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“Your future is made by the choices you make today.”--Mom
I was scared of men. And still am... I still had to choose--Matthew
I met Matthew Sisnero through his book over a decade ago. He had just been asked for money for his son by his mother. Without only a thought or two Matthew pulled out his sawed-off shotgun, headed for a local store and robbed the place. He had done it before--no big deal. But this time he'd had to stop at a different place, his timing went wrong and he was caught... He was soon on his way to jail...
Somewhere along this brief ride, Matthew Sisnero was touched. Perhaps it was that the woman with whom he'd had his son had chosen to pick him out of a lineup and identify him... This confused him since she knew he would do anything for his son. He'd done it before, so why change her response? Perhaps it was a brief memory of what his mother always had said to him--something he hated each time she said it--that it was his own choices that would result in his future. We who are reading never know. I hope someday that Matthew might write a prequel to his book of those younger years to complete the very unique picture that he's shared with us in this book. We can assume from what is said that his father was not in the picture and that Matthew had strong negative feelings about him... This seemed to be very plain as he makes a new statement once he is imprisoned.
Because of how and what he'd done, his case went into federal court--given the type of weapon--and we learn, at least I did, just how cruelly those within the federal prison systems are to those inside. If there ever was a time when rehabilitation was part of the program for prisons, it certainly is gone now...
For almost immediately Matthew was horribly assaulted...
I was willing to take that chance, and I took it, and I lost. I can’t be mad at anybody else. I’m the only one who did that. But I’ve learned a lot through all these last 10 calendars I’ve flipped through. I’m figuring out who I think I am. I’m figuring out my needs, wants, and boundaries. And I’m learning how to express the expectations I have to others. Now, I’m not suggesting by any means that you go to prison to figure yourself out. I’m not suggesting that at all. There’s a lot I’ve gone through that I didn’t deserve. I didn’t want to get beaten up, I didn’t want to be sexually assaulted, and I didn’t want to be humiliated or watch one of my friends get murdered throughout these years. My punishment was only supposed to be taken out of society so I couldn’t affect it the way I did anymore. All that extra stuff was somebody else who wanted to continue living their life of violence and other crimes, and I just happened to be the recipient. I don’t know what attracted them to me. I don’t even think I’ve ever voiced any of this to anybody until now. But this is my truth. I got scared to publish this because of the fear of how it could affect my loved ones. For some reason, I looked like a victim to these people, and they chose to do what they did. I hear people say they would do this and do that if somebody did anything to them, and all that sounds good, but I was too scared to fight. I was too scared to move. I just wanted it over with. When I was sexually assaulted, I couldn’t believe what was happening. I didn’t want to die, though. I just remember it hurting so bad that I fainted when he entered me. I’ve never felt pain like that before in my life. I remember my celly there when I was waking up. I’m not even sure how long I was out for. My celly was asking me if I was okay and trying to help me to the bed, and it took me a good 20 minutes to regain my focus. I just remember crying the rest of that night. I was embarrassed. I was scared to leave my cell because I thought everyone knew. My celly couldn’t believe what I was telling him. I could’ve had the guy killed, but I didn’t, and honestly, I couldn’t make any rational decision for a few days after. I cried a lot, and I cried silently. Especially after getting off the phone and lying to my people, saying I was doing good. I just didn’t want anybody to know. From that day forward, I was scared of men. And I still am. I’m not a fighter, and by not retaliating against anyone, it gave an unfortunate message that either I liked what was happening, or I wouldn’t do anything about what was happening, or any future situations that could happen. And I say all this to say that through these experiences I’ve been through, I’ve gained positive qualities and values that I now project toward others. I understand that I can’t control what other people do or how other people conduct themselves. But I can control how I personally choose to live my life and the type of ripple effect I spread.
