Single Digits

Written January 8, 2009

Well today hasn't been that bad. Yes, my face is still terribly swollen and I feel feverishly sick, but hey, wuddyagunado?

I did feel well enough to work out today which was good. I just couldn't do as much as I normally do. One thing about today that has been very pleasant indeed is the absence of my bunky. "Rico" has been at court all day and should remain there until later tonight. Rico is trying to get drug court, which is a treatment program that I have no faith he will be able to complete. But at least if he gets it, they will release him and I will be in here alone!

In jail, it's all about getting just the right amount of solitude. Too much can make you go a little batty I think. But if I was alone in this cell the rest of the time I have here I would be all right. Sooo...fingers crossed!

As of today, I can count the number of days I have left on two hands. Tomorrow I move into the single digits. Which is so surreal to me that I don't even want to talk about it for a bunch of reasons.

Many times I have seen people come to jail and leave while I am still here and it's always around the single digits that they get very vocal about their imminent departure. To someone who still has plenty of time left to do, this can be very upsetting. So I am not going to make too much of a big deal about it (even though I'd like to!) because I remember how crummy it used to be to hear others do it. Especially here. Some serious offenders here are still fighting their cases and don't know yet when they might be getting out, or if they ever will. I talk, hangout with, and have formed real friendships with men who have, in some cases, been here for years fighting charges like bank robbery, fraud, attempted murder, vehicular manslaughter, terrorism, and straight up murder. Some of these guys are never going to be released, so as stoked as I am to be leaving, I have enough respect for them all to not make a big deal out of it or rub it in.

My sleep here has gotten on a pretty jacked up routine. I don't sleep too much at night, then I wake up early to eat and do count. I do what I can to stay awake as long as I can before I eventually succumb to sleep and then I usually sleep until lunch time. I would like to get on a more regular sleep schedule, but that's not completely up to me really.

Here there's nothing you can do about somebody being loud and yelling out of the crack in their door or through the vent. There isn't a thing you can do to shut them up. At the farm, I had a little bit of pull. If I said "Radio" or "quiet time" especially at night, it would get quiet. And, not to sound scary or whatever, but if somebody didn't shut up after that, something would happen to them. Here, there are no politics, no reps, no disciplinary action applied to those who decide they want to yell and scream all night after lights out. That really does make it hard to try and get on a regular sleep schedule before I leave here.

Whatever. I am leaving this cell on January 18, 2009. I go downstairs, get dressed out, get processed out, take one last trip through the loop, and then I'll be on the streets of downtown Santa Ana. And nothing can change that.

When I get out I'll have no jacket, little money, a bag full of books, and wearing clothes that I haven't worn in four months that haven't been washed. And I couldn't be happier about it. I am checking another day off my little calendar, another day down, another day closer to home. Because I am practically already there. I'm coming home everybody. I'm coming home.