#30+ years of them in prison for no fucking reason!!!! I mean they

[karmaphone]

also I fully believe if the Menendez trial(s) happened today it would have swung in the brothers' favor for two distinct reasons: 1) metoo means people are way more willing to believe survivors of sexual assault, including boys and men and 2) there would have been so much more public backlash as a result of disallowing making any part of their abuse part of their defense in the second trial they would have had to reverse it, if it was even attempted at all

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

does sympathy for hatred work into your belief? loaded question, i'm sorry. i know you have enough empathy to go around. it was an unkind question with unkind feelings behind it. i hurt. but i don't know what i'm are supposed to do with pedo-rapists that will never stop haunting us. daddy's in prison for the next 15 years and mommy wishes i had died. i feel so lonely. feel like my terror makes me a centrist or something. i feel so stupid.

You are not stupid, nor are you wrong for feeling how you feel. It is not a failure of any kind to feel the ways that you do. In fact, feeling these things is part of the process, at least within my process.

I don't think where I have currently landed as it comes to forgiveness is above or below anyone else. It's not a moral question whatsoever. In many ways, it's fueled by pure pragmatism and self-interest. It's the only way I personally have found to move forward with my life. And to me, that says nothing about anyone else or their path. It is only what I have found has helped me.

I will speak on my story because that is all I can speak on--this is not an attempt to 'diagnose' you or where you are at within your process; when I say 'I,' I authentically mean I, myself.

For a long time I was not ready to move forward. I was angry. I had been hurt badly by so many, in ways that were not merely the unavoidable forms of harm that being a human in relationship with other humans brings about. And I was not ready to let that go.

That is a neutral fact. Healing is not an imperative, and suffering is part of the process. It was not wrong for me to be angry, or to feel hate for those who hurt me, or to not be ready to move beyond those experiences. If i still felt that way today, or in a decade, or till the end of my life, it would not be wrong. If I died still with those feelings, there would be no shame in that.

For a very long time, I truly did not believe there was any other option. Perhaps there were no other options for me with the spot I was at in life, maybe there was no other way it could have been. This acceptance of what 'was' is useful in looking back, but not helpful for projecting onto the future. For a long time, I did project this fatalism into the future. I believed the story of my life was already told, and I just had to watch. But slowly, over the course of a number of years, my conviction in that belief weakened and alongside it, something else sprouted.

I met Anat at a partial hospitalization program for my eating disorder in 2021. She was early 30s. We were the only two smokers in the group, so we got to know each other quickly and well. She kicked dope when she was about my age at the time and had been sober ever since.

I used for a lot of reasons, to boil it down to some singular, cohesive, narratively-fulfilling motivation neglects the truth of the matter.

I used because drugs are fun, and I like them. I used because they passed the time. I used because I felt unfulfilled and they were a distraction. And I used because all I wanted was to not exist anymore so I could stop hurting, and getting fucked up felt easier than killing myself.

Before meeting Anat, I genuinely did not believe that recovery--by which I mean more than simple abstinence--was possible for me. Of course, cognitively, I knew there were addicts who stopped, stayed stopped, and got better, but I didn't know any, or at least none like me. And Anat was like me, I could tell. I wanted to stop, I had every reason to stop, I faced consequence after consequence for not having stopped, and still, I kept going. But here in front of me was evidence that it was possible. I was still not yet ready. I was stringing a week or less together at a time, miserable for every second of it. I was not ready to let go of what was keeping me there.

Anat was murdered a month after I met her. When I found out, I downed gin till i was unconscious. I was angry, I was lost, I was hurt, and I wished I never met her because meeting her changed something in me: I started to believe that something--anything!--else was possible from life besides endless hurt.

The funny thing about belief is that, well, we can't believe what we don't believe. And I didn't believe what I used to anymore, or at least not as unshakably. There was a seed of doubt: maybe something else is possible. I did not yet believe it, but I had been forced to become the tiniest bit open to the idea. Maybe I am wrong; maybe this is not all that there is.

And that's all it takes to get the ball rolling.

"Do you believe, or are you willing to believe?"

I don't remember the next year of my life very well, but i know it was very, very, very bad. I kept using, and it only got worse. I continued getting raped again and again. I got evicted. But the one thing I had was the morsel of hope growing inside of me.

And I hated it. Hope means I feel that I owe it to myself to try. Cynicism has a comfort to it: sure, things may suck, but at least I know they'll suck. Hope lacks that. Hope requires me to open myself up to disappointment. Hope had always been folly to me.

But slowly, I stopped wanting to hurt. That sliver of belief that the hurt could maybe stop turned into a desire. To fulfill the desire, the only option was to try. If hurt is assured through one path, and only a possibility in the other, I must choose the second, even though it is very possible I do not avoid the hurt.

It is not wrong to not be ready to move forward. If your process has not led you to want what I have come to want, that is not a failure. It does not make you deficient. I was not wrong to be where I was 4 years ago and I am not right for being where I am today. Maybe your process leads you elsewhere. Maybe your life worth living is very different than mine. None of these things are anything besides 'is.'

I heard a call from within myself that I had never heard before, and I felt compelled to answer it: act only out of goodwill and love for others and myself. Simple, but not easy.

I am myself and myself alone. The only life I get to live is my own. It is not for me to say what anyone else should do, because I am not anyone else and I do not know what anyone else should do. Maybe you got the same call as me, maybe you feel differently about it, maybe you didn't get it at all, maybe you never will, maybe you get a different call. Maybe your process is different. I am not you, I have neither ability nor desire to judge you or anyone else. All I can do is what i can and hope that others are happy and fulfilled, no matter what.

[blindbatalex]

I hung out with @k-ky all day and she literally activated the sleeper carraville agent that lives inside my brain at all times. I really and truly do not have time to start on a whole new WIP right now, so please enjoy this little 1k teaser in the meanwhile.

By the time Jamie parked the car and trudged to the house, the front door was already open with Gary looming behind.  Between the dusk falling quietly outside and the hallway light he had not bothered to turn on, the way he would not meet Jamie’s eyes, he resembled a ghost.  Jamie ignored the raw spot the thought touched in his chest—the still too fresh panic a call from the hospital saying that your friend collapsed tends to inspire.

“Traffic was mad.”  He chuckled as he walked in.  It sounded strained and echoed ominously in Gary’s minimalist, unpleasant house.  “I should have honestly taken the train.”

Honestly, if Gary had died and come back as a ghost, he would be a poltergeist.  An annoying, self-righteous, argumentative poltergeist that drives property values down by his sheer potential to drive any people unfortunate enough to buy the house up the wall.  Neither did he bother to so much as crane his neck to look at Jamie as he led them into the bowels of the house.

“Thought you’d changed your mind.”

Jamie rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, well, it was a close thing,” he huffed, and regretted it instantly when Gary’s step faltered.  It was a fucking joke.  After everything they have been through, did he, could he think–

And while he meant no disrespect to the witches, Jamie struggled to understand why they had to drag him into the curse they rightfully wanted to cast upon Gary.  Bloody hell.  “But if you died, who would I rib after every time United bottle yet another game?”

With that they reached the living room.  Gary sat down on the sofa and for the first time since Jamie came in, deigned to meet his eyes.  It wasn’t just the light, he definitely looked haggard.  His ugly face pale and with deep bruises under his eyes.  He wasn’t happy either, judging by the thin line of his mouth.

If anything I am shocked that it took you this long to get yourself cursed, the way you carry on, was what Jamie wanted to say but someone needed to be the adult in the room so he held his tongue, choosing to plop himself down on the sofa next to Gary instead.  He wrapped a firm arm around Gary’s shoulder and popped his feet on the coffee table.

“Get your feet down,” was all the thanks Gary could be bothered to give, alongside a vicious poke at his ankle with his big toe.

“No, you get your feet up.”

“I don’t know how you live in Bootle, but we for one have standards here–”

“No, you idiot, we ought to maximise the surface area, innit?”

“You mean–?”

“Press our legs together, yeah.”

Whatever little colour there was in Gary’s face drained at Jamie’s words.  It was daft—it was so mind-bogglingly daft that Jamie had no words for it—but then again, they were ex-footballers for God’s sake.  They had spent 30-odd years watching their teammates strut around naked in the showers, getting pulled into hugs and shoving and, in Gary’s case, cuddling up with Beckham to watch telly.  Sure the two of them did not hug, and Jamie did not cuddle with blokes, but given they were where they were, neither was there any reason for—this.  To act like petulant children.  Or prisoners on death row.

Jamie glared at him, withdrawing his arm.

“I’m sorry, do you want to die?”

Not really, but I want to cuddle with you even less, the dark look that crossed Gary’s face seemed to say. 

The git. He just had to be so stubborn about everything, make life as difficult as possible for whoever was trying to give him a hand.

Jamie closed his eyes, breathing through his nose to try and get a lid on the anger he felt burning in every cell of his body.  Honestly, who in their right mind would pick an argument for example with a coven of witches on the definition of what constituted witchcraft in the first place?  

But when he explained the curse, and what seemed to keep Gary alive, his mum had smiled and said– he is lucky to have a friend like you then, isn’t he?  And Beckham, who for some reason felt he had the right to give Jamie a call, let alone to order him around, had said– cut him some slack will you, it’s a bit awkward for him.  And yeah, if Jamie put himself in Gary’s shoes, he could see why having to–

“Look,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes still shut.  “I don’t like this either but you are my friend and I happen to care about you.  You scared the hell out of me, Gary.  And if this is what we have to do to manage until we find a way to break the curse, I’d–” His voice betrayed him, crushed under the weight of a singular truth.  Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked at Gary.  “I’d do anything, alright?  And I think you’d do the same for me, if our places were swapped.  So.”

Gary nodded, very faintly.  Is it so awful, Jamie wondered, having to cuddle with me that you made me say all of that out loud?  Even at the hospital, when he was quite out of it, he had tried to protest, to push him away.  Said, I can’t.  

“Take off your shoes.”

Cut him some slack.  Yeah.

Jamie did as he was told.  Besides, for one of the few times in his life, he wasn’t sure he had any more words in him left.  Gary was already taking off his own.  

When he was done he put his feet up on the coffee table and Jamie followed suit, shifting closer towards him to bring their bodies flush against one another.  With one hand he turned the telly on while the other arm he wrapped around Gary’s shoulder again.  Gary for his part even made a tiny effort to lean into the touch this time, whether from guilt or self-preservation, Jamie could not tell.

All these years they’d known each other—and Jamie could count the number of times they hugged on one hand.  In Valencia, after that defeat, once.  Once when Jamie had been hammered out of his mind in London—though that was more Gary taking on his weight as he half-carried Jamie back to the hotel than anything else.  He’d been warm beside him then, too, like he was now, strong, a little soft, just—good.  

The two of them fit.  There was no use thinking about that.  They certainly did not fit in this way.  He could smell Gary’s aftershave, feel his shoulders rise and fall with each breath.  It felt awful--a force threatening to rip apart the walls of his cells.

No wonder, he thought, no fucking wonder.

Next time, he would make sure to get laid before coming over, so his body would not mistake affection, at once mechanical and friendly, for genuine desire.

For Gary N.eville?

Come on.

[charmac]

Hi! Do you have any thoughts on Mac and Mrs. Mac’s relationship? I find the whole McDonald family dynamic so interesting, but especially after season 16/frank shoots every member of the gang I’ve been fascinated by those two. You always have such impressive, well thought out answers!

Thank you!

I do have a lot of of thoughts regarding Mac's upbringing, especially in terms of his relationships with his family and how they clearly affect his current-day relationships and misconceptions of love, but I'm not sure I've really fleshed that out so, great question.

First of all, I have a gripe with Frank Shoots Every Member of the Gang, as it really insanely retcons Luther's age. Mac Kills His Dad established that he was 59 at the time, which would have made him a teen when he had Mac. Shoots establishes that Luther's dad served in WWII and wrote him letters during that time, which means he had to have been born before 1945, and would have been at youngest in his 30s when Mac was born. It's not like it's a huge issue, but it does change some previously-thought dynamics. (Though, the fact that they weren't younger-cast in A Sunny Christmas does better-align with the idea that they were in their 30s when they had Mac.)

There was/is always kind of the vibe that when they were together, pre-Luther going to jail, Ms. Mac did really love Luther and vice-versa, and Mac was more kind of like a by-product of unprotected sex more than he was a part of the family. (I mean, they named him after the Hamburger Clown). Luther clearly love(d) him as the idea of having a son, someone who could carry on his bidding and his name, but doesn't love him as the child he actually has. I think Ms. Mac didn't love him as the idea of a son and doesn't love him as the child she has, and never did. BUT she did love Luther, and Mac observed that as a young kid, his parents loving each other but neglecting him. Looking at Christmas, we can kind of assume the order of anything in Mac's childhood home was Ms. Mac > Luther > Mac. So for his early development he was kind of sidelined, saw no love from his parents toward him, but did see love between his parents (in a definitely not healthy way, as it goes).

We know in the deleted scenes of Sunny Christmas that Mac's dad is going to prison probably right after the events of the video tape... I honestly think it's reasonable to assume that Mac's screaming that woke up the residents of the house they were robbing might have been probably was what led to Luther being arrested (with whatever warrants he had hanging over him catching up with him once he had been detained). So, does Ms. Mac blame her son for her husband being locked up for the next 25 years? Probably. She didn't even want him, didn't care for him, and then his obnoxious behaviour was their downfall.

Back to Shoots, I did really like it for what it gave us in terms of (Char)Mac childhood lore. I think it definitely wasn't a shock for them to drop the cigarette lighter line, but it was a hit to the chest for me. Everything I kind of assumed before, re: didn't want or care about having a child equated to strictly-neglectful, Mac clawing for the love he saw his mom give his dad, now with his dad gone even more-so, and being brushed off, now escalated to retaliation in response to Mac failing to be brushed off. Sometimes the dismissive, grunting and not moving from your chair approach just doesn't work on a hyperactive little bastard like Mac, sometimes you have to make him shut up by giving him something else to fuss over. I think Ms. Mac probably hoped that would be what breaks through his skin, makes him realise she doesn't love him, but Mac only sees it as a warning, a pause, a try-again-later, mom's just in a bad mood.

Presently, what we see of Ms. Mac is almost always the same: completely indifferent. Shrug, cough, I don't care at all about you. Mac's a serial killer? Yeah. Mac's dead? Ok. You're gay? Meh. She'll fuck with him though, sure: your dad is actually Dutch. You wanted these letters that meant something to your father? I needed toilet paper. Who cares. She doesn't love him, never has, never will, and Mac has no ability to understand that.

Based on his upbringing and the past 20 years, I think he has a complete misunderstanding (and at this point inability) to recognise and understand what love is, mostly because of his mother. Because she just, doesn't love him, never did, but Mac thinks that parents have to love their children, that's a fact in his mind. If he has a mom and a dad they do love him, they have to, especially when he was a little boy, right? His dad loves him, he's just in jail so he can't show it, but his mom is here. And mom did love dad, he remembers that, he saw it, so he just has to make himself known, she can love him too because she's capable of it and she's his mom. He loves her, he says it over and over, she never says it, but she just doesn't see him because she's busy, working, or making a home for him, or just for some reason she's not paying attention... So love for Mac is fighting neglect, love is refusing to be ignored, love is pestering over and over because if you can get away with your bombardment without a finger being raised, without being scored by a cigarette lighter, they must really want you to continue... they must be waiting for you to really prove yourself before they show or admit their love for you. There are people in his life who have to love him, it's like a law, so they'll admit it as long as you keep asking, keep making yourself known, keep trying to prove yourself... and if it comes to the point where you're getting burned, stop for a minute, take a step back, and reevaluate how (or when) you can try again...

[takendruid]

Apologies for all the ranting I’m about to do. This is the ramblings of an autistic guy who’s been overstimulated by being outside for like 10 hours, and also is running on 6 hours of sleep.

I want to draw Aimi (my oc) and Overhaul, but I’m so tired right now. It’s 10pm (almost 11 actually now, I’ve been writing this for over 30 minutes). I cannot draw them otherwise I will get sucked into drawing for 6 fucking hours.

This is my OC btw, just for quick context.

I want. To draw Aimi and Kai. After Kai and Lady Nagant are arrested. And Kai is so broken,, and has finally (maybe) been able to see his father, and also perhaps apologised in some form to Eri. The heroes know Aimi was close to Kai, and that she’s the only person that’s technically innocent but still kind of complicit in his crimes. But because she’s a sane person who denounced his abuse of a literal child, and left him because of it, (and also because he’s quirkless) the heroes are like “maybe. Maybe this woman can actually help him. Somewhat.”

So they bring Kai to Aimi, and he is a broken man. She is heartbroken by the state of him, and all she wants to do is help him (and hold him, but she doesn’t. She respects his boundaries). The heroes are like “being in prison, and also being physically disabled, kind of broke him? Mentally? So can we entrust you to take care of him and maybe rehabilitate him. He will be on house arrest, and there will be a hero on alert if he ever tries anything. But can we trust him to you?” And Aimi is like “yes. But also. Can I build him prosthetics?? He’s quirkless, so he’s essentially harmless (but stretching the definition)”.

Heroes say yes. She builds him prosthetics.

I just. I want to draw them together so bad.

I don’t know if anyone would care about this, but people seemed to really want to know more about her, and see more of her. I’m gonna draw them again soon. I just,, I’m so fucking tired. I’ve been out all day today, and got 6 hours of sleep.

They mean so much to me. I can’t.

He’s still like,, mad germophobe. And she also has OCD, so she gets it and doesn’t judge him at all for his anxiety over her house being a bit messy. Their anxiety rivals each other, just over different things entirely. But also,, she’s a mechanic, so it’s also kind of hard for her to keep her house entirely clean, because she’s always doing shit and accidentally leaving the house a mess. But Kai gets on her case about it because “it’s dirty” and “it could attract bugs”

Taken try not to project onto every brown-haired OC he ever has challenge: Impossible. (The OCD part, not the amputee part.)

Overhaul cares about her so much in my silly little head, and the reason he could care about her so much is because she’s quirkless and “isn’t infected with hero sickness”. Also because she supported his desire for a quirkless world until he decided to bring a child into the fray, and torture and abuse a child. A YOUNG child. Aimi, reasonably, disagreed with that (as shown above) and left the Shie Hassaikai. He was so goal-focused and tunnel visioned that he immediately dropped the one person he genuinely cared about besides Chrono and his dad, and didn’t realise the consequences of his actions until it was too late and she had gone from his life. But he decided it was fine and a necessary sacrifice in order to move forwards, especially since he had other people to help him. But he missed her so greatly, but never let anyone know. Chrono caught on, but never pushed. All that mattered to Overhaul was his goal of a quirkless world, and then he could have Aimi back, not realising she would have hated him because he had tortured a little girl in order to get there.

These two had meant to much to me years ago, but I ended up leaving them behind since 1) I never gave Aimi a proper design all those years ago, and 2) I fell out of my BNHA hyperfixation. But me and my now ex-friend ended up associating this song with them:

This song is so them, please believe me guys. I swear I’m not insane. Specifically, SPECIFICALLY, this song is from Kai’s perspective

LIKE LOOK AT IT THAT’S SO THEM I’m insane. And tired. God please help me. Someone tell me to go to bed. If anyone read all the way this far and actually cares about my insane ramblings, tell me to go to bed. I’m so tired. But I love Aimi and Kai. I love them so much. They mean so much to me. The fact people have been loving them on here and saying they want more content has reminded me how much these two mean to me. I just needed to scream about them, and maybe someone will care and read all this.

Fun fact, Aimi didn’t used to be an amputee! But she’s always been a mechanic. Like she literally had her own agency at one point (I used to RP with my ex-friend my BNHA OCs, that’s how I got so attached to them). Aimi and Kai also had a kid, but that’s so OOC for Kai, I could never now. It would be so funny if he’s not even asexual, for so many reasons I won’t explain but you guys probably get. He probably is asexual (and he’s probably aromantic as well. I’m not projecting, I swear. Look at that silly man), and also probably very sex repulsed. Now I am projecting, but FUCKING LOOK AT HIM /ref.

Kai and Aimi would kiss on the lips and the lips only. That (autistic) OCD sex-repulsed asexual man would hurl at the thought of tongue being included. Me too, buddy. But also it would probably take a very long time for Kai to get to a point where he’s okay with even kissing on the lips.

Oh my god projecting onto this silly man has somehow helped me mentally disconnect him from my abuser somewhat. Accidental maybe trauma dump time? He looks like my abuser, so that’s mainly why I just abandoned Aimi. Because him looking like my abuser won out over me just loving him because of his character. But me going “yeah he’s autistic. He has OCD. He’s also asexual sex-repulsed, and probably aromantic too but let’s not talk about that” has helped. YAY healing!! It’s funny because my projection here isn’t just me being like “I love you, let me make you like me” my HCs are based on actual source material. I personally don’t fuck with characters being OOC, I like my HCs to be in-character. But that’s just a me thing :3

I need. To shut up now. It’s actually 11pm. But anyway. I’m gonna draw Aimi and Kai soon. Thank you to anyone (if anyone) who read this, reading the insane (not actually. I’m not insane, I’m just autistic and silly and tired) ramblings of me. I’m gonna make a Kaimi playlist because I love them. I’ll probably post it.

