from 8 PM till around lunchtime would be great. I’d not only have more privacy, but I’d have more space, in a sense, too. I can feel like I’m alone in here for the last 6-7 hours of my day.

I’m trying to mentally accept the fact that like most strong vibes I get, I’m probably right when I say we’ll get run out of Maricopa, but God I hope I’m wrong! There are a few other options besides letting them take our home. I could still kill myself so at least Tom could keep the house, we could run, or we could simply ignore them. Something I should’ve done all along!

Silvia is the spitter’s real name. I passed a book to Carol for her. I owed her that favor.

Anyway, I let Tom, who said he was worried, know that everything worked out fine with Marilyn and I.

He got another flat tire, thanks to those bumpy dirt roads.

The lesbians and the faggots were on their way to San Francisco – who got there first? The lesbians got there lickety-split while the faggots were still busy packing their shit.

What did one strawberry say to another? If you weren’t so fresh we wouldn’t be in this jam!

Marilyn just told me these jokes. Love the first one! We told Lopez a couple of them.

It’s only 8:00 and Marilyn’s hit the hay. Now I can feel like I’m alone for the 6 more hours I’ll be up.

Mindy demanded to be moved before she wrung Julia’s neck, as she put it. Julia’s bitching that Mindy yells through the vents all day and night. She does, and that would drive me crazy too, but I still don’t ever want to be with Julia. You know, the one who’s supposed to be deaf?

The bitch next door gets on my nerves at times, so we all have our shit to deal with no matter where we are.

According to Marilyn, Mary does have 10 years to do after she leaves here in June, and as Ida said, only she’ll be doing it in Florida.

Florida?! Since when was she in Florida? I know she’s from New York, but Florida? And just what the hell did she do to get such a sentence and why didn’t she tell me? Why would she tell Ida and Marilyn and not me?

I’ve been here 100 days and it feels like years.

Marilyn gave me several of those little deodorants from her indigent packages and some little tubes of toothpaste. I’ll definitely be set with those items till I leave, but I still may need to buy more pads no matter how much paper I get from Ida and Marilyn. Especially with how much I write! At the rate I’m going, I may have over 600 pages when I get home, but it’s not like I have anything else better to do other than writing and listening to music. What am I supposed to do all day and night? Play with myself?

Marilyn’s also given me some pencils and a toothbrush and is so sweet and polite. So helpful, too. She offered to hand me things because I’m on top, and she feels the person on the bottom should do so. Yeah, and I’d do the same if I were on the bottom.

She was telling me all she wanted to do to Jerry, one of the nurses, while I was letting her know just how much I’d love to perform a little strip search of my own on Johnson. I’d love to check out what’s hiding under that uniform, though I’ll bet it’s mighty good, seeing that it looks so good from the outside! Especially those nice long legs.

I’m glad tomorrow’s Saturday. There shouldn’t be any rude nurses waking us up, and there definitely won’t be any clothes exchanges.

Tom and I have 22 more visits together. Truthfully, I’m glad our visits are closed contact. Do you know how hard it’d be with him right there and not being allowed to hug my own husband?! You can only do that in prison. Also, I can hear him a bit better in those little rooms. Background noise is hard for me to deal with. I can’t sort sounds out so well.

Tom asked if I’d be OK with raising animals that’ll get sent off to be butchered. Yeah, I can handle it. I have animals indoors to love.

It’s been about 20 days since Pérez worked. She ought to be back soon.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2001
M203

Well, here I am again in my favorite cell, but not with Ida. I’m with Marilyn.

I slept better last night even though that door was slamming all night, and even napped for an hour in the early afternoon. I asked Ida who was on as I was waking up. She said she didn’t know her name. Just that it was the older lady with the lisp. You know you’ve been here for a long time when your celly describes the DO as the “old lady with the lisp,” and you automatically know she’s talking about Bangert.

Around 2:00, Jill from Classification, and Jackson, who usually works the gang unit, came and talked to all 12 of us individually.

When it was my turn, they started off by asking what my last name was, why I was in Ad-Seg, and what my charges were; shit they should know. I asked why they wanted to know all this, and they said they were preparing to do some big moves. Great, I thought. Just what I need.

I don’t know if they talked to the DOs to find out what we were like or what because they already had their list made up. I guess maybe they wanted to see our reaction to who we were being moved in with. What I’m wondering, though, is are they planning on doing this regularly just to annoy us? Or is someone in this pod a cop? No one here strikes me as a cop, but I know Lora E was some sort of cop. I saw it. She hugged me once when I was crying and I saw a vision of her in some type of uniform connected to law enforcement.

When I asked if I could be put with Mary they said she was taken. What they really meant was that she was already assigned to some other cell with other bunkies. This is when Jill told me I’d probably be with Marilyn M.

Ida said that when it was her turn, she really gave them a piece of her mind, speaking out for both of us. I asked them where they planned to put her and they said a 4-man cell. I informed them that both of us would go to A Tower before going to a cell that open and with that many people, but I don’t think she’s in a 4-cell. I think she’s in the small cell under the stairs. The one I thought I’d be in which is the 2-cell I’d like the least. It’s so non-private. People going up and down the stairs can see in easily, and the shitty thing about cells down in the dayroom is that you’re right by the people on their hour out. This cell has the best view of both a part of the hallway and a part of the tower. The question is, how long will I get to stay here? People in this cell don’t seem to stay in it very long. Mary said she was here a whole month till I came and jinxed her out of it.

Anyway, Bangert was just as pissed as we were. She said something about how stupid it was for them to be doing this because of one person, but I have no clue as to what she meant by that one. She bitched about how it’d just make more work for the DOs, knowing they’ll just have to move people back. She also said she wasn’t about to show anyone the list because she’d have a riot on her hands, and told Jackson and Jill she couldn’t move everybody before her shift was out. So she had everyone roll up and left it to second shift.