~~~~
In here, if you don’t discipline yourself, somebody else is gonna do it for you, and quick. It’s crazy how the process works too, because the more you get in trouble, the more they take away your ability to experience things. In the free world, when you get in trouble, they take you away from experience and put you in jail. In jail, if you get in trouble, they send you to solitary confinement. If you get in trouble in solitary confinement, they take even more experience away from you. They can take so much that the only things you experience are your bowel movements and most of your senses. And as you act right, you earn more experience back. The C.O.s will even wear masks and not respond to you so you can’t even experience human expressions. Being so close to going home, I’ve been doing my best to make a plan and use my time wisely. I see a lot of guys create problems for themselves by doing drugs and wasting their time. One of my best friends, T.J., lost his life from running up a debt, having the homies pay it, and then doing it again after being warned what would happen if he couldn’t pay it. Not sure how many times he was stabbed, but after the C.O.s did their round, they found him lying dead on the concrete in his cell. I didn’t hear him scream or make a sound. Some people scream for their families, even though they know they obviously can’t hear them. They scream anyway though. Everybody reacts to knife wounds differently. I couldn’t imagine leaving prison dealing with drug withdrawals. Fuck that. I feel cleaner, healthier, and my integrity is intact because I’m not spending my family’s money on stupid shit. It sucks trying to make friends in here. People leave, go home, get transferred, get murdered, go to the SHU, or you end up leaving and leaving everyone behind. That’s what I’m about to do. Being so close to leaving, I’m focused solely on my release plan. That’s it. My goal was not to get too close to anybody and not make friends in here. It’s going to suck leaving Joe behind. I hate saying goodbye. I’m sad even writing about it, but it’s inevitable. I have to leave, and they have to stay. So I make plans and daydream because I want to succeed. I feel like I’ve learned a lot, and I want to prove that to myself. I want my mom to see it. I have to see what I’m capable of. We all have a choice. We can sit around and hope our lives change, or we can make a plan and take a chance. I think about all the graveyards full of ideas that were never tried. Those ideas died with the people who had them. Some of them could have changed the world. Even if my ideas don’t change the whole world, they’ll change my world, and maybe someone else’s. I can’t be scared to try. I can’t be scared to fail. Failure is just life moving us in a different direction. I had to learn to listen to my heart and my conscience and follow my gut. It’s crazy to look back at all the trouble I’ve been in. But I’ve come a long way. It’s too bad it took this for me to wake up. My family isn’t used to this side of me. I’m nervous about how they’re going to see me. But no matter what, I have to do what I have to do. Following my convictions and gut feelings is tough sometimes, but I’ve been focused on what my heart is telling me and what’s right for my life, no matter how people feel about it. When people say you reap what you sow, it’s real. I’ve learned that it is tough to do good in a bad environment. It really is. It is almost like you gotta do good in a good environment or do bad in a bad environment to get the results you’re looking for. In prison, as I sit here and write these sentences, most people around me are doing bad things in a bad environment, so they’re pretty much reaping exactly what they’re choosing. Me, I’m trying to do good things in a bad environment, so I’m not reaping the results I’m wanting. But I still do the best I can, because I know when I get out that I will hopefully start to reap the rewards that I’m wanting to reap. It’s definitely tough, though… People look at me funny for “trying.” But I want a better life for myself, so I plan and write down my ideas that are in my head so that when I do get out, these ideas can come to fruition. It’s tough because even some of my loved ones doubt me. I also did that to myself—I’ve created that doubt. This isn’t my first robbery either. Back in 2000, I robbed a store, and as I’m robbing it, a customer walked in, so I robbed him too and received 48 months for each—48 for the store and 48 for the customer. I was only about 19 years old, and it was my first felony as an adult. So I got everything over my head with 10 years’ probation. I ended up getting in trouble, so I did 2001 in jail, got in trouble again, and did 2002 in jail. I stayed out of jail in 2003, violated again, and did the years 2004–2005–2006. The point in me saying all this is to say that I understand why my people didn’t trust me. I understand why they doubt. I’ve never been to the Feds, though. And I’ve never done this much time in one stretch. This is definitely an eye-opener. I’ve been through a lot. I’ve done a lot of changing. I’ve programmed numerous times, and I’ve also created programs and mentored other inmates to try to help them see something different in themselves and that change is possible. When I say mentoring other inmates, I don’t mean just any inmates. I mean specifically high-security inmates, and really some of the most violent ones too. Even though my people don’t know this, or maybe even believe this, I’ve dedicated my entire sentence to seeing how smart I could become, how much change I could make, and really paying forward my life and the experience I’ve had throughout this time. I had to have a desire to change, though, and I needed to really want something different for myself. Change doesn’t have to be super hard. Don’t get it confused, though, because change sometimes isn’t easy. But the process doesn’t have to be complex. The way I’m doing it is: Envision how I want my life to look. Write down that vision so I can read about it. Write down the steps that are necessary—everything that I can think of, no matter how small a step or how extreme a step. Figure it out.
