Everythings Gonna Be All Right.....That's what my therapist says

The main character in Shawshank, the final redemption, carries dirt from his cell to the rec yard.  He takes a little each day in the cuff of his pants.  He successfully dug a tunnel through his cell wall and all the way to freedom.  One trip to the rec field at a time.

When you give a diligent man enough time to think, great things can happen.

I came to prison a construction worker that sold drugs.  Over the past 10 years I learned how to paint murals, play an excellent chess game and tattoo.  I have trademarked two businesses and made my peace with God.  I became a dad to my daughter, quit smoking and have been free from drugs.

Prison pushed me well past the red-line.  What I thought was my max-out wasn't even half way there.  Being released at age 40 doesn't scare me.  I'm ready.  Just like the man who carried his cell wall to the rec field, I fine-tuned a plan to excel in life as soon as I'm home.

I'm about to walk out of one life and into another.  I find that excites me.  It doesn't trouble me at all.

I thank everyone who stood beside me.  I thank my savior Jesus Christ.

I also thank the haters.  I thank the fucker who told my kid that I'll probably offend and come back.  I thank the asshole who told her statistics show many come back to prison and that she shouldn't wrap her heart up in me too much.

Thank you.

From the bottom of my heart, with every fiber of my being, I'm standing tall with one finger in the air.

Many loved to see me fall.  I'm standing back up now.  I asked my daughter what she said when she was told I'll probably fail......she said, "Not my Dad."

How could I fail when I have a team like that?

Times Up!!

Hope....the spark that gives us just enough to push us past the finish line.  That last bit of strength when we really need it.

I know what its like to wake in the night, not remember where you are...and think you're back home.  It took months for me to realize this isn't a dream, this is my life.

And when you finally realize that, its the day something dies and you break a little on the inside.

You give in to this being your home.

Over time you pull it back together.  Salvage pieces and build something.  This decides the weight of the man.  Prison isn't easy.  It isn't easy for the people who love you and you drag them into this shit along with yourself.

These days I dream of freedom.  I dream while I'm awake.  I wonder how it will feel...to be free.  How will it taste?  The air out there....

I don't have a clue.  Don't know if I'll break down and cry.  I may make it through the gate without tears....time will tell.

My daughter just told me she will be there when I get home.

She turned 21 a couple weeks ago.  The last time I saw her she was eight years old.  I'm about to be free and to get my daughter back.  Begin my life once again.

Second times got to mean more than the first. It will to me.  I won't take anything for granted.

I lived this life.  Felt the hurt, the pain, the loss.  But I never let the dream die.  I always dreamed big.  I have a feeling this is going to be WAY bigger than I have ever dreamed.

DID MY TIME.....

The funny thing is, I know I'm bugging out.  Seriously.  Holding onto one topic, sitting down to watch a TV show, even holding a conversation.  My attention span is that of a 3-year-old who just had too much sugar.

I think about food, motorcycles, women, the clothes I want.  If I saw a doctor they would diagnose me A.D.D.  My mind works overtime.  I can barely sleep.  People I like piss me off.  Things I used to do and enjoy now frustrates me.  Now I understand why my daughter won't talk to me when she's on her period.  Life is difficult.  No, I'm not on my period, I'm about to be released from prison.

My life for the past 10 years has been a ritual.  A fucked up ritual but routine all the same.  I'm about to take back freedom of choice.  Wow!  Can you imagine having that right stripped from you?

A family member and I used to be extremely tight.  We both left work to head home and watch Jerry Springer every day at 1 pm.  When I came to prison we fell out.  She was so disappointed in me.  Ten years have gone by and I reached out to her through someone.  She told that mutual friend that I did my time, I should come home now.  That touched me on another level.  This shit sucked.  It wasn't easy.  And now at the very end, it looks like it will continue to beat my ass right out the door.  But my cousin was right.  I did my time.  And I didn't cry about it.  I didn't whine about it.  I didn't ask for sympathy.  I pulled up my big-boy boots and I wore this thing.

It was punishment.....every day.  I punished myself more than the place did.  I grew up here under it's pressure.  I became....a Dad, a brother, an uncle and a son.  I am a man, and if the place doesn't kill me, I'll be home in 3 months.  I got this last little bit of air in my lungs and I'm swimming like hell for the surface.