It’s been a long day and I’m going to have the lights cut. I’ll explain more tomorrow. I’m pretty sure Marilyn will be a good celly (of course she will. She’s leaving in 10 days).

Armstrong’s on now. I like her, but not how she doesn’t turn the lights back off after breakfast like everyone else does, till 1st shift turns them on at 7:00.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 2001
I am one pissed-off mother-fucker! I’m so fucking tired! This exhaustion from being woken up a zillion times is going to kill me. What? Am I being punished for the times I could sleep? Why is God so determined to torture me like this? Why am I so cursed? I’m even having second thoughts about trying to sleep with Tom when I get out. I don’t want to be woken up 5-10 times a night for the rest of my life. I’m completely non-adaptable in that department and there’d be no use in trying to tell myself otherwise. I couldn’t just “get used to” his sounds and movements. I can’t adapt to everything. I have my limits, too.

I’m hoping to catch up on my sleep this weekend when there’s less going on, but if they let Monkey Face out first at 8 AM - forget it. I couldn’t sleep through her screaming at everyone. It’s only the middle of the week and I hate to think of how I’ll feel come Friday!

The showers are scalding hot. They either have to be ice-cold or hotter than hell.

Bowe’s on now. She went out of her way to be positive and encouraging when she saw my tears of frustration and homesickness. I told her I didn’t think I could make it another 3 months and she said, “Yes, you will. Hang in there, sweetie.”

Now Hann’s on. Hann used to be one of those that wasn’t bad or good. Lately, though, she’s been really friendly to me.

Fortunately, Julia’s rash wasn’t contagious. That’s all we’d need – to be rolled out of here so she could be in Medical isolation.

She was actually funny when she came back from Medical last night. She came up the stairs and stuck her tongue out at me. I did the same. Then she grinned and I did the same back. Ida, though, said she couldn’t smile back at her when she smiled at her this morning, but that’s Ida for you. She holds grudges longer than I tend to. I either forgive a person right away or I never do.

Ida insists Marilyn’s telling the truth about sucking Joe Arpaio’s dick (she’s a hooker) by the way she told the story when they were cellies.

Whatever. Johns do come from all different walks of life, so it very well could be true.

Speaking of Joe, he wants to starve us even more. Ida heard on the news, during our hour out that I tried unsuccessfully to sleep through, that he wants to cut us to 2 meals a day to save the taxpayers’ money. To save them money? The fucking food’s donated! So, we’re going to have two bites of starch, fake processed meat and dead veggies or fruit twice a day? If it weren’t for commissary I’d be emaciated now. Probably even if I forced myself to eat the 6 pieces of bread we get each day. This shit’s going to cause the guys to riot.

Tonight was a rarity in that we finally got chicken again. I smelled it with my doggie nose at 2:00 and told Ida we were having chicken tonight for sure and she thought I was nuts. She couldn’t smell a thing, let alone chicken. This is when I explained to Ida that when we’re born with one of our senses not working right, the others are stronger to make up for it. I’m like a human bloodhound, in a sense.

Ida also told me about when she went to China. She took a train from Beijing to some other place there, and she said it was a nightmare. For some reason, they treat their tourists better than themselves. Ida was in a nice, roomy boxcar on this train, but the Chinese were crammed in together like sardines. If you had to go to the bathroom on the train, you pissed through a hole in the floor of the train.

Their Chinese food isn’t what it is here, either. It’s all garlic and grease there.

Mejia was on last night. Don’t see her too often. She leaves the dayroom all lit up at night, which isn’t as relaxing for listening to music and sleeping, but it allows me to write if I want to.

After a few passes, I noticed she wasn’t taking my grievance on Smith. I put out a tank order at one point to try to get Ida a copy of that Hart vs. MCSO before she leaves and she took that. So on her next walk, I asked why she wasn’t taking my grievance. She said she thought it was a medical tank. I don’t believe her, but she took it. She asked if I wanted the light on and I told her no thanks. It was funny how I scared the shit out of her at first. I guess my voice came out louder than I meant for it to. She jumped, and I was trying to keep from laughing and waking up Ida. She begged me not to scare her from now on.

All morning, afternoon and evening we’ve been hearing scattered bangs that we’re pretty sure are coming from the door at the end of the hall that’s just beyond our wall. If it doesn’t stop, I really won’t get any sleep. Some days we hear it and some days we don’t. It’s worse than the freeloader’s car door slamming, but it reminds me of it. I swear God’s taken all the noise I ran from and amplified it a million times over!

I’m getting more nervous as Ida’s release date approaches. I not only don’t want a rude, inconsiderate bitch in here, but I also don’t want some religious freak in here, either. I’m not religious, I’m never going to be, and I don’t want to hear about it 24/7.

This radio just won’t play any good songs. Guess that’s my cue to jot some thoughts down. Thoughts like – what will sex be like when I get home? Will we even do it? That might seem kind of weird after all this time. Probably for him, too.

After Maria told me about her sex life, I told her it wouldn’t faze me if Tom and I never had sex again. It’s nothing Tom did, but I’m just sick of it is all and I’ve been sick of it long before jail. Maria agreed I probably just got bored with it and says the desire will return someday. If it does, it does. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I can get just as much, if not more, from hugging, cuddling, reading together in bed, doing things together, etc. The love/emotional part of it is more important to me than the sexual. Also, I couldn’t “just screw” like I know Tom prefers. I know he wasn’t thrilled with the way we had to start our sex life slowly.

I’m finding I really miss sex with women. It’s so much simpler. With a guy, it’s more complicated. With a woman I don’t have to worry about things like us getting into it, then having to stop while I go put the KY on that I forgot to put on up front. With Tom, I have to try to guess whether or not we’re going to screw and put KY on if I think we will. Sometimes I end up gunking myself up with the shit for no reason, although this stuff’s much easier to wash off. It just seems that sex with a guy is more of an inconvenience, more of a chore. And I would always get that irritation too, that you just don’t get with another woman. Sometimes I wish I could have the relationship I’ve got with Tom, since I certainly have no desire to leave him, yet have the sex part with a woman. I know this isn’t going to happen, though.

