I’m sitting in a prison cell watching a Kate Hudson film. 

My best friends are getting married. 

My parents are in Hawaii. 

Stephanie is a Harvard grad and on her way to work at the judges desk. 

Spending my days with poodles and doodles make the world go round. 

Delanie just got home from deployment.

Isa’s on her way to lunch in LA - her mom is here and flies back to Spain tomorrow. 

I feel like my hair’s flying outside the window of the passenger seat of the car, but really I’m sitting on my bunk in front of a prison fan. 

Yesterday, a girl labeled me white privilege for my ability to pursue prison journalism. Finding a pathway for people - all over the world - to have a voice to feel as if they don’t have one is not only a privilege, it’s my passion.

A blog, is a blog, is a blog. Yes, this is just another blog, but it’s a blog for those who are unable to have one. 

It’s for people who carry labels far deeper. People who carry labels many would never dream or believed is real life.

In real life I carry those labels too. Murderer, drunk, alcoholic, cheater, partier - everything scandalous under the sun. 

Writing begins to strip those labels away. It reminds me to never give up on a dream just because I’m doing time and the time passes me by. 

Time will pass anyway might as well make it worthwhile 

Signing with a smile 😊