[bidaubadeadieu]

that post going around about why murdering one (1) exec of British petroleum is worth millions of tons of CO2 is so dumb and ppl are eating that shit up. I hesitate to respond to that post because I simply do not want to spread it, but no matter, you've heard arguments like this before. because I work on climate policy for a living, allow me to ask a few comprehension questions:

- why assume that the sudden death of a company official would decrease production of oil by 1% for a month? why not 0.5% or 0.25%? Whether there is any decrease and how big that decrease is are empirical questions, you can't eyeball it. The other scenario, reducing production by 25% for a day, is preposterous unless all the employees are taking a 2 hour mourning period.

- is this belief not inconsistent with the other commonly held belief on the left that CEOs are parasites and don't do shit? If value is derived from labor, do you honestly believe that 1% of BP's revenues (totaling over 100B each year) are attributable to one person? Even a few people?

- you can go online and search BP's org charts. BP has nearly 100 people with just the title "senior vice president", spread across a dozen business units like "innovation", "advocacy", "finance", "legal", and laughably, "sustainability". Anyways, which of these units contains the person you're going to shoot dead? How are you dealing with the fact that they have intentionally padded these groups to insulate from sudden shocks?

- the energy industry is, famously, characterized by inertia. The whole reason they are in this mess is due to their inflexibility. In a time of crisis, such as missing leadership, they're going to keep on chugging! The people who supposedly steer the ship are dead, and the people who actually know how to work the oilfields are still alive, couldn't that make transitional change less likely?

- ah yes! All those oilfields! BP has dozens of them, spread around the globe, filled with hordes of middle management. how, logistically, do you think that this change will happen? will it be that each worker presses buttons on the rig 1% more slowly? Or will it be that new oil sites are 1% slower to be sited and begin operation. These things employ thousands, operate sometimes for decades, and remember, they have production quotas to fill.

- what about demand? killing oil execs doesn't reduce the number of people trying to fill up their cars and keep the lights on, because oil consumption is largely inelastic. if production was lowered by 1%, the company will raise prices (just as they did during the pandemic) to maintain profit levels. In order to introduce elasticity to the market, we need real alternative choice in energy source and tech we use in our daily lives, which means subsidizing renewables, electrified transit, and regenerative agriculture, aka boring wonk shit when do I get to kill?

- this experiment has been and is already being run. In 1992 an Exxon exec was murdered and clearly that didn't solve anything. 30 years later, the guy that did it is still serving time in a prison in NJ. Russia has had a string of oil execs deaths lately for reasons I don't pretend to totally understand, but likely relating to the Ukraine war and exerting control, and no, they're clearly not worried about production declining or this hurting the Russian economy.

In short: No, this problem isn't fucking solvable by a well-placed bullet or two, or five.

[wack-ashimself]

There's two terms that are stupid and nobody realizes it. Hate crime. And War crime. Because hate in itself is a crime if you hate hard enough to the point where you harm them, and war itself is a crime against humanity. The fact that we try to differentiate crime when it's all fucking crime is why an island of pedophiles get away while somebody who falls asleep at the wheel goes to jail for life. I want both in jail. Or at least I want the jail sentence to match what the crime was. I'm sorry but scaring people and saying mean things is not the same as what cops get away with. What our politicians get away with. Our bankers get away with. I'm just saying that 8 years for yelling at somebody and getting physical with them seems pretty fucking harsh when there was no permanent damage. And I'm not saying this cuz he's white. The guy looks like a piece of garbage. I am saying though I would not want anyone, not a single one of you, reading this right now to do something in the heat of intoxication, and it costs them eight years of their life. Punishment should be served, and I'm sure there's better ways to make sure it's served. If I'm wrong then how come we have the largest prison population in all of history? If prison reformed, it would have a lot better success rate. This just seems like people wanting to hit somebody with a stick who hit them first. That's fine. You get a couple whacks. Not 8 years of somebody's fucking life. He's 47. He's going to probably die in jail. I'm just saying I have said and done some horrible things in my life, thankfully never to this degree, but would I think my worst mistakes are worth 8 years of my life? No. Again I've never really assaulted anybody except my siblings when we were kids. But still. 8 years of your life for getting drunk and making the worst mistake of your life. But he didn't kill anybody or cripple them. Not even PTSD. He was just an angry belligerent selfish prick. And he does need to be put in his place. However making somebody feel like shit is not the same as permanently scarring somebody for life. And I'll tell you 8 years in jail will scar them for life too. I am in no form saying I know what the exact punishment should be nor would I want to make that judgment. But the fact that eight years was thrown out so quickly makes me feel like this is going to be used for other reasons to put people in jail for lesser crimes comparatively. Crime is crime people. And if you want to honestly stop crime, you start at the top, not the fucking bottom. There's so much crime on the bottom because of the top. Never forget that. The worst criminals on the planet are not at all in jail. And that seems Island continues at a new location. We'll find that one in probably another 30 fucking years.

[vore-scientist]

What are some of your thoughts on these darker/crueler subcategories of vore:

- Punishment vore

- Revenge vore

- Torture (both physical & psychological) vore

- Long-term belly imprisonment

- Fatal vore

Obviously you’re not expected to talk about any of these that make you uncomfortable

I've written and RP'd all of these anon XD i really like all kinds of vore (as longs as its GT and oral).

Let me first rank these (A-F like a grade?) and then I'll site specific moments from stories i've written and RP'd.

- Punishment vore. Good shit. B+ i say, its cathartic.

- Revenge vore. This can pair with punishment. A+, revenge is a dish best served tasty.

- Torture (both physical & psychological) vore. Yonah literally does this??? A+. Traumatize the prey thanks.

- Long-term belly imprisonment. Im saying B. Its not my favorite but damn its fucking crazy i do love just extreme nature of it.

- Fatal vore. Yeah??? I used to be averse to fatal, it squicked me out. now im like "KILL THE BITCH" though I'm still gonna rank it A an not A+ because sometimes it still bothers me depending on the situation.

Now for Story/RP highlights!!!

Punishment Vore: to be fair this can range from safe to fatal. Yonah used to punish Sophia by eating her but over time this uhhhh no longer worked unless there was an intense reason sophia didnt want to be stuck inside Yonah's stomach. Usually bc there was something she wanted to do or see but nope, time out.

Revenge Vore: I see this as fatal, i dont really see how revenge vore could be dark/cruel without it. Otherwise it's just friendly getting back at someone. Anyways See Return of the Dragon King Part 1: Prison Break. Yonah chows down on the guards that tortured him. good revenge that. If I eventually get to it, yonah will get to eat Tobi's dad (who was the second in command of the facility).

Torture: In my RP sessions Yonah is often the body guard to a powerful politician and will torture prisoners/assassins/spies with her. Eating spies whole and not giving them safety charms but spitting them up partially digested but not dead. rinse and repeat. Biting off limbs, stuff like that.

Long Term Belly Imprisonment. Now that's an interesting one. Haven't played around with it much because I havent designed preds which that's really... possible. Though you could argue Yonah keeping someone overnight is "long term" ish. but i suspect you mean longer. I have done this in RP.

In one RP we had the characters kinda stuck in a limbo on a ship in the ocean and Sophia and the King of the Giants had to hunt down an assassin as everyone on the ship slept due to Yonah activating a sleeping beauty curse. Except the King of Giants was in a pocket of subspace (put there to avoid the curse). Sophia found the assassin and shoves them into the pocket dimension and The King ate them. The curse lasted THIRTY DAYS (i suggested 30 years LOL). Even after the curse was broken the assassin stayed in the King's belly as they sailed back to shore and was released a few days after arriving back in the Giant Kingdom. (this also counts as revenge/punishment to if you didnt notice)

I absolutely loved this entire little shenanigan and I want to write it really badly.

Fatal: So ive not posted many fatal stories, but oh boy, have I RP'd a lot of it. It's made me more comfortable with it in fact. pre-2020 me was still not super comfy with it but now im like fuck yeah!!! My RPs often revolve around fatal revenge/punishment set ups. taking down character's parents who want to train them as super soldiers, eating a circus ringmaster who used yonah as a side show monster (who was fed audience members. yup. fatally). These stories often have a healthy dose of Safe as well, fatal for revenge and punishment, safe for comfort and cuddling. Or protection! Even in the stories where the fatal was central to plot moreso than the safe. Example with the circus one is that after freeing all the other side-show monsters they all travel to a safe haven. but one of the monsters is a Naga who cannot handle the cold nights and has to be eaten by Yonah to stay warm :D

Thanks for this amazing Ask Anon!! <3

[steviebeastinks]

I posted 3,004 times in 2022

That's 2,256 more posts than 2021!

19 posts created (1%)

2,985 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@uwu-exe

@wizardpotions

@elytrians

@cvberitual

@wizard-email

I tagged 2,298 of my posts in 2022

Only 24% of my posts had no tags

#tumblr report - 177 posts

#art - 124 posts

#goncharov - 100 posts

#cats - 98 posts

#unreality - 84 posts

#yeah - 77 posts

#wizard posting - 74 posts

#how to find meaning - 68 posts

#tender - 68 posts

#ugh so true girl - 56 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#we joke that we wouldn’t have gotten along but i think that as long as no other kids got in the way we could have been so kind to each other

I sent 3 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

men’s bathrooms are so scary why does anyone bother with this !!! why can’t all bathrooms be single person, spacious, and non gendered 😭

2 notes - Posted December 27, 2022

#4

i don’t use twitter anymore so idk how the fandom is reacting but here’s my prediction on how ppl are handling dream’s face reveal:

fan artists upset that he is not the blond twink they’ve been drawing for the past 3 years or whatever

ppl who go bat shit fucking crazy over the fact that his reason for revealing it now had to do with being best friends w George (dnf stans r probably frothing rn)

the undying loyalists who are fucking STOKED even tho he’s Just Some Guy

the trolls i already saw in his comments section saying he looks like lord farquaad 💀

everyone else:

3 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

#3

i have finally…………..changed my high school blog name………….

starrynightsandfairylights, may she rest in peas

steviebeastinks is the new sheriff in town >:))

3 notes - Posted September 29, 2022

#2

time to finally make a pinned post ahaha

i’m stevie (he/they), 22 years old 🐝

if ur from tiktok, hi! u found me! this blog is a secret unless we’re mutuals then i lov u 💛

i mostly reblog shitposts & political stuff but sometimes also art n pretty shit ⭐️

my best posts go under #yeah (which is either yeah😌 or yeah😔 and it’s russian roulette as far as which you’ll encounter) 🍯

if u want to block sad/political posts, i tag them under #important and just started using #vent 🌙

my ask box is open & DMs from mutuals are welcome ! 🌼

4 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“Arbor Square” is a goofy & introspective adult animated comedy series created by Eli Murphy and Stevie Maxwell. It follows Quinn and Jonathan, a pair of incompetent roommates-turned-baristas trying to make lives for themselves in the quirky titular borough of Arbor Square.

Quinn is a non-binary wild card who spends their free time getting up to (semi-legal) shenanigans!

Jonathan is a neurotic but soft-hearted lover boy who is often the only thing standing between Quinn and a prison sentence!

Their boss Cassian does his best to maintain order and drive up profits for Arbor Square Coffee & Kombucha, but he’s locked in a bitter and potentially steamy feud with Jessica, the manager of the Skybears coffee chain across the street!

Glenn, an eccentric hippie from a bygone era, is the cafe’s number one patron and rounds out the main cast!

Together this odd group will discover what it means to be neighbors in the age of wage work and late-stage capitalism >:)

39 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2000 Tonight’s New Year’s Eve, my favorite holiday. Another thing the freeloaders stole from me. But not totally. Tom said to me on the phone today how he’d like to celebrate Christmas, my birthday, and the new year when I get out and make up for all we’ve lost together. How sweet of him. It’s another thing I can look forward to, in the midst of all I have to not look forward to.

He also offered to visit more, but I know how hectic Sundays are. He needs his days off to himself, and I can hardly hear him over all the people who visit on Sundays anyway.

He offered to put $30 a week in which would be even better than $20. Just knowing the money was there, even if I don’t use it all, makes me feel better. I want to get more hard candy and less chocolate so it lasts longer since I can’t chew gum here.

Although I know there’s no way I’ll get out of here before 4/29, he still thinks I will, but not because of anything he does. He thinks the jail will review me and let me out early after seeing how well I behave. He said he doesn’t think the inmates are really aware of this. I can’t imagine this happening, though. If it were something that happened, I’m sure I’d have heard about it. Besides, that sounds more like something that’d happen in prison, not jail.

Ruby’s still here, and if she gets out, it won’t be till next week after she talks to classification. I guess they fucked up on the computer.

By no means am I desperate to escape Carolyn and Monday, but they won’t always let me sleep. After our hour out at 9:00 this morning, they wouldn’t let me go back to sleep! They were talking on and off and wouldn’t even pretend to try to talk softly. They’re fine cellies when you’re awake. They don’t stink and don’t beg for my radio, but trying to get any sleep with them around is hit or miss. Carolyn said I should be more tolerable, but there’s only so much a person can tolerate, and they need to do their share of compromising, too. They can’t expect to throw all the compromising on me. I also made it clear to them that I won’t respect their sleep if they don’t respect mine.

I told Carolyn I sometimes wake up grouchy and not to take it personally.

“But we do take it personally,” she said.

“Well, that’s your problem then,” I told her. “I can’t worry and be responsible for how you may react to things. All I can do is tell you like it is and then you handle it however you’re going to handle it.”

The nurse surprised me by bringing me my allergy spray on his evening rounds, but they’re still out of the asthma inhaler. This nose spray is better because it sprays a finer mist like the lung inhalers. The other ones were like squirting water up my nose, but with this one, I don’t even need to dab at my nose with a tissue afterward.

It’s late afternoon right now. Carolyn, who’s sick to her stomach, is getting a taste of her own medicine and experiencing a good old-fashioned case of karma. The assholes out on their hour were keeping her up. Actually, she slept most of the day, which was the only reason I could get caught up on my sleep, but she wanted to sleep longer than I did. Yet even the DOs don’t have any respect, as Carolyn would find out when the rude dickhead we got on tonight went banging on tables. I’m sure Carolyn will steal my sleep (along with Monday) tomorrow and the next day, but today it’s nice to see that God, or something, took care of Carolyn and showed her what it’s like to ask someone the simple little favor of lowering their voice, only to be ignored.

Karma got Carolyn, but what about the freeloaders? Yeah, what about the freeloaders? That’s another good title for this book - What About the Freeloaders?!?!

Tom’s Christmas gifts consisted of a new shirt (he always gets a new shirt), a weird stuffed animal in a box, a wrench, and an electronic toy.

It’s about 10 PM now. Earlier we had another disappointing dinner; a cold, greasy hot dog with a little scoop of potato salad, a couple of pieces of cauliflower, and 5 crackers.

I can’t wait for commissary!

It’s going to be a long boring night for me. I can only read and write so much. I can only sleep so much, too.

Monday says she’s going to sleep as much as she can tomorrow because she has to be pulled for court at 2 AM. I treasure any time I can get with just one celly. With her gone, Carolyn won’t be chatting, and fortunately, she doesn’t talk to herself.

I’m getting a copy of this thing called Hart vs. MCSO through a tank order. It’s about a girl who took this place to court to better the living conditions around here. According to what I read in Carolyn’s copy (she’s rude, yet she’s enlightened me) it’s illegal for them to put more than 2 people in these small cells. I’m going to tank the captain and ask him why MCSO (Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office) can break the law, but we can’t. Then I’m going to send my copy home to Tom and see if he can have it investigated. It pisses me off, even scares me, to know that no investigators check up on things around here periodically. There’s got to be someone Tom can contact to stop them from putting 3 of us in here like this, as well as to maybe get some hot showers here, too.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2000 I slept on and off today, then after listening to people on their hour out discuss their “wives” for a while, I decided to get up.

I wish Poindexter, the girl next to us, wasn’t next to us. Everybody’s got to come gab with her on their hour out and it gets old.

My girlfriend’s on tonight. My imaginary one, that is, with a cold. I said, “It’s my favorite DO! Where you moving me to tonight?” when she came to the door to serve dinner, but she says she’s not moving me.

Wow! Really?

Ruby’s still here and I’m beginning to doubt she’ll go to GP. I just may be with Carolyn and Monday for a while, but they’re tolerable enough. Both should be gone in a couple of weeks, though. Monday to prison and Carolyn to rehab.

I’m depressed and homesick tonight, but what else is new? This is jail. My husband and my home are still way in the future. Many worlds away. I want to cry, but I don’t want to. It’d make me feel better, but I don’t want to run my mascara and depress Carolyn and Monday.

For jail mail, I got a receipt saying a friend deposited $20 yesterday. It couldn’t have been Helen. She wouldn’t do that, I don’t think, so it must’ve been Tom. I’ll call and ask him tomorrow.

No arm exercises for me tonight. I hurt my shoulder. I’ve been having problems on and off with that shoulder for nearly a year. I wonder if I might have tendonitis.

I’m through grieving for warmer air and hot showers just to have it granted for only 4 days. I’ll just suffer for 4 more months.

Palma started singing in Spanish as she approached our door on a walk, then stopped as she moved away. Hmm…trying to impress me? I wish! I also wish my Spanish was as good as hers and that Ruby would get the fuck out of here! I heard her talking to Palma about it earlier. She ain’t going anywhere. Not for a while, anyway. At least I’m not in a huge cell in M or with someone like Melinda.

Carolyn and Monday sleep and read most of the time. In the evenings they’re up chatting. Neither of them stinks, which is good, but Carolyn is one very misguided woman! She’s the one that’s very religious and she claims that the world will end in 10 years. Anything’s possible, but if it does, I highly doubt it’ll be in the way she says it will. She says the whole world, even those that live in the desert, far away from the ocean, will see Jesus place one foot on land and the other on water. Then after Satan tries to fool people into thinking he’s God, God’s going to pull his followers into heaven and kill the rest of us. It’s called The Rapture. Carolyn’s going to be one very disappointed person if she’s right, yet doesn’t make it to heaven. Or very shocked if none of this happens at all, but she strikes me as the type that would come up with a logical reason in her delusional mind for why it never happened. I mean, doesn’t she realize how ridiculous this story sounds? I try not to judge/change others and I expect others not to judge/change me, but it all sounds crazy to me.

She asked me what I thought about it all. I told her I believe in God, but not in God the way most people who believe in him do, and I don’t believe in religion. To me, religion is nothing but a bunch of silly rules and superstitious beliefs.

I jogged earlier. Because of my shoulder, I think I’ll only do leg and ab exercises tonight. Then I’ll listen to music, think of Tom, get homesick, and then cry.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2000 I was right when I said commissary would fuck up my order every 2-3 weeks, but at least it was a minor fuck-up. Instead of getting pink lipstick, I got Chapstick, so the guy said he’d take back the Chapstick and credit me for it.

I loaned Rosa a pair of batteries for her radio because her husband didn’t get money into her account on time. I got 15 envelopes for the stuff I got Tina, Carolyn and Monday.

I also wrote Tina the lyrics to the song Desperado like she asked me to.

That Magic Shave they sell is great. It’s a powder you mix with water like pancake batter. It really does remove hair. Carolyn helped me at first. I put it on for 5 minutes, then scraped it off with my ID card. Then I washed the area with my homemade washcloth (a piece of a torn towel).

Although I like Carolyn and Monday, I would still like to go back to Tina and Rosa, but smelly Ruby’s still there. Now that I’m settled with Carolyn and Monday, I’m sure I’ll be moved anytime now.

Where’s Palma? She hasn’t been here since Christmas. I asked Nottelmann if she was on vacation and she said no. Guess she’s working the dorms.

They’ve finally gone to bed. Now maybe I can get a little shitting privacy.

It was funny earlier how Monday was saying she wished she had a catheter running from her to the toilet so she wouldn’t have to keep climbing up and down. It’s an easy climb, though, if you ask me, but she’s kind of fat and out of shape.

Carolyn said the only experience with a woman she had was eating out a hooker she befriended in order to get her out of her house. She said it was either that or be raped but that sounds like an awfully strange story to me. Women aren’t normally that forceful.

Monday says that she’s heard that this jail is the Hilton of all jails in the US. In other countries, they beat and starve people and make them live in their own shit.

Well, this jail is bad enough. After 4 days of being blessed with warm showers, they’re cold again. It only lasted 4 days in M too, when we grieved the showers there. It’s like they count the days or something.

It’s also colder again. I remembered how someone in M covered their vent by slapping on wet wads of toilet paper, so Carolyn and I did that earlier.

They’ve fucked up with the meds again too, the incompetent fuckers! Yesterday’s trip to medical was a complete waste of time, except I got to see Rosa there. We were glad to see each other.

I was pissed to find that I haven’t lost any more weight, too. I’m still 110 pounds. I better cut back on the commissary. Maybe I should just get hard candy, which replaces the gum I usually chew on the outs that they don’t sell here.

I turned down the eye exam because Tom would have to send money in if I needed glasses, and my eyes aren’t bad enough for glasses. I’ll get a real eye exam someday on the outs.

