Random Meandering

MILF, no one puts thought into this phrase, but it just recently occurred to me…

Why in the hell does being a mother have anything to do with be sexually attractive?

Are there any DILFs out there? No, just attractive men, being a dad has nothing to do with their sexual identity, and so my point….

What about any other adjective while we are at it? Better yet, I am certain that if you are a parent its the last thing you would want to think about concurrent to sexual attraction. #IJS



T Factor


I moved out fairly young. My mother was schizophrenic as well as epileptic, much less her traumatic childhood, mine was no less easy. My mom and I would have passionate disputes; however, my mother also didn’t care for females much. While my father wasn’t around, which was often, I was the next most stable person in our household. My brother was just a bit older; organically I was a caretaker for us in many ways. So if you needed someone to pack your lunch, or get you up in the morning, I would be the person to do it. In so many ways, I felt like a single parent, incidentally in my own childhood home as I grew up. Needless to say, I wasn’t perfect.

I think this bothered my mother, since she was a pioneer despite her ailments. To an extent, I think it pissed my mother off that she couldn’t be more there for me, and at the same time punished me for it. I should point out that I am also an INTJ female, ennegram type one. You know who else has this rare personality, especially for a women, Hillary Clinton and people either love her or hate her. I think that perfectly sums up how folks respond to me. I joke with those few close friends who can stand me that I am ambidextrous, O neg, RH neg, dyslexic, female INTJ; I couldn’t be any more of a unicorn. This isn’t to say that I am special; in fact people would argue that I am far from it. Maybe this means I am completely demented. I don’t care. This is to point out that it’s difficult to relate to me apparently and nothing more. Given that I have Pisces on my MC, more times than not people project their feelings on me. It’s a reflection of them that they despise me. It has taken my entire life to pull all these pieces together, the solution, well, you tell me? I haven’t figured it out yet.

I am by no means perfect; should you decide you dislike me, please first be certain it’s for a valid reason I have earned, and not something within yourself. To be fair, most people are not going to analyze their feelings or thoughts on this level. I’d say in my experience they are more prone to be emotional, and therein lies the problem. I am not any of these things, at least, not until you dig deep. This is certainly not my surface response.

Alas, my mother knew all these things about me, at least intrinsically. Yet at the same time, she had her issues with females, and more specifically, a strong willed one who helped her when she despised being weak, me. Needless to say, it was a complex love/hate relationship. I grew up as strong as she was, and in a way she should have been happy to have me in that capacity. Be that as it may, mom brought drama to me whether I liked it or not. Given my temperament, I loathed it with a passion. (Sun sextile Moon)  I could not escape it, so it taught me a lot about myself long before I even stepped foot into the adult world. Considering my 4th house Saturn, I think it perfectly sums up my responsibilities as a child, and better yet, my relationship with my father. Since dad wasn’t around, he returned to witness, or hears tales of this drama.

To my detriment, he easily blamed those “crazy women” and didn’t think much more of it than that. I couldn’t avoid her drama, she pushed it on me. I was backed into a corner. Despite my dad’s thoughts, I very much despise confrontation, though it was obviously inescapable. For being an INTJ, I have a peculiar quality about me that sets me apart from most you may encounter. My natal Mars conjunction Jupiter helps to perfectly sum up the fact that I am not at all passive.

Most INTJ’s do not like confrontation, I am no exception. Though If I am faced with adversity I will tackle that son of a bitch head on, and will not hesitate nor will I grow tired in doing so. I should say, I am a formidable opponent, and otherwise not shy of the shady part of life that needs sorting (Sun sextile Pluto). In fact, it was only recently I learned people know this about me. All along I thought it was a mystery, turns out that is not the case, and apparently people are immediately uncomfortable with me because of this. The irony, if you consider it all. I hate drama, but won’t hesitate to diffuse a bomb if I have to, and my level of confidence alongside any projections folks have gets me every time. For this reason, I had to move out rather young. I was lucky I didn’t get put in foster care as a child to be honest, and frankly, I was an orphan to an extent as it was. I often times stayed with my friend’s families, as we moved every few years it seemed. I adopted a new family that I would spend substantial time with, only otherwise attending to what I had to at my own home. This did nothing for my level of closeness, and as soon as I was out of there I wouldn’t look back nor was I welcome.

