Prison Break Marathon from Hell/Heaven Part 1

Yes, it has been quite some time since I had a chance to sit down and type my thoughts out for any who care to read. It’s been one heck of a few years for me. Most people don’t have the backstory, because I have changed my blog sites several times since I started blogging in 2000. However, between the two blogs I have at, I think anyone who might be interested could at least get some idea.

I am now steadily employed and my health has improved. Those two things were my goals, and I have accomplished them. However, I’m now looking to rebuild. I’m 37 years old and I have to put aside all creativity and other freedoms of my mind for an indeterminate amount of time (yeah-and I have some nice swamp land in Florida for sale too!). That is not an easy feat, nor is it a welcome one either. It is necessary though. I lost almost everything. For me, the physical, material stuff is not as important as the time and family lost. Of course, I am totally human enough to admit that losing my life-savings, pension, and other venues of financial stability did almost put me “under”, so to speak.

An odd thing has happened though – I have found a sense of peace that allows me to believe in who I am more than ever before in my life. I am not at all easily defined. I have yet to find a “box” in which to fit. I know that others would like to categorize me in one way or other. It truly bothers me less and less these days. The fact that I am alive and I have survived – time and time again is impressive, even to me, at this point.

I can’t say anything with any certainty anymore – other than I am sure that love is not a myth. Love is not far away. Love may be illusive and harsh, but it is the single reason I have not crumbled to nothing. I have been so protective of myself over the years, that I convinced myself a long time ago that love does not exist for the likes of me. Nowadays, I am sure love hasn’t jumped up and bitten me in the ass, but it will. I will gladly receive a bite like that. People can love me – because I can surely love them. Plus, I have discovered that I’m not as far removed from everyone as I had once previously thought.

I suppose I am divulging my inner thoughts today for several reasons, but the catalyst was actually the fact that I have no television anymore. Okay, I should be more specific. To back-track a bit, I was almost homeless, along with three rescued cats. A person I had not seen in almost 17 years re-appeared in my life and offered me a very small “studio” in the middle of farm-land, Harford County, MD. I lovingly call this part of MD The Great Hockey Void, or The Hockey Black Hole. I also spent my young childhood and early adulthood in The Great Hockey Void.

Anyway, my point is that I can’t really put it anymore plainly – I now live in a barn (or more precisely – an old milkhouse). The barn has a metal roof and that makes any television reception almost impossible, and no digital signal has a chance – even with a huge lightening rod on the roof (a.k.a. – antenna). I don’t really need TV, other than to hear the weather report. I have an emergency radio that I have placed in the just the right location to pick-up a garbled weather report, so that problem is solved.

I am grateful for my tiny little room. It has a roof, a toilet and a very small shower in the corner. I sleep on my couch, because no bed will fit in the room – well, other than a “prison-size” bed. This brings me to the reason I titled this particular blog entry as I have.  I have to make light of my current living situation. It helps me break loose, in my own head that is, of the fact that some people in prison acutally live in a bigger space than I. Yes, my “studio” is just that small.

Since I need to start from scratch at the age of 37, one might imagine that I struggle with the inner forces that tend to creep forward of the brain and remind me that most educated people with my mental prowess don’t live in “prison” cells. “Well, I do,” I tell myself. I follow with a joke or quip about my “jailcell”. I will rebuild and find my way out of Harford County, MD again. Those from Harford County who take offense – apologies – I just don’t belong. Don’t take it personally.

I am a fan of the local public library. First, there are plenty of books, of all varieties to be read and all for free. Second, the branch closest to me has a decent selection of DVDs to be borrowed for free. I have kept myself current on most big and small screen entertainment thanks to my local public library – and all for free. Recently, I have tried to catch-up on TV series that I either started watching mid-series or have never seen at all for one reason or another.

I started watching Prison Break on Fox at the beginning of the 3rd season. I was already familiar with Dominic Purcell from the TV show, “John Doe.” That show didn’t last, but I was a fan from the start. My former boyfriend, who quickly became simply a roommate and then something much less friendly, was a fan of “Prison Break.” I began my “Prison Break” experience while Michael Scofield was in Sona. Needless to say, I was confused quite often, because I had no idea the “T-Bag” histroy and all that had lead to Scofield’s imprisonment. I picked-up a lot though. Eventually, “Prison Break” became a regular Monday evening activity.