I told the doctor why I didn’t want the Theo and she said, “That’s a lie,” when I told her I was told it’s what made my veins small. My Theo prescription has expired. That’s why they’ve finally quit offering it. The inhalers don’t expire till January 5th. Meanwhile, the doctor said I need not come to medical whenever I need refills. All I have to do is ask the nurse for refills until my prescription expires. Right away my vibes said that the nurse wouldn’t have them. Not only did she not have them, but the whole fucking jail doesn’t have them! They’re out of them and have ordered them from the distributor. How could these stupid quacks let them run out before ordering more, and just how many days will it take for them to get more? Again, I’m getting so fucking fed up with having to fight for meds that I’m tempted to say – fuck it!

A very butchy butch who noticed I was having trouble breathing on my way back from talking with Kara, gave me a hit of her inhaler. That was very nice of her. I’m saving the few precious hits I have left for when I really need them, but hopefully I won’t. I do the ballooning technique when I get really tight and it usually helps.

As for my allergy spray – instead of taking 2 squirts in each nostril a day, I’m taking 1 in each every other day.

My teeth – fuck them. If God wanted me to have straight teeth, he’d have given me them, and this is why he’s now got me in a situation that’ll force me to have crooked teeth again. I rebelled against the way they were and now I’m going to lose all I worked for. I went through so much time, money and pain to straighten them! I should’ve known better, though, about trying to change the way things are. I’m not going to bother returning to the dentist, or any other one for that matter. I’m just going to let them rot till they fall out and I need dentures.

I really love this Magic Shave. You don’t get razor stubble. On the outs, I’ll probably get the kind that’s already mixed, although it may be more expensive. All I’ll have to do is rub it on and wait 5 minutes, then hop in the shower. I may never use razors again.

Just heard a 3rd shift DO tell someone it’s 1:00.

I had a bright idea, though I don’t know that it’ll work. I want to put in a tank to classification requesting a copy of my original Ad-Seg form “for my records.” The real reason I want it is to see if I can get Rule’s first and middle initials and her ID# (even DOs have ID#’s). I want this for when I mail her a thank-you note because I heard there’s another Officer Rule floating around here somewhere.

I keep having these very depressing thoughts of being forced out of my home, away from my husband, and into the city. Into a small studio apartment near a job, only being with Tom in Maricopa on weekends.

After tanking psych, I got to see Kara today. I explained to her that my fight for an early release is over and that we’ve tried everything to no avail. I knew deep down as of 2-3 weeks ago that I wouldn’t get out before 4/29, but the reality of it really hit yesterday. I was so depressed.

I told her about the PO ignoring me and she offered to call for me, but I said no. Tom might call the PO’s supervisor. I don’t know if this is true or not, but Carolyn says she’s ignoring me because she’s not technically my PO (Carolyn would turn out to be right). The one out of Maricopa will be. Then why’d they bother to assign me to this woman in the first place?

I also explained to Kara that Tom spoke to a lawyer who said they’d love to take our money, but rule 32 isn’t for me. That applies to those in prison. He still thinks that after being here with good behavior for 90 days, since anyone can behave for just a week or two, I’ll have a better chance of an early release, but I don’t know if I can behave for that long with all these assholes, and I know I won’t get out early. I’m 100% sure of it at this point.

“That’s more time you have with Palma,” Monday said.

Sorry, but I’d rather trade in Palma for my husband, home, pets, freedom, and all the stuff I miss.

When I discussed with Kara my wanting to be closed custody because of the stress of having to be with so many different people, half of them rude or crazy, she said she’d hate to see me classified as CC because that’s for violent people. Like I really give a fuck about my reputation? I knew I’d never get it, though. God wants me with people. Lots and lots of people.

Ruby still hasn’t left for GP yet. I wonder if she ever will.

Kara said she’d talk to people about not moving me around so much, but I doubt Palma would give a shit. I also doubt there was ever a chance she ever liked me. No woman that I feel is that good-looking ever likes me. It’s almost always one-sided. If it likes me, I don’t like it, and if I like it, it doesn’t like me.

The best part of my day, which is now yesterday, was the fact that I got 2 visits back to back! First Helen, then Tom! Helen kept her word. How sweet of her to see me here. No, she definitely isn’t solely money-motivated.

She didn’t yet get the letter I sent in response to the Christmas card she sent me because she’s been in San Antonio and hasn’t been to the office.

It was hard for me not to shed some tears during our visit. Even her eyes got watery. Hope I didn’t ruin her day!

I filled her in as best I could about the good and bad, although unfortunately, there’s very little good to this place. I told her of my fears for when I get out of here and asked if she could help me find someone, if I needed it, to give me a note explaining why it would be hard on me both physically and emotionally to work outside the house. I need to work at home. I’m not going to be forced out into this sick, crazy world and into being something/somebody I’m not. I need to be the boss of my own fucking life! I can’t live my life with others always telling me what to do!

We agreed I’d give her a copy, once I get home and type up the rough drafts, of the Estrella Jail saga, so she can catch up on this nightmare quicker by reading in between sessions.

I’m in a real tug of war, as I told her. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live, either. I want to die right now to spare myself another 4 months of hell in here and whatever hell awaits me on the outs. Yet I want to live to be with my husband again, to play with Houdini, to do the things I love to do, eat my favorite foods and so much more. I want to beat these freeloaders once and for all! Beat them out of my life for good! Take back all that they and the courts have stolen from me!

I was just about to ask Tom what he got for Christmas when our time was up. He said he decided to wait and let me open my gifts myself when I get out. Sounds good.

Helen said my committing suicide would end my pain, but Tom’s would be forever. I don’t know about that. Tom’s a strong one who moves on very well. He could handle it and he’d get over it, but I get her point.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2000 OK, now for my shocking news. There’s a chance Palma may actually like me. I thought about the possibility for a second, said nah, then Carolyn suggested she might like me before I even mentioned it. I don’t know, though. For everything that says she doesn’t like me, there’s something that says she might.

Ruby, Carolyn and Monday think she’s bi. I had thought she may be prejudiced because of how Madeline said she reacted to a couple of girls who got rather close to each other in K dorm. She said Palma said something like, “How could you do that shit on my shift? That’s sick!” Carolyn said the bi ones are the ones that usually react like that, and Madeline’s no reliable source of information.

Monday said she was nearly fired last May for nearly beating someone up. Palma does have a very aggressive streak in her.

If she does like me, she has a very strange way of showing it what with the way she’s played musical cells with me. Carolyn said that her bouncing me around may delay me from going back to M because it’s those who have been in the same cell here the longest that tend to go first, she says, and not who’s been in Ad-Seg for the longest, like I had thought. On the other hand, though, she moves a lot of people around, so I don’t know what to think.

Maybe she respects me for standing up to her. Maybe that’s it. Three times I yelled at her and got away with it. She could’ve written me up or done something. Then again, all I really did was swear and bitch. It’s not like I threatened to kill her. Even so, from what I’ve seen, Palma’s the wrong one to go off on. Why I got away with it is a mystery to me.

Later, once I’d gotten settled in here, I apologized for going off on her. “You’re OK, babe,” she said. It didn’t hit me till later that she used the word babe, and I asked Carolyn if she heard her say that, which she did.

Another thing that stuck in my mind was how weird I thought it was for her to say, “I’d never send you there,” when I thanked her for not sending me to M the day she put me in with Ruby. I could’ve sworn she either said that, or “I wouldn’t send you there.”

Again, I don’t know what to think. It’s nice to think that someone you like might like you back, but I can’t say for sure what’s going through her mind. There’s something there, though. It seems that ever since I gave her that card, things have changed between us, and I’ve been getting a lot more attention from her, even if most of it isn’t in a great way, and even though she’s still not very friendly overall. I must admit that as pretty as she is, there’s nothing about her personality that really grabs me. She may know two languages, but other than that, I get the feeling she’s probably pretty dumb.

A part of me doesn’t want to know if she likes me or not, as much as I’m curious, because then there’d be no fun in guessing and wondering, which is fun to do. I like playing detective games and trying to figure things out. I don’t have anything much better to do here, anyway.

Nottelmann said she’d put me in Alex’s cell if it’s not taken when she returns Thursday. If he left today, like I’m pretty sure he did, it’ll be taken long before Thursday. Thursday I’m going to try to get her to put me back with Rosa and Tina. The only problem with that is that Palma will bounce me back out.

Rosa and Tina are not happy to have Ruby for a celly, although they like her. Ruby showers only once a week and has a yeast infection that makes her stink like hell. She finally showered today. I remember how she stunk, though Rosa’s a stinker, too.

There are a couple of funny things I forgot to mention from when I was with Rosa and Tina. I wrote the Spanish word pared down, which means wall. Then I told Rosa, “Me voy a pregunta Tina al leer esta palabra” (I’m going to ask Tina to read this word). She pronounced it paired, just like I knew she would. Rosa and I got quite a kick out of that one!

Then I told Tina to tell Palma dame un beso (give me a kiss), but Tina said she doubted she could remember that and that she didn’t trust what I was telling her to tell her.

Gee, I wonder why? It was still worth the try!

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2000 A101

Took a long, 4-hour nap. I must’ve been exhausted.

I have a lot to update on. Not even an hour after giving Nottelmann that note, Palma rolled me back to 107 and told Ruby to go to 101. I was both shocked and psyched. Tina and I were hugging, Rosa practically picked me up off the ground as she hugged me, and we were all glad I was “home” again.

I had just gotten my shit set up when in came Palma to tell me she was swapping me and Ruby. I was pissed and I totally went off on her, asking her why the fuck she was doing this to me and that if she had a fucking problem with me, she could just come out and say so.

Then she tells me not to give her any shit and that someone fucked up the roster and she was trying to fix it (how the hell I got away with cussing her out, beats me!). I guess she swapped us because Ruby’s max, and so are Rosa and Tina. Because I’m medium, I was put in with other mediums.

Anyway, as I was heading towards 101, I asked Palma if they were crazy. She said they weren’t, and that I probably knew them.

Well, I’ve never met Carolyn P and Marian M before, but at least they aren’t crazy. Just rude. They have no respect for those that are sleeping. Especially Monday, as she likes to be called. The only way I can get any sleep in here is if one of them is asleep while I’m asleep. If not, they talk to each other without bothering to lower their voices. They don’t even try to be quieter.

They’re both in for drugs and both are ugly. Carolyn’s 39 and Monday’s 43, and because she’s older, I’m sure that means she’ll be talking a lot, especially to herself. She gave Carolyn and I Christmas cards she got from tank orders. That’s premature. It was still nice of her, though.

Although gently, Carolyn’s been trying to push Jesus on me. I was shocked to find she has a boyfriend. She’s very butchy looking with boring short hair.

This is the 13th time I’ve been moved, and if I haven’t lost count, I’ve had 13 cellies now, too. Ruby, Carolyn and Monday say all I have to do is ask a shrink for closed custody and they’ll give it to me. Yeah, right! And I suppose they’ll give me a million dollars too, if I ask for it. God would never let me escape all these people, but you can bet your ass I’m still going to try!

Tom finally heard from someone – the bar association. They said to take it back to court. In other words, they don’t give a shit and they aren’t going to do anything about it.

During our visit, he signed a sentence – the rat and mouse ate cheese. He’s learning! I had to correct him a couple of times, but I needed correcting at times myself when I was first learning. Those illustrations can be tricky to comprehend.

He told me the rats were biting him and acting out. Harry ran into the bedroom while Houdini ran the opposite way and climbed up inside the couch.

I showed him how I lost enough weight to finally trade in my large pants for mediums. They’ve been feeding us shit lately! I can’t wait for tomorrow’s commissary. Our Christmas dinner was no different than any other. Tom said he wasn’t surprised, seeing that Christmas is a religious holiday and Thanksgiving is more of a generic one.

Monday’s got court tonight and Monday’s got it January 2nd. Then within 10 days, she’ll be DOC’d out of here.

I got pretty PO’d at this totally rude DO on my way to my visit who was doing escort. I’d have grieved him if I’d known his name, but I didn’t catch it (I later learned it was Bergman). I forgot to tuck my shirt in and he told me to and I did. That’s where the bald mother-fucker should’ve dropped it. Instead, the little fuck had to add that he was two seconds away from canceling my visit. That’s two seconds away from dealing with my wrath he would’ve been too, if he had canceled it, because that wouldn’t have been my loss only but Tom’s, too. That would’ve been so rude to do to Tom and so unfair to him too, after taking the time to come and see me. And over tucking in a fucking shirt! If he’d canceled it, I don’t think I’d have been able to keep from losing it on the sack of snot. How dare he threaten me! What? Do some of these DOs think they’re God just because they’re the DOs and we’re the inmates? This one can bend it backward and shove it up his ass! Sometimes I find myself wishing I didn’t have visits or commissary to lose because if I had nothing to lose, I’d have kicked many sets of teeth down many throats by now.

I thought I noticed more gray in Tom’s hair. A twinge of guilt crept over me when I saw this. And anger and sadness, too. Imagine all the gray hair I’ll have when I get out!

Carolyn and Monday have been good (so far) with not begging. They haven’t even asked to use my radio. I’ll have a total of 15 envelopes if all goes well. I’ll have 6 from Tina after I get her candy bar and pop tarts, 6 from Monday for 2 brownies and corn nuts, and 3 from Carolyn for 1 candy bar.

Carolyn and I were talking about diet and exercise and she said that if you build muscle underneath the fat, rather than lose the fat first, you won’t lose the fat. That’s what happened to me. But then she said that a good 3-4 months of eating 3 grapefruits a day will peel the outer layer of fat off. That outer layer of fat, though, is being peeled off really well, thanks to Estrella Jail and the freeloaders who put me here.

Black Johnson worked 2nd shift, and I said jokingly, “Hey, you wanna pass a kite for me?”

“Yeah, right,” she said.

We’re not supposed to pass kites to each other, so we have to do it behind the DO’s backs. Rosa had a kite made up for me with lipstick kisses which I got during the 5 minutes I was back there before Palma bounced me down here.

Speaking of kites, I got another medical one to go in for my inhaler/snot spray. I’m scheduled for an eye exam but haven’t heard about my prescriptions yet.

Oh, I hate this shit! I’m so sick of having to fight for things no one should have to fight for. At least we have hot showers and even the air temperature’s warmer. How long will it last, though?

Got two letters from Tom today, mostly mentioning how the rats bite him and misbehave. He enclosed a picture of Harry, saying he’s getting to look like Vanilla Belly. I couldn’t see his belly, but I thought he was a spitting image of Scuttles with the dark brown fur and white paws. He says mellow Harry’s turned into a hyper, rebellious thing.

He says he hasn’t been able to get any info on Rosa yet. The court website’s been down.

He also says he’s holding off on the governor and senator’s letters till he talks to a lawyer. He thinks a lawyer would cost $300–$400, but I think it’d cost more than that. His mom, God bless her, may have to help us.

Why don’t we just open up “The Freeloader Account?” Why don’t we just pay her regularly for the rest of our lives? In a sense, we’ll probably have to anyway.

Carolyn and Monday had the very unfortunate curse of having crazy Melinda for a celly for 3 days till she went back to M. They said they prayed for someone like me. I’m glad God answered their prayers. Now how about mine?

Set me free, God!

Carolyn was telling me the DOs record our daily behavior in detail, but I don’t see how they can be that detailed when 95% of the time they don’t glance in at us for longer than a second. Sometimes not at all.

Yuck! This cell is starting to reek of bad breath (they’re asleep). Commissary needs to start selling room deodorizers.

As I’ve said before, I plan to type these rough drafts up when I leave here and make a little book. My Estrella Jail Nightmare was the only thing I could think of for a title. Then Carolyn came up with Why Am I Here? Again, I know why I’m here. I’m here because something up there hates me and wants to screw me over.

Carolyn thinks I should publish it to let folks know exactly what goes on here, and when I told her what a bitch it is to get something published, she recommended I sell it at a consignment shop.

I don’t think so.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2000 So now it’s Christmas. Another thing the freeloaders have stolen from me, even if all we would’ve done was stay home. Still, I should be home with my husband! Not here on account of this shit!

What goes around comes around. Wouldn’t that rule apply to non-whites as well as whites? I hope so!

Although Ruby’s quite immature for a 40-year-old and can bore me to death with stories of her drug days, she is quiet most of the time. She sleeps and reads a lot.

She was kind enough to loan me her sharp pencil since mine are all blunt. I’m buying her three 55¢ packs of cookies and a 25¢ chic-o-stick in exchange for 8 envelopes. That’s an awesome trade.

I was beginning to think Ruby would never go to bed so I could shit in private! She read two whole books today. I wish I could concentrate on reading hour after hour like she does. Because we slept late, we were up late. I probably won’t crash till after breakfast. I also took a nap yesterday afternoon, too.

Tina passed me a kite earlier through the girl on her hour out, telling me they’re thinking of me, be strong, don’t cry, and Merry Christmas to both Ruby and I.

I’m sure it’s just eye strain due to stress and poor lighting, but I’ve been having a little trouble seeing. So I put in a request to get my eyes checked. It only costs a few bucks, so what the hell? Ruby said I ought to get the kind of contacts where I could have a different eye color every day. Now that sounds awesome. But my eyes aren’t that bad, they’re probably expensive, and I couldn’t imagine having the guts to stick my eyes with contacts.

We’re about an hour away from 2nd shift. I hope Palma’s on.

We didn’t get anything special for breakfast or lunch. I hope they feed us well at dinner. I hope it’s chicken with some kind of dessert. We haven’t had desserts in a while. If it’s chicken, Ruby said I could have hers because she hates chicken.

Ruby’s been asleep for about 12 hours now. Most of the time I feel like I’m alone. Of course she’s a good celly – it’s only temporary. She stinks and has bad breath, though. In fact, I turned myself around on my bed. Before, our heads were barely more than a foot apart.

Although it’s nothing serious, Ruby does talk to herself a little bit. I noticed that it’s the older ones who’ve done more time that tend to talk to themselves more.

They finally got nail clippers, although they’re pretty blunt.

According to Tina, her shower water was hot. That’s nice. I spoke to both her and Rosa on my hour out. I also called Tom who said he’s going to stop by Mom’s tomorrow, got bit by Houdini, and is going to hire a lawyer. If this lawyer doesn’t get me out of here before April, nothing will. This is our last resort.

Ruby agrees with me – my PO isn’t ignoring Tom and I because of the holidays. She’s ignoring us because she’s every bit as bad as I vibed she’d be. She’s just a bitch who doesn’t give a shit. I hear so many people say how cool their POs are, well, I’ll never get one of those. I just know I won’t.

I forgot to mention something pretty funny Rosa did to Tina before I came over here. Tina was standing at the door talking to someone with her hands clasped behind her back, holding her toothbrush. She’d just finished brushing her teeth when Rosa reached for her toothpaste and put some on the toothbrush! It was sooo funny!

The only thing I don’t miss about being with them is that Tina’s so desperate for chatter. She’s not very independent at all. This constant need for chatter brings people to the door, and when they get to gabbing loudly, it really annoys the fuck out of me. I wouldn’t feel like I was alone right now if I were in with them. They’d be up wanting to talk, and Tina practically forces me to play interpreter for her so she and Rosa can chat, whether or not I’m in the mood. I’d still rather do the rest of my time with them, though, even though she smothers me and gets on my nerves at times, but I know it ain’t about to happen.

Yes! Palma and Nottelmann are on!

I just heard someone ask someone which DOs were on and they didn���t like the answer. They said that when Palma’s on, they get moved. Yeah, Palma does like to play musical cells. Almost every time a 3rd celly has come into whatever cell I’m in, they’re put there by Palma. Who’s Palma going to put in here tonight? Ruby says she won’t put anyone in here. Then she’ll move me instead.

Damn! Ruby’s going to end up being up while I’m asleep and I don’t know if I like that idea.

I’ve got a note on lined paper for Nottelmann about letting me go back to 107, or at least not putting me in a 4-man cell if I must be shipped back to M.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2000 A105

It’s about midnight now, and I’m now 2 doors down from Rosa and Tina with Ruby S. Tina knows her from prison. Ruby’s tolerable. She talks a lot like most inmates do, but she also reads a lot, too. Even so, I miss Rosa and even Tina the bitch!

Ruby is of average height and weight with brown hair and hazel eyes.

I got the shit scared out of me at first. I had gotten really depressed and had Tina ask Palma to pull me to chat with me, which would’ve helped cheer me up. I wasn’t comfortable with asking her myself. So Palma said she would when she got the chance, but she was so busy.

A little later she glanced in at me, then the next thing I know, she’s telling Tina and I to roll up over the intercom! I’m like, now? I knew one of us would get Melinda’s bed, and the other would be in the lower 4-man cell (probably me with my shit luck).

Then Palma said, “No, not you W. S, roll up.”

I refused to go over there, so two other girls got shipped over there instead.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Tina and I calmed a teary Rosa, who was all upset over nearly losing me. But then on our hour out, Palma told me I was going to 105. Why she picked me out of the 3 of us beats me, but I guess I’m here because Ruby’s an epileptic who needs to have someone with her, not that it should be my responsibility. Ruby’s going to general pop on Wednesday or Thursday, so Rosa, Tina and I are going to fight to get me back in with them then.

When I thanked Palma for not moving me to M, she said she’d never move me there.

What did she mean by that?

This cell is not as private because it’s right in front of the tower, but I can still pee without anyone in the tower seeing me. Ruby doesn’t have her vents blocked, yet oddly enough, it’s warmer in here.

Right after 5 of us grieved the cold showers, it was warm, but I know it won’t last.