The problem with moving out young is having not a damn thing to your name. My mother, for whatever reason, even argued I shouldn’t take my bed with me in packing to move out. I took the damn bed, but not much else and started from scratch with shady people for roommates. It didn’t last long before they cut and run, and I struggled to make ends meet myself. For this reason, any given lemon I drove at the time had a limited shelf life. One in particular I loved dearly. A 79’ Cougar, this thing was a damn tank and proved to be life saving later. Though broke, one way to have fun back in the day was to hang out with friends and not play on cell phones. I believe we did an array of activities one night. I hung out with my future ex husband and several friends. We hung out at the bowling alley, sat around the parking lot, went to a small diner to eat. I honestly couldn’t tell you what we did. We didn’t do much of anything, but we laughed and screwed around most times.  

Earlier in the day I noticed my battle ax Cougar wasn’t stopping on a dime, considering it was as old as I was, I wasn’t expecting it to be perfect. It was noticeably a problem this evening. So after a night of shenanigans with friends I decided I would stop by my parent’s house for the night. They weren’t too far from where I was in town and I thought it would be safer to sleep on their couch until I could sort out my break situation. Through the night with friends, I had to pump the break to get the car to stop. I’d slow down well in advance, and slowly pump it to a stop. It became incredibly worse throughout as the evening wore on.

I had dropped off my then boyfriend and made my way to their place. At the time, my parents obviously lived in the same city and state, which hasn’t always been the case. They were still married at the time, though only barely so, and lived in a townhouse at the end of a cul de sac where my older brother also stayed. I can’t count the number of years my brother has lived with both, or one of my parents to be honest with you. Nor could I tell you the number of cars my parents have given him, much less home, or other such novelties. I suppose his personality is more likable than mine, though ironically he is also an INTJ. To be fair, and to his defense, I am probably to most extroverted introvert there is, my own bit of torture (mercury quincunx ascendant). I would say I am not shy, but I don’t enjoy small talk, keep it real.

Certainly not all INTJs are cut from the same cloth. He has a social anxiety disorder. Meanwhile, my father always complained that my grandfather favored my aunt; ironically in the same way my dad does for my brother. It’s unclear if I am that unlikeable, or if my dad is just over compensating. Regardless, the whole posse was in place for what was about to occur.

As I headed to their town home, I began to pump my brake as I had been throughout the evening. Their townhouse was literally at the very end of the cul de sac, down a slight hill. Traditionally, I would pull up all the way toward the end of the parking lot surrounded by town homes. If all the parking spots were taken, I would put my car in reverse and park across the street. In this case, I had planned to do just that. I looked at my speed, I was doing a crawling 15 mph and wasn’t on the accelerator. As I began to ease on the break I noticed the car wasn’t slowing however. I began to pump the brake as I had been earlier in the evening, the car wasn’t responding at this particular moment as it normally had. Though the drive wasn’t long I had every inclination to respond appropriately. I shifted the car in reverse, the car didn’t respond. I put on the emergency break, the car didn’t respond. I made a hard right in an effort to pull the car into the grass, the car didn’t respond. The car didn’t respond to my hard right in part because just in that moment I hit the curb that was just several feet from the neighboring town home to my parents.

Hoping the curb would stop my car, it did not. In fact, it caused my extraordinarily heavy vehicle to go slightly airborne, and with that I hunkered down as I headed into the townhouse. Before I knew it, I was half way deep into my parent’s neighbor’s home. As if something you would see in National Lampoons, steam came out of the hood of my car, as bricks all around me fell slowly one by one on and around my car. The car covered in dust, as I sit there and stare at a wall where a family portrait fell to the ground. My first thought, I’m going to jail. My next thought, for how long, is anyone hurt? Just then, a man who could easily pass for a 70s porn star came bolting toward my from inside with his curly hair asking if I was ok? On the heels of his inquiry, his wife, equally mane bushy in her nightgown, yelling “You could have killed my children!” I felt 2 inches tall.

