100 days: There are no shortcuts

One hundred days down and 995 to go (600 or so of which will be spent in a halfway house, but that still counts since it isn't complete freedom either, just a step up from prison).

I've already grown accustomed to waking up each morning to a loudspeaker. I no longer get completely irritated when I'm trying to sleep, read, or concentrate on something and people around me are talking at the time top of their lungs as if they are yelling. Yes, it still bothers me and I continue to ponder how people can be so inconsiderately loud, practically screaming in your ear, but I don't feel the constant urge to rip my hair out each time anymore - so that's an improvement, right? My back no longer aches sleeping on a thin hard mattress; it only cracks a few times when I wake. My hand is adjusted to this little flexigrip pen - I probably have super strong finger muscles now. I'm used to washing out my own underwear by hang and living the toilet seat with toilet paper before every use. I've memorized the schedule here and I know which people to stay away from - and which to stay even further away from.

With all the aforementioned, I still can't help but look around at times and thing, "Damn. I can't believe I'm actually in state prison." I still can't help but to look around at my surrounds at all the khaki colored inmates, remembering that these are all criminals around me. That I am stuck behind these fences and barbed wire for the next year. I think no matter how long I'm here for, I will always remain somewhat in my state of disbelief. For the majority of people here, they may be accustomed to a lifestyle where people hustle for a measly dollar to get what they want, where petty drama is the center of your life, including stealing, fighting, illegal financial operations, etc. To be in a place where only less than 20 people out of a hundred visit the library on a regular basis. Where so many are inconsiderate of others and the motto is "every man for themselves". Where you have to lock everything you own up and write your name on your shoes to prevent others from stealing them. Crazy, huh?

This morning I was rudely awaken at approximately 4:00am because two people in my wing were having a conversation at their normal loud level of speech - and trust me, it's pretty fucking loud. They continued to talk loudly and whatnot until it was time for breakfast at 7:00am. So it's a given that I did not get a good nights sleep. What can I do though, I'm in prison. Although I am quiet as a mouse when others are sleeping, no matter what time in the day it is, others just don't have the same respect for people to do the same. It amazed me that I didn't get comepletely aggravated from it though. It's as if I've slowly become immune to disrespectful people just as I've grown accustomed to all the other things here.

Is that good or bad though? I'm learning tolerance and patience, control of anger and distractions; I'm learning not to be as bothered by things and how to live in one of the worst places that exist with only the basics needed to get by. At the same time. the only way I'm learning is through the struggle of tolerating all of these things - and it's difficult as hell. Unfortunately, that's how my journey of life has always been though - always having to learn things the hard way and through experience. I supposed it's the way to learn things best though.