It’s after 9:30 and still that banging’s going on. We hear a few bangs an hour and it’s definitely a door of some kind. I asked, but Hann doesn’t even know for sure what it is. I wish I could move to 3 where it’s quieter, warmer and darker and stay there more than a week! Better yet, I wish I could just get the fuck out of here and go home!

I am not looking forward to playing yet another day of 20 wake-ups. Breakfast, “Are you OK,” clothes exchange, rec and other calls, etc. The thought of not being able to sleep 8 hours straight through for 80 more days is depressing.

Ida had said she learned I’m for real, but after she leaves, will she be for real? She says she’s not thinking of blowing me off, but can’t say how she’ll feel once she’s out. I think she’ll write and send those newspaper articles she wrote, but I doubt I’ll ever see her again. She’d be losing a good typist, but it’s her call.

This night has been dragging on and on. Jail is so boring! All I do is listen to music and write. I can’t get into reading. Thank God for my little radio and for my love of writing!

Ida and I were playing a name-guessing game where we’d guess the DO’s names by their initials. I guessed Palma to be a Juanita or a Janita, Nottelmann to be a Sarah or a Sandy, black Johnson to be Gloria or Glenda, and Kahn to be Janet, Janice or Janine. “And white Johnson’s probably Renee, Rachel or Rebecca,” I said.

“I think her name’s Rhoda,” said Ida.

“Nah, you have to be super ugly to be a Rhoda. Could be Ronda, but I doubt it. Maybe Robin. Definitely not Ruby, Rita, Ruth or Roberta. I’ll bet Pérez is Roberta, though.”

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 2001
After 40 hours with no toilet, the lazy plumber finally fixed next door’s toilet.

Mary and Ida were cracking up over how I was torturing Julia the second time. When she was sitting hunched over on the toilet, I pumped a drop of lotion onto the back of her neck while I was standing above her on the desk that’s right by the toilet. On her way out she told me I was an idiot.

I said, “That’s it? Can’t you be more original than that?” I laughed her right on out of here. I’m not normally that rude and childish myself, but I hate what she did to Ida and I can’t stand liars.

Last night I offered Johnson a piece of candy. She wanted some peanuts instead so I gave her a few. Now she’s saying things in German to me regularly. As if I would know what the hell she’s saying? I ought to hit her with some Spanish. (this was before I knew she knew that, too)

My, my, Officer R. D. Johnson, I do believe I have a crush on you!

During my visit with Tom, I filled him in on life in this place and he filled me in on his life out in the real world. He’s going to work this Saturday. They’re getting closer to their conversion at work. That’ll take place on 2/23, the day Mary and Dave go to Laughlin. He’s going to do Ma’s taxes, and I guess that’s about it. God, I love and miss him! I just want to go home!!!!!

I waited forfuckingever after the visit, and crazy Melinda was cussing me out when I yelled over to her in the next room. She was telling the DOs I was her keep-away. Damn right about that one!

I don’t know if this will ever come to pass, but it’d be nice if it did. Ida, who’s rather affluent from what she tells me, has accumulated a lot of stuff over the years. She has a few silk palm trees that you can take apart so they’ll fit in a car. She’s talked about wanting to get rid of some junk. Well, maybe I can type up a story for her in exchange for something like this. She says she wants to write a book about some family secret, but because of her arthritis, she might talk into tapes for me to type up. This would be an awesome deal – typing, which is fun for me, for something I’ve been wanting for the house.

Ron doesn’t like to travel, so Ida makes most of her trips alone. One of them was to Egypt, she told me, where she ended up at this guy’s house, who treated his wife and mother like slaves.

First she was appalled by the way they all ate out of the same dish with their hands. They were offended when she asked for a fork.

Then she was grossed out by what she found on their apartment rooftop, and when she got up there, she said she saw similar sights on other rooftops. The guy literally had a farm up there with all kinds of livestock to feed his family. Not only that but there was also a heaping pile of garbage up there and it stunk. He said everyone puts their trash up there because they only come twice a year to pick it up.

Anyway, she ended up buying jewelry from him at his store, and when she gave his wife a $30 Timex watch, she was so grateful that she kissed Ida’s hand and began to get down to kiss her feet, but Ida was like, “No, no, that’s not necessary!”

Got a grievance back from the 19th. That sure took a while. This was the one where I bitched about nurses waking us up when we can put medical tanks out if we’re sick, or be up to tell them ourselves. They replied saying Hart vs. MCSO requires them to do medical checks 3 times a week, yet now I’m being woken up before they even start with their are-you-OKs. The DOs wake us up first yelling – medical tanks! But I get woken up half a dozen times as it is. What’s one more time?

I can’t wait to be home, sipping coffee as I type this up and turning to watch the prairie dogs roam our beautiful land.

Can’t wait to hear the sound of the door opening as Tom comes home, then to run into his arms for hugs and kisses. Sorry Palma, you’re only jailhouse eye candy.

Thank God Tom is as tolerant as he is because I know I’ll be repeating these jailhouse stories for years, just like with other stories. He’s smart, though. He knows I’m repetitious.

I’m grieving Pancake Face Smith, as worthless as I know it’ll be. It just really bothers me how poorly she handles things. Julia broke out with a rash, and Mary, fearing it may be contagious, called for Smith. When she finally got Smith’s attention, Smith wouldn’t take the matter seriously until she saw the rash with her own eyes.

What if it were a matter of life and death? God help me if I should be sick or injured with her on duty! If she can’t handle dealing with inmates’ problems, although I’ll admit that most aren’t serious, she should consider a job change.

A part of me misses A Tower. I miss Rosa, the mice, and even though Lopez says they’ve been floating Palma around a lot lately, I’ll bet she’s in A at least twice a week. I’ve only seen her a few times since she moved me here to M. Then again, if she worked here two or more times a week, that may make it all the harder to say goodbye come April 29th. If I left M I’d miss Ida and Mary. And Johnson, Pérez and Temple, who don’t seem to work A as much.

