Hello Food Service!

My first week on the job and they have yet to fire.  All this time in prison and my jobs have all been super easy.  I have a real job now.  Even though my hands are dish-pan hands and very soft, I'm busting my ass. 

I am working for the food service. They placed me on the A.M. shift.  I wake up at 2 a.m. and head to work.  I finish around 10:45 a.m.  I'm not adjusted to this new schedule yet.  I'm still falling asleep at 11 p.m. then waking up three hours later to go to work.  I'm exhausted.  During my four years in D.O.C. I have never worked this hard.  All the other jobs are a joke compared to food service.  They work your ass.  Decide not to work, then you are getting locked up for refusal to work (that's confinement time).  The only perk is you can eat.  And eat is what I do.

Food service has it's own dorm.  Two sides: one is for the A.M. shift, the other is for the P.M. shift.  So far it seems to be the most disrespected dorm on the compound.  You would think since we feed everyone this wouldn't be the case.

When I first came to prison an old-timer showed me the ropes.  He said, "Always take care of the men who wash your clothes and the ones who feed you."  Makes sense to me.  The laundry man sews, patches, and replaces your clothes.  Likewise, the kitchen feeds you.  Yet the guys who work food service are basically shitted on.  This has caused me to resort back to yet another rule of the chain-gang...look out for yourself.

You come to prison by yourself.  You will leave prison by yourself.  Don't worry about what the other guy does...worry about yourself.

Along the way you will meet some good guys.  Those are the ones you look out for.  The ones who will look out for you.  They are few and far between.  None-the-less....they are here.  My first week in this new job, and I have already found some.  I have a new bunkie, a new work out crew, and a new laundry man.  My life behind bars just hist restart in some weird way.  My first week in this new job has literally flown by.  That's a good thing. 

I have heard dozens of stories about food service.  The cook sweating over your food.  Meals prepared and prepped by bare, unwashed hands.  Guys forced to work even when they are sick.  The list goes on.  Truth is...it's hard NOT to sweat when you are in full uniform in a 100+ degree kitchen.  Then you stand over a boiling kettle or a steaming dishwasher.  I'm in a dish room.  I load cafeteria trays onto racks that are then ran through a commercial dishwasher with boiling water to sterilize them.  The trays are then removed and stacked on drying racks.  Remember this is not a mom and pop diner.  This is 1,100 to 1,200 inmates being fed in a 2-hour rush.  This isn't fine dining.

So yeah....

Now I'm the guy standing in a kitchen sweating my ass off.  For what it's worth, we eat the food we make.  This is prison, not five star dining.  When I can, I'm going back for seconds.  Right now, I'm about to enjoy two full days off.  On the street I used to say I lived for Friday.  My Friday is now on Sunday.  My plan is to sleep.  While you chase the American Dream....I chase my release date.

Check out who else does the dishes in D.O.C.......

Former Illinois Governor, Rod Blagojevich
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/23/blagojevich-prison-washes-dishes_n_1447437.html

Wild, Wild West

So, here I sit listening to some country music drawing the American Dream. OK.  Perhaps not "America's" dream, just some dude's dream....which would be a chick with a big gun.  Likewise, women may share that same dream.  Well, a man with a big gun.  And.....that opens up a whole new topic.  I am now a convicted felon, and not allowed to own a firearm.  So, instead of a gun hanging in my truck's back window, there will be a bow with some arrows.

The other day, I promised my lady that I will still keep our home safe and secure.  No, I cannot pop-a-cap in an intruder.  Instead, he will feel like he stepped into the wild, wild west.  Meet Ted Fuckin' Nugent. 

Break into my house and I'm gonna light your ass up like a trophy buck, then I'm gonna do a little warrior dance.  I told my girl that instead of a musket above our fireplace mantle, we will hang a recurve bow.  She laughs.  She is always laughing at me.  I asked if I can wear a coon-skin cap.  She doesn't care.  Most women would recommend counseling, or some meds....not my lady.  She says I'm sweet. There is really nothing sweet about me.  I mean I hope that someone does break into my house just so that I can shoot them with a bow, in a coon-skin cap, and then do my warrior dance.


Hmmm.  This topic presents another aspect also.  Most fathers pass on hunting and fishing to their kids.  I possess a number of talents.  Not many should be passed to the younger generation.  Looks like fishing it is.  Thing is, fishing is boring.  So then we throw rocks in the water.  I may not be able to shoot guns, but I can throw a mean rock.  I'm also a fairly good shot with a bow. 

