Prison E-Pals

Hi, my prison e-pals! Most likely we all know at this point in time that your e-pal Damian Lee is in prison, and I'm doing what is called 'pushing my pen.' I push my pen so as to attempt to boost the morale of anyone who may be in need of a boost. And if it becomes possible at any point in time for me to assist others in need, in light of my circumstances, my heart jumps rapidly for a moment or two.
I'd like to take this time to show my appreciation for every person, every institution, every fund, every service provider, every-one, who has the best interest of the reformed (or becoming-informed-by-choice) convicted and incarcerated individual at heart. And when I think of giving thanks for these people, of course Connie from (Immaculateconnections.net) stands out in my mind.
Connie tends to be extremely receptive to knew ideas, to learning knew ways to do things. She is consistently motivated to assist those who are incarcerated and striving to correct their previous wrongs in connecting with their families; with locating new pen pals who will be willing to write a prisoner; to connecting them with their loved ones; to finding out ways to practically assist them, even while they are still incarcerated.
I'm going to go out on a limb for Connie at this time and mention the fact that she is open to all assistance from anyone who understands where she's coming from. She's open to all ideas, suggestions, and ideas. Her resources are limited, but her heart, drive, and sincerity are HUGE!
Do you have loved ones who are incarcerated and striving to rectify their lives? So does Connie. You may have something in common.
Do you have a loved one who is incarcerated, and has been on the path to positive progress for so long that you are no longer capable of assisting them due to a lack of understanding of the details related to the things they are doing? So does Connie. You may have something in common.
Do you want to help your incarcerated loved one, or friend, but you just can't seem to figure out how? So does Connie. Brainstorm with Connie.
Post your comments on this blog spot. Contact Connie.
People make mistakes. People sometimes have harder heads than others. Sometimes it takes a little longer for people to come around, to "...get it right." I'm one of those people. I've been "everything wrong' for most of my life, but i finally came to my senses over the course of this past seven years of incarceration. Being treated like a piece of something most people only wish to quickly get rid of for years tends to do something to a person. It's done something for me.
I greatly appreciate all the support received from my family and loved ones, but this one's exclusively written for Connie, my e-Pal, even while I'm in prison. Since she's assisted me so greatly, I'd like to ask anyone and everyone who has relatives in prison, or friends in prison to assist Connie at ImmaculateConnections. She needs assistance. We need assistance (i.e. reformed convicted people). And we can all assist each other.
Send someone to Immaculate Connections to check out the members advertisements. Go to Immaculate Connections yourself and give Connie some new ideas. Post your ideas and share your thoughts. Send someone to this blog spot, and maybe they'll make a new e-pal.
And if your moving forward, I'd like you to do one thing . . . Please DON'T STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cheese Therapy

I can only speak for myself on this subject based upon my environment, but where i live there are plenty of angry men surrounding me. It amazes me the way individuals can stay angry for such extended periods of time. However, I was once (years ago) one of these individuals, so there is a level of understanding there.
I see frowns and vicious glares so often that these expressions no longer bother me. I also know that many of the men who wear these on-going masks aren't really vicious and mean individuals. Yet there are plenty of them here whose characters match the 'mug.'
It takes energy and effort to maintain a grimace.
"Your face is going to get stuck like that if you keep on frowning," a caring mother might have said.
The energy and effort it takes to keep that piercing mask in tact could be used for other things. The facial muscles grow used to such an expression and the outward characteristics of ones face, over time, can get "...stuck like that..."
There are also, mainly older, individuals whom I know that have deep frown-like indentations lodged into their faces. Many of these individuals are actually pretty friendly people. But the years of frowning have taken their toll.
Frustrations, stress, and any number of situations could cause a frown on someones face. The amount of time we allow frowns to remain on our faces is the determining factor when it comes to ultimately having a viciously menacing mug permanently attached to an otherwise pleasant, non-intimidating face.
Also, the angry glare additionally affects our attitudes, or reflects our attitudes. And this is when 'Cheese Therapy' can come into play. When an individual smiles brightly before the camera at some event or on some occasion, a crowd, or the photographer, might just yell:
"CHEESE" or "SAY CHEESE!"
This therapy has personally done wonders for me. Cheese Therapy actually consists merely of showing the world 32 white teeth, your teeth. Smile, beam, Cheese for the world. I'm as serious as an angry mug on the face of a so-called thug; smiling, using Cheese Therapy has changed my life!
Smile when you're upset. Smile when you're frustrated. Smile when everything is going wrong. Smile while speaking. Smile when being spoken to. Smile on a sunny day. Smile on a rainy day. And watch how it changes people. Watch how Cheese Therapy changes your own attitude.
And if ultimately your face is forced "...to get stuck like that....," let the way it gets stuck be in a brilliant beautiful smile.
Say, "Cheese!"
It's therapy. It works.