I’ll put Pancake Face Smith’s grievance out on the next shift. At least she rarely works M! This is only the second time since I’ve been here, thank God.

Ida and I are doing our own thing right now. She’s pacing and I’m up on my bunk listening to music. Same old thing every day.

Six o’clock already I was just in the middle of a dream…

Pace, pace, pace, pace…

I was kissing R. D. Johnson by a crystal blue Italian stream…

Pace, pace, pace, pace…

But I can’t be late or else I guess I just won’t get paid…

Pace, pace, pace, pace…

These are the days when you wish Ida would just sit still…

Pace, pace, pace, pace…

It’s just another manic celly…

Pace, pace, pace, pace…

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2001
Last night M Dorm sounded like A Tower. Nancy was pounding on the door and everyone was yelling through the vents. Nancy finally got her way this morning and was sent back to A.

I saw a loudmouth go out of that cell and out of the pod last night and was thinking – oh, no! Not another loudmouth! We need to get rid of the one next door as it is. Miss I-don’t-talk-much was screaming up a storm on her hour out.

I have no pity for Maria or Julia, but I feel bad for Mary and Marilyn. Ever since last night, their toilet’s been plugged up. Can you believe they’ve left them in there this long (it’s noon now) and that no one’s been by to fix it?! They should be shipped to A Tower. Or better yet, they should ship just the spitter and move them into that cell. Mary’s been having to piss in the sink, and God knows what old Julia’s been doing.

Temple was on last night. As usual, she was very nice to me, but Ida’s not so sure about her. She came in right after breakfast and searched her bunk. She didn’t search mine. Just what was she looking for anyway, I wonder?

I woke up half a dozen times before I got up. I woke up before Miss Are-You-OK made her rounds, and LaBorde yelling for medical tanks right before the nurse hit the floor. Doesn’t she know we know when to put those things in the door?

Now that people have stopped yelling at each other, I can write a little more. You learn to tune that shit out for the most part, but every now and then it really plays on your nerves.

Myra and I weren’t happy with Marilyn. She’s leaving 4 days after Ida. She had poor Mary, who’s very sensitive, all upset because she was telling her she was crazy. Mary’s starting to take it personally and is wondering if it’s true.

LaBorde let Mary use our toilet and moved Marilyn downstairs.

I walked with Ida around the dayroom during our time out.

Later I’ll be washing my hair in the sink in the ice-cold water. My scalp will be numb when I’m done.

I have a nasty cavity brewing and I wonder if I can make it till I go to the dentist. The state’s cheap and they don’t fix problem teeth. They just pull them. I may have to let them, then get the rest pulled on the outs and get dentures. I’m sick of all the problems real teeth bring! I should be able to do my whole mouth for under a thousand; less than the braces.

Ida says you can buy pink hair tape to keep your hair from drying funny. I could tape my bangs down so they didn’t dry up curly. I’ll have to check it out. I’ve got 83 days left.

Johnson’s on again. I like her a lot. She’s definitely one of my favorites. She’s like a breath of fresh air around here and she treats us like people. She doesn’t act like she’s better than us just because we’re inmates and she’s a DO. She calls people by their first names, too.

Ida and I were laughing our asses off earlier. We’re wondering if Julia’s really as deaf as she says she is, or if she’s choosing to hear only what she wants to hear. This is because Mary says she’s been shaking Marilyn to stop her from snoring.

Anyway, the dense thing comes in to use our toilet and Ida’s like, “Oh, God! I don’t even want to see her face! Hurry up and get out!” Julia put her glasses, ID card and wrist wrap down (she supposedly has carpal tunnel) and asked us to turn away. I put her glasses on and was mimicking some of the things she said when she was in here, laughing my ass off real loud. Then she asked me to please not laugh because she couldn’t go, but as soon as I heard her peeing, I laughed my ass off real loud. But the stupid biddy didn’t get it and she kept right on smiling joyously. As she was heading out the door I chased her and she still kept smiling dumbly at me, the hunchbacked dork!

Earlier I was crying tears of mixed emotions. Anger, frustration, homesickness. Knowing my life is going to be what others say it has to be and being forced to just roll with the punches, like it or not. Fucking mother-fucking freeloaders for legally ruining my life! I’ve been a victim of these sick fucks since ‘96 and wonder if I’ll always be victimized by them simply because I’m both white and Jewish and cuz they’re the ones with the legal connections. And all because they just couldn’t shut up when we asked them too nicely, forcing us to complain to the city so we could get some peace within our own 4 walls. People get more and more sensitive in the wrong kind of way.

The good side of it, though, is that I don’t think I’m going to come out of this as traumatized as I originally thought I would. I’ve met some interesting people and have had some good laughs here. In most ways, the so-called private school I was in as a kid was worse than this place, and can I really say I’m sorry I met Ida? Or Rosa? Or Palma? Or Johnson? No, but I’d gladly never see them again as of right this second as much as I’d miss them to go home and have my old life back. Nonetheless, although the first couple of months were the hardest, it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. Yes, the food sucks, the showers are cold a lot and I miss home, but if you can get in with decent enough cellies, it isn’t that bad. Just boring as all hell and depressing, too.

I still can’t stand to think too much of Tom, the animals, the house, my dolls, the stereo, the computer, and other stuff because it only depresses me more. The closer I get to my release date, then I can think more of those things. Right now it’s still too soon. I still have an eternity to go in this place.

Johnson opened the door to chat with us for a sec. Ida commented on how much she likes to chat with me. Yeah, Johnson and I always seem to have things to chat about. I guess she’s going on break now to eat her dinner.

Hey Johnson, you can have me for dessert!

I asked Johnson if she’ll miss me when I’m gone and she said, “Yeah, you’re the kind that keeps me on my toes.”

I am? I wonder how?