~~~~
Whatever Matthew had done in his earlier life was forgotten. It was almost as if he had the first night there remembered what his mother had said, and he finally knew that she was right. He immediately knew that he had to make the right choices to be able to live through the 13 years he was aiming for... Perhaps based upon what happened, he instinctively chose to not become a member of one of the gang there, with leaders and others who already knew the game that was to be played. Instead he chose to be a loner who chose, to prepare for his future once he was out. Surprisingly for me, to enjoyed reading. Philosophy and personal achievement books. In fact, the major part of the book was a storyline that I was not prepared for. You see, right from the beginning it seemed like we were meeting Matthew--not the Matt that we would have guessed we would be meeting after reading about his taking a sawed-off rifle and heading to a store to steal money...
Was this the Matthew of his early life we never met? Or had he been touched in some way that day when he was caught and placed in jail? And the book does not say that's what happened...so I kept on reading...
Another surprise, he became buddies with some of the roughest men in that location, but he learned that each of them were family men and loved their families, even though they had chosen a life of crime somewhere along the way. Readers begin to wonder, especially during this time of extreme unrest in the United States, whether all of these types of lifestyles were forced on people, and, never, really, chosen...
Matthew mentions in the book that those to whom he wrote had given him feedback that he wrote wonderful letters. Here, too, readers will see and ponder. This young man was obvious intelligent, and already had an ability to write, even though much reading that he had started and learned from in prison added to his skills. He commented that there was little editing of the book. It was then I realized that he was writing a daily journal, or as often as he chose to write, and that, sometime he repeated a topic, but not in such a way as to be repetitive. Rather he was on a particular topic that he might have been reading about and writing about at that time. Pay attention to this part of the book because there will be a specific split later on... It was almost as if he was being guided to choose what to read and to spend time, indeed, planning for the future. It was time well spent and, by the time, those many years went by, it is difficult to even consider that he was not, instead, spending time away at college...
Until he left the structure of the prison life, where he had chosen not to spent time drugging, lifting weights, and other non-beneficial activities, but rather to look and plan for the future...
Matthew was ultimately scheduled into a half-way house. He had even landed a management job and was successfully working--for a while...
You See, Matthew's mothers told him just one part of her life as a Christian... She'd explained that he would be asked to choose, but, maybe, at those times, he would turn away and not listen. Because Matthew never learned that nobody can make it on our own... We might try, and work to be prepared, just as Matthew had done during his incarceration, but in this world, it is not enough... Matthew had been touched through his early life, but, you see, there had been no real contact to provide the necessary strength...
Matthew was pulled back into easy access to drugs--those drugs which gave him a high he'd never wanted to give up. Yet he knew it was not really what he needed... He knew God as part of His Life, but he'd never met my best friend--and perhaps yours...
This is a story that is m0re than readable--inspirational. It is a story that just may be the exact one that will touch you. Each of our lives is so different. There is no one story that will respond to you. I found myself pondering much about the book and how it was written. Then realized that, even though familiar, it was NOT my story but that of Matthew Sisnero. He had a path that has been chosen for him... And as I wrote to him about getting his book, his words were something like "And it begins..." It is indeed his story to share...
You have a story, a relationship, a life, that is to be found, a story that only you can find for yourself. Nobody else can replace your life's story. But, Sisnero's story is very unique. Because he lived a life that had been guided by one sentence: Your future is made by the choices you make today. If you remember only that one sentence, it will be a start. But that is only a Start. Your future, perhaps, needs to be guided at first, to learn about the possibilities, the tragedies that might affect you greatly, but which can also be overcome and forgotten in your new future which starts everyday... And Matthew Sisnero found my Friend...
This book may be your first step in the right direction.
Last Monday Evening during a simple attempt to take a picture of my cat, I fell backward and landed on a corner of a chair, which caused a large bruise and pains spasms throughout my body. It seems worse than I'd ever felt. I've been unable to move without pain, couldn't sleep, and spent many hours turning from one spot to another to seek relief... Even breathing was painful... You know folks, I'm never been the type of person who thought I should pray and expect to be immediately healed. If I was the one that created the fall, then getting help was up to me. Although after about an hour of not being able to get off the floor, I did cry out to my Lord, perhaps letting Him know I still needed help...