GOING---GOING---GONE!!!

In the beginning I would pinch myself to see if this was real.  After two months I got tired of pinching myself.

Once I'm free I'll probably do it all over again.  I'll probably pinch the lady next to me to see if she's real...watch out lady!  Maybe I can just let the lady pinch me and kill two birds with one stone.

Aside from thinking about ladies and motorcycles I'm also downsizing my life.  Everything stays when I leave.  My radio goes to the friend without one.  The boots go to the guy always borrowing them to wear to his visits.  All the art supplies go to the guy learning to draw.  My new sweatshirt goes to the man without.  Some guys sell off their things.  I'll bless those in need.  That's the convict way.

It's significant of bigger things.  When I leave, this thing stays behind me.

I have seen countless men come and go in my ten years.  It's my turn suckers!!

Some guys get upset when another man goes.  I've always been blessed for them.  I need them to go so my day can come.  I did my time.  Ten years in prison--6 months of that in solitary confinement.  I've  fought; won some, lost some and walked away from some.  I got the whole ride.  If you only do a couple years, you can miss something.  You do a dime-piece and you pretty much hit every branch on the fall down.

A friend told me there are two things a man never forgets in his lifetime.  The day your child is born and the day you walk free.  I missed too much of my daughters life, but I was there when she was born.  Something I will never forget.  Next stop---freedom.

MENTAL HEALTH

Memorial Day passes.  Yes...Memorial.  A milestone, a memorial, another hurdle passed in the journey of my life.  The last time I'll miss a barbeque on this holiday.  Prison brings you many firsts.  This year prison brings me my last.

I get to Christmas shop for my family.  Wear a dorky sweater and mix a cold drink.  Perhaps I'll hang some lights, decorate a tree.  I can carve a turkey.  Pass the potatoes and ask for the salt and pepper, please. All the things I've missed.

This place used to be my home.  I came, I saw, I survived.  Now when I look around I see a place where I no longer belong.  Not only that, but it frustrates.  When it does, a dozen times a day, I remind myself I'm going home.

Prison was never this hard on me.  Even all these years.  But only because I became a part.  You have to if you hope to survive.  I blended with the mix and instead of fight the tide, I allowed myself to be swept with the current.  Now, as I pull away, I see the fight that takes place for so many here.

The anger.  The frustration.  These past couple months have tried my patience daily.

I try not be ugly.  Still, at times when I see things I think to myself, "Yes--You certainly belong here."

The way people act.  Their bull-dog mentality.  If they ever get free, they will just hurt someone again.  No lessons learned.  Prison doesn't rehabilitate; you have to decide to do that yourself.

I struggle to maintain focus and not allow anger to creep in.

I'm thankful I have the love of my daughter and my people.  I'm blessed this is the end of my journey here.  I've been blessed with outlets for stress and negativity with my art and writing for this blog. 

Once again, thank you for listening.

UNDER PRESSURE

Some can't see the forest for the trees.  Try seeing freedom through a fence.  Like the dog who ran and hit the end of his chain too many times, you learn to lay down just short of the pressure.

Pressure.  The thing that tries to break you.  Unless you become the pressure as you begin to push back.  I am the pressure.

It's a humbling experience to fall all the way to the bottom.  Bad enough when you trip in the parking lot and look around to see who saw it.  What if everyone saw?  What if everyone you know saw?

That's what happened to me.

That's the pressure.

I went a step further when I decided to put my life on Jailbird.  As if not enough people saw me fall, lets add more....such as yourself.

I didn't want people to watch me fall.  I wanted them to see me get back up.  My life isn't about a fall, its a redemption story.  Think "Mighty Ducks".  Those kids got tired of sucking and decided to win.  They became the pressure.

The worlds divorce rate is huge.  Kids traveling back and forth between homes.  Being a single parent is that pressure.  Perhaps you have full custody.  Even more pressure.  Are you pushing back?  Did YOU become the pressure?  Or are you still running and hitting the end of your chain?  Are you still on your back in the parking lot looking to see who saw?

Are you ready to be a "Mighty Duck"?

There's enough people falling down that once you get up, everyone looks somewhere else.  Besides, its a pitiful fucker who likes watching people fall.