Ida says she’s not going to teach me any German swears till she leaves because if she teaches me now, people will know who I learned them from, not that I can see why they’d give a fuck. So, she’s going to sign her letter: Fuck you, Sylvia, in German.

I was shooting baskets from up on my bunk. I was making little round wads of toilet paper and throwing them into the toilet. What do I care if I waste Joe’s money and toilet paper?

It’s almost 9:30. Where’s the damn commissary?!

Maria moved in with the spitter because of the toilet situation and now only Mary and Julia are over there. That toilet’s been clogged for nearly 24 hours now. At least the hot water, once again, is temporarily “fixed.”

Mary and Julia have been using our toilet. I’m going to be pissed if they wake me up to use it. I got enough shit waking me up around here as it is.

I know it’s childish, but I couldn’t help but torture Julia a second time. That time she couldn’t even go, and the next couple of times she brought Mary over as her little guard dog. I just don’t like how she lied to Ida and so rudely stabbed her in the back. And after all Ida did to try to help her, too. Julia’s nothing but a selfish, lying hypochondriac who can hear just as well as most people. She can hear better than I can, and I do all right for being half deaf.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 2001
Chambers is on now and Bryant was on last night. She wasn’t snobby, though.

Now that my body’s used to eating so little, except for commissary, my body’s going to see the extra food I eat when I get out as extra calories and I’ll gain weight in no time. I don’t give a shit at this point. All I care about is getting out of here and back to Tom. I’m going to enjoy all the foods I’ve been missing and my coffee. Then someday down the road, if I decide to lose weight again, I will. When I was bitching to Tom before I came here about how much my appetite’s increased over the last few years, he said that maybe it was because I’m a happier person, and this may be true, although I certainly don’t want to be as miserable as I was in the past! Even with this shit that’s going on with me now, my 30s have been way better than my 20s.

I finally figured out a clever way to keep the cardboard from sliding down the pencil that I poked through it and jammed between the vent grill by putting a rubber band on the pencil. I’m surprised Palma and Misery never made us unblock vents.

Woke up tired this morning. At 10 AM it felt like 7 AM. At first I was pissed at Ida because she seemed to be bopping around more than usual, but it was a good time to get up. That way I can fall asleep a little earlier and beat some of the weekday commotions.

According to others, the showers are ice cold today and Chambers says they won’t be fixed till Tuesday. Well, once again, I don’t buy it. There’s nothing to “fix.” They’re fucking with it and it’s obvious. Hot water doesn’t “break” that often. Ida disagrees, saying they don’t have the equipment upgraded enough to handle all the people. Then what’s taking them so long to upgrade it? They have the money. I know that isn’t it and that they’re just playing with us and saving themselves a few bucks while they’re at it. I know they have the hot water turned completely off.

Chavez is on now. She’s OK. She remembered me and was like, “You’re over here now, huh?”

I told her I’ve been here since New Year’s. She obviously hasn’t worked here in a while.

Someone was banging on the big cell door downstairs. If they’re fighting, that’s their problem. I’m not moving!

Nope, they’re not fighting. This new butch we got in here with this ludicrous hairstyle pitched a fit because she didn’t get her meds. You mean to tell me we got another psych case in here? Great! Just fucking great.

Ida shocked me last night by snoring. It didn’t bother me, but it bothered her to know she snored. From what she told me, her father was a real sicko and he snored, so she can’t stand the sound of snoring because it reminds her of him.

She told me her father would scream at her when she’d fuck up on the piano she was forced to play. I wish that’s all my mother had done to me. When I was between 8-10 she had me playing the piano too, and when I’d fuck up, she’d hold my hand down on a nearby table with one hand and beat it with the other. I’m amazed she never broke any bones. And she’d always do the left hand so I could do my schoolwork with the right. How considerate of the bitch, huh? I’m surprised I bothered taking up the guitar in my teens and keyboards in my 20s. I played the flute for a while when I was 10, but I hated the damn thing.

I teased her about making her put her hands on the wall and frisking her if she comes to visit, and she said she’d say – where are those verdammden ratten (damn rats)?! She hates rats and mice. She doesn’t mind snakes, though. Her sons had them. She and her sons would pick snakes up off the streets in CA, where they have a summer home.

Just had corndogs for dinner and rice instead of potatoes, which is a nice change.

By outward appearances, Mary’s happy next door. However, Ida and I talked to her today and she’s anything but happy. First she was sick, then she was cursed with Melinda, and now Maria’s hard to deal with. I guess she has the hots for her and has been pinching her ass. So, I’m going to fight like hell to get her in here when Ida leaves, but she’ll have to settle for the lower bunk. She’s afraid the DOs are going to keep her in there forever, though, in a big cell because she gets along with just about everyone, unlike me. Well, I did vibe I’d never be with Mary again, once Pancake Face Smith pulled her.

Ida was telling me we ought to start saving $20 a month, or whatever we can afford and put it in stocks and bonds so we can have at least $100,000 in 20 years.

I started doing notes on the concrete shelf and the ceiling. The part of the shelf the mattress doesn’t cover, anyway. It’s better than using scrap paper and they’re written in ways only I can understand. People will be like – what the hell?

I think I have a cavity forming in front (what else is new?) and I know I’m going to have a whole mouthful of cavities when I get out, so I’ll have Tom schedule an appointment before I get out so I don’t have to wait too long.

Zapata got into it with someone else downstairs. I think it was the new butch she got into a brawl with that she probably saw as a rival, so Nancy D, this bitch that hits on every inmate she sees, including myself, replaced her. At first she reacted like I did when they threw me in the big tank and was screaming that she was not going in there and that she wanted to go back to A, but Chavez threw her in there anyway, threatening to kick her ass herself if she didn’t stop banging. Of course, if it was the other way around and an inmate threatened a DO, they couldn’t get away with it. It’s only OK for DOs to make threats against us.