She gets food and I don't even get the pic!?
It's now Tuesday, the 24th and most of the pain has decreased but is still here... Since I know that many of you start reading, it seems, as soon as my article is published, I thought I'd sit a while and let you know what happened...
So, I saw Through it All from the corner of my eye as I was roaming through YouTube... Through it All is a song I had learned many many years ago, but had never heard from Andre just how he came to be involved with his ministry... I, too, was one of those kids who was pulled into music while attending Sunday School and Church, as man of you know... So many songs speak to us in so many ways... Foolishly, I was sitting there on the floor, having butt-walked around my chair to see if I could pull myself up using the control gadget... That did not work! I thought of calling an ambulance, but finally called my caretaker who brought his wife and they helped me... after a lot of trouble--I was totally locked in my house... So while they were exploring options, I called 911... Phone rang and rang and rang and rang...Nobody ever answered. So will need to discover what happened...
Anyway, I've been mostly sleeping from taking more pain pills than normal, but there was time for me to contemplate what I wanted to say about the last book I had just finished and had planned to present last Tuesday... I'm not going to talk about it now. I just want to let you know that I believe that God has a plan for the author of the book... The writer is new to writing and talking about his book, but he had posted it on my Reviewers Roundup Group on Facebook which I have been trying to build up after being refused access by META for years... But the thought of the book wouldn't leave me and I went over to his profile page and found the name of the book and went out and bought it... I believe that I needed a week to just absorb what was being said and work through all that this was going to be a different book review than many others... Simply because the book was not what I had expected... I needed the time to help it move into a deeper part of my thoughts...
On top of that, I have natural gas and my gas has not been sufficient for the cold that has come to my part of the United States... So I've been forced to sit and bundle with heavy covers around me, with family bringing in food...
And, of course, there is no way around the fact that I am just as confused and depressed about what the republican party has allowed to happen. Surely by now the Truth behind all of this madness has become visible to most? I say that, when I know that as of this morning, a relative of mine is still talking as if we are still back in the first term and he has learned nothing from all that has come since then... Depression is just a word for not knowing what to do when madness exists...
You know I'm feeling better when I can add this as my closing... LOL I was using two different walkers plus my cane to help me through the week!
My heart will heal because I love myself more than I ever loved him.
Even though I have my own studio, Candid Moments, and a very successful career, Corey only sees my photography as a hobby. That’s an argument I curve every time.
“Make sure she looks good.” “Are you assuming that I wouldn’t do that naturally?” I ask with my lips pursed. While shaking his head, he says, “Nah. You got this. Like I said, worth every penny.” “Every,” I utter as he walks off. When my light’s adjusted, we begin. Halani is a natural and the shoot is a breeze. It takes longer than expected because the journalist kept interrupting. So, it’s after four when I leave my studio. I race home and storm inside of my bathroom as soon as I enter my condo. I’m too excited for this date with Denim. If I wasn’t in my late twenties, I would describe my entire mood as giddy, like a teenager. Honestly, I don’t care what we do or where we head tonight. I’m just elated to see him again. Although Denim and I were forced together because of two selfish cheating pieces--the resulting connection is organic, honest, and electrifying. He has single handedly restored my faith in men. He is proof positive that real ones do exist and they know how to properly treat a woman. After switching his flight to my airline, he upgraded my ticket to first class and we flew comfortably together back to Crescent Falls. When he escorted me to my door and wrapped his muscular arms around me, I wanted to beg him to come in. I had no desire for him to go. My body instinctively molds to his and I’m already addicted to his mouth and hands. Unadulterated chemistry and attraction are rare and when they are with a sexy, educated, and solicitous, fine ass, Black man, it’s practically a miracle. I’m lucky because that miracle happened to me. While in my shower, I take a mental tour of my closet and decide on my chocolate denim skirt set and brown, distressed, over-the-knee, heeled boots. By the time he rings my bell, my skin is thoroughly hydrated with my Brown Sugar Bae Rich Aunty body oil, my hair is bone straight and luxurious, and I’m dressed, looking sexy as hell. As soon as I open the door, a smile spreads across my face. His chocolate skin and the color burgundy are a match made in melanin heaven. He looks sexy as hell in a burgundy and black turtleneck, burgundy jeans with specks of black, and burgundy Air Force ones. His single platinum chain and watch only accentuate his handsome look. Without saying a word, he steps to me, wraps his arms around me, then kisses me like it’s our first kiss. The moment he releases my mouth, I moan. Damn. “You look amazing,” his baritone sings and I blush. “So do you. Where are we going this evening? I would hate to waste all of this sexiness standing in my doorway.” “Our first destination is a surprise but the last one is your choice. Just know, at that location... His words flow through my ears, travel down my body, then land in the very spot he’s promising to place his head. This man! “Then that better be right here at your place,” I say. “Again, lady’s choice.” His hand swipes across my ass then he grabs it before releasing me from his hold. “Let’s go. We have a reservation.” We leave my place, take the elevators downstairs, then get into his ride. During the entire ride, his right hand rests on my thigh and I practically drool over his sexy side profile. Although he is close-lipped about our first location, I start to get a clue when he hops on the Parkway. However, when he takes the Garden Street exit, butterflies fill my stomach, pun intended. We are going to the Butterfly Garden.