Palma was in a wicked bad mood. I told her that Nancy D, this girl who has the hots for me, was willing to cell with Ruby, and explained why me and Rosa didn’t want to be separated, but she was like - nope. I already made up my mind, G needs to learn English, etc. I had no way of knowing at the time why Palma really moved me. At least, why I think she moved me, anyway. I’m pretty sure, looking back on it now, that she realized she was beginning to like me and was jealous of me being friends with Rosa.

Although Rosa and I are closer and have more in common, Tina and I have come to care for each other, even though we argue like Madeline and I used to. Ruby says Madeline’s gone to GP.

Kim turned out to be pretty two-faced, telling Ruby I was a whiny bitch, not that that wasn’t true at times, but what? Was Miss Tough Stuff too afraid to tell me this to my face? She’d always brag about how tough she was. Well obviously she wasn’t, or else she’d have had the balls to tell me this to my face.

Anyway, Palma and I never really talked because so much was going on. And maybe she just didn’t care, either. When she was doing a walk I said, “You really hate me, huh?” and she said she didn’t hate anybody. I told her I didn’t mean to give her a hard time, although as I explained to her, playing musical cells and bunkies really affects my nerves, and she said I wasn’t giving her a hard time. I commented about her being in as bad a mood as I was in (she was swearing, as usual), but she said it was just a busy night.

At one point, I really got PO’d when she was ordering us to lock down, and in a loud, snotty voice I yelled, “You know, it would really help if you’d open the fucking door!” (Ruby’s door was locked)

Then she said, “Not you. Them” (Rosa and Tina).

Then she had the DO in the tower pop 105 for me. I’m surprised she didn’t go off on me for yelling at her.

I asked if she got other Christmas cards from other inmates and she said she got quite a few. I was both shocked and a bit disappointed to hear this. I had hoped to surprise her by being the only one. I told Ruby I was surprised she’d get so many cards due to how many people think she’s a bitch. This is when Ruby explained to me that some people like that and that the meaner a DO is, the cooler they think they are. Well, Palma may look really good, but she sure can be a bitch!

It’s about 1 PM now, and yes, Ruby’s a good celly. That’s because she sleeps so much. She’s been sleeping for over 12 hours now. She may be up later to drive me crazy with non-stop chatter. Still, I want back in with Rosa and Tina!

Crazy Melinda’s out on her hour, doing what she did yesterday – begging, singing, and being totally weird and obnoxious.

I was surprised that Helen’s card took only a day to get to me. I’d think it’d be delayed because of the holidays, but since it wasn’t, I won’t wait till after the 1st like I was going to before I mail journal pages. It’s all local, anyway.

Helen sent a Christmas card saying she hasn’t forgotten me, she’s just been busy. That was really nice of her.

I wonder if Palma moved me here because she was worried I’d hurt myself or something because I was awfully teary-eyed yesterday and this cell’s right in front of the tower.

I just saw and waved to Rosa who’s outside the pod waiting for an escort to take her to visitation. Crazy Melinda started talking to her through the window and I signaled Rosa to let her know she was crazy. Melinda saw me motioning, came up to the door, asked if she could get me anything, then said, “Oh, it’s you,” then turned and walked away.

Whatever.

Last night when we were out on our hour before I moved in with Ruby, I called and bitched to Tom. I was so overwhelmed, I told him. The water’s cold, the air’s cold, I want my retainers, and I want everyone to stop ignoring our calls/letters. He still thinks I’ll be released early, but I don’t see it.

Now I’ve got Ruby telling me there’s a reason for all this shit, and that if I find out what it is - and I may never find out - it might not be till the end of my sentence.

I know why I’m here, goddamnit!

Even Tina talked to him, letting him know about rule 32.

Rosa was crying too, and Tom said to be strong for Rosa, who wrote me a little note of inspiration right before I moved.

I am now able to understand Rosa more and more when she talks at her normal speed. I’m finding the need less and less to tell her to slow down.

In my last envelope to Tom, I enclosed a hot dog coupon for him.

As much as I would never want to be pals on the outs with these inmates (except for Rosa), it’s really cool how you can tell them anything and they won’t freak out. Everyone I’ve ever celled with knows I like Palma, and it’s no problem. They’re either gay or bi themselves or have been around so many of them that it doesn’t faze them.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2000 Rosa, Tina and I had a nice talk earlier and I did a lot of interpreting. Gosh, I know a lot of Spanish! All the talking made my lungs tight, though, and Rosa whacked my back. Yeah, I would really rather stay here with these two, than be with someone I may not like in M. We talked mostly about Rosa’s case. At this point, I really believe it was an accident, and kids do fall all the time.

The crazy black bitch was out bitching about all those white inmates that call her names. You’re going to have a hard life as a black chick in this world if you gotta pitch a fit every time you get called a name. That’s part of being a black bitch, bitch, so get used to it or stop treating people like shit!

I asked a trustee who I know lives in the tents if Rule’s still there. Once in a while, she said. She usually works in the men’s tents. Yuck!

I said Pérez was the friendliest DO, but Chambers is just as friendly. It’s too bad she’s not on more often.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2000 It’s about midnight now. I just took a dump (perfect time to do it too, if you want a little privacy – when your cellies are sleeping). I just hope Rosa’s sleeping at night won’t mean she’ll be up during the day tomorrow. I doubt it, though. She needs to catch up on her sleep. At least I know that if she, Tina, or both were up when I was asleep, they’d be more considerate than Lora and Madeline. Speaking of Madeline, I’ll have to thank her for my birthday card when I see her and let her know I miss our nightly squabbles, although I don’t miss celling with her.

Nottelmann’s a cool DO, but it’ll be interesting to see just how cool she is. Will she really put me in a small cell? And with Rosa? The DOs may feel I’d be doing them a favor by putting us together, so I could interpret when DOs were on that didn’t speak Spanish. I know the trustee, who asked for Rosa’s size for her court clothes, and the DO (whoever she was) that were on late last night, were very grateful I could help with the Spanish.

I wonder why M’s Ad-Seg and juvi pods are so small compared to A’s? A has 15 per pod and M has 5 per pod.

I was thinking about what Tom said about the economy being bad. Well, what if we’re forced to sell a house we can’t possibly sell? And certainly not fast enough to meet their ludicrous demands! Am I going to be forced back into an apartment in the city? We couldn’t afford rent on top of the mortgage, but nobody cares and this city wants me back!!!

Got up sort of late today. That’s because I couldn’t fall back asleep after breakfast, and when I would start to, something would wake me up. I decided to get daily vitamin packs from commissary in case the month after month of sleeping only a few hours here and a few hours there catches up to me and gets me sick.

I put in a medical tank for refills on both my inhaler and allergy spray, but I don’t know if I’ll get lucky enough to get them again in just a few days. I heard one girl say it took her 4 weeks just to get a refill on an inhaler.

I also grieved the cold water and freezing air again. This may be jail, but we’re not animals and we shouldn’t have to live like them! Why do we have to fight for things we should have anyway? I’m sick of this hell hole! And sick of being forced to interact with these people day in and day out, too!

I have a strong feeling I’m going to M Dorm within the next few days (and I’ll lose my commissary again, too), but not with Rosa. I think if I really do go to a small cell, it’ll be with Tina. Better than Melinda, but not as good as Rosa. Nottelmann mentioned me possibly going to Alex’s cell, but that’s upstairs, so Rosa couldn’t go there too, being pregnant. Why Madeline was ever upstairs, beats me. Maybe they moved her by now.

Speaking of crazy Melinda, she’s here now. I saw her on the phone earlier. Tina said she’s seen her 4-pointed, naked to a bed here. She must’ve gone on another suicidal rampage or was run out of her cell. It’d be funny if she were in with the bunk-banger.

That was a shitty dinner. Two boring hot dogs, potato salad, zucchini and bread.

Ruby, this woman who’d been in M in the big cell with Kim and Lisa for a long time, is here now, too. She got fed up with Kim and Lisa and was sick of listening to the AB talk. Especially since her grandkids are part Mexican. Lisa’s leaving Monday and I guess Kim’s leaving on the 1st. I have a strong feeling I’ll be moved over to M Dorm by New Year’s, but I’ll tell you one thing for sure – I’m not going in a big cell. I’d rather stay here if that were my only choice. Tina doesn’t think we’ll cell together in M. I have mixed emotions about that one. She’s quiet and sane compared to some of the others, but she can be a moody bitch. Earlier, she was getting on me for bitching about the things that bother me in jail, yet why do others always have to accommodate her? She wants others to be like her, and as I told her, she’s going to have to meet me halfway if she’s going to cell with me. She’s also turning into a beggar. I want to strangle her at times!

There’s another crazy one next to us, Danielle, who’s dying of AIDS. She was a hooker who killed one of her johns with her AIDS. She never told the guy what she had. To me, even though what she did was wrong, the guy kind of asked for it, being dumb enough to screw a hooker without protection. She’s been calm since we’ve been next to her, but she’s taken many screaming and banging fits herself.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2000 It’s still freezing in here and I know that means the water will be, too. Although, last night they had the water off for a while, claiming they were working on pipes, but I don’t know if it was to fix the hot water. I never heard anyone working on anything, so it could’ve been because I grieved, but I don’t know. We’ll find out when we have our hour out.

Today the reality and finality of the fact that I won’t be getting out of here sooner really hit and sunk in. We did all we could do. Tom says it’s not right, not fair, but that’s why I’m here. Because life isn’t fair. If it were fair, the freeloaders would be the ones suffering and I’d be living my life. Something up there obviously wants me here and feels I deserve this shit.

Anyway, bad things have a way of happening to some of us who try to change the way things are, so I asked Tom to drop it. He tried to help me, I appreciate it, and now it’s time to accept reality, like it or not.

Nobody cares. Nobody. No one’s responded to any of his phone calls/letters. I knew they wouldn’t, too. And getting a PO in the area we live in won’t change a damn thing, either. Tom says getting a PO out of Maricopa will help because they’ll know and understand how remote we are. But they won’t care. They’ll still order us to move. Again, something wants me in the city! I’m just not going to be allowed to be a country girl. I asked Tom if he had any plans to get the house up for sale and he said now’s a horrible time for that what with the economy being so bad and the new president (George W. Bush). Well, what are we going to do if we’re forced to make a move we can’t even make?

A107

After dinner, Nottelmann moved the 3 of us downstairs on the very end under the stairs because of Rosa’s pregnancy. I like this cell better because it’s more private from the tower, and I��m thrilled to get away from that fucking crazy bunk-basher!

Loca’s not Ad-Seg because she went to court with other people.

I got so pissed at Loca last night for banging like she does as soon as she can’t get her way, and I got pissed at Tina too, and nearly beat the snot out of her. Thank God I didn’t, though, because I’d be riddled with guilt. As she said, she’s never hit me, no matter what I said to her, so I have no business hitting her, as long as she isn’t trying to harm me.

Anyway, she got on my ass for threatening Loca, as much as she drives her crazy too, and for calling the crazy bitch names as much as she hates blacks, too. The reason it set me off was that to me, it was one more person lecturing me and telling me what to do and how to be. After she got me calmed down, I realized she was only trying to help, explaining that name-calling is childish, and threats don’t help, either.

Tina suggested I try to get psych to close custody me and maybe mention it to Kara, but I just don’t see why they’d give a damn. All they’d do, I’d think, was offer me drugs. I just might take them in here, too!

Nottelmann said she thinks Alex is leaving on Christmas. That’d be great if Rosa and I could be in a 2-man cell till I leave! But I highly doubt that.

The pencil sharpener broke after getting 3 pencils sharpened, but at least I got some sharpened.

The shower was hot for me, but cold by the time Tina got in it. Then it warmed up again for the next girl out. As usual, Rosa didn’t shower.

Next is my fight for nail clippers. Although if I’m over in M soon, where there are no trustees to steal them, I may not have much of a fight.

Just to see what kind of a response I’d get, I put in a tank order about my retainers to the captain, like that night shift guy with retainers suggested. I’m sure, though, they’ll tell me I can’t have them.

God, I feel like a child with a million parents telling me what to do!

It’s about 9:15 now, from what I heard, and it’s freezing!

The crazy black bitch went off on a white girl who was out on her hour. This is one crazy mother-fucker!

Rosa and Tina are asleep. Tina normally crashes early, and Rosa’s tired because she had a long day in court. Good. Now I have the whole night to myself, in a sense. I’m going to read, exercise, listen to the radio and write, although I really don’t have much to write about.

Tom couldn’t look up info on Rosa yet, because he forgot her last name. Hopefully, he can tell me more next Tuesday.

He asked me if I thought I’d want him to open my Christmas gifts for me or wait till I come home and let me do it. I let him know he can tell me what I got. I’ll want to know about it if I got a doll. I’d want a picture of it, too.

Harry bit Tom badly. What is it with him clashing with rodents? He said he reached in to put food by Houdini, and Harry ran across the cage, grabbed his finger with his paws, and bit him! I had to laugh at him about it, of course.

“How cute,” Palma said when I gave her the Christmas card through the trap, then she asked why they moved us downstairs. I told her, and she thanked me for the card.

I was pleasantly surprised by her reaction! I was worried I’d offend her or that it wouldn’t be allowed, but what could she do anyway? Throw me in jail? I thought there was a slight chance, though, that she’d tell me it was inappropriate, she couldn’t accept it, never do that again, and so on and so forth. I’ll bet I’m the only one who made her a card, too. Most people hate Palma. She’s a real stricty.

Tina kind of likes me, but she’s harmless. No, she’s not my type. She may be over 30, but I don’t do druggies, and I don’t normally like blondes and light eyes, either. When Kim first told me that 90% of these inmates are gay or bi, I thought she was exaggerating, but there does seem to be an awful lot of them.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2000 Right on again with the vibes – Rosa is pregnant. And she won’t do the right thing either and abort it, or at least give it up for adoption. She’s being selfish and cruel to that kid if you ask me, but I still love my buddy and I know it has to be her decision. But if she has that kid, that’s going to be one more person for her to have to miss and worry about, and imagine how that poor kid’s going to feel with its mother in jail or maybe even in prison for years and years!

Maybe Tina’s right when she guessed that maybe it was an accident due to neglect, so God’s blessed her with this kid, and she’s going to get out of here soon enough but I doubt it. Things don’t usually work out that well, and God’s not a very sympathetic God.

The craziest black bitch I ever met lives just a few doors down. It goes back and forth between screaming about the devil and singing in a voice that sounds more like it’s whining or even yelling at times.

The older lady next to us, who’s also Ad-Seg, seems to be as hyper as Melinda which would make me seem like I’m in a coma, but Tina said she seemed normal when they spoke. Yeah well, I don’t know if I’d trust Tina’s definition of the word normal.

I’m glad Rosa lent Tina her radio when she went on her legal visit. That way I can write without Tina’s non-stop mouth going.

I asked Tom yesterday, and he says I have no fines or restitution to pay. But how can he know for sure everything will be OK when I get out before talking to the PO? He said he’ll explain it to me when I get out. I can’t wait to hear this one!

I couldn’t even take a shower today because the water was so cold. I grieved the cold water and air temperature. I miss the boiling 110-degree days I used to bitch about. I’m sick of the never-ending cold in this fucking place. Jails are miserably freezing!

I hope Palma’s on tonight, but if not, she should be on tomorrow.

I heard the crazy black bitch shout really loud to someone about singing for hours because all the white inmates call her names or some shit like that. Then on her hour out, while I was listening to music, Tina said she was reciting my name and birth date from my ID card that’s in the door before running off to yell at other people. What? Is she going around getting the names of everyone who’s white? Why isn’t this loony tune in a funny farm?!

Tina made air freshener, or tried to, by mixing shampoo, water and bits of deodorant in an empty spray pump bottle.

Got a Chanukah card from Mom, Mary and Dave. It was nice and I wrote them back. I even sent Bob a letter just for the hell of it. I’m curious to see if I get a response. I wonder if he’s still alive. I think he’s due to get out in ‘06. He ain’t getting our PO Box address, though.

I’m still not sure what to make of Rosa, whose lawyer says she may have many years to do. I may not want my own kid like I did years ago, but the thought of a possible baby killer makes my blood boil. How can God allow it?! So many people are quick to be against abortion, yet they don’t realize just how much better off a lot of these kids would be if they didn’t exist. I wish I had been aborted, even though my parents had money and were never in jail.

It’s still hard for me to picture Rosa deliberately killing a kid. One thing’s for sure, though – it’s no myth when they say Hispanics are filthy and lazy. We have to coax her into doing her share of the sweeping and mopping, and she stinks because she goes days without showering. They really are filthy. They don’t like clean. Not clean things, not clean bodies, not clean anything.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2000 Saw Tom today. True to my vibes, he still hasn’t heard anything from the PO or bar association. He still believes I’ll get an early kick-out, but I’m rapidly losing hope. “Is that pessimism or vibes?” he asked me.

“Logic,” I told him.

He says Mary says she sent me a letter. Hope I get it today.

He also said Houdini scared him by standing up, along with the hairs on his neck, as if to attack him when he was trying to get him to go home one night. He said he really thought he was going to get him good and he had to get the tube, put cheese in it, and bring him home in that.

He said all he’s heard around the house is one engine-gunning spree, but no music. That’s because I’m not there. Either way, that place could never get a fraction of the noise that’s in this place.

As much as I want out of here, if there’s anything better about this place than Valleyhead and Brattleboro, it’s that they don’t run you ragged from 7 AM to 10 PM and you can be up and about all night listening to music, writing, or reading. They also let you have a few visits a week here and order all the junk food you could possibly want. Also, I know when I’m getting out of here, but I never knew when I’d get out of the other places till shortly before I did.

So far, Officer Palma is the best-looking DO, Pérez is the friendliest, and Rule was the most helpful.

Believe it or not, I started to fall asleep after dinner and then jogged in place to 5 songs, but people yelling and Rosa’s crying woke me up. Rosa and I both had our homesick spells.

It’s amazing how I can sleep here. For the most part, anyway, and keep a schedule, even if it’s one I’m not used to.

Tina told me about an inmate who had her computer genius boyfriend change her release date. Wish Tom could do that for me! She got caught, though, and got 3 years for it. It’s impossible to destroy or alter all the records, anyway, because they keep stuff on paper too, and not just electronically.

Loca next door has switched from bunk-banging to begging. I’d rather her beg for food she’s not going to get, than bash the doors and walls on and off like she does.

Tina was a major sucker on our hour out, letting herself be used by all the beggars. I’d never be anyone’s slave like that! I’d tell them to take care of their own shit on their own timeout. I can see a favor here and a favor there, but there were 3 or 4 of them demanding half a dozen things.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2000 Commissary came without any problems and Rosa got a lot of stuff too, including a radio. Since Christmas and New Year’s Day just have to fall on Mondays, commissary will be the following Wednesdays instead.

I made Palma a Christmas card. I drew a candy cane on the front and wrote: Merry Christmas. Inside on the left, I wrote: Hey Palma, you’re a good singer and a cool DO! On the right, in Spanish, I wrote: Merry Christmas & Happy New Year. Then I signed my name and wrote: Yes, I promise to behave.

As funny as it may sound, it’d really piss me off if I had gotten a 2 for 1. It’d be so frustrating knowing I could cut my time in half if only I could sleep and keep a schedule in the tents!

Unbeknownst to Tina, Rosa swiped a razor. We use it for our underarms only. I’m going to wait till I get out of here before I bother shaving my legs. I’d rather do that at home in a nice hot shower. Besides, no one sees my legs here, anyway.

Rosa showed me a couple of things. I was telling her I had no easy way of exercising my biceps in this place, and she showed me how she pushes with one arm against the other as you curl it upward. That gives you a little resistance.

She also showed me some nice designs for Palma’s card, since I didn’t really want to get into drawing. Not with these pencils and having no color. I did use Tina’s brown eyeliner pencil on parts of it, though. Tina never uses it. I guess some girl left it here. Also, the card is very small. I used the bottom half of the plain white paper my deposit info was on to make it.

I jogged in place with my radio clipped to me to half a dozen songs or so to burn all these extra calories. I’m beginning to doubt I’ll lose any more weight. Not with this weekly commissary.

When I looked at my calendar and saw how many days were crossed off, as opposed to those that weren’t, I burst out crying. It was so depressing. I’ve done barely a quarter of my time and I know I’m not getting out sooner. It’s just a feeling I have. No one gives a shit that I was fucked over by fucked up people within a fucked up system.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 17, 2000 Another day of Rosa not shedding one tear for her dead baby. I love Rosa; she’s been a great friend, making me smile and laugh throughout the night, but there are a couple of things that say she could be guilty. One is her lack of sadness, and two is that she thinks she’s pregnant. If she is guilty of more than neglect, then she probably is pregnant because that’s totally something God would do – watch a woman kill her child, then reward her with another one. God dumps kids on murderers all the time. So knowing they have kids like rabbits, and seeing her only cry a few times, leads me to believe there’s a possibility she could be guilty, though I still doubt it. The times she’s cried were over visits when most of us cry anyway, including myself, because we miss our loved ones and our homes. Who knows, though? Maybe it was neglect or maybe the husband’s the guilty one. Or maybe it’s just a case of denial or maybe she feels crying will only make it worse and harder to deal with.

Fucking Misery’s on today. Everyone hates Misery. She’s as by-the-book as Palma and worse. They call her Misery because she not only brings misery to those she encounters but also because of her resemblance to this character in the Stephen King movie Misery.