The couple’s children peeked at me from atop the steps, they had literally just gone up, as the mother and wife who lived next to my parents reprimanded me. All the while, neighbors circling the homes all came out to see what was the matter, including my parents. I looked over to my dad hoping he would come over and help me sort this out. As I sat, there, my dad shook his head as if to be disappointed, as I watched my mother, father and brother walk away closing the door. Somewhere in this chaos, I ran into my parent’s home to call my boyfriend. From there, he called all our friends who had hung out with us that evening. On the heels of the police and paramedic arriving, so did my friends, with their cameras in tow, all taking pictures as the police conducted field sobriety tests on m e. Odd indeed, I have this tendency to attract some very eclectic people (venus sextile Uranus, 2)

I apologized profusely to the women of the house, as the tow truck removed my car. I had a secondary fear that my car was completely destroyed, and from there, how would I go to work and make a living? To my surprise, the only damage to my car, besides my breaks, was that the hood ornament had broken off. To be fair, with the age of the car, I was surprised that this was intact before the accident. Thankfully, no one was injured, I didn’t go to jail, and the complex later put up guard rails to avoid this incident from occurring again. To be fair, when my parents first moved in, my exact thought was, I hope it’s not that* townhouse, it seems at risk for a car driving through it. That’s Neptune sextile Pluto for ya. It turns out, I was leaking brake fluid, and that was the culprit. This, in my family is what we refer to as the “T factor” (Tracy factor), you may know this as something akin to Murphy’s Law.

The Finger


I once had a fantastic friend, dare I say mentor, Jerry. A fellow writer, he wrote scripts often and was a prodigy musician among other things. My flamboyant homosexual friend was one of the best friends there ever was before he passed. He was easily more than double my age at the time we became close. We met when I was in my late teens, though we became close when I was around 18 and he somewhere in his 50’s.

Jerry helped me through maturing, and guiding me as did another prominent mentor in my life by the name of Doris, also significantly older and sadly no longer with me. Both Doris and Jerry were the most progressive and bazaar mentors in terms of maturity stereotypes. To me, they were perfect, I do attract eclectic people as it stands, but more on that later. They were the weird, older versions of my type of personhood, I needed them dearly and they knew it. They fulfilled a significant gap in my young adulthood where I needed structure and lacked it in my upbringing.

Another interesting fact about Jerry, he was morbidly obese. So anytime he asked me to pick something up for him at the store, I would do my best to oblige. Let me clarify, when I say morbidly obese, I do mean bedbound and not much more. Many of nights we lay in his bed laughing at the normal people of the world together, drinking albeit; writing, singing, criticizing, & oh I dearly miss that man.

Speaking of drinking, Jerry asked me to arrange a pickup of vodka for him. I was not of age, and so doing so was not possible for me. I asked my slightly older brother to do so and meet me on my way to work. My brother Chris went to the neighboring liquor store near a gas station. I was peacefully filling my gas tank as my brother pulled up to make a purchase and give me the alcohol. “I’m going inside to get some lotto tickets” he said.

I had shut my car door with some sort of back handed gesture while walking away from it, as I walked away and it was not in my line of sight. Suddenly my hand burned with an intensity I had never experienced before, trapped no doubt in the door behind me. Squirming about I had no idea the extent of the injury, as I had apparently just slammed my hand in the car door. Although my hand was stuck, I had to maneuver in just such a way to open the door to get it out. Once I did I immediately put my right index finger in my mouth, not having looked at the injury what-so-ever.

As I stand there with the taste of pseudo tasting copper filling my mouth and something hard pressing against my tongue, I pulled my hand away from my face. Stunned, I was nearly blinded by my own blood as it shot with fury directly in my eyes, blood pressure being what it is and all. The taste was blood no doubt, and that something hard was my bone, before my eyes dangled a portion of my index finger. I immediately grabbed the complimentary gas station towels at the window cleaning station next to the pump and yelled for my brother. “Chris, come here, I think something is wrong”. Slightly annoyed my brother came to my side to witness my new injury. “Please go inside and get some help” I asked of him.

