WARNING: a bad curse word below . . . B)

" Determination (or persistence) --
doing the same thing over and over again
expecting things to change.  B) "

in jail, my first room (or cel), had a great view of the plaza hotel and casino.  everyday i could sit on my bunk and i was almost able to watch the sun set behind the mountains through the dirt frosted window.  but every evening, right at that place where the sun is about to hit the top of the mountains, the view was cut off by a parking garage.

instead, my sensory highlight of the evening was watching the plaza's brilliant lights flash on every night at a time that never seemed the same, but in reality, probably was.  the second 'a' on the hotel tower's marquee was out.  that, of course, changed the "plaza" into the "plaz" . . . which allowed me to think about Plas Johnson, the saxophone player who blew out the classic theme song to The Pink Panther.  which thought, of course, led me to think about how i even know who Plas Johnson is, and that reminded me of my husband.  and, of course, in the next nanosecond, my daughter joins him there in my head.

'fuck!'
(yes, mom, cover your ears/eyes if you have to at this point in our lives)
• • •
'why am i here?'

i like to think that i'm a reasonably smart idealist.  i mean, i know not to mix chlorine and ammonia and that oil and water do not mix unless you add a whole lot of chemicals to them, and then its probably best to not consume that.  i'm at least as smart as the average bear, so why am i sitting here, looking at the plaza hotel's sign light up and finding songs in my head that match the rhythm of the casino's fountaining lights?

and the plaza is there in all its glory, so famed now thanks to Stephen King, which thought naturally leads me to one of the best things about my jail experience:  the books.  novels, even!  one afternoon i contemplated on when i stopped reading for the sheer pleasure of it.  it just kind of happened and i decided that at some point i must have switched to tv, probably thinking (or not!), it IS sitting right there AND the remote control is in my hand.  control, nice.

i watched my first episode of 'American Idol' one evening in jail -- that was high rent free time.  that's  the night i learned the myth of true value of snickers and red hot cheetos is to be believed, AND how to make a jailhouse tamale with top ramen noodles, those red hot cheetos and/or doritos, a little nacho "cheese" sauce if you have it, and a little water (hold the 'slim jim' for us vegetarians, please).

which brings me back to my point, why was i in jail?  i know, for today, why i was in jail:  to understand freedom, and to allow my mind the freedom to float like this whenever it wanted, and get used to that feeling again.  you remember that, don't you, back when you actually allowed yourself to feel anything, and everything if u were curious enough.

"allowing my thoughts to flow,

they may just carry me

down the river i've

always wanted

to explore."

a snipet of a poem that encapsulates well, how i often feel about this whole experience.  i think i cried every night for the first 4 days.  after that, i only cried during the day.  i observed one of those unwritten rules, if you cried at night, you usually ended up either in the psych ward or in "the hole."

but, where i left off above really, was that of my family.  the thought that knocked the air out of me, and sent me reeling on tangents to avoid those feelings because sometimes those feelings just still hurt so much.  BUT, it is true, isn't it, that if you follow it, a string of thoughts will always remind you of what is THE most important thing in this world to you.  and, as it is with every living thing, it is always:  our children.

once you become a parent, it can never be anything different.

like all living things in nature, we, who will survive, will die for our babies to live, 4 months in jail ... this is part of my grand adventure called life.  this is what moms have done since the beginning of time to protect this species to continue to exist, thrive, grow and bloom, wither and die, to re-surrect once again in our posterity.  this is, really, nothing new at all.  (well, except that its happening to me!)

i didn't want pictures in jail . . . pictures remind me too much of what i am missing.  our little family is very blessed to have patterns of relationships that have always allowed separation in time and space, only usually its daddy off traveling for months.  this time, mom is gone.  our times of separation are times when we grow the most, this one has been no exception.  i knew what i needed to survive 4 months in jail with my spirit in tact, i had to keep myself busy and not dwell on my daughter with every breath of my being (unless i could do so without crying).

of course, my husband listens to me BUT my parents send me all kinds of pictures!

including this one of me and my sister.  by the way, she, in the floral print, IS the 'jan brady' in our family!

maybe i do have it all backwards or these are just "blahndwords" in a plastic patterned world.

there are days that are amazing.

know that today is one of them.

peace & harmony,
elaine
'freedom must be exercised to stay in shape!'