First I was woken up for breakfast, then our hour out which none of us wanted because it was barely 7 AM, then again when Misery came in to check the light and window. Then she tells us to take our pictures off the walls. I took my pictures down, but I intend to put them back up later.

At 35 years of age, I’m sick and fucking tired of being told what to do! My life is nothing but what everyone else but myself says I have to do or have to go or have to be. I even have to wear the clothes they say I have to wear, and I’m just so fucking fed up with being treated like a child! My life is never going to belong to me.

Fucking freeloaders, Paul, judge and pigs!!!

Palma’s on again tonight. That’s 3 nights this week!

It’s around 8:00 now and Tina’s gone to bed.

Palma was in a good mood, singing Christmas songs. In Spanish, I told her to sing Felíz Navidad, but she misunderstood me and thought I was wishing her a merry Christmas. “Gracías,” she said.

So on her next walk, I asked in English if she knew the song and would sing it, but she said (with a friendly smile) she didn’t know it. It was nice to see this serious gruff loosen up for a change. She opened the door, rather than the trap, when the trustee was serving dinner so I could get a better look at her.

Tina says Palma’s all masculine, but I disagree. Yes, she’s somewhat masculine, but to me, she’s feminine, too. Her hair’s feminine and she has gorgeous eyes. Nice smile, too. Only her nose isn’t very nice and she doesn’t have a great body either, although it’s really hard to see through her uniform. I don’t care so much about bodies as I do faces. I’m a face person because that’s what you see most of the time. I also don’t like ultra-feminine as much as I used to. I guess we lipstick lesbians, such as I’d be considered to be, really do prefer the bigger, stronger more masculine types that they can feel protected by.

Last night Rosa and I were playing this game where we’d put names to various globs of toothpaste under the upper bunks, depending on their shape.

If her commissary order goes through without any problems, she’ll have a radio tomorrow night. I hope she won’t always be singing to it when she gets hyped up (it’s bad enough dealing with her BO and bad breath)! Unlike most people, though, she’s usually pretty respectful when I’m trying to read or write.

I made a $23 order. I better get it, too!

In the afternoons, I can usually tell what time it is by where the slat of sunlight is on the wall. Someone apparently wrote the times in the different places the light hits, but of course, the angle will change with the seasons.

Just had my typical mid-cycle bleeding which goes on for a few hours. I’ll get another gush in about a week, the week before my period. My tits still get sore before periods, even without caffeine.

The black bitches were at each other’s throats again earlier. Screaming and threatening one another from their cells.

I went right along with the bitches, though, in yelling at Crazy next door when she was out on her hour. We brought her to tears, but I have no pity for her what with the way she behaves. Maybe she’ll learn something from this. In fact, she hasn’t gone bunk-banging at all today. It’s lessened since she got her meds, but as soon as she can’t get her way, the banging starts.

I flipped Misery off when she was in the tower. I’m pretty sure she saw me, but I don’t care either way. I’m sick of being told what to do. She never wrote me up, though. I guess sometimes they find it easier to ignore you and pretend they didn’t see or hear you do something you’re not supposed to do. It saves them a lot of paperwork.

Rosa and I both cried earlier. I hadn’t cried much since I last saw Tom, and I was laying on my bed crying for a while before Rosa realized I was crying, and hugged me, then began crying too, telling me to try not to be so sad so it doesn’t make me sick.

I’m just sooo homesick for Tom, the animals, the house, etc. Those freeloaders really stole my life, and my body, too. Because of them, I can’t cut my nails, take a shower when I want, etc. They own my whole life and my body, too. They robbed me of my husband, pets and home, and stole any control I may have had over my own body, too. This is one of those things we assume only happens to others. Only other people get framed, but never us!

I FUCKING HATE these sickos!!!!!!!!!!

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2000 When I see Tom Tuesday, I’ll have to remind him to call and cancel my dentist appointment that was to be on the 21st (the fucking freeloaders even control my teeth!), not that they won’t be expecting the call. Somebody there has to have heard about this shit.

Tina suggested I have Tom check into something called rule 32 time cut, but I’m sure it’ll be just another dead end.

Another thing is, she says the probation department’s main concern is the fees, and that the sooner you pay your fees, the sooner they’ll let you go. That, I find hard to believe, but it’s another thing I’ll mention to Tom.

It’s almost 9:00 and Tina’s getting ready to go to bed. Rosa and I will be up late.

We were looking through magazines and I found a cute picture of a squirrel. Well, Rosa found it for me. I’ll send it home to scan into the computer when I get home.

The first half of the day, which had to be while I was trying to sleep, was noisy. The black bitches were screaming their asses off. You got these bitches standing 5 feet apart, yet they still yell at the top of their lungs as if they were yards and yards apart or deafer than a doorknob. Crazy next door went Bunk-banging a few times, too.

I’m sick of having our hour out so damn early. Most of the time we have it between 7 – 9 AM. Can’t we have it in the afternoons or evenings for a change? We rarely ever do.

I’m still learning more Spanish words. My vocabulary is good, but my grammar needs work. I understand Rosa for the most part, but sometimes I have to have her speak slower, or write. Sometimes I can’t figure out what a certain word means, since I know most, but not all Spanish words, and it’s pretty challenging because I can’t ask her in English what a word means.

The Spanish alphabet isn’t pronounced like it is in English, so when I spell English words to Rosa, I have to say the letters so she can understand them.

Palma’s on tonight and her hair looks great. She has it in two French braids with her bangs pulled down in front. I like her better with bangs, rather than with her hair swept back off her forehead. She’s quite a looker! Rosa and Tina tease me about liking her (in a good-natured way, of course). Tina’s bi and Rosa’s straight.

I told Nottelmann the Santa joke Tina told me. Trying hard to suppress a laugh, she softly mumbled, “That’s wrong,” and walked off, making sure to keep a professional air about her. Hopefully, she repeated the joke to Palma. She probably did.

Tina says she’ll send a letter to our PO Box whenever she gets to the tents (she thinks she’ll end up there) to let me know if Rule’s still there. She may get there before I leave, so Tom will have to read the letter to me over the phone since inmates can’t write to each other. From what I gather, Rule’s been there since at least ‘96. I think she’ll be there between now and April so I can send her a thank you note when I get out.

I was absolutely dumbfounded to learn that commissary credited back the money for the order I never got on my birthday! I really didn’t think they’d own up to their mistake no matter how obvious it was.

With the exception of Tina, who wanted to hear my whole life story, I decided that when people ask, I’m just going to say I’m an only child whose parents were killed in a car crash. I’m sick of hearing how “fucked up” it is that I don’t talk to my folks when in truth it’d be fucked up if I did. Why would I want to associate with such mean, vindictive control freaks who’ve done nothing but lie to me and let me down, just because they created me? I don’t owe these people here, or anyone else for that matter, any explanations as to why I don’t talk to them. A lot of people just don’t get it. If they’ve got good, loving parents, they can’t understand. Madeline, who felt the need to lie to her mother and tell her she wanted an abortion when she really didn’t – now that’s fucked up. If you can’t be yourself and be honest with someone – that’s fucked up.

All’s quiet at the moment, but sometimes, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was in a psych hospital and not a jail.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2000 After being woken up for breakfast, then our hour out at 9:00, I was sleeping well till the fucking loud-mouthed black bitch woke me up – fucking MFing bitch! I’m still in the city, still being woken up by these subhuman pieces of shit! Even Rosa hates them because of how loud, obnoxious, rude, selfish, vicious, vindictive and spiteful they are, and this is before I even told her that they’re the reason I’m in this hell hole. So, I didn’t influence her opinion, is what I’m saying.

Rosa was arraigned today. She’s been asleep, so I’ll find out more later.

We spoke in Spanish a lot last night after Tina crashed while it was unusually quiet. We talked mostly about our homes, food and animals. She misses her home in Mexico and regrets coming to the US. I regret moving too, as much as I love our new home/land. I knew God would get me for escaping the city (or trying to). I just didn’t know the punishment would be this severe!

Second shift is on now. It looks like Palma’s not on, but Nottelmann is. Good. I need to pass that kite, as they call notes in this place, about trying to keep Rosa and I together.

Thank God Tina reads a lot so I don’t have to listen to her babbling, although I appreciate her getting me up for gown exchange this morning. Since I can’t exchange thermals here, I have to wash it in the shower.

I helped myself to one of Tina’s toothbrushes. I figured, oh well. She’s going to be getting indigent for quite a while; 1 toothbrush a week is more than she needs. She uses my shampoo and shit like that, so it’s not like we haven’t been sharing. Sharing is what this place is all about. I’ve given Rosa shampoo and lotion, too.

This week I’m getting Tina 2 candy bars for 6 envelopes.

Tina’s not too hard to live with. She’s better than crazy Melinda and loud-mouth Lora, but I also wouldn’t miss her if we were no longer cellies.

It’s late evening and Tina and I actually had fun talking with each other, swapping stories about our lives, both good and bad. She kept wanting to chat, saying I was no fun after getting my radio, so I said – what the hell? It wouldn’t hurt to entertain her for a while. It actually felt good to bitch about life, even if that’s all I ever do lately. Tina had her share of sob stories to tell, too. Like the time she hitchhiked and was raped in a field by two guys 20 years ago.

I didn’t know this till today, but she told me she felt neglected (I guess you could say a little jealous, too) when Rosa first joined us and we hit it off and were always having fun gabbing in Spanish. It’s a good feeling to know that if it weren’t for me, Rosa would have a much harder time here, just like I would’ve if it hadn’t been for Kim.

Tina told me a good joke: Why doesn’t Santa have any kids? Because he only cums once a year, and that’s down the chimney.

Dinner was one of the most filling dinners I’ve had here. It was chicken, cabbage, lettuce, potato salad, bread and ice cream.

I worry that they may try to force me to pay more than just the standard $40-a-month probation fee. According to Tina, they really rip you off blind, and make you pay restitution fees, too. How much more must I pay for sending a lousy set of journal excerpts?! Why don’t they just execute me for it? When is the so-called punishment ever going to be enough and end? I can’t begin to put in words how humiliating it’s been having my life turned upside down and inside out by my own tormentors. They always win and I always lose. There’s no beating them or the system or getting them out of my life!

The sick fuck next door hasn’t gone bunk-banging in nearly 24 hours, but every half hour to an hour it makes a few bangs just to remind us all it still exists. It’s one thing being out in the real world with so many attention-needy people, and another being in jail with them!

I wish the little nutjob would get a celly or two. That way that bunk bed would be weighted down with someone, and I’d think any cellies she may have wouldn’t put up with her regularly timed bumps and bangs. If she’s not closed custody, then I’d bet she’s Ad-Seg. All the crazies get Ad-Segged.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2000 Another day in Estrella Jail, and damn do I miss home! I’m sick and tired of being confined like this, never having any peace and quiet. No space, no privacy, and now I can’t even cut my fucking nails! I’m so sick of having to talk and answer questions during meals when all I want to do is sit and eat in peace. I’m tired of being asked questions while trying to escape with my radio.

The nights are a little better. Rosa and I tease Tina in her sleep. Last night I rubbed red lipstick into the crotch of Tina’s spare clean panties, making them look like period stains.

I see Becky from time to time, but now I’m not so sure if she’ll make a good celly because she seems to be a bit of a beggar. The first time she wanted me to pass a kite for her, then she wanted a book. I like her, but I wonder if she’d constantly bug me for my commissary if we celled together.

After what I’ve been through, I don’t trust anybody. I still fear I’m going to get stuck with a monster PO that’ll try to make my life hell, not that it already hasn’t been made to be that way. What’s scary is knowing that all she has to do is tell the pigs I violated my probation, even if I didn’t, and they’ll believe her, pick me up and throw me back in here, and of course, I may have to violate if she makes impossible demands of me. I know she’s going to try telling me to do shit she knows I can’t possibly do. I wouldn’t just violate and stick around, though, if I were truly forced to do so. I’d violate and run.

Now, what could Tom possibly know that I don’t? He wouldn’t discuss it, saying not all conversations are private. It’s a lot more private in the visiting area than on the phone, so it must be illegal. Unless, of course, he just said this to cheer me up because I was pretty tearful (I just can’t deal with this madhouse!). He better not be fucking lying to me! Anyway, I told him to briefly put it in a letter in the fingerspelling font, as long as it’s a solid, sure thing that can really help me, and not just some hunch, belief or feeling.

He said he didn’t have money for stamps, so the other letters won’t go out till tomorrow. He wanted me to have what money he did have for commissary, which was very thoughtful of him. I just hope he doesn’t delay these letters too much longer, as useless as I know they’ll be.

Mom’s doing OK and now Mary doesn’t know what the hell’s going on. A second biopsy said she didn’t have cancer, and I guess they just can’t get a big enough sample to test.

He said Mary heard about Rosa’s case on the news, but all he knows is that they said there were signs of child abuse. What about Rosa’s husband? Just how innocent is he? They say they’re not sure about him.

Although I can’t see Rosa beating a kid any more than I can see Tom beating one, there is one thing that bugs me. Rosa doesn’t seem very remorseful. She has cried a few times, but most of the time she’s all smiles and laughs. Is she in denial, or what? I asked her if she was sad and she said yes, but it would make her sick if she was always down and crying. I guess everyone has their own way of dealing with things.

The Maury Povich Show was here filming today. I saw them on my way to my visit.

My teeth are slowly but surely shifting, and by the time I get out of here, they’ll be noticeably crooked. See? I really do get punished for trying to change things about my body and life. Straighten my teeth, and God makes sure I can’t retain them so they can be crooked again. Move out of the city and God sees to it that I’m forced right back into it.

It’s about 10:00 now, and tonight it’s the direct opposite of how it was last night. It’s dead quiet. No screaming, no banging. This is the ideal time for reading and writing. I use the radio more when it’s noisy and when I get really bored. It’s also good for escaping Tina’s chatter.

As much as I dread ending up back in a 4-man cell (and I know I will), I want to hurry up and get over there so I can cut my nails. I should be there before New Year’s. I just wish Rosa could be with me no matter who else I’m forced to cell with! But that’s just not possible, even if she remains in Ad-Seg.

I’ve been slacking off on my descriptions. So, Palma, who’s working tonight, would probably be described as plain or mean-looking by some people. She doesn’t have a great body and she needs a nose job, but she’s still good-looking as far as I’m concerned. She’s about 5’ 4”, slightly plump, with black curly hair and dark eyes. She almost looks like she could be part black because her hair’s kind of kinky.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2000 It’s around midnight and the black bitches are still screaming at each other. Why did God put these creatures on this earth? I fucking go through hell to get away from them, just to end up being stuck with them all over again. Why do I always get punished for rebelling against or trying to change what the Gods have ordered for me? Is it really that important to them that I be driven crazy by loud, obnoxious black assholes? What did I ever do to these people to deserve this? I just can’t get away from them!!!

I listened to some music both by myself and with Rosa.

It’s change of shift now. I hope Nottelmann and Palma are on tomorrow. They only work here twice a week lately.

This place was so fucking noisy until around 4 AM. DOC got Bucket, but we still have other loud-mouth blacks shooting off at the mouth non-stop.

Whoever’s next door was slamming the bunk against the door to get a blanket.

People! Fucking people! I hate them! And the more I try to run from them, the more they seem to be thrown in my face. Why can’t I just go home and live in peace? There’s a reason, Tina says.

Yeah, to torture the hell out of me! Everyone tells me there’s a reason for this shit, yet no one can give me a better one than the only one I can come up with.

Kara, one of the very few sane ones in this sad, disgusting place, came and saw me today. I updated her on what’s been going on and told her that I’m beginning to doubt anyone’s going to care enough to help get me out of here sooner. Like Kara said, all it takes is one person who cares.

But where are they? How do I get their attention? I just don’t see, the more I think about it, what the governor, and other people Tom wrote to, can do to help me. And why would they care? It’s not their problem. Nobody cares when they have nothing to gain by helping someone else.

Rosa just went out for a legal visit. The poor girl has got an infected tooth that’s all swollen.

Tina’s writing a letter. Although she’s been quieter, she still talks a lot. I try not to ask her too many questions because then she just gets into a huge discussion with herself about it. The amount of self-chatter in this place is astonishing. Religion and people talking to themselves. That seems to be the main theme of this place.

Just when they finally started making it comfortable here by giving us some heat, it’s cold again. It’s colder out, from what I hear on the radio, so that’s why. They don’t bother to adjust the heat with the weather.

Rosa and I were just listening to the radio, and Tina’s gone to bed. That is, till the psycho next door wakes her up slamming the bunk against the door. I’ll be waking her up on our hour out tomorrow to let her know just what I’ll do to her if I ever get my hands on her. When’s the system going to learn that jail’s not the place for crazies? They belong in psych wards. The whole pod was pissed at this sicko. Late last night she was banging for a blanket and today it was over her meds. Doesn’t she see that that’s not going to get her what she wants when she wants it? The DOs can’t even hear her when they’re in the tower.

I can’t live without this radio I never thought I’d end up getting. Because we’re right next to Crazy, as our loving God would have it, it doesn’t drown out her banging sprees, but when the bitch gets to screaming, it’s a great escape.

I’m so sick of people. People, people, people!!! I just want some space and privacy! I want peace and quiet and time alone! I’m so sick of being forced to be with people and in places I don’t want to be! Will I ever find freedom in this life? I want out and I want my old life back. The one I had till all this shit started. But that’ll never be no matter how long I live. Even if this were all over now, I’d just get hit with some other long-term bullshit.

There’s a reason for this, Rosa says.

If one more person says that to me, I’m going to break them in half!

They’re taking the sicko next door to medical in cuffs. I hope they drug the fucker into a coma! But sadly enough, I know she’ll be back and banging about something else later. I just wish I could have 5 minutes alone with the sack of shit!

My anger seems to be making Rosa very nervous (Tina won’t even look at me), so I think I’ll go try to smile for her sake, and bitch more later.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2000 It’s about midnight now, and I did get my commissary this week, but not without being ripped off first. The MFs did take the $20 or so worth of shit I ordered last week that I never got. How the fuck can they charge me for something I never signed for? Fucking incompetent fools! I’d like to stuff them in their little gray carts, lock them in good, then wheel them down the fucking hall and into the wall at a good 80 MPH! Anyway, I’m going to bitch about it (bitching is my specialty around here), but I know it won’t do me a damn bit of good.

I spoke to Tom, who said he still hasn’t heard from my PO (fuck her too!), and he says he’ll put $20 in for me before next Monday.

I’m in a foul mood right now. That’s why Tina’s up on her bunk afraid to utter a sound. She won’t even look at me. She did tell me earlier, though, I was a whiny, bratty bitch. And I’m damn proud of it too, and the best in my department!

Anyway, I knew Tom wouldn’t hear from the PO. He wonders if it’s just too soon for her to respond, but as I told him, it doesn’t take a psychic to know she doesn’t give a shit, and I’m beginning to have serious doubts about getting out early. Nonetheless, Tom’s sending a few letters out at a time.

I got a radio, which sounds pretty good for a cheap piece of shit. A 5-fucking-dollar radio they charge $27 for. Rosa listened with me, using one earbud while I used the other. She loves Spanish music.

I shared some food with Rosa and Tina because I felt bad for them not having anything.

Rosa and I have a lot of fun teasing Tina and Tina doesn’t mind. I’ll mime, for example, tearing off some tissue, blowing my nose, then shoving it in Tina’s mouth while she’s sleeping. Rosa does similar shit, too. One time I picked up my lipstick and made like I was going to play connect the dots where Tina stuck herself in the arm with a zillion needles, and nearly lost it when Rosa made like she wiped her crotch with some toilet paper before shoving it up Tina’s nose.

I taught Rosa many English words last night.

I’m going to see if Tom can check into her case and try to find out more about what’s going on. I’d love to know what the pigs have, if anything, that led them to believe this is murder and not neglect or an accident.

Fucking pigs! They need to change that motto “to protect and serve” they got on their cruisers to something a bit more truthful like “to harass and control.”

I also want to see if he can load me up a Spanish/English dictionary to go with my English one on the computer.

I saw Brea yesterday, who asked why I was here, and saw white Johnson through the window. I waved to her and she nodded and smiled in return. What a nice ass that woman has!

I found Becky downstairs yesterday and she told me she’s now PC. Good. That’s one more person I know I’ll get along with if we end up together. That’s also 5 people that I know of, waiting to go to M. I passed a kite to Becky’s old pal for her through the trustee. It took a while too, because the DO was hanging around.

This pod had been fairly quiet for a change till they brought Bucket back, the loud MF. Always the fucking blacks! For a while, I couldn’t figure out who I detested more, blacks or Mexicans. Now I know it’s definitely blacks! Anyway, Bucket, the one that bullied Tina out of M, and her wife, are getting DOC’d out of here any day now.

Tina’s also been stuck with Jessica, who’s gone home (that’s why I haven’t seen her). Tina, Bucket and Jessica were cellies, and Jessica ate Bucket out so she could use her radio. And Bucket wanted to kick Jessica’s ass for calling her a bitch. Yeah, that’s something Jessica would do and something a black bitch would get all hot and bothered about. These bitches are so fucking loud, aggressive and vicious! So rude, selfish and totally stuck on themselves!