That's why I told you this isn't a fall, its a redemption story.  Otherwise you would be a pitiful fucker.  Nobody wants to be that!

Charlie Sheen talked about winning.  He was snorting coke off a strippers butt cheek.  I suppose in the moment he felt he was winning.  Not So Much!  If I come home and start winning like that...somebody please stop me!

They are about to take the leash off.  I promise not to run away, tear up the trash or hump your leg.  Well....about humping your leg....

Jokes aside, I would ask you to look at your life.  Don't let it push you around.  Become that pressure.  Let your life be a redemption story, even if its just for your kids.  Its my kid who pushes me to be all I can be.  I can't fail, it's not an option.

Thank you Taylor.

Friend

A friend of mine was released just two years ago.  He writes and keeps me up on his life.  I hadn't heard from him for a couple months, he wrote me last night.

He moved into his mom's after release.  The ex-wife would bring his daughters to him on Friday.  She would come and pick them up on Sunday.  After a few months of this, and the girls going back with her, talking about the fun they had with their day, the ex had a talk with him.  She told him she was falling in love with him.  Could they try at their relationship again.

He agreed and soon after they got a place together.

All was well and his job was paying good, keeping him busy, so he purchased a new work-truck.  After a long day in Daytona, before heading home, he stopped to re-fuel his truck.  While at the pump, he watched a car and truck pull in and park at the front of the store.  They went in to buy beer.  They all came back out, cases of beer in hand, and jumped into their cars. The car speeds out first, full of girls.  The boys speed out after them in a truck.  But when the truck backs out, they smash into the side of my friends truck.  He hears the passenger yelling at the driver-"Take off, Just take off!!"

My friend runs over to the drivers side and reaches into the vehicle to take the keys.  He shuts off their truck but the driver tries to wrestle the keys back.  So my friend elbows him in the face, then snatches the keys back.

He walks into the gas-station and tells them to call the police.  The police arrive.  They inform the truck's driver he's looking at a charge and then inform my friend he's looking at a charge for taking the keys.  He advises them both to simply let it go.  My friend agrees, goes back to his truck and finishes pumping gas.

He sees a second cop pull in.  That cop  comes over to his truck and tells him to turn around and cuff-up.  He was  going to county jail.

Charges are:  assault and burglary.  Assault for the elbow and burglary for taking the keys.

Because of his previous record, his score sheet points turn out for a life sentence.  He notified his wife and mother that the prosecutor is going after him for a life sentence;  my friends wife took her own life.  A week later he had to sign over parental rights to the wife's parents so they can take his daughters.

After a lawyer spoke to the state, they have offered a plea deal of 10-years mandatory.  My  friend lost his wife, kids, and his will to live all in a week.  He wrote me and said, "Mike, if you still pray, please pray for me!!"  And I will my friend.

We had plans to ride motorcycles together.  This is a good friend of mine.  I came to prison and overcame my addiction to drugs.  I'm bigger than that now.  However, when I heard this story, it hit me hard.  This here is something I could have done.  This is a reaction that I could have.

In prison you don't call the cops.  You react.  The faster the better.  Somedays that quick reaction saves your life.  Consequently, long term side effects aren't considered.  The longer you do in prison, the more you're schooled on reflex-reactions-rather than well-thought-out reactions.

This was a wake-up to consider things that can quickly spin outside our control.  And when the cops are called, I'm the one with a record who will be taken into custody.  I'm guilty until  proven innocent.  I won't get your same rights.  Just something I need to think about.

240-SHORTY

We meet people everyday.  Most you move past without a second thought.  From time-to-time you meet someone special who leaves a mark on your life.

In my ten years behind bars, I can count  those men on one hand.  The men I gave my moms number to and exchanged personal information.  The men I want to meet on the flip-side of this thing.  Dudes who were so fuckin' cool in here that I want to keep them in my life once free.  I feel we owe it to each other to grill some steaks, have a beer and stand in free grass in someone's back year.

These men are not simply friends, they are my brothers, they are family.

They say dynamite comes in small packages.  I don't know how they packed so much spunk into a 4-foot Mexican, but meet Shorty.  I call him that, you probably shouldn't.  We earn the right to talk to each other this way.

As you read this, Shorty is a free man.  I had planned to go home from my last prison.  Then they up and moved me here a year and a half ago.  I believe my steps are ordained for me.  And I came here to meet this man.

