So recently I have grown tired of staring at the blank basement wall. So I bought some hooks and have hung up a couple of calendars and three pictures. Then last night, unable to sleep, it started to look familiar.

It hit me pretty fast. The strange realization of what I had turned that blank basement wall into. See I live in my parent’s basement currently. This was not always so.

I moved out at one point. First it was a rental. Then I bought a large house and was doing very well for myself in my chosen career. Eventually things went south and I was foreclosed on; which still haunts my credit to this day, and its been over 8 years. After that I spent some time at my sisters, then my parents (and I thought moving back in at that age was embarrassing).

Eventually I got another rental and it was rather large and nice. Eventually, things fell apart there as well. I am now Living in my parent’s basement at age 31, going on 32.

I have a small corner cleared in this basement. In my corner I have my cot. Near the middle of the basement I have just enough space cleared for my desktop computer, on a small tray. The rest of the basement is crammed with things for storage. It’s the only cluttered place in my parent’s house and the only place they would let me stay.

The basement is cold and dark. It is filled with spiders (I am arachnophobic and it used to be a morbid phobia, although I have it under control now). My first night down there I killed a black widow spider next to my cot. Another night a black spider roughly the same size and shaped escaped me before I could kill it or check it. I have been getting many strange spider bites while sleeping down there; luckily I have not yet been bitten by a black widow (crossing fingers and hoping I killed the only one).

Well, laying on that cot staring at the wall, with its pictures and calendars I realized I have created my own prison cell. I have watched enough reality shows about life in prison, and had relatives and friends that are in and out of prison. It hit hard and the feeling is still with me.

Never visited anyone in prison. Well the local police station lock up I have been to to help someone with bail. Also laughed at someone over a bail situation on the phone once. Even attended a raise bail money party.

Never visited someone in prison though. Wrote letters to friends in prison. Made sure to hang out with my uncle when he got out a few times. Really really intended to visit Hoxsey when he was in for attempted murder… miss that crazy Texan. He eventually got out of the pen and has since moved on to a certain line of trouble I try to avoid. I could put up with just about anything but the manufacture, sale, or ingestion of one particular illegal drug. He isn’t on the sale or manufacture side either.

I will hang out with someone who is on it, but will not hang out with someone who has it on them. It may make the big bucks, but it just does not interest me. Maybe studying people on it for sleep therapy purposes or psychology purposes, but anything short of that and I want to keep a damn good distance from it.

Still that crazy Texan. He was a blast. I remember the fight club me, him and Henry did in my garage. I was the ref, big mistake as I like to see people bleed. Henry had crazy going for him and Hoxsey had training in boxing. Hoxsey would catch when stuff was crazy and always refuse at first, but I figured a way around that that made sure he took part in every crazy idea me and henry had for him. All I had to do was say “I dare you.”

Sitting, no laying there, staring at that wall and thinking about how trapped I am has brought back all of these memories. Just like I am sure some of my friends waited for my letters, I sit waiting for each new letter from Sayaka my pen pal. I check my email first, then the mail box, and then the rest of the day I just go through the motions. Always thinking, well maybe tomorrow.

Unlike my friends I have one calendar and three pictures from my pen pal up on my wall. I am sure they didn’t put up my letters on the wall. The two I wrote to said that I was the only one to write and nobody even visited. The second calendar I have up is a wall scroll from a chinese restaurant.

Also, unlike the two I wrote, or Hoxsey I don’t have the relaxed monotony of prison to fall back on. It got so boring for that crazy Texan that he began looking for fights for fun. He told me the only ones that gave him any real trouble were the short guys. He said they got in close where it was hard to use boxing on them and that they were the craziest. He said the short guys kinda scared him.

My routine is just a bunch of steadily increasing bad luck, stress, and failure. My college grades have been a bit of an issue. I held a 4.0 GPA for three terms and kept it up fairly high till last term. 3.6 something is what my cumulative GPA is at now. Last term I hit 3.33 GPA for the term and that’s what has dropped my cumulative so low.

My personal life is a living hell that I would do anything to escape. The only escape I have is my pen pals letter, which I keep going through over and over. This house gives me flashbacks. It gets pretty weird at times, but as far as I can tell no one has noticed. That can’t last forever, they will get noticed.

I occasionally get out, but only when I get a ride to school. I have no car and with my financial situation I won’t for a few years. Another luxury I don’t get is lights out time. Yeah that point were everybody has to shut up, so people can get some sleep. There are a few hours each night from about 11pm to 4 am that the GOD DAMN NOISE stops here. Those few precious hours are my only chance to get any homework done.

Till 11pm my dad has the television on blasting his surround sound so loud I get a migraine. My mom wakes up at 4am and begins slamming dishes around and doors and you name it. She leaves about 6:30am and my dad wakes up and does this waddle stomp back and forth around the house till I come upstairs. Then he sits down and begins cranking the T.V. volume.

The waddle stomp he does is due to being over weight, having bad knees, and just trying to wake me up. He claims his knees hurt so much he can barely walk, but if I am trying to sleep he sure does a lot of walking. Then there is that damn cat, but that’s explained in another post.

What about my uncle, he surely didn’t have such a nice time in jail…did he? Well yeah he kinda did. He had this way about him. He was a smooth person. He was also one of the few people in my family that look Native-American. A lot of Native-American blood, but we tend to look white as hell. Well my uncle, he just always fell in with the Native-American populace and seemed to do just fine in prison.

I guess I should mention the mental ward. That is fairly close to prison in its own ways. I had always wanted to go and have fun with it. I ended up there because I needed it at the time.

If you need it, it is anything but fun. The bad stuff was what I was going through in my head at the time. The monotony was nice; because having everything planned out for you is kinda relaxing. The other warders were interesting to me. Many had tried killing people. One a christian lady was there because every so often she just tried to kill her family and had cut them up pretty bad a few times. She always had a bible and was polite as hell and innocent looking.

The constant room checks got annoying. Showering on camera didn’t bother me. I was only in a weekend. I know a lot about psychology and told the doctor how I was going to deal with my problems and he said “shit, you don’t need me and you don’t need to be in here.” He of course told me I didn’t need to have any continued counseling unless I made a certain choice and I was out of there in no time without even having to take any pills.

Well, today, I did something about the prison cell of mine. I got a water fountain relaxation thingy and put it near my cot and dug out this fake bamboo thing, out of a box, and put that by my cot as well. Thinking about getting this heater that looks like a large vase. I have to change something. Maybe tomorrow an email or a letter. She said she is writing one, I just have to be patient. Each new letter is a little piece of freedom…

UPDATE! She wrote and sent some cd’s and a dvd. Wow. Good stuff too. Here I was just expecting a letter. I really don’t deserve a pen pal this truly awesome.

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