He listens. “Denim! My favorite spot,” I gush when he pulls up to valet. “I promised this would be our first date.” “You are going to love it here.” Excitedly, I practically jump out when the valet opens my door. Denim meets me and we walk up to the main entrance. The Butterfly Garden is a beautiful, indoor, dome-shaped glass structure that houses an array of butterflies, flowers, and plants. Patrons are free to tour and explore the garden year-round. The back entrance of the garden has a stoned path that leads to the Bella House, a historical home converted to an event space and upscale restaurant. There’s a huge iron butterfly, colored by beautiful flowers at the entrance of the garden and wrought iron benches with butterfly shaped backs are stationed throughout the garden for patrons to sit and enjoy nature in its glorious state. Even during the winter months, the garden is vibrant and full of color. As soon as we enter, I walk him over to the digital display board. The curators constantly update it with the current species inhabiting the garden. A black butterfly with yellow and blue on the tip of his wings fills the screen followed by its name, Mourning Cloak. According to the screen, it’s one of the few butterflies that spends their winters as adults. “I’ve never seen a black butterfly,” he utters. “You will tonight,” I say, beaming. I really love this garden. Butterflies are so amazing and the species and variations of them provide an almost unlimited supply of beauty. The second butterfly appears on the screen and this one is just as colorful. It’s golden and black, resembling a bee. Just like the Mourning Cloak, this Angel-Wings also spends its winter as an adult. When the screen changes again and it’s back to Mourning Cloak, we walk through the garden. A few times, I catch the awe in his hazel eyes as he marvels at the pretty creatures fluttering around the garden. At the back entrance, we check in at the hostess stand then walk across the path of sea glass stepping stones. Each stepping stone has a unique butterfly design. This date is already perfect and we haven’t even sat down for dinner. The restaurant has three dining rooms and he has reserved a table in the Metamorphosis. It’s the butterfly-themed room. One thousand species of butterflies have been hand painted on the walls and ceiling. It’s truly amazing. I only have one regret and that’s leaving my camera at home. The moment we are seated, a sommelier approaches the table with wine glasses and a bottle of the Metamorphosis Room house selection, Butterfly Effect Blend. As he explains the wine and pours our samples, two waitresses and what looks like a chef approaches. We both taste the wine and agree to a glass. After the sommelier pours the wine, the chef and waitresses approach. “Good Evening, Dr. Morris. I’m Chef Roland Piqueen. I will be preparing the tasting menu for your enjoyment tonight,” he says and I’m impressed. Denim pulled out all of the stops. He clearly put a lot of thought into this date. “First up is this delicious artichoke soup with winter truffles and tiny brioche crisps on top. Bon Appetit.” The chef walks off and the two servers place the small soup bowls in front of us. They also tip over our other glasses on the table and fill them with ice water. It appears we each have a waitress. The moment they walk off, I grab his hand. Truly appreciative, I squeeze it, then express my sincerest gratitude. “Denim, this is absolutely…everything. Thank you. Listening to me when I speak and following through with what you said means a lot. This night is beautiful.” “Not as beautiful as you,” he says before raising our intertwined hands and kissing the back of mine. “I’m just glad that you like this.” “I love it and the chef and his tasting menu is…hell, chef’s kiss,” I say and we both laugh. “But hey, sorry,” he says and my eyebrows furrow. Nothing about tonight warrants an apology. “Sorry for what?” I ask. “Not telling you to get your camera. I’ll remind you next time.” The fact that he even thought about my camera widens the smile on my face. He acknowledges and shows interest in my passion. How can I not adore this man already? “I can live in the moment with you tonight. No camera needed,” I admit.
