penismightier.com

A lot of people ask me “Why are you so Paranoid?”. Yes I am a bit more Paranoid than the average joe 6 pack but I don’t get why it bothers anyone else. I shred all personal documents, I block out license plate pictures on my cars, screen calls, and in general keep a low information profile around town. Yes I am paranoid, so what? I honestly feel more comfortable this way. I can think of one life-changing event that set this off. Something I’ve never really talked about on Pen was when I was 19 I went to Jail for 6 months (could have been 2 years, 6 months was PLENTY.). I really don’t want to go deep into the legality of what happened to me, what I was doing and why I was doing it. One thing I really regret was I did admit to one of the people who was working with me. I honestly thought that they already had him but I guess I totally gave him up. Being questioned and remaining hard is not as easy as it sounds. A horrible mistake on my part. I’ve never had contact with the guy since but I can bet money he got a lot longer sentence than I did (he had no family money, and if I was looking at 2 years then he had to be looking at 4). To answer many of your questions, yes it did involve computers but in the end my lawyer worked it out pretty sweet compared to what it could have been. Thankfully my Mom got me a badass lawyer and I’m still working with computers today. So I was sentenced to 6 months in the King County Correctional Facility (this was in Seattle). Was I fucking scared? OH FUCK YES I WAS, I was 19 fucking years old and had never been in any sort of trouble in my life, shit I still felt like I was in highschool and untouchable. I knew I could get caught but I guess the reality never really clicked with me. Every fucking Prison horror story came back in my mind ten fold. But I figured, those stories happen to the real criminals. Off the bat I distanced myself from my friends until the court date. I remember that fucking morning like it was yesterday. Sitting here, thinking about it, makes me want to cry. Woke up at 4am and spent some time with my mom, we had breakfast, the mood was fucking horrible, she tried to tell me it would be alright but I knew she was scared for me. I was mother’s little “do no wrong” and here I am going off to Jail at 19. She dropped me off at the courthouse where, I signed a few papers and was loaded up on the bus. The bus ride was pretty tame and I was hoping this would be the atmosphere in jail. The bus arrives, the guard says only one thing to us “Line up single file and if you know what is good for you keep looking forward”. Holyshit, things change right when you step off the bus, here comes the storm after the calm of the bus. You are herded off the bus, single file, while this is happening inmates are throwing jeers at you from the fenced yard. Sizing you up. I didn’t say shit, I just looked at the back of the head of the guy in front of me. Kept my chest puffed out for good measure. Really they were so far away they were just fucking with us. We are all led in a line for our photo for our commissary card, then stripped, searched, then herded into another line where we waited for what seems like hours (I turned my watch in with my possessions and not a clock in sight). Another search, then issued our staples (uniform, blanket, etc). We must have spent like 3 hours standing around naked, which was pretty demoralizing. I was scared I was going to be cellmates with some freaky fucking murderer. I was honestly wanting to die, wanting to run. Walking in for the first time is about the scariest experience I’ve ever had. It is hard to describe, the noise level is astonishing, just the general human clamor and the echoes off the bare walls is deafening. While the place looks like a hospital/highschool/insane ward the actual atmosphere is the “Hmm this is a shady bar maybe I’ll check out the bar down the road” feel. Except you cannot check out that next bar, you get no choice. But actually what happens is they put you in a transition Cell. Someone who is like me, a rookie, a fish, a n00b if you will. They’ve been here for a while so they have already learned the basics. This is why they call it the transition cell. The guy I was with was in for robbery. He was a cool guy, a bit of a tweaker (literally he said he normally cooked meth but was popped for robbery). So I asked him what it is like. He said it is different but not bad if you stay on the path and do not draw attention to yourself. He explained that at some point someone will come to me and pay me a visit and that I can count on. He explained that no matter how little the item they want (food, comb, etc) that I should not give it up or I’ll become a mark. That it is a test of me not because they really want a second helping of mash potatoes. No matter if I didn’t even want it. He said if it comes to a fight just fight, and fight hard and that soon enough a hack will come and break it up. Fuck that, I didn’t want to fight. I asked him if someone had approached him yet, which he said no. Oddly enough, I was eating lunch with him later that day and someone did. The conversation came off like a scripted dialog. He knew he was going to fight, so the back and forth between being asked for his cigarettes and him denying them seemed like a formality. And he fought, he was scrappy but the dude was bigger. He got a few licks in and was hauled off. I never saw him again but I figure he was thrown in solitary for fighting then was transitioned to an actual cell. This was pretty freaky, the one guy I knew, was now gone. He was replaced by another rookie. My time came 3 days later. It was actually pretty pitiful, I’m not sure the guy even wanted to fight, I think he was being initiated and it was his first “step up”. Know what he wanted? My fucking salt packet. I mean, I’m sitting here and I’m going to fight over a salt packet but of course it wasn’t about the salt packet, it was about the song and dance for position in the pack. I knew I was going to fight, so we are standing chest to chest and I say “Fine you can have it”. As I turn around to reach for it I clock him one straight to the face. That was it. He was down. I kinda stood there, waiting for the guards to come but I don’t even fucking think they saw me. His friends were laughing. Dumbfounded I just stood there for a second and sat back down and tried to finish my food. My legs where shaking like crazy, was I going to be fucked with by his crew? I didn’t eat another bite after that. Anyways I fought a total of 3 times in jail. Each time was a bit more familiar. Right before the last one, I was almost kinda hyped up for it. Like a boxer before the match. By that time I had plenty of friends and I knew that this was going to just be a scrap. After the first month if you didn’t have any real beef with someone you didn’t have to worry about becoming a punk (someone who does sexual favors, very rare) or someone wanting to shank you (again so very rare). That shit is for the movies but man do they love to throw down over little shit. If I wasn’t playing chess with my time, I was reading. I did workout but not in the weight room, that place was more like a hangout and I could tell I was not welcome there. I pretty much worked out in the cell, pushups and shit. Actually a lot of freetime there was spent like a criminal’s convention. Pretty much guys taught other guys how to do their trade. I learned all about cooking meth, growing pot, stealing cars, ID Theft, carding, general MacGyver shit (serious creative shit, esp with what you where given in there). There were pretty much no other fellow computer types there. The pitiful library had 3 books on computers. They were pretty much outdated ABC Fisher Price computer books. I read em anyways. Like they say, Birds of a feather flock together, since there where no other computer guys, I pretty much hung with the guys who played chess. Most of them were at least reasonable (some not all). Or atleast the people who could actually read. My mom visited weekly and my dad stopped by a few times. I felt so ashamed, I’d rather they didn’t visit. The visits would break me down way too much. I visited with them for their sake not my own. Time rolled by slowly, 6 months seemed like a year. The place wears you down, you feel like you are aging at a rapid pace. Mentally the place will really fuck you over. I spent my birthday in there. I stayed mentally healthy by bouncing ideas of things I would do when I got out, reading and just thinking. I’m rambling on and on. I could tell many tales about my time there and maybe I will. When I got out I spent about a month alone and then resumed my college classes and slowly integrated myself back into life. Most of my friends had no idea I was gone (you know how you kind of fall in and out of contact cycles with people). I mostly told people I was visiting my grandparents in Florida. Why did I post this today? Well remember the guy I rolled on? I was talking about in the first part of my ramble? I came back into contact with him, he is doing fine, I explained my side and he said that he understood from day one what happened. We are fine but don’t plan on actually keeping in touch or visiting. Life always remains interesting.