Ida was the least serious I’d ever seen her, dancing around, laughing, etc. Her reaction to one of my jokes was hilarious. At her age, your bladder tends to weaken and the joke was so funny to her that she had to stifle her laughter and run to the toilet to pee. It was pretty funny. Imagine getting so old you can’t laugh without peeing in your pants! I’ll definitely have to kill myself at that point!

It was also kind of funny when Chavez came in to let the nurse give Ida her shit pill and she goes, “Miss S, what are you doing standing on the desk where you could fall and get hurt?”

I had been in the process of climbing up to my bunk but had paused on the desk to say something to Ida. What did she think I was doing up there anyway? Pretending to be tall? Learning to fly? Doesn’t she know people use the desks to climb up and down?

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 2001
Ida says that now that she knows Myra, Mindy and Lisa are in here on child abuse/molestation charges, she wonders if her befriending them was the right thing to do. Well, I wouldn’t be buddies with them, and I refuse to ever cell with Myra, Mindy or Zapata. They’re too loud and volatile.

Ida and I talked more about the places she’s lived and the jobs she’s had. She and Ron had a house in Mesa for 22 years, but then she decided she wanted a change. She says we won’t be living where we’re living in 20-30 years because I’ll want a change, too. We’ll see. Life might kill me by then.

When I write to her Mesa PO, and when she writes to me, we agreed to use the name Sylvia.

Brea was on 1st shift and now white Johnson’s on. She came in to chat with us for a few minutes, too. I recited some of the German phrases I’ve learned because Mary said she knew some German, but I fucked up, thanks to Ida and her telling me words meant what they didn’t. Now she’s got me all confused.

If I were looking for a girlfriend, I’d want someone just like Johnson. Palma may be a looker, but Johnson’s a looker and she’s got personality. We have some things in common, but not too much. I know most people like duplicates, but not me. I think opposites balance each other out better, although you do want to have some things in common. When you put two aggressive bitches like Palma and I together they just clash. Lately, I’ve been thinking less of Palma and more of Johnson. I was spying on her earlier when she was in the tower. It’s a habit of hers to touch her upper lip with the tip of her tongue.

Hey Officer, I can think of more productive things for you to do with that tongue of yours, you know. Gosh, listen to me! I sound like such a pig.

Ida was telling me of her days of writing for the Mesa Tribune and says she’ll send me some articles. She started with features, some of which she hated, like when she did a story on depression glass which she thinks is cheap and gaudy looking.

She’s done real estate, too. She had a problem when the paper wouldn’t let her expose shady builders. That’s how it is with the media. They prefer printing lies over the truth. And just like the courts go easy on major crimes and hard on the petty bullshit, the paper focuses mostly on the petty bullshit, and you don’t hear much about the murderers.

Johnson just walked by. A little stiffly, too.

I’ll massage those aches and pains for you, Officer.

For a brief time, Ida was a food critic, and again the paper didn’t have guts enough to speak the truth and let her tell it like it really was when she went to a lousy restaurant. So, she went back to features.

Ida told me about these space pens she has. They sound really cool. Astronauts use them. You can write upside down with them and even under water.

Loud-mouth Maria’s out now on her cleaning frenzy, screaming in Spanish at the spitter. A new girl’s in with the spitter. To my surprise, Monkey Face didn’t stink the place up with bleach after I asked her not to. Ida and I thought she would anyway.

Johnson loved the jokes Tom sent me. I figured she would. So will Hann and definitely Palma. I’ll probably show them to several DOs and inmates. Ida’s going to slip a sheet of male-bashing jokes next door on our hour out tomorrow, so they can all wonder where the hell it came from. The reason Ida will probably be the one to slip it over there is that I think we’re first to go out tomorrow. Too early for me to bother getting up.

There she goes again. Tall, redheaded and gorgeous.

In Tom’s letter, he mostly talked about his planting ideas and said that perhaps pigs would be good animals to start with.

He also says he’s going to call next week about getting me transferred to a Pinal County PO but isn’t it a little soon for that?

Anyway, I asked Tom to send more doll pictures in his next letter. That way I’ll have a wider variety of dolls to show people (you can only send in 5 pictures at a time that can be no bigger than 3x5).

I think the vitamins do help to give me more energy. I asked Tom if he thought spending $5 a week on them was worth it, and he agreed it was.

Tom would’ve laughed if he heard Ida bragging about how good she is at buying cars. She said she’s talked dealers down from $34,000 to $26,000. Ida says she loves buying cars and totally gets off on it and surprising those dealers with “all this little old lady knows.”

Ida says Phoenix is no place to raise kids.

The world is no place to raise kids.

It’s about 10:30 now and I’m listening to a 2-hour Gloria Estefan special. She had a small part in a movie that ought to be interesting to check out. She has a new Spanish album out now. I’ll bet Linda does, too. I’ll bet by now they both have English albums out as well.

The rude black nurse passed meds out a little while ago. Since when does she do 2nd shift? I’d rather the are-you-OK bitch work 2nd shift, although they’d just get some other rude asshole to bug us in the mornings. They do it a few times a week.

Ida was laughing when I told her my stage name was Mystery. “It’s so close to Misery,” she said.

Well, it was better than some of the names the other dancers had for me, like Bite Size.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2001
Deanna will be leaving soon. She swapped beds with Julia, which means Julia’s now next door. Poor Maria! Stuck with Julia again!

Lumia’s on now. I rarely see her or LaBorde or Lamm. Lamm was on last night and LaBorde was on yesterday’s 1st shift.

They took both Maria and Mindy to court last night. Most of the pod went to rec today because they had it later. I didn’t go because I slept till 12:30. Anyway, Ida said that Myra and Zapata got into a screaming match at rec yesterday. Mary told Ida to tell me she was an island (meaning, once you swim away from her, she’s hard to get back to, which is fucking Pancake Face Smith’s fault).