Fucking mother-fucking black bitch! Bucket’s out on her hour yelling with some other blacks. Please, DOC, come get this bitch tonight!

Jessica’s back. She was only out 2 weeks and she went right back to the crack. What a stupid loser! She’s such a dumb, hopeless case that a part of me feels bad for her.

I’m going to give Nottelmann a tank requesting she try and keep Rosa and I together, even though I understand she can’t make any promises.

I’m pissed because some asshole stole the nail clippers (probably a trustee) and now I can’t cut my nails.

This cell is so ugly. There is easily a dozen tubes worth of toothpaste on these walls and the underside of the upper bunks.

Sent out a letter to Mom, Paula, and Tom, along with journals.

I love having a radio more than I thought I would in here. I can just check these loud, selfish black bitches out anytime I want to. I exercise to the music, too.

Rosa and Tina have been great as far as not begging goes. I appreciate it, too.

Commissary also ripped Rosa off. Indigent is supposed to give you 10 sheets of paper, not 8. I gave her a few sheets from my pad.

Tom visited today and I told him all about Rosa and Tina. I asked if he thought it’d be good to try sleeping together when I come home since I’ve amazingly learned to sleep through all this noise (although I still get woken up at times), and he said that’d be a good time to try. I slept through Deanna’s snoring, after all. That leaves only movement as a possible problem. Movement isn’t an issue in here, obviously, because I don’t share a bed with anyone.

Dennis returned the clothes I left in his trailer.

Tom’s going to call Helen about visiting, in case she never got my letter.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2000 I better get my commissary tomorrow night!

My wish came true twice and we had yogurt for lunch yesterday and the day before.

Tom sent me a copy of the PO’s letter. It was a good letter. As figured, though, neither of us has heard from her. So, if there’s still no mail from her come Monday’s mail pickup, the other letters will go out Tuesday.

He also mailed me my birthday card and a picture of me holding Butter Rum in my hand, and one of Scuttles. He said Harry bit him lightly. Glad it was light, but even so, he sure does have a way of getting bit by rodents!

He said Mary and Mom didn’t know I could get mail, and that they asked about visiting me, but Tom told them to wait till we know what’s going on with me. I’m beginning to wonder when and if I’ll ever know that.

It’s nice to know they still care. He says there’ll be a pile of holiday gifts from them waiting for me when I get out, and that they decided not to tell other family members about this because it’s none of their business.

Yes, it is. The media made sure of that. I know they know about this shit. Whether or not they believe it – I don’t know, and personally, I don’t care what they think. I know the truth and so do Tom, Mom, Mary and Dave. And Helen and Paula, too.

I also got a Christmas card from Paula and a quick note asking how I am, etc. I’ll send letters out Tuesday (commissary comes late on Monday) to Tom, Mom and Paula.

I have become very close to Rosa. She’s easily the best celly I’ve ever had. No, I’m not attracted to her, but we have so much fun talking in Spanish. This is the most Spanish I’ve ever spoken!

We discussed her case, and from what she told me, her 1-year-old daughter was killed when she fell and hit her head in the tub when she stepped out of the bathroom. That’s neglect, not murder.

I just can’t imagine for the life of me, this easy-going, funny girl having it in her to kill her kid. Kids fall all the time, but I don’t know if she’ll be able to prove it was an accident. Technically, she doesn’t have to prove it was an accident. The state has to prove it was murder, but Rosa? A murderer? I just can’t see it!

Rosa French braids as nicely as Kim did. She braided mine and Tina’s hair.

It’s about 9:00 now and we have all filled out our commissary sheets. All Rosa and Tina are getting is the indigent package.

Rosa’s so funny and so much fun to chat with. Speaking Spanish is a game to me, in a sense. I’d actually rather be with her than alone. Not even Kim and Jessica had me laugh as much.

Last night, Palma came in to talk to Rosa in Spanish. She knows I know a lot of Spanish and have been helping Rosa. It was the most attention I’ve had from her since, even if some of it was negative.

Tina and I got on each other’s nerves last night, but today all 3 of us were laughing over it. Tina was trying to sleep and we were being too loud so she started bitching at us. Tina sleeps at night and Rosa and I sleep during the day.

When Palma came by I asked that she move Tina before there was a fight, and Tina was like, “I don’t want to fight!”

I didn’t either, even though she was being such a grump and I was getting fed up.

Anyway, Palma was like, “I’m not moving anybody. Learn to compromise, or you can get into it right now and I’ll get you with my spray. Then after I get you guys cleaned up and written up, then you can be separated.”

We quieted down real fast at that point since Palma wasn’t about to budge! That’s Palma for you. Nottelmann moves people and Palma threatens to mace them.

Even so, Tina and I were carrying on like kids, calling each other spoiled, bitchy and all kinds of things, then Palma starts mimicking us in a funny way in rapid Spanish.

Tina went to sleep and I came up with the idea of Rosa and I writing rather than talking. I read Spanish better than I hear it anyway. We did whisper some, though, like Palma said when she was lecturing us on compromising. She said to Tina, “These guys are night people. Rosa’s up stressing cuz she’s got a lot of shit to deal with and just came in, and cuz she has no one to speak for her” (meaning, she’s up when I’m up). Then she told us to talk quietly.

All of us ended up sleeping well enough and quite late, too. Rosa and I were up early for a couple of hours, though, when we had our time out.

Chambers was on, so I got to say hi to her. She’s way cool.

Tina was quieter today. Rosa and I were talking and laughing while Tina read her stupid romances. I guess Tina felt like she was around a couple of silly kids, but she didn’t mind. Her romances are even sillier, and I told her so.

I’ve been helping Rosa like Kim helped me when I first came here.

I’m glad Rosa’s aunt came to visit her.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2000 Wow! It only took two medical tanks to get a refill on my inhaler and I didn’t have to wait a year, either! That was way faster than I thought it’d be.

I weighed myself at medical. I’m 111 pounds.

I saw Becky at medical. She says she’s here in this pod now. I’ll have to see her tomorrow on my hour out, but is she PC or de-seg? I didn’t get a chance to ask her.

On the way back, Nottelmann was my escort. I let her know how much I hate M’s 4-cells, and she said that although she couldn’t make any promises, she’d try her best to 2-man cell me.

In other news, we got another celly (we always get grouped in threes when Palma’s on). This one’s great, though. Her name’s Rosa G, she’s 20 years old and speaks no English. She looks more Indian than Spanish with her straight shoulder-length hair. She’s about 5’ 3” and is pretty chunky.

I’m amazed at how much Spanish I remember. We’re having virtually no problems communicating. The one thing I don’t like about Rosa is that she stinks! Still, I thanked Palma for putting Rosa in here.

She just arrived at the jail today, and according to her papers, she’s in for child abuse and 2nd-degree murder.

I don’t believe it. I just can’t see this girl as being capable of doing any such thing. I know she’s innocent.

Tina went to court. It looks like she’s going to be here for at least a few months, but probably more.

It’s about 8:30 and both cellies are asleep. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not that I’ll be sleeping when they’re up. I feel like I have a little space and privacy being up with them asleep, but will I be able to sleep well with them up? I hope so. They’re more mellow and less rude about that than Lora and Madeline were. Tina and Rosa can’t talk much anyway, since Tina doesn’t know Spanish, but I’m worried Tina will try anyway because she loves to talk, period. That’s the only thing I don’t like about her.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2000 I feel so much better now that I’ve had a shower. I was beginning to wonder if they’d ever let me out, or if they screwed up and listed my psych session as my hour out. That was the latest I’ve ever been out. Nearly 10:30. There was no trustee on when I was out, so I had to sharpen these pencils by hand. If the commissary could be reliable enough, I’d just order new pencils weekly. They’re only 10¢ each.

Naturally, I had to deal with the demands when I was out. Yesterday it was someone begging for a change of clothes. I played deaf with her, but tonight’s pest was hard to ignore. The freeloaders yelled in my ear as I walked by to get a lighter for her from a few cells down. I did it, even though it was stupid of me, the one who always gets caught, and who could’ve gotten in deep shit. Well, I ain’t going to make a habit of doing their dirty work for them, that’s for sure. I guess it’s just that as a former smoker, I understood their cravings.

I found a slip of paper in here when I returned from the shower, saying I’m eligible for work furlough. But I’m not interested! So I’m going to fill out a tank letting them know I live way out in Maricopa, don’t want to get caught up in anything in the city, and have other plans for when I get out (farming), not that it’s any of their business, and maybe then they’ll leave me alone. I’m also not interested in working for Joe. I heard all the money you make goes to the sheriff. Now why would I want to go to work for him or anyone else in this fucking corrupt system? That’d really be lowering myself, and I’ve been lowered enough by others already.

Now the question is – do I want to go through the big fight I’ll have to go through every couple of weeks when my inhaler runs out, or just forget it? I just don’t understand what the big deal is. I’ve already seen the doctor, so why can’t they just give the nurse a new fucking inhaler to give to me when she does her rounds? Is this just another form of punishment that goes with being in jail? Probably so, but it’s wrong. They shouldn’t be playing games when it comes to meds. Jail is hard enough as it is.

I’m amazed at how brave these mice are now. They eat right by my feet and look pretty good for jail mice. Not just because I’ve been feeding them well, but because of their fur. They look like they could pass for Fancy mice.

Dinner last night was pretty good. I actually got full for a change. I got a generous portion of plain chocolate ice cream that wasn’t fully melted, a beef patty (fake), and spinach leaves. I think they’re spinach leaves, anyway, which is better than the carrots we got my first 3-4 weeks here. I wish they’d serve yogurt for lunch! I hear they rarely do. I hope we don’t get eggs twice in a row for breakfast. We got cereal twice in a row, but I like cereal. It’s either cereal, waffles, or eggs for breakfast. Once we got cottage cheese. I wish they’d give us that again. For drinks, we get milk at breakfast, a small bottle of juice at lunch, and a cup of juice at dinner.

I wish I could go home! I can’t wait to get out of this dungeon of concrete and steel!

Now would be the perfect time for a radio. I could listen to music in between walks. Watch, I’ll get my commissary and a celly at the same time. Actually, I should have the celly long before I have the commissary.

It’s cold in here! I don’t think A’s getting any heat at all.

After breakfast, they came in with a stick to check to be sure the light fixtures and windows were secure. I woke up 4 times before I got up at noon for lunch, and then my hour out. My wish came true and we had yogurt for lunch. Even a fruit bar.

On my hour out I swept, mopped, got my pencils sharpened, a medical tank, and a grievance form. Tom said, when I saw him earlier, to keep putting in requests without taking the fit I took before. I’ll keep putting them in, but they keep ignoring them, yet Tom says that’ll look good for us in the end. I get copies of all my unanswered tanks, and they have to respond to grievances. The question is if I don’t pitch a “suicidal fit,” how long am I going to have to wait? I want to just forget it, rather than go through this fucking bullshit, but I’ll do it for Tom. My first tank went out on the 5th and tomorrow, the 8th, I’ll put my second one out. Come next Monday, though, I’ll grieve daily.

He called SS. The first time I was on SS was to get benefits through Art till I was 22, then I got on it for myself. What I didn’t know was that they keep me listed on their books as disabled all my life. All they did in ‘94 was suspend my payments. Tom’s having my medical records transferred from MA to their Snottsdale office. Once they arrive (probably after New Year’s) he’ll send me a release form to sign so he can pick up copies.

I misunderstood Tom about who got letters on Monday. The only one that’s gone out so far is the PO’s. He wants to give her a week’s response time. When she could care less about me to respond, then Tom may send other letters.

Tom thinks it’ll all work out when I get out of here. I hope he’s right because I see 1 of 3 things happening when I get out. I see me dying, us running, or us returning to PHX so I can get on a bus line so I can work because the PO won’t reason with me and accommodate me, and because SS denied my application to reinstate me.

A111

No more being alone. Now I’m with Tina W. Yes, she talks a lot, but she’s fairly tame and sane for a change. I think we’ll get along OK. That’s what I thought with Deanna, though, so you never know. For now, she seems easygoing enough. She’s older, too. She’s 40, and it’s nice to be with someone older for a change. She’s white, 5’ 4”, too thin, with shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair, light eyes, and lots of wrinkles.

She too, says prison is better than jail. They’ll even let you be with your girlfriend if you have one.

She confirms my worst fears, saying probation’s such a pain in the ass that she’d rather just do jail time. She’s been in jail a few times, as well as prison. She was in for forgery because she used credit cards that she knew were stolen, and now she’s in for drugs. She said her son was kidnapped and murdered years ago and it made her turn to coke. She has another 20-year-old son.

This is the same woman that was bullied out of M Dorm by that black bitch. The one that bragged about being in prison for 13 years.

I really appreciate Nottelmann’s seeing that I got in with a sane celly and for letting me get my old mattress. The old one that was in here was so hard, so I doubled them up and am quite comfy now. Well, as comfy as I can be for being in jail.

Tina has also had the privilege of celling with agent Tara, who supposedly returned to the tents. That’d mean she has to work. I didn’t think she had the mentality to work.

We had chicken tonight, but no dessert other than an apple. Tina gave me hers (because of her dentures) and her cottage cheese, too. I gave her my bland potatoes. She’s trying to gain weight, so I’ll give her most of my bread.

I told Tina about my case. She thinks what everyone else thinks – it’s all bullshit.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2000 Got a letter from Tom outlining the highlights of the letter he sent the PO, and yes, he even mentioned the freeloaders’ wrongdoings. The letter was well-written and to the point, but again, I question just what kind of a PO I’ve got. I’m sure I’ve got one of those I-don’t-give-a-fuck POs. She hasn’t even returned Tom’s call. He didn’t send all the letters out at once. He’s sending some this week, and the rest next Monday. I guess he wanted to leave a little reaction time in between and says I should hear from the PO by the end of this week.

Gee, I can’t wait!

He enclosed a picture of a mouse and the one of the iguana.

The time’s flying. Sometimes it seems that way, anyway. It seems to go fast from Monday to Thursday, but from Thursday to Monday, time seems to drag.

For the most part, I don’t remember my dreams. That’s because I’m already actually in jail. Once I get out, the nightmares will begin. Better that the nightmares occur in my sleep than in real life, like they are now, but I’m still not looking forward to all the nightmares I know I’ll have about being stuck back here once I get out.

I wish all my tanks could get me results as fast as the one to Kara did! I put in medical tanks this morning for a counselor and inhaler. Naturally, I didn’t get the inhaler. That’s going to be quite a fight. But I did get to see Kara. It turns out she’s just been super busy. I explained to her I needed to see someone, not just to get out of the cell and gab, but because that’s good documentation for me if I need it. She gave me a copy of the tank sheet and says she’ll give me documentation whenever we meet. I told her it didn’t have to be every week or for a full hour.

After showing her pictures of Tom and the animals, I filled her in on my being bounced around in M, then back to here. Also, on what Tom’s been up to. Your husband’s terrific, she told me, and she also said I was getting stronger, heading towards the door.

I hope!

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2000 Temple’s on tonight. She’s cool.

I love being by myself. If I have to be in this miserable place, couldn’t I just stay right here by myself? I wish!!!

I wonder if I’m going to end up being charged for my so-called “lost order?” I hope not! I’d rather not get it than be charged for shit I never got. Chavez was working the night we placed our orders. Would she deliberately chuck my form? I don’t know. I haven’t had a problem with her, but anything’s possible.

Johnson’s on 2nd shift again tonight. I wish Palma and white Johnson were on more often. And Nottelmann and Pérez, too.

The room stank of mice, so I swept and mopped, but that only made the smell worse.

I said hi to Becky again. I guess I’m a better lip reader than I thought because I understood her when she told me she goes to court on January 10th, among a few other things she said. She’s in A200, the unsentenced pod.

I’m still exercising daily, but not singing much lately.

Had a wonderful visit with Tom. He said he thinks I’ll get out earlier, but doesn’t know when. That enhanced my February vibe, but I don’t know. I don’t trust my vibes, given my circumstances, and I don’t want to get my hopes up. Nonetheless, we talked about him sending out letters to the mayor, the governor, the courts, etc.

He also typed my letter up to the PO and sent what he said was a hostile one of his own.

Not too hostile, I hope, or else he’ll be labeled a stalker. And if that PO’s black, they’ll call him a racist from the KKK. They may even refer to us both as Jack the Ripper. Society loves fancy labels. Especially the media.

He said he didn’t make any threats, naturally, but he implied threats pertaining to possible lawsuits when using words like disabilities, accommodate, and how poorly the courts handled things. He said that although the letter is only two pages, it took him two days to write it.

The sole reason I was on disability was because of my ear and being hard of hearing, not my mental state at the time. Well, he said that if worse came to worse and they insisted I work full-time out of the house, we can always try to get me back on disability, and they couldn’t do anything to me while the case was pending. I’d like my disability reinstated. The extra money wouldn’t hurt, but I can’t see it happening. I think they’ll just be like – lots of hard of hearing and deaf people work, so tough.

Tom says Harry’s very mellow and told me a couple of funny stories about Houdini. Houdini jumps up on the couch and even went to join him in bed! One night he couldn’t get him to go home after he let him out to run around and he was too tired to deal with it, so he said fuck it, and went to bed. After he’d been asleep a while, he suddenly felt something tugging on his hair!

Sleeping from around 4 AM to noon seems to be the only schedule I can keep in this place. It would’ve been ideal for me if I could’ve returned to the tents to work as an A Tower trustee from 3 PM-11 PM, but I know that’s just a dream. You can’t ask for what job/shift you have. If I could’ve done that, though, I’d see both Rule and Palma.

Ma’s leg is getting better and Mary’s still waiting around as far as what to do next about her cancer.

Still?!?!

So far, no one’s answered my tanks. Not classification or psych, so I put in another tank for classification, psych, and one to medical for an inhaler refill. Next comes the grievances, because I know they’re not just going to just give me a refill. No, they’ll have to play with me for a while first, the mother-fuckers!

I’ve got to see a therapist, any therapist, once every week or two while I’m here because it not only helps to get out of my cell and shit off my chest, but that’s also documentation for me that I may need someday.

The next words I gave for Tom to look up the signs to are jail, home and free.

I have a vibe about getting out of here in February. I hope so! February 5th, 9th and 14th stand out in my mind for some reason.

Someone told me there was a reason why I’m here. I can’t see any reason other than that something’s out to get me.

Tom was right – Ma did send me birthday money despite my being in here. Now he can order the doll care kit. I hope he got the electric razor that was going to be my Christmas present to him with the pennies I saved in my big old piggy bank. I’d feel bad if he didn’t, and as I told him, I already feel bad enough as it is. I mentally beat myself up every day along with the freeloaders for all the shit he’s had to endure on account of this, even though it’s not my fault. I worry about him out there, wondering if he’ll get in an accident, get ill, or decide never to see me again and whether or not he has plans to replace me. I know I’m just being paranoid and that if anyone’s going to stick by me, it’s him, but it’s because I was dumped by my parents that I get paranoid. When you can’t trust your own parents, who can you trust? But at the same time, I’m immune to being dumped and I wouldn’t hesitate to dump people myself if they gave me a good enough reason to. It takes a while to strike up a relationship, but it only takes a second to dump them and throw it all away.

The way Tom has stuck by me and understood me makes up for all those who did not. His letters, visits and praise help keep me going and I can’t wait to get out of here! Things I took for granted will be special and special things will be very special. I just hope it doesn’t take months before people read/respond to the letters! I know how busy they are.

The inmates here are not as they’re portrayed on TV. On TV they’re all drop-dead gorgeous and half of them beat the shit out of each other while the other half gets it on with each other. Of course, there are some gay/bi women as well as some fights, but not like on TV. And none of these inmates stand out in any way looks-wise.

If the PO says I have to work full-time and SS won’t reinstate me - then what? Do I kill myself right then and there, or do we run? Something’s trying to force me to remain the city girl I’ve been for the last 15 years! (minus the near year I was blessed enough to live in Maricopa)

I wish they made shirts smaller than the one I’m wearing. It’s past my ass, hanging off my shoulders, and makes me look fat because it’s so baggy. I don’t need any help looking fat!

It seems like I’ve had a million cellies, yet I’ve only had 8 so far.

I’m thinking of getting a radio, although I may live to regret it. People are going to beg to use it. They’re so rude at times, begging for people’s shit. I’m sorry some people are less fortunate, but that’s no reason to be rude. Next time I get candy begged off me, I may just be like – OK, you want some? Then cram it down their fucking throats so hard, nearly choking them to death on the shit.

They won’t be begging anymore.

Another good thing is that I can get what I want only. I stupidly let Lora talk me into getting a couple of things to make me a birthday cake. How rude, huh? Asking someone to buy things for their own birthday cake.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 4, 2000 A108

I’m back in A Tower after Deanna gave me a birthday present which got me out of that cell. Unlike Lora and Madeline, I never minded her snoring, but the moaning she was doing, especially moaning that seemed to be deliberate, was pissing me off. I went off on her and Deanna went off back, telling me she’d “get my ass” if I ever hollered at her again like I did. Although I didn’t really want to fight, I was seriously contemplating springing off my bunk and onto Deanna, when I heard the tall black DO called Tate was on her way by. Suddenly, I understood where Deanna was going with all this and we screamed at each other till the DO came in. I told the DO that being threatened wasn’t my idea of a birthday present and Deanna sort of lunged at me in a menacing way with the DO right there.

