*any form of self deprecating is for writing purposes *as I look back the experience didn’t faze me as much as it may seem, I actually self-improved during the proccess and made the most of it
One minute you could be cocky, killing the game, (feeling yourself, to use a term from the urban dictionary), on top of the world… Next minute your in handcuffs on your way to jail. In an instance, its like your life is over, all your dreams, your hustles and ambitions are in the toliet (obviously not true but it seems like that). Should I even use the word hustle, given the connotation? Nearly one month after, I write this tale, as I recover my identity, ego, values, and self-esteem.
What’s the next move, become a corny, do gooder with a sticker book smile and stop listening to gangster rap music? Or get right back to business without comitting crimes like Kodak Black, Lil Wayne or Tupac did. Suddenly you lose respect for rap game, the heavy hitters go from mentors to thugs promoting a retarted lifestlye with destructive end games. Are these cool, inspiring artists or idiots with face tattooes and poor education. Outliers who happened to make it through the minefield of juvenile delinquincy. Every song is about drugs, crime, robbery and murder, what’s the appeal? The voice in the back of my head says fuck these people as I listen to D12. The lyrics sound like a surefire recipe to end up behind bars. I never thought I’d advocate against rap music but trying times will make you question your faith. Then again, what is a competitive alpha male supposed to listen to, Katy Perry? It goes to back to the potential butterfly affect of being influenced by media. Its like watching an action movie, you can watch commando but you don’t go out and reinact it. People play Grand Theft Auto and Call of Duty but don’t go out and shoot people. Then again you can potentially beome hardened, familiar and descensitied to crime via music.
Having spent 52 days in county jail for non criminal charges, no matter how much of a tough guy you are, the resounding and sobering post incarceration syndrome is no laughing matter. Even if you don’t give a fuck, there is an invetible stigmatization from society and peers. As your pride yells, this is not a good look. Its not probably not something you want ot advertise to people, given humanity is naturally judgemental. Not to mention the dissapointment in ones self. The regret, the time lost, its probably more productive to process the L in a constructive manner than keep it a secret. I’m not a big fan of making mistakes and failure (ideally you want to be undefeated and unscathed like Floyd Mayweather to use a metaphor) but there is some wisdom in turning your shit into sugar as Robert Greene would say. Granted people get jailed for not paying traffic tickets. The process can be quite emasculating. Now the purpose of this anectdote isn’t to be vulnerable, airing dirty laundry and showing weakness for no reason. Its more of an educational story you can learn from. To put things in perspective, you can go from a colorful, productive member of society with self ascribed labels such as musician, athlete, reduced to a piece of shit. An aspiring one percenter, brought down to the lowest stratum of society. Now this isn’t a self deprecating, vicitm mentality, poor me story from some type of pussy looking for sympathy and compassion. Obviously one has to take responsibility for their actions and suck it up to some degree. Its more along the lines of jarring realism. Now some people may say you only did 52 days, stop being a bitch. Well your not me, a high value person with a lot to lose and a firm grasp on the principles of momentum and opportunity cost.
Quarantined with tatted blue collar thugs, professional criminals and casual crack heads. The begging question, is this a place and subculture where I want to fit in? Probably not. Although its temporary, the atmosphere is a major slap in the face. A contradicition in identity like What the Fuck! I’m supposed to be successfull with my shit together! and I’m in fucking jail. The loss in status is apparent as I recall and develop a hunger for redemption. Its almost like Conor Mcgregor getting knocked out in broad daylight 5x, a fucked up piece of humble pie. The narcisistic sense of superiority is diminished when your reduced to animal. Not to overdramatize, I managed to stay productive, read books, did hundreds of sit ups,/push ups, write, run, and practice yoga. Despite liking myself a lot prior to jail there is a gnawing sense that at some level things will never be the same. I find it hard to maintain a cut throat mentality like an asshole which may be necessary for success and genuine kindness, concern and compassion for others. I’m quickly reminded people take your kindness for weakness. Getting quickly back on the grind, the only plausible move is to roll with the punch and go on to achieve massive success.