In my delirium I situated my car as best I could by putting the fuel pump away and shutting my car door, but gently this time. As I moved toward the gas station door, I had hoped my brother had gotten some help, whatever that would mean. As I stepped into the gas station, I was overwhelmed by what I saw, my brother standing in line, a long line. What was he thinking? He was going to wait to get help? Could he not see the extent of my injury? I asked him what he was doing. “I’m getting lotto tickets Trace” he replied. That little fucker may have no intention of getting me some help after all, or worse yet, perhaps asking after his purchase for a band aid or some such.


My blood pressure was changing; some form of shock must have overcome me. In that moment I began to feel besieged. The room spun about as if I was on a bad acid trip, as blood soaked through the handful of window towels. I unveiled my hand allowing the blood to create the impact my words could not at this juncture. Blood spewed forth, on potato chips here, candy bars here, if humanity wasn’t enough to jar someone into action than the destruction of merchandise surely would. Just then, I began to slowly wander back toward what was an opening to a more private area of the store. “Ma’am, Ma’am!” yelled a gas station clerk. “What are you doing?”, she yelled seemingly appalled and dismayed that I was bleeding everywhere, my plan had worked.

Giving the clerk a stone cold stare of death, I continued onto what appeared to be the office, as I fell into the chair just in front of the corner desk. Willing to fall over onto the desk with exhaustion, the clerk continued “You can’t be in here!” she gestured for me to come toward her as if to help me. My sense was that this was in trade for removing myself from the gas station leadership office. As I made my way to her, she grabbed my arm pulling it toward the utility sink. “This will get some of those germs off, it’ll make you feel better” she exclaimed. Wincing to keep eye contact, I look over toward my brother as he gestured I should do so.

The clerk pulls my arm under the ice cold water, letting out a shriek I pull my arm back with a passion. With her grip, and my weariness, my arm was still under the water. I gaze upon my hand and in what seemed like eternity, only to see the dangling portion of my finger swaying back and forth over the wide utility drain under the high water pressure. I mustarded all the strength within me to pull my hand away, “Thanks!” I snarled in a blood loss stupor as I rushed my way out the door. My brother just behind me, I tossed him the keys and delegated “Park it, we’re going to the hospital”, as he parked my car.

I sat on a curb waiting for him, as he pulled up in his car. I got in, with my temperature fluctuating as well as my equilibrium. Time seemed to be at a snails pace while we moved one block at a time, sitting at each red light on a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon. Finally the throbbing pain was too much. “Do you have the vodka I asked?” as I looked toward his backseat. “Yes, why do you want it?” He asked. I gestured for it and he opened the top handing it to me, just as he began to drive the next light. As we pulled up, waiting for the light to change, I downed as much of the half gallon of Heaven Hill Vodka as I could. Drinking with enthusiasm, it poured down my throat, inside and out. It poured down my shirt, and was all over my neck. I continued to chug it until I nearly gagged it all up.


If the room was spinning before, it was definitively spinning now. As we pulled up to yet another light, I half hung out the window, my head and injured hand as I aired out. It was then I noticed the car of patrons to the side of us, they marveled in fear at the grotesque sight of my hand and dangling finger, at that I pulled myself into the car. Once at the hospital my brother let me out to park. I finally went into the ER, though I could tell by my care all the doctors were certain this was an accident as a result of drinking. Needless to say, my treatment therein was entertaining considering the afore mentioned assumption. My brother never met me inside after parking; I had later learned he went on home. I called a friend to bring me a whopper to sober me up, and eventually give me a ride home. Thankfully my finger was fully repaired though I didn’t have health insurance and had a quite a price tag to go with it. Considering this was my index finger, the joke never got old that I was “#1”, since after all in a sling it looked as if I was permanently pointing. I was after all, a champ.


Conundrum Chainmail

I received a political Conundrum chain mail. I thought it only appropriate to rebuttal, not in favor or against a party, but to highlight reality, the power of propaganda & the lack of research or critical thinking.

Feel free to refute my responses, I am always up for sharpening the saw. Below, my responses are not bolded. Watch out for hyperlinks for additional resources.