~~~~
The plot is not unusual, but the characters involved are... Two couples who have been involved for months are attending a reunion. Corey is the graduate while Jamila is his guest... Readers will begin to form their own opinions about these two being involved shortly after starting to read...
The second couple is Maddox and Denim, who have been together for 12 months...Maddox is the coordinator for the reunion and readers will quickly begin to wonder whether she brought Denim along for his muscle--only... Ok, it doesn't take long, to have the plot entirely switch... Because Maddox and Corey are caught by the other two in a private room almost immediately... Like, they couldn't even wait? Duh!
Now I can also share that Jamila had already kinda met Denim as they were passing each other and Denim was certainly worth of being eye candy for her to follow a few seconds... If you know what I mean...
A smile creeps across her face then she shakes her head. “For your momma and because I’m pretty pathetic and homeless right now in this shitty ass town, I will but can I see your license?” “My license?” “Yes, please,” she insists with her hand held out. “My name is Denim.” “Okay. Your license please, Denim.” After pulling my wallet from my pocket, I produce my driver’s license and place it in her awaiting hand. She examines it. “Crescent Falls? I definitely know where this is and so do my Manor cousins,” she says, smirking. The Manor neighborhood is notorious in Crescent Falls. She knows my town. “Are you from Crescent Falls?” I ask. “Born and raised in The Manor but currently reside in The Millennium,” she says proudly. CFers will represent and I love that about us. “I’m Jamila, by the way.” “Nice to meet you, Jamila. You good now?” She presses her phone dramatically, then looks up to me. “License sent. Now, I’m good. And for the record, I do have a taser and mace.” “Calm down, killer. You won’t have to use either on me. Scouts’ honor, I am a gentleman and I’m my momma’s son.” While eyeing me suspiciously, she asks, “Were you even a boy scout?” After pressing the up button on the elevator, I mumble, “Hell no.”
We don't really know if it was an actual switch of partners... What we do know is that once Jamila and Denim caught the other two, they promptly concluded their connections... Both planned to immediately go back home. But a snow storm interfered. And a shortage of rooms resulted in Jamila having to accept Denim's invitation to share the small suite which included a couch, bed, and kitchenet... Soon, however, you will discover the Jamila you will soon get to know, when she immediately asks to see Denim's license--proof of identify! LOL Hey, She'd been dating Corey for 18 months and only that day learned that Corey was a nickname and not his full name! Caution? Thy name is now Jamila... and she was not in the mood to be fooled again!
The thing is, Denim is just the opposite of Corey in all ways that were important to Jamila. If you begin to feel like Jamila has just met Prince Charming, you just might be right... For this certainly appears to become a "happily-ever-after" merger being negotiated, of course, starting that first night of betrayal that both of them had suffered through together...
His hand grazes the side of my face then lands under my chin. After lifting my head, he locks his mesmerizing eyes with mine. The lust and desire in his eyes match mine because I want this. I want him. “What else are you ready for?” he utters in a deep, sexy timbre. “You,” I admit honestly.
This story is short, sweet, and sexy... The POV moves between Jamila and Denim, so you learn what each is thinking as we read...
Fate or some other fxxxed up thing brought us together and I don’t know why but I do know I’m glad it did. She’s unlike any woman I’ve been with, definitely a stark contrast to Maddox. Even when I invested in her business, Maddox wasn’t as passionate about it as Jamila is about her photos. Her eyes don’t sparkle with excitement like Jamila’s.
BTW, no music was involved in this book, so all videos are of my choice and my memory of songs that seemed appropriate to the storyline... Yeah, oldies but goodies, don't you think? Both Denim and Jamila seemed to know immediately that they had wasted months with somebody else, but, fate seemed to have brought the right match for each... exactly at the right time....
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