Tate said, “Happy birthday. Step out of the cell, please.”

As I waited downstairs like she instructed me to, I realized that the only place they could send me to was A Tower, since all the beds were taken, and since the third shift didn’t normally swap and shuffle people around. Sure enough, some guy DO, who was super nice, came and got me, and now I’m back with the mice and Palma. Palma’s not on tonight, though. Black Johnson and some other guy are on.

While I was waiting in M before I could get my shit, Madeline took Lora’s lock back and slipped a birthday card they made up last night in my manila envelope. The card was nice. They copied an inspirational poem and signed it. I would’ve given Lora the lock if Madeline hadn’t, though, because I obviously won’t be able to give Lora her commissary. I’ll have extra for myself this week.

Before I realized where Deanna was headed, I must say that I’m proud of myself for standing up to her. I learned a long time ago that turning the other cheek only invites people to mess with me even more and assume they can get away with it too, just because I’m little. I’m just glad we didn’t cell together like we had talked about!

When the guy brought me back here just after 6 AM, I was going to be in a downstairs cell, but its toilet was all clogged up. So I’m back in 108, the cell I was in the last time. I think this is the best cell in the pod. I was amazed at how clean it was, too. It was spotless. A trustee must’ve cleaned it. All I had to do when I was woken up at 11:30 for my hour out was shower. Then I slept till mid-afternoon.

I arrived here just in time for new stripes, sheets, panties, bras and towels. I didn’t know they did all that in one day. I need a new gown, but they don’t do gowns that often. I’m surprised they didn’t do socks. I guess they do whatever they feel like doing, whenever they feel like doing it.

During my hour out, the DO said he heard I was to be rolled up for work furlough. Again? I told him I didn’t think I was eligible for it, although I must be, and this worries me. Can they make me do it? Will it look bad to my PO if I don’t? Hey, it’s my life, I can’t keep a schedule here, and I’m not interested. Period. I’ll work at home, thank you, and for myself. Not for Joe Arpaio.

Also, I thought it through again, and PC’s the place to stay for sure if I can’t go to A400. The tents are not for me. God sent Officer Rule to be my savior that night for a reason!

I’m worried about my commissary. Will it be forwarded to me here? I’d hate to be charged for shit I never got, but you do have to sign for it, so that’s good. I just hope they bring it over and don’t return it.

I guess another good thing about my little squabble with Deanna is that that’s now one 4-man cell I couldn’t end up in when I go back there, instead of two. Deanna’s going to be there till February, so unless she moves, I can’t go back in that cell, and I’d think they’d put it in the computer about our not getting along.

God, I’m fucking pissed! I knew it, too. Just knew it. No commissary this week. They never got my order, they said. How convenient. The question is, though - was my order form lost by accident, or did someone deliberately ditch it? Thank God I at least have lotion, shampoo and shit like that, but I was really looking forward to some candy what with how bad this food is here, and now I have to wait another fucking week. Why is it that I have a feeling every 2-3 orders will be hit or miss? Another thing that sucks about not getting commissary tonight is the fact that I wouldn’t have had to have cellies trying to beg it off of me.

Johnson wished me a happy birthday (yeah, some fucking birthday!). and gave me two juices with dinner. I don’t know if she did that for everyone, or just for me, but it was nice. They’re getting better with desserts lately. Tonight it was pumpkin pie.

I finished my first book in this place and now I’ll start another.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2000 Tomorrow’s birthday will be the first one where I don’t get any cards. It kind of hurts that I haven’t heard from Mom and Mary, but I understand and don’t hold anything against them. Ma’s too old and shaky to write, and Mary’s too busy with her own problems.

A mean old lady was on last night, a nice old lady was on today, Chavez, who’s OK, is on second shift. I hope Pérez or Temple is on tonight.

Palma walked by earlier when Chavez was on break and I said hi. I started to tell her I missed seeing her in A Tower, then Madeline screamed out that I liked her. I quickly cut her off by yelling at her to shut up. Palma didn’t hear, but she sure had a funny expression on her face. She looked all confused, then shook her head and walked away. I was both amused and pissed by Madeline’s little outburst. She and I have a routine now. It’s become our ritual to argue at night. We fight from dinnertime on till around midnight, but we’ve kind of taken to each other at the same time. I think she enjoys jumping down my throat as much as I enjoy jumping down hers. She’s still one of those cellies I wouldn’t miss if I never saw her again.

I didn’t know the DO’s uniforms included shorts, but they do. Miss Know It All says the inmates can wear shorts in the summer in the tents, too. They got a new rule today – shirts must be tucked in when in the hallways.

Deanna gave me a pretty bookmark and half of her eraser.

I told her about rodents and she wants a guinea pig. I made out a list of things for her to buy along with it.

I think Madeline and Lora may be making some kind of card or letter by the way they’re acting.

I may take Lora’s bunk when she leaves for 3 reasons (if I’m still here). So I can have more privacy since I can see into the tower from where I’m at now, so I can be away from the vent, and because Madeline says she’d rather it be my feet climbing up and down on her bed below it than someone else’s. Yeah, I’m sure someone will replace Lora in a day or so.

It’s almost change of shift. The lights should be going out soon. We’re not going to request that they stay on late because no one wants to read tonight.

That dump I felt I had to do all day that I was waiting for the lights to go off to do, seems to have disappeared. If all people did was piss, I could live in this cell, but I don’t want to. I want to return to the tents, but again, can I handle it? Well, if I can’t, someone taught me how to escape the jungle!

What do I do if I can’t escape, though? What if I try to re-PC myself with a DO who won’t care to help me like Rule did? I’d hate to bother Rule with re-PCing me. I don’t want to take advantage of her, and it may look funny if her name is on two PC forms.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2000 The first night I was back in the big cell and sleeping on the floor by the door before I got brave enough to climb up here, Pérez caught me crying as she walked by. Everyone else was asleep, so she opened the door, motioned me out, and asked what was wrong. I told her I was homesick and we chatted for a few minutes. Her birthday’s the day before mine and we got to talking about how alike we are, which really means how different we are (compared to most people, anyway). I felt better after we chatted. She’s really nice.

So, where am I going to end up for sure, and when? I think I’m going to the tents. Another good thing about the tents is that I don’t have to have closed contact visits with Tom, and I can hug him! Or so I thought. Lora just informed me that you’re not allowed to do that. Nor can you give them anything to take home without putting in a tank order. So, I couldn’t just hand Tom these journal sheets. I’d still have to mail them.

It’s about 11 PM now and I’m nowhere near sleep. Not after sleeping on and off till 2:00

I mixed my shampoo and conditioner together, so now it’s in one bottle.

Officer Johnson filled in for a DO whose name I don’t know. I like Johnson. The girls were teasing me about it earlier too, when they caught me checking her out. Especially Madeline. We all tease each other about shit like that. I’m not attracted to her the way I am with Palma. I mostly like her for her personality, but there’s just something about her. I cleaned the tables downstairs for her and she said she might have me come out again if she had more work for me, but she didn’t.

Can’t wait for my commissary! Two more nights.

Although a part of me wants to remain in PC, there’s still an even bigger part of me that wants to return to the tents, but am I making a mistake if I did?

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2000 One month down, 5 more to go. Only 2 if my vibe’s accurate.

Officer Means is on now. That name’s even weirder.

Tom sent me a really nice letter, along with a mouse and snake picture. He covered our options in the letter, too.

One is to pursue the fact that the courts didn’t provide me with an interpreter, but we’d need a lawyer for that because it’s complicated. Also, if we won, there’s a good chance they’d just recharge me and start the sentence all over again.

We could also try getting the sentence reduced because all I did was send the journal, not the threatening letter. Besides, what I sent is laid out like a journal, not a letter. Any idiot can see its format is like a typical journal would be. The problem with this, though, is that after reducing my sentence for the journal, they could charge me for this bullshit letter, and I could get additional time.

I think our only hope is to hope I don’t get a monster PO and work with them. Better yet, hope they’ll work with us. As Tom said, part of my probation terms is the 6 months here, so maybe Mary can adjust that, although I won’t count on it. Tom’s going to write and send her a letter along with mine. To try to avoid my having to work full-time out of the house, he’s going to see if we can get into farming. Now that would be cool. I wouldn’t mind being a cowgirl, and this is something we discussed doing anyway.

But life is never what I plan or want it to be. I’m just so fucking sick of other people telling me how to live my life! Tired of being told what to do, where to go, etc.!

Also, and I didn’t know this, my 6 months here is part of my 3-year probation term, so I’d have 2½ years of probation once I get out. Even that is an eternity and totally ridiculous, even if I had sent the fucking letter. The whole fucking thing is so asinine!

Officer Rogers is on now. She’s short black and fat. I thought she was Johnson at first.

Tom told me during yesterday’s visit that he plans to send about 10 letters to various people/places, the mayor being one of them. God, I don’t know what I’d do without him! I’m forever in his debt no matter what happens. No one’s ever loved, understood and stuck by me like this!

I guess he’s been studying my type of hearing problem. Here are some quotes from his letter: I am sure that your hearing is what has caused many of the emotional problems you have encountered. Let me explain that better, the things that your parents and others did to you as a child were horrible, but it was the stresses caused by the hearing problems that really put you in an unfair position. Many people have bad parents and bad things that happen to them, but you had a huge disadvantage because of your ear. Unfortunately, it has only been recently that they made the connection between hearing problems and various “nervous” conditions. Like so many other things, society is quick to label people “crazy” and drug them up when there is really a physical problem that needs to be dealt with. You had to deal with this stupidity of people all of your life. I’m very proud of you every time I think about all of the things you had to overcome to get to where you are as an adult. As smart as I am, I don’t know if I could have done it.

Another yummy chicken dinner. We had ice cream too, and it was way better than plain vanilla. It was chocolate with chunks of chocolate in it.

If today could be like it was every day, it wouldn’t be so bad here. I shit after lights out last night and slept better than usual. We all slept till around 2:00, although we had to get up, of course, for various things along the way – breakfast, our hour out, etc.

I put in a tank as soon as I got back in this giant display case. Maybe they can help me sleep even better than antihistamines can and maybe I can see Kara.

If only, if only I’d taken Deanna next door with me! That way I’d never have gotten stuck with nutty Melinda or shooed out of the other cell for Hermy, and I could’ve at least had the same celly till February. I could live just fine with Deanna. She sleeps most of the time, anyway. She gave me a couple of sharp pencils and I gave her some conditioner. I don’t know that I’ll ever buy conditioner again here, but the hair protein is great.

A lady from classification came by today to talk to the new girl next door and Madeline. Madeline’s time is up in two weeks. She wants to go to A400 to avoid the crowded dorms. The lady, though, says she has no say in where we go from here. When I spoke to her, she told me she doesn’t deal with sentenced people, and suggested I put tank orders in to “workbox” and “classification.” I wrote that I don’t feel comfortable returning to the tents because I’m nervous around so many people, and to please put me in A400 where there are fewer people. However, I’m virtually certain they’re not going to put me there. They’ll tell me it’s either here or the tents, but I already made up my mind. I’m sick of Ad-Seg and I’m returning to the tents. I don’t know how I’ll survive more than a week of it with my sleeping disorder, but at least I know, thanks to Officer Rule, who I’ll be happy to see again, that I can always rePC myself. The 2nd time around has to be for 90 days. I’m going to have to re-PC anyway, when it starts getting hot if I’m going to be here the whole 6 months.

Lora and I just made an awesome trade, since I know my only other choice is going to be to go to the tents. She had a lock from when she was in the tents, which cost $8. She’s going to sell it to me at half price, which means I’ll be buying her $4 worth of commissary.

Those fuckers are still offering me Theo – damn!

I was just chatting with Madeline, who I feel more comfortable with, now that I’m getting to know her, even if she’s still obnoxious with not much of a sense of humor, either. You could say we both annoy each other. I annoy her with all my questions, and she annoys me with her selfishness. She was screaming through the vent at the people downstairs and starting to give me a headache. When I got on her ass about it, she was like – I was here first. So I let her know I wouldn’t respect anyone who didn’t respect me and wouldn’t hesitate to yell out the door to people if I wanted to while she was sleeping, but she later apologized.

I can’t wait till Lora leaves on the 7th, although I may be gone before then, depending on whether or not I stay in Ad-Seg. She’s way too loud.

Speaking of Lora, she got a “homosecting” write-up because a DO noticed a red splotch on her tit that they thought was a hickey. This was a while ago. I think it’s wrong to forbid inmates from playing around with each other. I mean, who is it hurting? They can’t impregnate each other, so what’s the big deal as long as it’s mutual?

[mylittlesecrethaven]

Bsd Is Kinda A Genius Anime: Pt 3

I think I had a plan for these next few posts, but I can't remember them, so Ima do what I want.

Since these groups are so small, I'm doing both.

Today it's Decay of Angels (which has three different names depending on if you watch the dub, sub, or look at the Fandom, so wtf?) and Hunting Dogs.

So let's do it!

(FUCK IT, IT'S LATE I'M ONLY DOING DECAY OF ANGELS! I'LL DO HUNTING DOGS NEXT TIME I'M TIRED AND I WANNA FINISH THIS I'M SO SORRY BUT I AM BRAIN FRIED)

(Emm... two things. I'm aware that Decay of Angels gets its name from a novel, but unless that's brought up in a character, I'm not going over it. Also, Kamui and Ochi Fukuchi are the same person? Soooo.... I'll go over him with Decay of Angels I guess....)

Ochi Fukuchi

Ability: Mirror Lion

The Fandom actually didn't have much on this guy's RLC, so Ima try my best, but no guarantees since it's fucking 10:30 and this is my last post of the night. ---- I still can't find much actually about him. Even his Wiki page (yes, I use Wikipedia) is lacking. I do know about his ability counterpart though. Mirror Lion is a play written by his RLC about a woman who's practicing a lion dance for New Year's, and because she becomes so engrossed in it, the spirit of the lion enters her. Just thinking about this, it is similar to his actual ability. He makes his weapons stronger, a lot like what you'd expect if the spirit of a lion entered somebody. I couldn't find anything talking about his RLC having a connection to this guy's reason for leading both the Hunting Dogs and the Decay of Angels. (I don't know his reason in the show, I'm only on episode 4.) Not much to go on really. Not a good start.

Bram Stoker

Ability: Infection

He's a vampire?! Wtf?! Ohhhh.... I get it. Ok. His RLC wrote Dracula. Makes sense. Makes sense. His RLC is also Irish, so I kinda wonder if his VA does an accent like Fyodor's does. Anyway, you can see the symbolism, yes? Dracula is a vampire, and apparently Bram is impaled, relating to Vlad the Impaler, who was the inspiration for Dracula. Easy-peasy.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Ability: Crime And Punishment

And now to the man himself. I've been interested in doing this for him since I talked about his ability. So let's see what I can find. His RLC wrote a lot of dark and gritty books involving human emotions and psychology. (I know what author I'm looking for in the library next.) This fits how Fyodor acts pretty well. You'd expect books like that to revolve around someone like Fyodor. Hmmm... I just looked at a summary of "Crime And Punishment," and I found.... nothing. It's about this poor guy who plans to kill an old woman with a lot of valuables and steal them, but after he does that, he's wracked with guilt, and goes through a ton of mental anguish, and he has to live through the consequences of his deed. This... doesn't do anything for figuring out his ability. I know Fyodor's ability can let him manipulate people's memories, and that's connected to the book, but it doesn't help figure out who his ability affects or how he can control it! So for now, I'm gonna stick with the idea that Fyodor can't kill gifteds, because I can't find anything or anyone talking about the gifteds he's killed with his ability. Moving on the book that inspired the Rats in the House of the Dead, "The House of the Dead," it's a semi-autobiographical novel about a fictional person going through life in a Siberian prison camp, based loosely on Fyodor's RLC's time in a forced-labor prison camp. Emmm..... Idk. I guess it kinda connects to the fact that the group was really temporary? Idk. I'm getting brain fried right now, so if anybody has any idea for connections to the Rats in the House of the Dead, lemme know.

Nikolai Gogol

Ability: The Overcoat

Oh shit, he's Ukranian? I thought the name was Russian. My bad. Oh, wait, his RLC is a Russian of Ukranian origin. I don't understand what that means, but whatever. His RLC wrote a ton of books, usually all tragedy with slight shifts in genre, such as political tragedies and tragecomedies. "The Overcoat" was a short story written by Nikolai's RLC about.... oh shit this book is insane. It's about this poor man who's made fun of for his coat at work, so he obsesses over saving money and buying a new one. He finally does and shows it off so happily, but on his way home he gets beat up by two ruffians and they steal his coat. The police won't help him, and after being recommended to ask by someone else at work, he asks a higher up at work, only to be yelled at for disturbing the higher up with a trivial matter. A little afterwards, the man falls ill and dies. A ghost is soon seen around the city taking people's overcoats, and it's the man's ghost. The police can't catch him. He finds the higher up who yelled at him and spooks him, then steals his overcoat. His ghost isn't seen again. The story ends by talking about another ghost sighting, which meets the description of one of the ruffians. Insane, right? Which I guess fits Nikolai. Anyway, his ability really comes from what another author said about the book, which was "We all came out from under Gogol's Overcoat." So.... yeah.

Sigma

Ability: Information Exchange

My last one and then I can sleep..... please.... sleep.... Wait. This guy doesn't have an RLC. What? Oh. So apparently he has memory loss, which could be the link to him not having an RLC? Idk.

Anyway, next I'll be doing Hunting Dogs. That should be fun.

(I really need to stop doing these right before I go to sleep. *sigh*)

[seraphtrevs]

@jarmes - I think it's finally time for me to figure out once and for all Hector's timeline, particularly concerning his prison sentence, because that has a huge impact on Hector's involvement in their lives.

(Math and sad Salamanca children under the cut)

I had worked out their ages previously here, but I think I've changed my mind on Tuco and the twins. The BrBa wiki is kind of all over the place with their ages (like the timeline sometimes lists different birth years than the character pages) and people edit the characters' pages every so often to change their birth dates - like Lalo was at 1957 for awhile, but now his page says 1960. (I am possibly the only person who cares enough other than the wiki editors to notice this akdsfj;sdljf) It's all just guess work based on scant canon clues and the actor's ages, so assume +/- a few years.

So. The wiki has Hector's birth year as somewhere between 1936 and 1939. Let's go with 1939 because that's the birth year on his character page.

Max was killed in 1989, which makes Hector 50 years old at the time. That seems to track. We know the twins were about 8 - 10 years old in 1988 because of the flashback in BrBa 3x07. (Here they are btw right after Hector nearly drowned Marco in case you feel like having your heart broken)

So that puts the twins' birth year at around 1980, which is what's on the wiki.

The wiki has Lalo's birth year as 1960 - I prefer 1957 because I want Lalo to be pushing 50 in BCS for reasons (old man enjoyer), but we'll use 1960. That makes him 28 at the time of Marco's near-drowning.

Tuco's age is all over the place, but the wiki has him born in 1972. That's a bigger gap between Lalo and Tuco than I like (I originally put him at 1961)...but I think 1972 probably makes more sense for reasons I will get into. So he's 17 in 1988.

All right, ages established. Now comes the hard part - when the fuck did Hector get sent to San Quentin? We know he was there for 17 years. He was a founding member of the cartel and probably active within it for a few years. So let's say he was about 30 when he was sentenced. 1939+30 = 1969 for the year he went to jail. 1969 + 17 = 1986 for the year he got out. That seems about right because in the 3x07 flashback, he seems to be up to speed in cartel business, so he's probably been out for a few years.

SO. What does this mean for his relationship with his nephews? It means Lalo was 9 when Hector went to jail. The twins and Tuco were not even born yet. When Hector got out of jail, the twins were 6 and Tuco was 14. Lalo was 26 - a grown man. I think that the murder of the professor that Lalo so fondly remembers probably occurred shortly after Hector was released from prison and itching to exercise some power again.

So Lalo was old enough to have fond childhood memories of his tio before he went to prison...but probably not quite old enough to start cartel conditioning. When we see the twins in the flashback, they are normal children, not dead-eyed killing machines.

Assuming Hector didn't start ramping up the abuse until he felt they were "old enough" to learn, Lalo was spared Hector's abuse because Hector was in jail during his formative years. Meanwhile, Tuco and the twins were impressionable minors who were nonetheless "old enough" in Hector's eyes to start "learning."

Lalo is nuts, but I think he was born with a screw loose rather than it being beaten into him. I agree with Tony Dalton's headcanon that his mother was a gringa and he was sent to school in the States, so the cartel wasn't his entire life as a child/young adult. He's much more well-rounded and functional than his cousins. Tuco and the twins, on the other hand, seem the kind of violent and unstable that sometimes comes with severe childhood abuse and are completely creatures of the cartel. And I think that was in large part due to Hector, who was perhaps the main father figure for them depending on when their fathers died. Hector didn't mold Lalo, but he did mold Tuco and the twins. Poor kids. :(

[dentedsky]

Review of The Untamed

This is one of the only tv shows i have ever marathoned and then immediately watched all over again. I started watching this show on Netflix knowing absolutely nothing about it; i didn't even know it was a gay love story... likewut. I had previously over saturated myself with American sitcoms and so looked for something completely different. Little did I realise I would smack myself in the face with my own love for the characters, themes, costumes, and downright beauty of the thing. I was immediately hooked in when in the first scene the lead character is murdered by his brother, cos I am a real sucker for stories that start out with, "Once upon a time, I DIED!!!" That to me is pure chef's kiss.