  1. America is capitalist and greedy – yet half of the population is subsidized.

Americans actually pay more taxes, when you consider all the hidden taxes, annual income and state tax, sales tax etc full taxes/fees Americans pay is:

  • Federal income tax
  • State income tax
  • Local income tax
  • Employee social security tax (your employer pays the other half)
  • Employee Medicare tax (your employer pays the other half)
  • Property taxes
  • Road toll charges
  • State sales tax
  • Driver’s license renewal fee
  • TV Cable/Satellite fees & taxes
  • Federal telephone surtax, excise tax, and universal surcharge
  • State telephone excise tax and surcharge
  • Telephone minimum usage and recurring/nonrecurring charges tax
  • Gas/electric bill fees & taxes
  • Water/sewer fees & taxes
  • Cigarette tax
  • Alcohol tax
  • Federal gasoline tax
  • State gasoline tax
  • Local gasoline tax
  • Federal inheritance tax
  • State inheritance tax
  • Gift tax
  • Bridge toll charges
  • Marriage license
  • Hunting license
  • Fishing license
  • Bike license fee
  • Dog permit/license
  • State park permit
  • Watercraft registration & licensing fees
  • Sports stadium tax
  • Bike/nature trail permit
  • Court case filing fee
  • Retirement account early withdrawal penalty
  • Individual health insurance mandate tax
  • Hotel stay tax
  • Plastic surgery surcharge
  • Soda/fatty-food tax
  • Air transportation tax
  • Electronic transmission of tax return fees
  • Passport application/renewal fee
  • Luxury & gas-guzzler car taxes
  • New car surcharge
  • License plate and car ownership transfer taxes
  • Yacht and luxury boat taxes
  • Jewelry taxes & surcharges
  • State/local school tax
  • Recreational vehicle tax
  • Special assessments for road repairs or construction
  • Gun ownership permit
  • Kiddie tax (IRS form 8615)
  • Fuel gross receipts tax
  • Waste Management tax
  • Oil and gas assessment tax
  • Use taxes (on out-of-state purchase)
  • IRA rollover tax/withdrawal penalties
  • Tax on non-qualified health saving account distributions
  • Individual and small business surtax (page 336 of Obamacare)
  • Estimated income tax underpayment penalty
  • Alternative Minimum Tax on income
  • Business Taxes & Fees
  • Federal corporate income tax
  • State corporate income tax
  • Tax registration fee for new businesses
  • Employer social security tax
  • Employer Medicare tax
  • Federal unemployment tax
  • State unemployment tax
  • Business registration renewal tax
  • Worker’s compensation tax
  • Tax on imported/exported goods
  • Oil storage/inspection fees
  • Employer health insurance mandate tax
  • Excise Tax on Charitable Hospitals (page 2001/Sec. 9007 of Obamacare)
  • Tax on Innovator Drug Companies (Page 2010/Sec. 9008 of Obamacare)
  • Tax on Medical Device Manufacturers (Page 2020/Sec. 9009 of Obamacare)
  • Tax on Health Insurers (Page 2026/Sec. 9010 of Obamacare)
  • Excise Tax on Comprehensive Health Insurance Plans, i.e. “Cadillac” plans
  • Tax on indoor tanning services
  • Utility users tax
  • Internet transaction fee (passed in California; being considered in other states and at federal level)
  • Professional license fee (accountants, lawyers, barbers, dentists, plumbers, etc.)
  • Franchise business tax
  • Tourism and concession license fee
  • Wiring inspection fees
  • Household employment tax
  • Biodiesel fuel tax
  • FDIC tax (insurance premium on bank deposits)
  • Electronic waste recycling fee
  • Hazardous material disposal fee
  • Food & beverage license fee
  • Estimated income tax underpayment penalty
  • Building/construction permit
  • Zoning permit fees

Therefore, while it would appear the lump taxes are paid by “socialist” countries, such as Denmark, France etc, in totality Americans pay more, when you consider education is not “free”, healthcare is not “free” and disproportionate. It would appear at a glance we pay 24% taxes compared to their 40%, but when you take into account my education, healthcare, daycare costs, nursing home care etc and taxes on top of this, I actually pay 67% ‘taxes’ for the same services received in Denmark etc. and in cases of nursing homes, you will lose all your assets, so that’s 100% nice try though.


