Category: Life

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Heroin, Court, and Crappy DA’s

Potter County Women’s Recovery Center

August 23, 2017

Wednesday

Day 50

Quote of the day: to Tori [heroin addict]–”Wow! You have tried to put everything everywhere!” (Tori has been trying to explain to Megan how to make a noise by moving your finger around in your ear.)

2:30pm

“There’s different situations for every circumstance.” – Jesse, Residential Worker, on making and enforcing the rules.

My reaction: BOOOOOOOOOOOO! Thumbs down! That’s just called picking on people! Enforcing rules only when you feel like it, right?

Anyway, I went to court today and I had to wait foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeever to be called and the the judge went over my case–2nd probation violation–(yup I sure did take an Adderol when it was offered to me–what else do I have to do?? I have no kids around! I stayed up all night and got six writing jobs done!). And of course the DA, Candy Blobsom Who Has No Soul recommended the SIP (State Intermediate Punishment) program, and then the judge decided…….to make me go sit back down while he deliberated over it some more. Soooo THEN WE WAIT AN(OTHER) HOUR. 

This is verbatim: “I just don’t know what to do with your case.” 

So then he took somebody else’s case and somebody else’s case and finally he calls a meeting of him, the DA, the Drug and Alcohol Counselor, and several other people.

Now I’m sitting outside with Chantilly Lace. Just sitting in the grass talking. I’m grateful that I’m at this place and not prison, where there’s no sun or grass. I traced a heart shaped leaf that Chantilly Lace gave to me in my journal.

So, the order of the court reads:

“Pursuant to sentence for a period of not less than 24 months to be completed as follows: 12 months at Women’s Center. After 10 months go to a treatment center. Then three months house arrest and 9 months of intensive probation. 

Fun fun. And more fun after that.

I’m going to go through a lot of journals. We got another new person–some mentally handicapped (can’t even read) woman child who apparently molested her own daughter. 

Her stay should be fun.

I want to know if I can be work release eligible. And I have to write a modification of custody order so I can see Tiger. 

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Lockdowns, Asians, and Dicks

Muncy State Prison

April 26 2024

Friday

11:49am

We got searched. They didn’t take anything from me. They took Burgundy’s shoes and her fan. 

Wasn’t hers, apparently.

Hm.

2:49pm 

Oh no. The neighbor cube is getting a fourth roommate who apparently killed her two children by shooting them in their faces, and she’ll be sleeping on a top bunk directly next to Daisy. Like–inches apart.

Cool.

The Unit Manager apparently put the new Asian lady next door because she and the current Asian lady that lives there both speak Vietnamese.

They also both speak English.

Hm. 

Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” is on the radio for the millionth time. Daisy says it’s trying to tell me something.

Hm.

I don’t understand. How would Gary Zukav reconcile parents who kill their children? Did they agree to THAT before they were all born??

I need to know.

5:47pm We just got back from dinner. Somebody in blues–either a new person or a juvenile–got taken to the Hole in a restraint chair. We had to wait forever to go back to the Unit. 

This place is so sad.

Our Unit was singing and dancing and generally being obnoxious and loud while somebody was being strapped to a chair and taken to solitary confinement.

This is how we treat each other.

In other news, Daisy is having anxiety about sleeping next to the Vietnamese murderess, who is currently blowing her nose every three minutes and randomly staring directly at people.

Cool.

April 29th, 2024

Monday

10:15am

Lockdown today. 

SUPER BORING.

Burgundy is doing yoga moves. Daisy and I are watching her and doing nothing. I guess I’ll blog.

4:20pm

Still on lockdown. This was an extremely boring day. There’s a rumor that we’re locked down tomorrow too.

Kill me.

5:20pm

Still on lockdown. Count hasn’t cleared yet. No dinner. Someone is retching loudly in the bathroom. I’m wondering what the deal is with trash, since I am a trash detail today. Yes, the inmates cook and do all the janitorial work, too. While the government actually MAKES money off of us. Captain Dick ‘em Down turns out to be just Captain Dick, writing people up for going into the bathroom more than four at a time, like it matters or something. 

What an asshole.

5:30pm

They haven’t even called the diabetics to insulin yet. What in the fuck is going on?? 