Somebody’s got to change these fucked up laws. How could anything someone writes be called a felony simply because it went through the mail? And what about the fact that the sick bitch had a choice? She could’ve thrown the shit out. Nobody forced her to read it. I was simply exercising my constitutional right to freedom of speech by sending those journal excerpts containing their activities, and how they can call that “stalking” beats the shit out of me. That is not stalking. Stalking is when you follow and call someone continually and leave notes directly on their doors. There’s nothing to say that they didn’t falsify evidence or add to it, though. In fact, I know someone had to because of that excerpt The Public Defender read to Tom that Tom told me about. The one saying I had a gun and was contemplating going out and shooting the kids for being rowdy and out of control. I’d never say that, number one. Number two, we never had a gun to shoot anybody with in the first place, and lastly, it wasn’t the kid’s fault. They were only doing what the sick adults coaxed them to do.

We all bear the title of ‘victim,’ in this case. The sick bitch, her pig friend, the public defender, the judge and myself. The only difference is that they have the letters ‘izer’ at the ends of their titles.

Ida was telling me that when she was mad at me, she wrote a list of my negative traits. I may be a bitch at times, but boy was she wrong when she listed me as ungrateful. She couldn’t be more wrong on that one. I’m just the opposite. I’ve been fucked over so badly so many times by so many people that that’s why I’m all the more grateful when someone does me good.

Ida says there’s a new girl in the lower big cell.

According to Ida, Mary’s to be extradited to Florida to do 10 years there. I was shocked to hear this. She never mentioned it to me.

Ida’s really been around, from what she tells me. She said she’s been to the bottom of the world and next she wants to go to the top of the world, as well as into outer space.

On her cruise to Antarctica, she met Sir Edmond Hillary, the first guy to climb Mt. Everest in Nepal. When Ida was telling him how she wanted to go to the North Pole, he said he’d already done that with Neil Armstrong, Ida’s idol. Ida admires Armstrong because he never cashed in on his experience of being the first man on the moon. Ida says Hillary got her a signed photograph of Armstrong.

Lopez is on now. She’s cool, but I could never picture myself with anyone like her. She’s smaller than me and too boyish-looking. Especially with her hair really short. I hate short hair. I couldn’t stand being with anyone who wasn’t taller than me and who was under 30, anyway.

Ida says she also likes Pierce Bronson, who faithfully stuck by his wife as she died of cancer. One day he was at the Fiesta mall in Dillard’s when Ida spotted him. He was doing some promo thing. Ida approached him and asked if he were Pierce. When he said he was, Ida commended him for sticking by his wife and got a signed photograph of him, too.

It’d be nice to see her traveling pictures someday. Especially the Concord ones. They sound really neat. Ida said that on the Concord, the windows are even smaller than on a regular plane. This is because of the pressure. From the Concord, you can see the earth’s curvature. The captain took a picture for her out the front windows and a picture of her standing in front of the window. She said it looks just like she was in outer space. That must be way cool.

She was telling me she was bummed out when she first learned her second kid was also going to be a boy. She wanted a daughter because you bond differently with them, she said. The boys bonded with Ron and she wanted a girl to bond with her.

She said she also wanted a daughter to leave her collectibles to. She’s got figurines, crystals and things like that. She said she’s hesitant to pass them on to her daughters-in-law because they wouldn’t appreciate the stuff and would probably sell it. So, seeing how much it meant to Ida, I let her know that if she wanted me to, I’d keep her stuff for her after she died and never sell it even if I didn’t like some of it or got sick of it. I’d set up an ‘Ida Display Case’ just for her. She’s only 60, though, so she’s got another 20 years or so to think about it.

She’s going through her bag of papers. She hasn’t found my little notes yet. I tore up pieces of letters, since they’re at home on my hard drive, and stuck them in the bag she keeps on the desk. She’ll know what there are, though, when she sees them. I’ve shown her my letters.

I miss singing regularly so much! But I want to do it in the comfort of my own home without an audience. Don’t know why I once wanted to be a singer on stage! I like privacy when doing my hobbies. I mean, if the family had a huge Christmas party or something like that, and had a live band, and asked me to sing a song or two, I would.

I hope it’s almost dinnertime. I am so hungry! I’m so sick of being so hungry a lot. Part of it is because I rarely eat breakfast or lunch. We haven’t had cereal for breakfast in days. Just those phony eggs and disgusting sausages and potatoes. The lunch meat’s been nothing but ham, so all I eat is the snacks. Even the juice is gross. It’s either that green or orange stuff. The dinner juice has been better, though. It’s been grape lately.

I want to go home so bad! I’m so homesick, bored and even a bit depressed right now. All I do is write, listen to tunes, and count the days. It’s one big waiting game. The stressful part is dodging being thrown into a big cell or being thrown with a psycho celly.

I want to hug and kiss my husband, play with Houdini, etc.!

I want my life back!

Ida says she was talking to some Indians on the bus to court about the money they get from casinos. I wish I were an Indian! A Pima Indian said she gets $1500 a month, a Navajo Indian said she gets $2000 a month, and an Apache said he gets $4000 a month and all for being an Indians!

I asked Maria how she likes it next door. She said it was OK. Yeah, I’d think so after all the laughing I’ve heard from her from over there.

Now Maria’s stinking the place up with bleach, cleaning the tables downstairs. She says she’s going to try to get into Alpha after the 15th. Please do, girl! That’d make one less person I don’t want to cell with for me to have to worry about getting stuck with. This compulsive cleaning Maria’s into is so not like Mexicans. Most of them live in nothing but pure filth. Why is she doing this shit now, anyway? This was supposed to be done on our hour out.

Ida said I’d be compatible with Sheila, who’s down in the big cell. She’s quiet and easy-going. Ida said she’d scare easily, though, if I yelled at her, so I’d have to be nice and not let my temper scare her. I don’t have much of a temper anymore, but not everyone would agree with that, I guess. It’s just that when you’ve been through what I’ve been through and are my size, you have to be pessimistic and on the defensive.

First I’d have to find out if she can be on the top tier (she has a bad leg) and if any of the DOs would be willing to move her up here if she agreed to it.

