GUV. That was what other inmates called former Gov. John G. Rowland in prison when Brad Davis, a radio broadcaster, went to visit him last fall. To Mr. Davis, a strong supporter of Mr. Rowland, it showed the ex-governor's continuing ability to earn respect and admiration, no matter the audience.

But it is also undoubtedly a testament to the governor's descent -- a casual nickname in a prison yard stripped of its powers and its grandeur. The Guv isn't the governor, and when he is released from federal prison in Loretto, Pa., scheduled for today, he returns to Connecticut as just a citizen and an ex-convict.

As governor, he was entrusted with negotiating a multibillion-dollar budget and was protected by a bodyguard; now he must get permission before he can even get a job, and must brace himself for unannounced visits by a federal probation officer.

''All the trappings of power are gone,'' said Cornell Lewis, a Hartford minister who wrote to Mr. Rowland in prison and considers him a friend. ''You're standing out there with nothing.''

If Mr. Rowland were 20 years older, his resignation and jail sentence would likely be a final chapter in his life, but friends and acquaintances expect that the 48-year-old ex-governor will find a way to reinvent himself.

What, indeed, will John Rowland's next chapter look like?

In the short term, Mr. Rowland will continue to be bound by restrictions imposed on him at his sentencing. In March 2005, Judge Peter C. Dorsey sentenced Mr. Rowland to one year and one day in prison for not paying taxes on money he took from people doing business with the state and conspiring to ''deprive the State of Connecticut and its citizens of the intangible right to the honest services of its governor.''

But the prison term is not the end of his sentence. When Mr. Rowland returns to Connecticut, he will begin a four-month program of home confinement. He won't have to stay home the entire time, but his movements will be severely restricted.

Mr. Rowland can leave the house for work, religious services, medical appointments, family commitments and community service, according to his sentencing papers. He cannot engage in social activities ''with the exception of those exclusively family-oriented,'' and must begin doing community service.

In all, he will have to complete three hours of community service every week for about two years -- a total of 300 hours. He also must pay the balance of $82,000 in fines and $35,000 in back taxes that were part of his sentence.

So that authorities may keep track of him, Mr. Rowland will either wear an electronic bracelet that can monitor his movements or use a telephone monitoring system that would call his house several times a day, said Maria Rodrigues McBride, the chief United States probation officer for the District of Connecticut. The telephone system, which is run by an outside contractor, ''is considered a little less intrusive than the bracelet,'' she said.

A probation officer assigned to Mr. Rowland will check on him at work and at home, Ms. Rodrigues McBride said, and can make a superficial inspection of his house in West Hartford. But, she said, ''nonviolent white-collar offenders don't have to be monitored as closely.''

Mr. Rowland has three years of supervised release to serve. He will be expected to find a job, but the probation office must approve any employment. If the job opportunity is questionable, the probation officer will generally consult a judge, Ms. Rodrigues McBride said. The judge has final say over where Mr. Rowland can work.

Asked if Mr. Rowland would be allowed to take a job lobbying the state government, Ms. Rodrigues McBride said it would raise eyebrows.

''The court would have to be involved,'' she said.

She said scandals in Washington, where the lobbyist Jack Abramoff recently pleaded guilty to fraud, tax evasion and conspiracy to bribe public officials, have made lobbying a controversial profession.

''If that is what he chooses to do, it would be interesting,'' she said. ''It is so much in the news these days. I think that we're becoming more aware of lobbyists and their impact on political systems.''

Mr. Rowland's employment will likely be watched closely. He has already been scrutinized for a job he took after resigning as governor but before he went to prison. Chief State's Attorney Christopher L. Morano attempted to obtain an arrest warrant for Mr. Rowland last year on charges of lobbying his former office too soon after leaving it. After resigning, Mr. Rowland worked for the Norwich-based Klewin Building Company, a construction firm that had received millions of dollars in contracts with the state while Mr. Rowland was governor.

In his job, which paid $5,000 a month, Mr. Rowland had met with a University of Connecticut official about settling a dispute between the company and the university, an action Mr. Morano considered lobbying. Eventually, a judge rejected the arrest warrant.

Nonetheless, lawmakers said they would be concerned if Mr. Rowland attempted to return to the political arena as a lobbyist.

''I would have immense concerns if he became a lobbyist,'' said Diana Urban, a representative from North Stonington who was among the first Republicans to ask Mr. Rowland to resign.

If not government-related work, then, what could Mr. Rowland do?