Shorty, be the man I met here and you will go far out there.  My two Jewish brothers, Mike and Ben--the Jew Mafia lives on!!

You three men had to go so my turn would come.  Finally I am next on the list.

You guys are my brothers, you each have a place at my table.  You are also the proof that people can change.  Show the world what we're made of.

Respect, my brothers, I'll see you soon.

-HOOLIGAN-

Breathe In--Breathe Out

Breathe in, breathe out...works well on either side of the fence.  Something we all need to do.  Remember to breathe.

"Freedom is priceless" is a well known phrase.  How free are you today?  I remember when I first moved to Florida, I loved seeing palm trees, sunny days and warm weather.  Then, I got a job, got hooked on some drugs and my life began to revolve aroud my job and my addiction.  I forgot the palm trees.

I now realize that freedom is a place in your mind.  You can be free at your desk buried under files.  You simply need to find that center in your life.  You can lose your freedom...its not all that hard.  Just remember you can get it back.  Try to simply breathe in, then breathe out.

I've been free for some years now.  I'm about to come home and exercise my freedom.  I get to come home and live my life with this new-found-freedom.  I won't take the palm trees for granted anymore.  Where I'm going there aren't palm trees.  There are snow banks and ice-sickles five months of the year.  But that's my freedom!  Stacking wood in the wood box for the stove.  Knocking snow off my boots.  Watching my breathe as I exhale.  Breathe in, breathe out.

You have seen me find my freedom here on Jail Bird.  You have encouraged me with your thoughts and comments.  Some of you have wrote me and shared your life with me.  I feel privileged to have walked some of my journey with you at my side.  In some way you helped bring freedom to me.

In return I will come home and help bring freedom to you.  We can feed off the positive energy of others.

Or....

We can feed off their negative energy.  That's how this thing works.  So many have given so much to me. I will forever be grateful.

I used to take from people.  I have hurt people.  My life left victims.  I can't change that, but I can attempt to give back.  Whether you like me or not, I'm about to come home.  You don't have to greet me when we meet.  Instead, you can watch.  I'm ready to prove myself.  I will encounter plenty of negative energy along with the positive.  I'll know you when I see you.

May I remember to just breathe.

Tattoo'd Hooligan @ Facebook

Here I am, down to my final few months.  Trying to stay low, under the radar and out of the way.  A Sergeant came to my dorm and began to ask around, "Who is the white guy who wears glasses and has all the tattoos?"  "The one who draws?"

Well, I take off my glasses and go sit in the TV room where there's a crowd.  Inmates know better than to volunteer information like that.  However, my dorm officer goes..."Oh yeah--that's Smith--he's in the back..."

So the Sergeant comes up to me and she asks why I didn't step forward.  I simply state, "I'm a convict and I didn't know why you needed me."  She looks at me and says, "I already know you're the tattoo guy---but can you paint?"

Well that's how I gave back to the community at my last camp.  Painted shit for them.  Signs, labels, murals; whatever they needed.  Now, at a new camp, I had just decided to lay low and chill for my last few months.  But, I went on in there and showed some skills and I'm now painting the officer's canteen and break lounge.  Lettering, murals...oh my!

The officer who has assigned me to this position pointed out to me that summer is already here.  Our dorms are hot and sweaty all day.  And I'm being given a job in the A.C. to paint.

I get to leave my dorm and go somewhere cool.  Put in my music and chill out.  Plus it frees my mind.  Like totally.  So I have another way to help me get through these last few months.  Here I was trying to duck out on them.  Now that I'm in this spot, I'm realizing I'm glad they came to me.  We can benefit each other.

I've had plans for many years now.  To come home, open my tattoo shop and make art.  I picked the name Tattoo'd Hooligan because I have been called Hooligan my entire time in prison.  I trademarked that logo so it couldn't be taken.  The Facebook page is now open and I would encourage you to check it out please.  I have a very small portfolio started just to get it going.  I will book my appointments and show my work on that page.

I am everything art.  It makes me happy and brings peace to my life.  It has helped me do my ten year sentence in the prison system.

Thank you for following my life on Jail Bird.  Continue to follow my art and the tattoo business on Facebook at Tattoo'd Hooligan.