If you haven't watched it yet, let me forewarn you: the first two episodes are a clusterfuck of situations and lines and characters you don't give a shit about and have no context for. But push past these into episode 3 and beyond, and trust me, you will.

So here is my review of The Untamed. I'll try to be as spoiler-less as possible.

General premise

Five major clans control majority wealth, power and magic. Teenager Wei Wuxian is from one of these clans, and attends Ancient Chinese Hogwarts with BFFs/siblings Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng. But it's not all fun and hormones; soon after the semester ends they are thrown into war. Despite knowing magic and sword art, they are woefully under-prepared for the carnage and political shitshow that follows. Alliances fray, hearts are broken... and Wei Wuxian dies.

Sixteen years later he is resurrected by a necromancer who wants revenge on his shitty family. Wuxian's crush from magical high school, Lan Wangji, is now a 30-something hottie and a top-tier wizard, and is investigating a sword spirit that's gone apeshit. Since the revenge plot and the sword spirit issue are related, they team up buddy-cop style to solve the mystery.

The Pros

Costume and set design

It's beautiful. Someone in the costume department was having a ball with this one bc every outfit is gorgeous and unique. The long shots of the ancient Chinese sets are eye candy too. I found myself drinking in every little detail of their clothes and swords.

Themes and metaphors

I've seen a couple of Australian movies that talk about asylum-seekers, but I've never watched a show that has brought in the subject quite like this one. No doubt the episodes dedicated to our untamed hero Wei Wuxian saving war prisoners are a metaphor for China's incarceration of its minorities, but for me I was seething, constantly remembering that cunts like John Howard chose to use their power to treat people fleeing oppression like they were nothing but inconvenient garbage. Why governments choose to infeasibly sweep refugees under the rug rather than help them I still don't understand. In The Untamed, it's highlighted that the reasons are all about power - who has power must do all they can to keep it, even if it means torturing people they have never met, and slandering those who don't fall in line.

Cancel culture and mob mentality is a constant theme in the show, shown throughout several episodes from start to finish. Although set thousands of years before the invention of the internet, The Untamed highlights one important truth: internet trolls have always existed in some form or other and they will never change. They don't attack the reputation of others because they honestly believe that person deserves it - they do it because it fucking makes them feel good. If you can't take their shit any more and you kill yourself, it only solidifies in their mind that they were right all along. It's uncomfortable, and is almost impossible to endure. Like Lan Wangji, I wanted to take sweet Wei Wuxian into my arms and whisk him away.

The love story

Hooo boy, da love story. I ofc realise this is the main reason fans love this show. Between them, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji portray all the emotions that have ever existed, and then some. I found myself melting at Wuxian's every smile, looking closely at Wangji's infinitesimal widening of his eyes or curl of his lips. Wuxian is a guy who talks a lot with his mouth and his body but never says the right things, and Wangji is a bloke who says very little but his thoughts are written all over his supremely gorgeous face. And when they're together... woof. Gurrl. Idek. The chemistry is just... something. There is some over-acting on Wuxian's actor's part in some scenes Wangji's actor isn't in, but when these two are in a scene together, they're kind of amazing. The actors put full effort in, and it shows.

The Cons

CGI and make-up

Although the same genre, don't expect the production value of Game of Thrones, or The Witcher. This one runs more along the CGI lines of Merlin and Doctor Who. If you can use some imagination and stomach those two shows, then you can watch this. Similarly, the zombies are not scary, like, at all. But maybe that is less to do with make-up and more to do with wangxian being so overpowered that if this was a jrpg video game, wangxian would be lv 99 by age 17.

Plot holes and side characters

This show is well written and paced. However, there's one episode in the second half that you could quite frankly chuck in the bin and nothing of value would be lost. The side story involves a third-rate villain and three side characters who the villain emotionally and physically tortures for shits and giggles. If you liked these characters, that's great, but the whole thing to me stank of torture porn and added nothing to the main plot or central characters or relationships. The Untamed is not the only show to suffer this; Altered Carbon comes to mind. There was literally a whole ep in that show dedicated to torturing the lead and I'm still flummoxed as to why some stories choose to do this when literally there is no point?? I get that this villain is central to The Untamed plot and that he is a dark reflection of Wuxian's future if he didn't have Wangji as an anchor, but those things could've been shown in other ways without dragging three characters idgaf abt into some flashback that bored me to tears.

Summary and general thoughts

Omg, dis my fandom now. I'm already reading fics and God, look, writing fucking essays. I'm so naughty - I got my bff into it just so I could have someone to talk to. Luckily, her 1st language is Mandarin, and after watching the show, she read the web novel in 4 days, then translated the porn for me. Of what she tells me though - unpopular opinion - I think I prefer this drama. I prefer the idea that Wuxian fell for Wangji love at first sight, and also, I'm not a huge fan of sex while drunk - it's actually kinda triggering for me. That's just personal things tho. Wangxian have some beautiful moments that I like to rewatch and keep cupped in my hands.

6/5 stars.

[tealenko]

About the Tomb Raider 2 ending...

So, it's no news to anyone that I despise the RotTR ending because:

It didn't happen (no matter how much the canon wants to say it did)

*Spoiler alert* Jacob dies Thanos style along with the best ship that has ever existed.

Anyways, been working in this fic for a while now to fix that, but never got to the "how on Earth I'm gonna fix that final scene and make it fit in my fic" part of the problem.

Until today.

Today I slept 3 hours, went to work, chugged a can of generic energy drink and, in a 30 min break, planned the whole thing in one go. And the result is so AWESOME and I love it so much that I wanted to share my notes for this one with the 5 people that follow me for my TR fic.

Anyone that's here for art feel free to ignore me XDDDDD

Btw, spoiler alert for chapter 7 (I think this one will be the 7th, you never know for sure XD) of my Three Letters fic.

⬇️Here's my new TR2 Ending plan⬇️

New ending of RotTR

We begin in the Divine Source's chamber

Ana is about to shoot Jacob

Lara stops her

Please, please, please, idk how much it costs: ARROW TO THE KNEE XDDDD

Lara stands in front of Jacob to protect him: NO ONE IS DYING ON MY WATCH!

Ana enters in *evil injured character speech* mode -> “Another Croft doesn’t have to die for this” -> works both ways, for her and for Lara.

Lara warns her about the divine source

Konstantine paper/scroll showed in the prison escape scene: “only the worthy will be able to blah blah blah…”

She thinks that’s the reason some people lose their shit by becoming immortal and others, like Jacob, stay the same (except for the whole not dying thing, I mean). 

Ana goes “fuck it”.

Shoots Lara, on the arm or something.

Grabs the source

Lara tries to reach her but doesn’t make it in time.

Ana dies, in terrible suffering, and disappears Thanos style. HA! TAKE THAT SQUARE ENIX MUAHAHAHAHAHA

Lara catches the source before it falls to the ground.

Jacob goes to her.

The divine source switches its owner.

The source judges Lara as worthy and start to give her ownership -> aka last owner must pay the price and give back his years of immortality, *Pirates of the Caribbean 4* style.

Jacob falls by her side.

Jacob is ready to die

Lots of lights and flashes surrounding them: Raiders of the Lost Ark style!!

Part of Jacob speech

He’s glad to die

Now I must pay the price

Change Lara’s “You knew I’d destroy it” for “You knew I’d stop her/them”

All the deathless kneel and surround Lara/them

End of Jacob speech

In all my years…

I just wanted…

You already have…

+ I’m ready to die

And Lara is like: hell no.

Lara freaks out and destroys the source

Losing the option of immortality

Saving Jacob, who is now mortal too

And fluff, we're here for the fluff.

Maybe end it in a Lara mind speech about what just happened and why she chose Jacob above her main quest/mission/objective of proving his dad was right.

Aka: boy you got me helpleeeeeeesssss 🎶🎶

[yemilnisu]

INCORRECT HAIKYUU QUOTES FROM BUZZFEED UNSOLVED

nisu entries:

i got this idea from @memekingofwwiii and some of it are theirs 🙇🏻‍♀️ thank you for letting me add it here 😊 it’s a mixture from buzzfeed unsolved supernatural and true crime 👀 i really had fun doing this!

warning: swearing, mentions of death/murder/killing/blood/weed

「part 2」

Tendou: i did have a neighbor who had an overhang of a lime tree, and it was great because i could go pick a little lime.

Ushijima: did you ever think about killing your neighbor?

Tendou: when he didn't give me limes, yeah.

Ushijima: oh, okay; all right.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: this is my bridge now, if you want it back you’re gonna have to kill me.

Oikawa: he did throw someone off the bridge once.

Matsukawa: fuck you, goatman!

Oikawa: Jesus Christ.

Kunimi: *behind the camera snickering as mattsun taunts the goatman much to oikawa’s dismay*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: hey demons, it’s me, ya boi.

Matsukawa: if you want to eat my heart, turn that light on. If you want to eat oikawa’s heart, turn that light on...

Oikawa: don’t drag me into your shit, mattsun.

*torch turns on*

Oikawa: *screams*

Matsukawa: *laughs hysterically as he continues to lie on the pentagram*

Kunimi: *actual wheezing*

Matsukawa: i think this demon’s a wimp.

Oikawa: he’s out of his fucking mind.

Kunimi: *having the time of his life*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Oikawa: every human's capable of murder if you push them enough. i just don't know if this is enough of a push.

Iwaizumi: okay.

Oikawa: it's true!

Iwaizumi: is that so?

Oikawa: yeah.

Oikawa: i bet you you would murder me if I pushed you enough.

Iwaizumi: yeah, probably.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: …

Tsukishima: so, you're telling me, at nine years old, you don’t go to church. the first time you cross the threshold into holy ground,

Nishinoya: *makes noise and imitates blood coming out of his nose*

Tsukishima: blood expels from your nostrils?

Nishinoya: yeah, yeah. they ran outta tissues! mopping that up.

Tsukishima: …

Nishinoya: it was wild!

Tsukishima: it sounds wild.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: i think it was the neighbor. look, i’m a simple man. i see a trail of blood going to someone's house. even if they didn't do it, come on; you're going to jail.

Kenma: i think it might've been a random person.

Kuroo: all right.

Kenma: it just seems too obvious.

Kuroo: okay.

Kenma: there's a paper trail of their feud. why the hell would he be that dumb?

Kuroo: rage, you know? lust, rage. rage just- just building up, bursting out.

Kenma: well, i've never really gotten that angry. i don't really have that capacity.

Kuroo: it's building. it's building inside you. everyone sees it; we all see it.

Kenma: that's great. oh man, i can't wait for krakatoa then.

Kuroo: *shuddering* oh- oh- i shudder.

Kenma: hope no one's in the way 😺

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: scary.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Daichi: he allegedly chased his mother with an axe when he was 19.

Asahi: not great.

Daichi: (wheeze) no? not off- off to a bad start?

Asahi: no good. i’ve never done that. you didn’t do that did you?

Daichi: no! i didn't- what- is there anything to suggest that I would chase my mom with an axe?

Asahi: (inhales) not outright i feel like if you peel the layers back.

Daichi: you think if you peel the layers back from this onion, you'll see something you don’t want to see?

Asahi: yeah. i think you wear a mask sometimes 😅

Daichi: mm-hmm i think you should keep digging and maybe see what happens 🙂

Asahi: uh no i'm good 🧍🏻‍♂️

Daichi: *staring at asahi*

Asahi: 👁👄👁💧

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: my takeaway is people from chicago are weird.

Atsumu: the- this does not represent chicago. this is people and go "ey! chicago tylenol murders"

Osamu: (laugh) home with the beam, the cubs and the chicago tylenol murders and of course our nation's greatest tragedy, miya atsumu.

Atsumu: that- that's not me.

Osamu: i read it somewhere 🤷🏻

Atsumu: no, you didn’t, you probably wrote it.

Osamu: yeah.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suna: i’d love to be an heiress.

Kita: (snickers)

Suna: i know she’s probably gonna disappear or something.

Kita: so you wanna be a trust fund baby?

Suna: i’d like someone to give me a lot of money for doing nothing. but i want-

Kita: and then you wanna disappear?

Suna: yes. i want to get a lot of money and then vanish from the face of the earth.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ennoshita: her family believed that when she left at 11:30 am, she had as much as $30 in her purse, which in today’s dollars would be more than $750.

Nishinoya: holy moly!

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche—

Nishinoya: yeah.

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche.

Nishinoya: thirty bucks going that far in 1910.

Tanaka: i don’t even have $750 in my bank account.

Nishinoya: i’ve never had $750 in my pocket! i rarely have had $30 in my pocket.

Ennoshita: well i don’t really carry cash anymore-

Nishinoya & Tanaka: who does!?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yaku: stop number one, mothman statue.

Lev: it looks very ornate.

Yaku: *shocked that lev knows that word*

Yaku: you’ll be able to stare at it eye to eye.

Lev: what’s that supposed to mean?

Yaku: it means you’re eight feet tall, it’s a tall joke. get it?

Lev: 🧍🏼

Yaku: 🤦🏼‍♂️

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: any... any thought in that so far?

Bokuto: (fart sound) nope. what year is it, ‘66?

Akaashi: ‘66.

Bokuto: few teens out there probably smoking a few funny cigarettes.

Akaashi: you could say weed. it’s 2018.

Bokuto: ...some grass.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kageyama: so my guess is the couples were somewhere around here, maybe on that road over there.

Hinata: yeah.

Kageyama: and i'm not sure of the exact location but this is where they saw him stumbling around.

Hinata: they just… saw him kinda shambling?

Kageyama: yeah.

Hinata: big shambling man. kinda *shuffling his body*

Kageyama: i- i don’t know, maybe he was just taking a walk, i mean, what's it to you?

Hinata: why would you take a walk if you had wings?

Kageyama: he's a fucking creature, he can do what he wants.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: but all im saying is that what you need to gather from this is that he has an effect on people's psyche.

Lev: this mothman's a complicated character.

Kuroo: what does he sound like? what does he sound like?

Lev: he sound like the blood bird.

Kuroo: …

Lev: flappy spookster.

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: that's- come on.

Kuroo: *glances over to lev's notes*

Lev: the winged wretch. did i already say that?

Kuroo: this just says fright terror.

Kuroo: *throws away the notes*

Lev: you know, just call him batman, why is that hard? 😩

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(howling)

Goshiki: what the fuck.

Shirabu: well those are coyotes… or dogs. Or a large pack of something.

Goshiki: holy shit.

Shirabu: just some coyotes.

Goshiki: are you not fucking alarmed right now?

Shirabu: are you scared? (laugh)

Goshiki: dude wait- this goes beyond belief, that was a pack of, whatever the fuck that was.

Shirabu: it was coyotes!

Goshiki: is that our cue to leave? i think maybe. we've been out here for quite a bit.

Shirabu: yeah, i don’t know if were gonna find anything tonight.

Goshiki: i don’t wanna be in the mouth of some coyote later, that's not how i want the picture wrap on old tsutomu to be.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Atsumu: air force one? they filmed air force one here?

Atsumu: air force one actually, now that i think of it, remember the reason they hijacked the plane is to release for the-

Sakusa: i’m gonna go ahead and cut you off right there 'cause i don’t give a shit.

Sakusa: we’re gonna move over here.

Atsumu: …okay.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kai: four people in a cell, that's a lot

Kuroo: i mean, you put any normal people in a room that's too small. like if you’re in a dorm in college, if you hate your roommate…

Kai: it's tough business

Kuroo: listening to music too loud when i'm trying to study

Kai: hwfrrrrr…

Kuroo: cookin' uhh… top ramen in the microwave when i'm trying to sleep

Kai: you got some axes to grind?

Kuroo: no.

Kai: oh

Kuroo: fuck you, daishou.

Kai: daishou?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(distant thud)

Yamamoto: what the fuck?

Kenma: :3

Yamamoto: is all i have to say to that.

Kenma: they didn’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: you didn't like the thumb talk? was it too much thumb talk? i thought we went about two minutes long on the-

(distant thud)

Kenma: they don’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: *looking around in shock*

Kenma: *stopping himself from laughing*

Yamamoto: uhhhh… holy fuck. holy fuck, holy fuck. if you’re one of the people that had that thumb thing to happen to you, that sucks. what was it like?

Kenma: what do you think you're gonna get right now? 😑

Yamamoto: i feel like we should go see what that is, to be honest.

Kenma: *shakes his head*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: we’re walking over to the source of the disturbance.

Hinata: hello? (sigh) i’m gonna lose my mind. so, it did that twice within the span of 10 seconds but nothing else?

Tsukishima: but, we can confirm that it did sound like this right? *slams the cabinet door*

Hinata: yeah.

Tsukishima: that was the sound.

Hinata: do you think the wind’s gonna do that twice?

Tsukishima: *blows on the cabinet door*

Tsukishima: not moving 🙄

Hinata: well, shit.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sugawara: oh there it is. it’s that. *pointing to where the sound was coming from*

Asahi: what?

Sugawara: there’s a logical explanation for you.

Asahi: ah! okay, there it is. well, there you go, there you go.

Sugawara: but, if we hadn’t seen that...

Asahi: if we hadn’t seen that we would be fooled 😅

Sugawara: no, we wouldn’t have been fooled. you would have been telling me for months.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

*inside the prisoners of ohio state penitentiary*

Kageyama: this is fucking terrible.

Tsukishima: it’s the opportunity of a lifetime to be here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tendou: i’m separating from the group.

Semi: it’s the ideal time to kill him.

Tendou: yeah i mean, if i were gonna die in camera it would be a pretty noble thing.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: I don’t understand what’s wrong with atsumu sometimes.

Atsumu: what was that?

Osamu: i didn’t say anything.

Atsumu: you sure you didn’t say anything, ‘samu?

Osamu: now go back and set ‘em off to make sure they work.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: *inhales*

Atsumu: *inhales*

Sakusa: you need to back up from me. i can feel your air intake. it’s like a gross nasal jet, i don’t know.

Atsumu: *takes a step towards sakusa*

Sakusa: uh no *takes a step backwards*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Futakuchi: latch yourself onto my soul, come back to hollywood with me, and destroy the lives of all my friends and coworkers.

Koganegawa: a little hard to follow, but i like where you’re going.

Futakuchi: kogane’s family has a little-

Koganegawa: ey! ey! do-! do-! don’t!

Futakuchi: -dog named mickey.

Koganegawa:*trying to stop futakuchi*

Futakuchi: real good. you wanted me to give it my all. i’m throwing stuff on the table.

Koganegawa: insults, not personal information. you’re giving him a dossier on my life!

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[alternating-b-w]

discussing the idea of a “stand user community"

and why itd kind of suck being in it as well as a storytelling device

//general spoiler warnings for jjba ESP part 8

look, if we go by the metrics of stand users, a lot of stand users are kind of weirdoes, assholes and straight up criminals, so a community based around a group of highly independent and different individuals is gonna naturally have a lot of abrasion and drama; anything else would be unrealistic. the one time it worked, morioh, was literally bc josuke brought them all into line and they all had to solve a more pressing problem (literal serial killer). all of the users the arrow chose ranged, at least initially, from generally unpleasant (shigechi, yuya, rohan) to psychopaths (tamami, yukako, kira). you could argue that this is for plot reasons, but plot does, at the end of the day, dictate the story and mechanics of plot devices.

EVERY TIME we see stand users gather in a group, theres normally one guy whos the top dog who assembled them, and theyre normally all together for actual reasons:

dio sought them out

keicho/yoshihiro shot dudes with the arrow and briefed them afterwards on what to do

polpos trial made getting a stand pretty much a precondition for entering passione

pucci was handing out disks like candy to prisoners

valentines is literally the president, he can employ whoever he wants

jobin needed the rock humans because they have a mutually beneficial relationship regarding the new locacaca

if you consider that most of the stand users we meet throughout the series get their abilities from arrows/disks/devils palm/being rock humans/wall eyes/etc etc, then the actual number of natural human stand users is significantly low (p much the only confirmed protags with no plot devices is kak, avdol, polnareff, anasui, hot pants, yasuho), to the point where youd have to be banking off 「gravity」to find one as a fellow stand user. sure, pucci has a shitload of stand disks hoarded as we can see in the foo fighters arc, but pucci has been also hoarding these disks for 30-odd years, so for that amount of time the number of disks is pretty low, again proving my point on the actual volume of natural stand users.

my personal views: when a work of fiction elaborates more on the shit it made up by say, adding institutions for that group or having them make their own culture, it starts to lose touch with reality and the diversity of the world around us. as an example of what i mean by this, just google krakoa. at the end of the day, the charm of jojo is that despite all the insane stuff that happens, it still feels based on reality. for the most part, characters go to real places with architecture that lines up with the real deal, enjoy real cultural touchstones from people of the country (monica belluci, toshinobu kubota etc etc) and infodump a lot of (real) trivia. im kidding on that last one. but seriously, by focusing more on the internal politics of stand users, you lose sight of their relevancy to the world around them; at that point it becomes some harry potter shit. why set something in the real world when it has fuck all to do with it? plus, given the in-story approach of stands as utilities that are generally handed out to be used for dirty work, the idea of stand user culture seems to runs contradictory to that.

thx for coming to my ted talk have a good one