Pre-Prison Musings

The following is more a personal diary entry for future reference than anything, although it fits into the narrative of recent posts too. If you're looking for my typical humor, you might want to skip this one. If you're young and dicking around with drugs and being lazy, you most certainly should read on. In any event, thanks for clicking, thanks for the support, and I'll catch you down the road...


Pre-Prison Musings

If you think getting your shit in order for a long vacation is stressful, try getting your affairs in order for a thirty-two month stint in prison! Actually don't try it, because it turns out it's not a lot of fun. Interesting? Most definitely---especially if you find psychological studies to be your cup of tea. I'm going to attempt to describe what it's like trying to go through life knowing I am going into a completely foreign, unfriendly, uncomfortable place for a long period of time.

I have always hated goodbyes. Whether they be merely from a party or a family vacation, I just can't stand bidding farewell to people of whom I'm fond. It's a real weak spot for me. My current situation seems to be like working out a weak body part in the gym, or being forced to speak in public when one finds it entirely terrifying. my greatest dislikes are being isolated, poked, and probed like never before. I know this process will make me more well-rounded as a person in the long run, but this certainly doesn't make things any easier now.

I'm dealing with seemingly endless goodbyes right now. Not the "see ya later" variety, but "I'm going for a long time, and I may or may not be the same person when I get back" shit, and it's gut wrenching. No one really knows what to say, and even if I take it past platitudes like "I'm going to be fine", I have to stop short otherwise I'll just start crying. I don't like to cry because it hurts. Not just emotionally, but it gives me a headache and a stuffy nose. But I digress. The point is this ordeal is a remarkable, crippling compilation of unpleasantness that I never bargained for when I decided to take the risk of dealing drugs. "Can I do the time if I get caught?", I asked myself. Yes. If someone had mapped out the ancillary effects of getting arrested now that I've lived them? Hell no.

Hidden Punishments...

Over the nearly ten months of being in limbo the dread and disappointment has ebbed and flowed. Immediately following the event, I was completely broken. I would often feel like simply falling to my knees and breaking down right there in public. Suicide was absolutely a possibility, and I often thought about the best way, settling on renting a storage unit big enough to fit a car with the engine running. It was nearly impossible to laugh or ever strong together moments resembling a good mood. I was the epitome of a guy who has literally had that smirk wiped off of his face. As time passed my good spirit began to take over again and gratitude inventory, along with friends and family, allowed me to compartmentalize my pink elephant. Now that things have gotten oh-so-real, however, I'm right back to where I was and then some. But as I was saying, it's the little pains in the ass that really add up.

First I had to move from my nice little apartment back to roommates. Then I had to live in a halfway house for five months with even more roommates, and go to AA meetings for ninety straight days, while working my menial delivery job. (So much for any creative progress for personal affirmation during that time.) I had very promising love affairs stall or fizzle in painful fashion because I am damaged goods who's soon going to be gone. I had the blues pretty much all the time, and was always on the razor's edge of being completely broke. Luckily I have great experience in this arena, and the extent of how stretched I was financially is downright comical if looked at in the right way.

I can't afford suspension work on my car, so it blows through tire tread. More than once I've changed a completely bald, ready to blow-out tire for a used replacement because a new one would've tapped me out. Don't think the absurdity of me deciding which tire was less likely to give out was lost on me. I was weighing whether to get breakfast at a hotel prior to a court date, but $6.99 was too pricey, especially considering I'd have to add a tip. I filled up with gas while there was still money in my bank account, know ing a check would bounce, because if my car wasn't running I make no money. I don't have any loose change laying around---it's also been used for gasoline. All the while having a hernia that I couldn't afford to get repaired.

So that's the bed that I have made for myself: broke, broken, and largely depressed. Life a huge hassle with few rewards and the pain of major separation for good measure. But in the midst of all of this, I've still managed to be a good soul, which bodes well for me emerging from prison largely unchanged. Even at my lowest point, I'd still be polite and cordial with my courier interactions because I was raised well. I'm smart enough to know that no matter how down I was, sending out bad vibes and fighting against the flow of life would only make things worse. It's nice to know that I have this instinct, and it will serve me well to emerge from my prison stint as the same person.