Today sucks even worse than normal.

5:49pm

Count clear. 

Not resuming normal movement. Maybe. Nobody knows. 

Yes–lockdown lifted. 

Jesus Christ.

Thank God.

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War, Choices, and Toxic Shock Syndrome

Muncy State Prison

April 25th, 2024

Thursday

9pm

Modified lockdown today, so that the entire compound can watch the PREA (Prison Rape Elimination Act) video (again). The rumor is that we’re getting like four Chef Boyardee raviolis for lunch. 

Oh good.

My video conference for today was cancelled because I waived the preliminary hearing. I hate waiving hearings. I always feel like it gives them the upper hand even more so than they already do.

Daisy and I were talking about county jails yesterday, and she said that Fayette County Jail is known as “Fayette’nam” because it’s so horrible. Tampons are $0.40/apiece and you can only order 10 per week, so you have to stock up or make your own tampons out of pads. Sounds like a recipe for Toxic Shock Syndrome to me. Imagine having 10 tampons for a whole period–five to seven days long–when you usually use six or eight per day. SO a box of 40 tampons would be $16.00 in Fayette’nam. 

Jesus Christ.

4pm Lockdown finally lifted.

8:09pm I sent Paul the two blogs I wrote and told him that I missed him. I don’t really know what else to say. I don’t think there is anything else to say. I asked him to please respond. I’m reading this book, “The Seat of the Soul” by Gary Zukov. It’s about the evolution of the human soul  and light and intentions and the Universe. I don’t really understand it, but it’s another one of those books that says that you create your own reality. I can never seem to wrap my head around that. 

I would never create this for myself.

Never.
I would never have chosen for my children to die and the others to be taken away. I would have never chosen prison for 10 years of my life or an abusive, horrible mother. I would have never chosen to go through so much pain, suffering, and horror that I became suicidal.

No.

I did not choose this for myself.

What about casualties of war? What about the Jews in the Holocaust? Do you think they chose that life? That death?

Why?

That doesn’t make any sense. 

Talk about vibrations and frequencies and light all you want, but I didn’t choose this.

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Twerking, Sex, and Shit Nuggets

Muncy State Prison

April 24, 24

Wednesday

12:43pm

The next cube is discussing Channing Tatum’s “sexy-twerk,” and in my book, Tina Fey is talking about writing “shit nuggets” on Saturday Night Live.

I just signed the waiver to my preliminary hearing and bond paper work.
Ugh.

The criminal conferences aren’t until July. The second one is July 17th. That’s another three months here.

2:39pm

I talked to Motorcycle. Someone he was selling tools to mentioned me and asked him if he knew anyone where he could get laid.

Disgusting.

He thought I was a stripper because he saw me with Motorcycle, who used to be the bouncer at the local strip club. And I’m pretty sure I slept with his brother during a low point in my life.

What a nice reputation to have.

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Elections, Recidivism, and Chicken Patties

Muncy State Prison

April 23, 24

Tuesday

8:49am

I have some class today at 9:30am. It’s the primary elections today, and Biden is leading Trump in Pennsylvania so far.

Hm.

11:23am

I went to this group and, like always, they showed a video from 30 years ago made by men and for men, and told us that we are here in prison because we are addicted to drugs.

That’s super helpful.

Then it told us that if we don’t break the law, we’ll be fine on parole, which is complete bullshit. The rules that parole sets for us have nothing to do with the law. Is it illegal to be out of your home after 7pm? No. Is it illegal to drink alcohol? No. Is it illegal not to have a job? Nope.

Whatever.

There was one woman in the entire 30 minute video. A woman in the class pointed out that the video says nothing about being a mother and attempting to follow the rules of parole. The lady “teaching” the class spluttered and then said she was writing down her concerns and would discuss the them with somebody else and that she was “advocating” for us inmates.

Whatever you want to tell yourself, lady. It’s a zero-sum game that’s rigged for recidivism.

Chicken patties for lunch again. It’s like every other day. Could be worse, I guess. I called Motorcycle long enough to tell him that I couldn’t talk to him today, and would call tomorrow. This fucking group is an hour and a half a day for three days a week. No word on how many weeks.