I appreciate Ida trying to keep the rude black nurse from banging on the door early in the morning, but it doesn’t do much good. This is because I can hear her screaming long before she reaches our door.

Dinner sucked, as usual. We got these super spicy weenies. I forced myself to eat some of it because I was starving, but my mouth burned like hell. Even my lips tingled. Ida was kind enough to give me some peanuts and split a Snickers bar with me. I’ll buy her another candy bar on Monday. Also, because I have no willpower, I’m going to get a couple of bags of peanuts that I’m going to have her hold for me for weenie nights.

Lopez is actually a pretty cool DO. She stopped and chatted with us for about 15 minutes. I never really got to know Lopez because I rarely see her. She’s usually escorting or in the dorms. According to her, Palma’s in B tower tonight. I asked if she’d see her later tonight, and she said yes. Then I asked if she’d tell her I said hi, and she said yes to that, too.

She said Palma’s been floating around a lot lately, and she feels that they should have the same DOs working the same areas so that they can get to know the inmates. I thought they didn’t want to get to know them.

True to what I thought was the case, Lopez said they don’t know where they’re going to work till they come into work, although their schedules are made up a week in advance and they can call in for it.

Lopez said B Tower’s for max, escape risks, closed custody and people who refuse to work. So, if I had refused to work, and if Rule hadn’t told me about Ad-Seg and what to say to get into it, I’d be doing my time in B tower. Tent DOs don’t work inside because the tents are considered to be a separate facility.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 2001
February has arrived and now I’m halfway home!

The 3rd shift DO will be on soon. Haven’t seen Temple for a while. I wonder if she’ll be on.

We had corndogs last night for dinner and chicken patties the night before. And always the same damn crackers for a snack. It’s better than nothing, but how about cake, pie or ice cream for a change? We rarely have cookies, either. Got a donut with breakfast maybe twice in the whole time I’ve been here.

I miss popcorn and my favorite hot foods. It’s nice to be able to buy candy, but I crave more chicken, fish, beef, Chinese and seafood! I miss those pizza pockets and so much more. I’ll probably get fat again when I get out, but I don’t care.

Tom will be here any sec to visit. Can’t wait to see him! Don’t know what I’d do without his visits.

The showers are hot again. I was surprised. Usually, when they go cold, they stay cold for a while.

I’m going to have to get new earbuds because mine is beginning to short. They’re cheap pieces of shit with thin wires. They sound good, though, and I’m surprised how loud this little thing goes.

Mena’s on now. Someone I don’t particularly care for or dislike. She’s just there. I see a definite pattern and I now know I can usually count on either Mena or Kahn working when I have visits. I wish Palma would work visitation for a change so Tom could see her, but it’s almost always McDurmont and Osborne. I heard Osborne was beaten and raped during the riot they had here in ‘96 and that’s why she only does visitation.

They carried on and on next door till 3:00 in the morning last night. Ida wasn’t too happy about it. Yeah, as soon as blacks hit the scene things get pretty loud.

Had a good visit with Tom. He didn’t get home last night till 9:00. Damn! That’s why he didn’t answer. Been working a lot of overtime. I worry about him when he gets this busy and tired, but he says he’ll be OK. I filled him in on Ida.

White Johnson asked us how much time we had left towards the end of our visit. Guess there were lots of visitors. Tom said I may have a wait when he left, but Johnson came right back for me. She recognized Tom right away from the picture I showed her in November of him with Ratsy. She’s got a damn good memory! Most people have garbage disposals for memories. I’m impressed.

We made small talk on the way back. She walked me all the way to M’s door, too. Usually, they just watch you walk down the hall from where the control station is. As we walked down the hall she asked, “So how ya doing?”

“Still hanging in there.”

Still have a crush on you, too.

The dinner cart was by the door and I asked what was for dinner. She was nice enough to take a peek for me. It was chicken patties.

“Not bad, huh?” she said.

It’d be better if you kissed me.

“It’s better than weenies.”

As I entered M, Mena pulled the cart in and Pancake Face Smith goes, “Will you hurry up so I can get something out of the office?”

Mena’s reply to that was, “Fuck you.”

I laughed and Smith says, “How unprofessional!”

How double-standard, too. The sheriff’s little servants can swear at each other, but God help us if we swear at them.

The lights will be going out soon, so I’ll have to write some other time about the very interesting chat I had with Ida earlier. She really is a good person. She’s totally out of place here. As different from most of these people as I am. You really can make a friend in jail! She says she will write when she gets out. I hope so. Tom asked if I knew who I’d be with after Ida leaves. I don’t want to know because I know they’re going to be bad. We’ll be far from compatible. Now that I’ve adjusted to jail life, I think I would prefer 3 compatible cellies in a big cell, over someone like Melinda in a small cell. I’m used to using the toilet in front of people now. I don’t like it and would not want to be caught on the toilet by Palma, but I can handle it.

Tom forgot to put money in today because he was tired but is going to put $40 in tomorrow. I really appreciate that because I want those backup earbuds ready for when these die on me. I play it full blast when Ida’s up, so they die faster when you play them as loud as I do.

Tom and I discussed my case some more and yes, I’m convinced that a motion to modify my sentence would be worthless. Ida’s case is different. Her lawyer, whom she paid 2 Gs for, didn’t ask for back-time and fucked up in other ways, too. She said she won’t tell me why she’s here; God forbid I should blow up at her in a week and blab it to everyone. I can’t see that happening at this point, but I understand. If we keep in touch on the outs, she’ll tell me when she’s ready to.

Ida asked me to ask Tom if I got the minimum, presumptive or max sentence, but I didn’t get either of these. I got the standard treatment for a class 6 felony. All undesignated F6 cases get 3 years’ probation and one of its terms is 6 months in jail.

But guilty or not, how can a fucking letter come under such a harsh sentence?!

I just wish I could prove the thing about the interpreter and that The Public defender lied and withheld info!