Do you suppose David's daddy was a felon?  Well, I mean he taught David to use the sling so well that David killed Goliath with a rock.  That's a pretty good shot. 

So, I see my kids telling their friends...."Well, I can't come over today because my dad is taking me to shoot the bow and practice the sling."  Really, that's fine.  Too many kids sit inside with a Nintendo controller in their hands.  My kids?  They are going to roam the neighborhood with sling shots.  HA!  The only time I'll get to shoot a gun is on their Nintendo.  That's a plan....I'll send them outside to throw rocks, while dad takes over the Nintendo.  Ahhh....parenting isn't so hard after all.  I will need to make sure the kids are throwing rocks at someone else's house....not ours.  (Oh, settle down....I am joking!  Well, not about not throwing rocks at our house.  But, I do know that they shouldn't be throwing rocks at anybody's house.) 

OK.  Just one more thing.  I have been listening to a  lot of country lately.  Zac Brown Band!  You guys ROCK!  Rascal Flatts, could you put some bass in your voice?  The lyrics are great though.

Hmmmm....I guess that's about all for now.  I'll check back later.  You all keep it real now.

Give Me One More Chance.

Last week I read about a man who writes for a blog from Death Row.  He made front page of the Jacksonville paper due to his blunt basking of the Florida prison system.  You go Mr. Death Row Poet.

He was given an interview in which he was asked, "Do you feel ready to be released?"

Since reading that article I have asked myself that same question a hundred times.  Over the past 3.5 years of my prison sentence I have many times thought about that day.

What is the American dream?  Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Is that still your dream?  Just prior to coming to prison, my life was anything but.  I was pursuing the other American dream...get high...stay high.

When I read the Death Row Poet's interview, I was taken by his response.  Today, for me, my life is a mission to better myself.  Even my blog is used to reach out.  Sometimes, it is just about a simple laugh.  Other times, I am serious and use my life experiences to make a point, but let's move on.  Let's move toward something.

My goal is no longer to get high.  Ask me!  Ask me if I'm ready to go home.  Ask me if I'm ready to be a man to my woman, a role model to my child, a big brother to my siblings.  My answer is YES!

Every day of my life is spent planning for that day.  Making sure that I'm ready.  Fixing my relationships, putting drugs and past addictions further behind me.  Replacing the bad people in my life with ones who love me for me, people who stand beside me, and see me as a changed man.  My support group.

Ask me if I'm ready to go home...I'll give you the opposite answer the Death Row Poet gave.  Then again, we are different in many ways.  From day one, the Judicious Jailbird has been used to spark change...To inspire you to think.  To not take life for granted. To enjoy your freedom.  To grab just one more kiss from your partner before you head out that door.  To remember to call your momma and tell her how much you love her.  To be a better parent.  To smile, laugh, be silly and be ALIVE!

I'm not writing to point fingers.  I do not blame my fuck-ups on anyone else.  I'm a full-grown man and I accept responsibility for my mistakes.  This is the only way you can then work through them and fix them...fix yourself!

So instead of being angry, pointing fingers at others, talking bad about the prison, or how it's ran...I speak bad about drugs, crime, and the real issues that brought me here.  At the end of the day, I brought me here.  My mission now is to get right so I can get me back out there.

Yeah, I'm ready to go.  I have my woman, my daughter, and a solid business plan.  My family knows that I love them.  I know where I'm going.  I know how to get there.  The people who doubted me, pulled me down, held me back...well, they were the first ones to go.  Some days I see these prison bars as a giant sifter.  These bars have sifted out the good and the bad...separated me from the good in me and the bad that tried to overtake me.  I came into prison and the bullshit stopped here.  The bad in my life slowly sifted away.  Now you meet the man who stands here today. 

The drugs are gone.  Bad people are gone.  The wrong woman is gone.  My old views are gone.  Yes, the bad in my life has been sifted out by the very bars meant to confine me.  Hold me down.  Lock me in.  Punish me.  The very bars that in the end...saved my life.

Today, I'm glad that I came here.  The judge saved my life in September of 2008 when he handed me a prison sentence.  I'm just happy that instead of ranting and raving about how prison sucks and I'm angry...I used this experience to better myself.  To change my life.  Today I put a whole new price tag on freedom.  People, it's priceless.  Until you've lost it, you can't see what its full value is....unless...

Unless I can paint you a picture you can appreciate.  A picture you can fully grasp.

So, did you go in for a second kiss lately?  Did you put a love note on the seat of your spouse's car?  Have you made plans to take your kids somewhere special this weekend?  Why don't you get on that.  You only live once...enjoy your freedom.  I am going to keep fighting to get mine back.