Family Man

If I were to fall in love with a woman, marry her, have a baby by her, many lives would immediately change. My one brother and my two sisters would become a little bit more than just that. My brother would now be the uncle of his new-born niece or nephew. My sister would become an aunt. Aunt-sister (Smile). My mother would become a grandmother. My grandmother would become a great-grandmother (a few times over as it stands). My father would become a grandfather. My grandfather would become a great-grandfather.
Mind you, all i would've done is made a baby, bought a new life into the world. Of course I wouldn't simply be Damian Lee any longer, either. I'd be a father. Thus, I'd have to become a father figure. Uncle-brother might be encouraged to become the role model he should be for his nephew or niece. If sis and bro had children of their own at this point in time, their children would become the cousins of my child.
So, falling in love, marrying and winding up with children would change many lives, whether I preferred it to or not. The changes which would've occurred couldn't possibly be ignored if I were in my right mind.
So, a grandmother and grandfather would have become a great-grandmother and great-grandfather; a mother and father would have become a grandmother and grandfather; Sisters would have become aunts; a brother would have become an uncle; and if my brother and sisters had children, their children would have become cousins to my child; and i would have become a father.
Do you see the connections there? These connections aren't by choice. They aren't by chance. They are a part of all families, whether ignored or not. And these connections also create obligations. The obligations, the connections, tend to lead to the formation of an unspoken-but-understood bond between family members...., in a perfect world of course.
These connections are based on blood relations. These bonds aren't determined by actions or inactions. They are based on blood! There is no wrong or correct way to be bound by blood. Hence the unconditional love; not a love conditioned on whether we are disappointed with each other or not; not determined by mistakes or the successes made by one's blood; not determined by anything other than the fact that, that family understands that they are all connected, like it or not, and none of them had anything to do with it.
Tell Mom you love her. Tell Dad you love him. Tell Sis you love her. Tell Bro you love him. Tell your nieces and nephews you love them. Tell Grandma and Grandpa you love them. Tell Great-Grandma and Grandpa you love them. Tell your children you love them. And tell them all regularly.
I miss and love my family......, MAN!
DON'T STOP!

Freedom Cell

Freedom! Who doesn't crave it? Who doesn't wish, hope, and pray for a steady flow of freedom? Unhindered in any fashion or form.
Think about it. Freedom of physical movement. Freedom from unjust practices and policies. Freedom from pain and misery. Freedom from disappointment and despair. Freedom from arguments and serious misunderstandings.
Freedom from prejudices and stereotypes. Freedom to do one's own will.
Freedom to acquire and hold property free and clear of any encumbrances.
Freedom to provide for one's own. Freedom of speech. Freedom!
"I wish i were free!"
We've heard it so many times. We hear it on a daily basis. We want it, crave it, need it. But this elusive 'Freedom' always seems to evade us, masterfully dancing out of reach, only but a few centimeters or so at times.
This freedom seems to come with an unspoken but understood price. And many times, on many occasions, we aren't willing to pay the price, or prices, that jointly address us when we are presented with an opportunity to be free.
There's a cell, something like my physical prison cell, that resides inside of us all.
"No, he's about to go there!"
I sure am.
We wish we "....hadn't said that" while participating in a group discussion. We wish we could slow down on the pills, maybe, the drinks, the late night snacks. We wish we could remain focused long enough to "...make it happen."
We wish our interest span would stop being so short. We wish we could muster the necessary energy to go that extra mile. We wish we could stop getting upset to the point of becoming illogical. We wish we could stop making permanent decisions based on temporary situations. We wish, we wish, we wish.
As odd as it may be, many of these things we wish we could do most are the things that we are free to do. We're free to stop, to start, to slow down, to speed up. However, we "...just can't seem to do it!" So in a sense, we've created our own cells..., even while being free.
In many respects I'm free as a bird. Free to create, to imagine, to learn, to listen, to evaluate, to teach, to correct previous internal wrongs, to inspire, to attempt to make sure no one ever has to go through the things I went through if I can help it.
But I'm in a cell. Smile.
DON'T STOP! YOU BETTER NOT STOP!!!!!!!!!!!

I Woke Up This Morning

A guy rolled past me one morning, nonchalantly pushing himself along in his wheelchair. He had a tattoo just below his eye. curly hair and an expression of possible content on his face. I'd have offered to assist him, but I've seen him on numerous occasions. He's fine with his disability. He keeps moving, as if floating through his own sculpted liquid reality in which he's the only individual capable of nodding his head to the tunes he alone hears. He appears to be confident, driven and out-going.
The only things that stand out regarding this picture is the fact that it was freezing outside, snowing, and a wicked wind was blowing in multiple directions at once. This guy has only one arm and one leg. And yet he's incarcerated, allowed to push himself along through a blizzard.
"What could he have possibly done?" I asked myself. "Who could he be a threat to?" My goodness, I thought to myself.
I hear complaints. I see miserable expressions on the faces of men who's limbs are all in tact. Who's organs and joints all function properly. And though I was born in December, I can't stand the cold. But if I had one complaint; if I'd planned on balling my face up as i trudged to the eating area, known as the 'Chow Hall," that day, those plans were crushed as I stared at the man, one of my previous room mates had once offensively called 'Half-a-Body.'
I was amazed at the look on this disabled man's face, the drive in his eyes, his obvious belief in things better to come.
This experience forced me to reflect upon the great blessing that had been bestowed upon me that day.
"Man," I told myself... "I woke up this morning. . ., fully functional."
DON'T STOP! DON'T YOU DARE STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!