My public library did not have any seasons of “Prison Break” until two weeks ago. I saw the first season was there and all three DVDs containing the complete first season were available, so I borrowed them, along with two movies. As I’ve mentioned, my life went in toilet and I am in the process of climbing out and drying off, so I spend most of my non-work time in my own personal, figurative and literal prison. It seemed fitting to spend an entire weekend watching the complete first season of “Prison Break.”

I do joke that I get out of my “cell” for some yard time (otherwise known as running errands and the 3 hour commute to and from work). The rest of time, I am generally confined to my space and my own head. I read books, but I need to take “word” breathers every-so-often. (Although – WORDS ROCK and I am a fan of language – eapecially my own) I did that two weekends ago with the entire first season of “Prison Break.” It may seem as though I’m an oddball from way back (which may be true), but I have to admit that I am very glad I watched “Prison Break” in the order that I did.

I enjoyed watching the difference between “Sucre” in season 3 vs. “Sucre” in season 1. I doubt it would have been so noticable if I had watched the series in sequencial order. I spent this last weekend watching the complete second season. (I had a minor “lack of technology problem”, so this entry was started exactly one month ago today, so I have seen the entire series at this point – just waiting on the the two episodes that turned into a little Prison Break movie – The Final Break)

The “Hell” part of my blog title only relates to the actual television show with respect to the fact that I seriously started to get a tad “loopy” after hearing the opening credits theme song over and over and over and over and over and over again – ad nauseum. I didn’t always have the remote nearby or I felt it would be silly to hit next when the opening credits barely lasted 30 seconds. After I got 1/3 through the second season of my “Prison Break” marathon, I started humming the opening theme. My dreams contained the opening credit theme music. I started hearing that music while sitting quietly on the train, heading to work. It truly did make me slightly batty.

The “Hell” part relates more to the very personal thoughts that seemed to have some vaque, yet not so coincidental tie to the progression of the “Prison Break”. First, I should enlighten you, the poor soul who is actually reading this, that two weeks before I watched the episode that allowed us into the shrink’s office where “Scofield’s condition” was revealed as “Low Latency Inhibition”, I’d heard that term myself. Some may think that this particular “personality trait” is a faux, made-for-tv, imaginary psychological term. Personally, had I not been figuratively “poked and prodded” by a bevy of PhD holding members of the clinical psycology social set recently – I’d have thought the same. Alas, however, it seems that after many years of IQ and personality tests – the “Low Latency Inihibition” label landed squarely on me. It was actually my constant blogging that brought me to the attention of a bored researcher who found my “blogging” style quite fascinating.

I had been told in past conversations with those who study the human mind that I am “hypervigilant”. The only problem with that particular label is that it is associated with those who have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. While I can attest to the fact that I might possibly be traumatically stressed out enough, for long enough, to have that stick – it makes much more sense that I’ve simply been this way since I was a wee young child. I will state now that I have had my fill of the WAIS-R and if I even here mention of an IQ test again – for a long time to come – I will RUN like a lion-chased Gazelle in Africa. I found it interesting that I was not surprised when I heard the term “Low Latency Inhibition”  twice in less than two weeks – in seemingly unrelatable circumstances.

I found a great deal of comfort in knowing that I just don’t care anymore why I am the way that I am. I am, and that’s good enough for me. This all correlates to my “Prison Break” marathon very nicley in my own head. However, to type the progression of those thoughts here would take eons and quite frankly, I sincerely doubt that anyone would want to read my free-association rallies that lead to my ultimate decision to view the way I am in an entirely new light. I’ll simply mention that I am a rather rabid fan of the “Prison Break” series. I’m also very glad it’s over. I’m sad it’s over too! That show was just proposterous – but WOW – I took to it like a moth to a flame.

I need to sleep now. 4:30 AM comes more quickly that I like these days, so I am off. PART 2 will no doubt have a lot to do with my great appreciation for Robert Knepper and all of his glorious lines as Theodore Bagwell. I mean – “…geologist of the rock candy variety” is just one of the hundreds of the priceless jems uttered by “T-Bag” on “Prison Break”.

I am not as technology-challenged as I have been over the last two years and I’m itching to type – so Part Two will be coming sooner rather than later.

Rock on Readers – peace – mia


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