The brunt of our tax dollars are being lost in hidden industries, such as prisons, which has increased incarceration at 600% is the past 30 years but has not made our society any better, though is becoming more and more privatized, so body counts cover corporate stakeholders, all while spewing propaganda that the masses eat up, such as emails like this.

Capitalist on a major level are, you know the folks who can actually sponsor a legislature, not on our level, yes.

  1. Half of the population is subsidized – yet they think they are victims.

Why does the word “victim” come up, any one who is getting screwed by the government is indeed, fight them not your people. Half of the population is subsidized because hidden industry is eating away at the tax dollars we pay. 8 trillion dollars recently went missing in defense, I heard no major news reporting this, and no one seems to care. This is public records, because it has to. Accounting clearly shows purchases for items already over stocked in inventory, yet purchased even more. As well as money that was paid out with no explanation as to why, or straight out not accounted for. The government does not have to explain, Sovereign Immunity. If not for the lack of accountability, perhaps we’d have better schools, better healthcare, better everything instead of your taxes dollars disappearing quietly to private companies and in fact other countries. The solution is being mistaken for Socialism (which is not a dirty word, more propaganda) the truth is it would be government accountability with our dollars, good luck with that one however.

  1. They think they are victims – yet their representatives run the government.

Who thinks they are a victim? None of the hard-working broke people I know, that’s largely an illusion to propagate people into thinking they should work more hours and live more like dogs in order to be legit. Representatives do not represent us. They represent whoever they are sponsored by, private corporations, ya know, such as pharmaceutical companies, weapons industry, prisons, etc. where the money comes back. “the money” our money, and get caught on nominal debating such as we need to cut food stamps, please…


  1. Their representatives run the government – yet the poor keep getting poorer.

All people are getting poorer, but you see it most at the bottom because the bottom earners are working for the least amount of money, the agenda is siphoning more and more cash away from everyone. You’ll see the hurt at the bottom first obviously, you’ll assume it’s one sides fault over another, it’s a rouse. 


  1. The poor keep getting poorer – yet they have things that people in other countries only dream about.

Perhaps, this hasn’t been a third world country in any of our lifetimes, if it were you can expect a total anarchy, you have to let the people keep some of their earnings after all… The government hardly hands out help, I should know. This is a non-logical sentence all around.

  1. They have things that people in other countries only dream about – yet they want America to be more like those other countries.

Who are they? Us, as in all of us? People of America want more accountability from the government but they are conflicted with how to make that happen. They are generally stupid and thoroughly confused, and the propaganda all over keeps them that way, as intended. It’s sustainable by stupid emails like this. 

Think about it! And that, my friends, pretty much sums up the USA in the 21st Century.  Makes you wonder who is doing the math.

I have thought about it, it’s nearly all I think about. But no one is listening. No one is doing the REAL math, people are staying confused and blissfully unaware but for bitching and taking zero action, thinking their way is the right way and their votes count. It matters? Join me in protest! I thought not…

These three, short sentences tell you a lot about the direction of our current government and cultural environment:

These sentence tell me how I should I think and not to conduct my own research, but I know better.

  1. We are advised to NOT judge ALL Muslims by the actions of a few lunatics, but we are encouraged to judge ALL gun owners by the actions of a few lunatics.

Wrong, at one time “colors” couldn’t share the same area as whites, “japs” couldn’t either, now what? Women couldn’t get jobs, credit, or vote, we still are getting screwed in many ways. Now Muslims, history should have taught us something, but it turns out not. We were just celebrating the death of a great Muslim, Ali, and now we are condemning all? HAS HISTORY TAUGHT NO ONE NOTHING?!?

I’m sorry, why did you all fight for civil rights again? Why don’t you undo that… No, obviously because it’s stupid.

The problem is psychos.

No one is threatening to take away guns, again propaganda.

The suggestion is heavy artillery, which only became legal in 2005 when mass shooting significantly increased. 

Furthermore, agreed, maybe laws won’t stop anyone from getting their hands on a AR15 if illegal, but I have yet to see a person use it for legal purposes, such as stopping one of these mass shootings.

Fighting to keep that kind of gun seems stubborn just for the sake of. Switzerland gun ownership is 1 in 2 people, who are trained young and all must serve the country at least 2 years. Theres a respect for artillery, finally, automatic weapons are banned there.