Not All Bad

Alas with all of the bad, came a lot of good. My 2000 Mazda Protege with 175,000 miles has been nothing short of amazing. While doing a lot of creaking due to needing front end work, this car brought me through everything with zero problems. All the trips to Asheville for court, and month after month of driving deliveries around Atlanta, this rig has needed absolutely no repairs. I've had it for 100,000 miles in two and a half years and haven't even had to replace an alternator, only brake pads once and the same for belts and hoses.

I was also introduced in earnest to the wonders of the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous as a road map for living a happy, productive spiritual life, and the many amazing people who come with it who I wouldn't have encountered otherwise. Having support for sober living for six months was invaluable, as being clear-headed and off the pills was integral in getting the most out of the lessons I've been taught. Besides these gifts, I've learned something even more valuable: who my friends really are.

One of my oldest friends Tad put up $33,000 in bail so I could try the legal process to avoid jail, as well as complete my bankruptcy and get all of my other loose ends tied prior to going up the river. The peace of mind I'll have from this is priceless. There's also Jake, my stalwart of a roommate, who has stood by me and lent me a place to stay and also somewhere to store my belongings while I'm gone. And my old friend Tom, who is letting me store my car at his house, is selling my iMac for me after I leave and investing the money for use when I return. Not t mention he's giving me a ride to the court date that will include my intake into the prison system. A number of others who I never knew cared so much have provided emotional support for which I'll always be grateful and will help keep me strong on the next part of my journey. All of these displays of love are going to come up huge, I'm sure!

Where I'm Going And How I Got Here

Finally, what I have in front of me: years removed from my life in most uncomfortable circumstances. Getting back to my shortcomings being exposed and tested, I'm faced with being surrounded by ignoramuses at best, and barbarians at worst. I'd have to say my number one pet peeve is being compelled to engage in shitty conversation, and I expect this will be unavoidable and ubiquitous where I'm headed. Pointless rudeness, confrontation, and general stupidity will be the order of the day, and that's going to suck. I will learn how to persevere, avoid incendiary sarcasm with dumbasses, and walk other tightropes to find any degree of comfort. I've learned these skills to some extent in the past, and they will be put to the test. At least I will come out a better, well-rounded man.

The real question must be: "how did you get here?" Procrastination, laziness, and too many recreational drugs. I never had a work ethic that I sustained for any length of time, and I never chose one specific path and followed it successfully, no matter what. I was far too interested in temporary satisfaction and hardly ever postponed gratification. When I was younger it was all about the party, and I was sure my intelligence and charm would provide for me when it mattered down the road. Then months turned into years, which turned into decades, and found me with nothing of substance to show for myself.

Sure I had great friends, I was always attentive with family relationships, and got along well with everyone, which could be considered a degree of success, I suppose. The problem was I never took the time and effort to get serious about a career and make something of myself. There was always a distraction, whether it was sports to watch, golf to play, or the next party to rage. I always believed that as soon as "x" is over, well then I'll get serious about life. That looks good on paper, but devoid of discipline and goals it never meant a thing. Eventually the snowball of unrealized potential and a cycle of self-loathing due to all of the above led me here: desperately trying a shortcut to trey to bail myself out for past slackness.

So here I am, about to go to prison for thirty-plus months to think about it all and hopefully reset my life. If this doesn't get my attention, nothing will. The voice that tells me to get writing and creating needs to be listened to instead of being medicated away as I dick around wasting my life. They say everything happens for a reason, and given the absurd happenstances that got me arrested, I have to believe that. After all, the only reason I had enough powder to warrant a felony in the first place was because my supplier fronted me an amount four times the normal because she decided she could trust me. And I got ratted out by a guy down on his luck I was trying to help out. That's almost comical in the lack of justice and karma, so it has to be part of some grand plan.

I can only figure my drastic circumstances are the sole way to get me to come correct and make something happen instead of sitting idly watching my life go by. God knows nothing else has worked so far. So while this next stage of my life is going to suck royally, I'm going to be careful to take away the proper lessons and ultimately make it into a positive. This is really the only alternative at this point. So off I go, into the unsavory and unknown---the true school of hard knocks. I can do this. I will do this. And the next time I get the urge to dick around instead of be productive I can only hope I'll tell the short-term gratification to take a rain check. The good times will be there when I have earned them.
And they will be sweeter than any short-tem gratification, that's for sure!