6:46pm

I called the boys. They were building with Construx. King got mad at Superman for telling him to stop digging in the Construx so he could hear me, which made Superman mad, so we just got off the phone.

I hate my life.

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Magistrates, Monogamy, and Motorcycle

Muncy State Prison

April 22nd, 2024

Monday

8:30am

I should have put in a commissary sheet. Stryder (presumably) put $50 on my books. So now I won’t have anything coming this week. 

Not for two Fridays.

Ugh.

I guess I’ll read “Seat of the Soul.” I haven’t heard anything yet about Library being cancelled.

10am

Shocker of the year–Motorcycle was the one who put $50 on my account. 

Wow.

He also called me a “catty little bitch.” I don’t know where that came from. He said, “Tell me how much you want me,” and I said (eye roll) “I want you,” and then he called me a catty little bitch, as if he was joking. 

So fucking weird.

Why, when guys think they have you all the way, do they start getting fucking mean?

THIS IS WHY I DON’T DO MONOGAMY.

Fuck.

As soon as you commit or sign the marriage certificate. 

It never fails.

3:30pm

So, I got called into the Counselor’s office, where the Magistrate Judge was on the phone to convince me to waive my preliminary hearing on the 25th. He also set my bail at $15,000 unsecured for both cases, which doesn’t help me at all because I already have to stay here anyway, because the Parole Board decided to keep me here pending the disposition of my charges.

And so I got my hopes up for nothing. And now I’m reading this book on openness and trust and faith and there being a reason for everything.

“Detain pending the disposition of new charges.”

Fuck my fucking life.

Next court date June 5th. Looks like I’ll be spending another fucking birthday in prison.

I can’t read this book anymore today.

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Red hair dye, Nipples, and Chantilly Lace

Potter County Women’s Recovery Center

Day 49

8/22/17

8am

I’m beginning to love “The Golden Girls.” Does that mean I’m old? I feel old. Especially today–pain everywhere. It’s like the fog outside seeped right into my bones. Thank God for Meloxicam. 

Court tomorrow.

I don’t even want to think about it. Every time I walk into that courtroom, my life gets monumentally worse. 

Time for Community–we get to say our goals for the day and such. Parenting classes today–last time I cried through my “kid history.” Hopefully no crying this time. The women are discussing morphine and being knocked out by it. I don’t want to think about that either.

I am very tired today.

10:40am

This day is taking FOREVER! They just gave me a new mattress. Too bad I’m leaving tomorrow (probably for state prison), because it’s really comfortable. 

I still have “Fight Song” stuck in my head. The doctor told me yesterday that my liver enzymes are coming down [from having Hepatitis C from IV drug use], so pretty soon I can come in less often for bloodwork. So that’s good news. I sent my Kidowed book manuscript to Barricade Books, so we’ll see ho that goes.

8:30pm

Munchy thinks Chantilly Lace’s name should be Perky. 🙂 Her hair used to be blue. We’re in the laundry room dyeing my hair and having a blast. We’re laughing so much. We’re pretending our nipples can talk for some reason. It’s hilarious. Munch is taking her pointer fingers and pointing them out at boob level and wiggling them around as she talks. It’s freakin’ hysterical. I can’t believe sometimes how much these women have been through. It’s like a miracle that they can still smile.

Munchy’s having trouble adapting to this place–she won’t do “Community” in the morning or “Meditation” at night with the rest of the group. Chantilly Lace is taking forever to dye my hair. I hope it will look okay for court tomorrow. 

Uh oh.

I hear yelling from the common area…can’t investigate–gettin’ hair did.

Uh oh again. 

Chantilly has a cut on her hand and she wasn’t wearing gloves–owch! I don’t think this dye job will ever be done.

Omg.

Now Cat’s pissed because we’re doing hair dye during meditation time.

This place drives me crazy.

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Thoughts on Human Stupidity…

April 21, 2024

Sunday

“Unstoppable” is playing on the radio. I slept most of the day. It’s surprisingly cold out today. I didn’t call Motorcycle today. At least I took a shower. I didn’t bother yesterday. Daisy says she’s going to request to be moved to another unit. I can’t imagine what I’m going to do without her. She’s the only one I talk to. She can’t stand anybody, especially Burgundy, who she pretends to like. I wonder if she pretends to like me. She can’t stand the neighbor cube either, who are very loud and obnoxious. I can’t stand Burgundy either. She was laughing about stealing people’s credit cards yesterday. Then in the next breath, she’ll be talking about how she’s changed so much for the better and she’s a different person since being in prison. I read the stuff I wrote on Friday to Daisy yesterday, which was a mistake. It seemed to make her completely miserable. She seemed to agree with me, but the more she talked about it, the more hateful she got. I’m afraid I’m dragging her down into my pit of misery and despair.

4:11pm

The rumor is that Library is going to be cancelled for the next two weeks. Of course, Daisy and I are on the schedule to go tomorrow. I’ve had the same books for two weeks, since I missed last week. I’m reading, “The Hot Zone” by Richard Preston about the origins of the Ebola virus. Turns out it came from humans keeping too many animals–monkeys–in confined and unnatural environments. Same as HIV, SARS, Avian Flu, Swine Flu, Mad Cow, COVID, etc., etc., etc. Will humans ever learn??

Another book I picked up today off the Unit is called “The Seat of the Soul” by Gary Zukov. © 1989. It’s about the spiritual evolution of the human race. I’m not sure we’ve evolved…I would be more inclined to say we’ve devolved since the ‘80s. Humans are mostly idiots, I tend to think. At least the majority of the ones I’ve met are. Think: People dying in droves from a preventable virus because they refused to wear masks or get vaccinated…Maybe the stupidity is focused on the United States…this makes me very worried about the Westernization of the globe.

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Nasty Mean Crackhead Daughters

Back to 2017–When I got remanded to the Potter County Women’s Recovery Center for one year for two nanograms of THC in my urine.

August 21st, 2017

Monday

Day 47

I want my kids near me so much it just hurts all of the time. 

All the time. 

Every second.

People talk a lot here about withdrawing from drugs–do it one day, one hour, one minute, one second…at a time.

That’s how I feel about withdrawal from my children. All of them. All of the time. Forever and ever.

4pm

Back in the car after my therapy appointment. Going  to the GI (liver) doctor this time. My therapist says that when things get really bad, I should just focus on the beauty in small things.

The solar eclipse was cool. The world sort of dimmed for a minute. 

Neat.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!!! I forgot to make my phone call!! Shit!!

Freya’s been a real jerk lately to me, which is weird, because I don’t even talk to her. Like today, I was telling somebody else about my therapist appointment, and as soon as the word “therapist” came out of my mouth, she jumped in with, “Oh, did your Mommy have to hold your hand for that?” I just looked at her for a second with my brows crossed in sort of a, “Like, what are you, TWO?!” look, and then finished my story, not even looking at her. Like–I wasn’t even talking to you, bitch!! I find that people like her are either sociopaths or in reality, even if they exude confidence and are always quick with a snappy retort, they actually hate themselves inside. That’s terrible. I feel bad for her. Been there. Just MEAN. Nasty mean to everybody. 

My father told me that they did successfully enroll the boys in Head Start. It’s ironic to me–my mother’s been an elementary school teacher for almost 30 years, and is now a reading specialist, but she won’t teach them their ABCs. 

Like–what the fuck.

It’s probably because she’s not getting paid to. Speaking of money, I’m shocked that they got in at all, because the program is income-based, and I’m sure my mother would sooner die than spend one cent that she didn’t absolutely HAVE to on her worthless crackhead (or drunk or whatever she calls me) daughter.

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Money, Liars, and Nightmares

April 20th, 2024

Saturday

I had nightmares last night. Then I woke up and thought the clothes hanging at the end of my bed were a person.

10am

Called Motorcycle–I don’t know how I feel about him anymore. I told him Paul wrote me defending himself, and Motorcycle said, “Good for him.” 

I got off the phone after that.

He told me he would get me money by the beginning of next week. Yeah. Last week it was by the end of this week. I told him I had to get off the phone to save money. He asked me twice if I was having an attitude. I can’t ever believe anything he says.

He lies to me.

He’s a liar.

What have I done?

Now he has all of my stuff.

Great.