Switzerland has the lowest gun incident rating. The answer is, no one is judging gun owners, people are judging automatic weapons and lunatics, duh

At least better background checks, hell it’s easier to get a gun than it is sudafed.

Funny how that works. And here’s another one worth considering…

  1. Seems we constantly hear about how Social Security is going to run out of money. But we never hear about welfare or food stamps running out of money! What’s interesting is the first group “worked for”their money, but the second didn’t.

Yes, of course we do, that’s part of propaganda honey. First, our highest expense is “defense”, you know where money disappears and NO ONE is talking about it. Second is Social security, why? The largest portion of our population retiring and the greedy government does not want to give up our money, so they have to blame it on an expense lower of the total poll, social programs. Yeah, the area where people are making such low money, taxed to death, paying for private insurance, college and so forth that they should also take the blame for this.

The government can’t after all. Feel free to do away with those programs, it will not happen. Why? Because then my dear when parents have starving children you will see an anarchy like no other, the government can’t have that.

Think about it…..and Last but not least 

  1. Why are we cutting benefits for our veterans, no pay raises for our military and cutting our army to a level lower than before WWII, but we are not stopping the payments or benefits to illegal aliens.

Are you serious, really, did you not read anything I stated above. Please review, government hustlers pitting one another against each other to take the focus off them, judging by the content of this, it worked like magic.

Am I the only one missing something?

You are many of the sheeple who are, yes you’re missing a lot

 “If you do not take an interest in the affairs of your government, then you are doomed to live under the rule of fools.” – Plato


Awesome quotes do not make a tidbit any more credible. Stop drinking the kool-aid and focus on all politicians and not the circus of dividing. Lets stat evaluating the Electoral system.


2nd Chances

The three biggest factors to recidivism are a support system, employment & permanent home address. I find it ironic when thinking in terms of support system being the start and end issue. Certainly that was at least a contributor to failure at the start, whether it is an actual crime or not knowing your rights or representation. 50% of parolees are successful in meeting their conditions, 60% of probationers are as well. Not impressed? I wasn’t until I learned that of those 85% who return are due to technical violations, such as not having a job. As our impact list indicates, this touches everyone in the community and is more than just a humanitarian effort if the bottom line is strictly your concern.
Speaking of support system, I’ll explain briefly a very traumatic & deep part of my life in growing up with my primary caretaker, my mother. A woman who passed away just a few short years ago; in losing her, my emotions were complex. As any person living with a relative with mental illness can attest. She was schizophrenic & epileptic. Have you seen A Beautiful Mind? Unlike a couple hour movie for the purposes of deep thinking & entertainment, that was my life growing up. My father, in the military, and always working; otherwise he was not around. He was honorable, but not present.
Moving every few years, either to a new state or new town; being dyslexic, I was the new kid showing up dressed in missed-match clothing and stinking of sweat as I raised myself. I can tell you first hand I didn’t do a top notch job, but I tried. Try as I may, I wasn’t just caring for myself. In some ways I was caring for my mother as well. In some respects my brother, who had other afflictions. As you can presume for myself and others who come from a lack of support, you often times find yourself attaching to whoever will have you. I can honestly say, I had no confidence, and no standard for which I felt I deserved quality people in my life which resulted in a lot of rework. At the very least I wasted a few years trying to fit in the wrong support system.
I am no angel; I’m willing to bet no one is. In fact I had my fair share of criticism from teachers and other authority figures. Not necessarily for the reasons you may think. I was critical, and didn’t fail to share my thoughts. “Mouth” was my nickname, not because I talked incessantly, but because my communication packed a wallop. In this way, I sure didn’t gain alliances. All these factors created the perfect storm. I attracted the wrong people, with a misconception of what I stood for, & in turn I had no personal value to which I was selective or whom I should be affiliated with.
Eventually, I worked as a cashier at a grocery store at 18 years old. One night, I was pulled aside where it was explained to me that a couple hundred dollars was missing from my cash drawer. Though I had a mouth, I did respect authority, specifically in intimidating situations. Pulled off to a side room, where one loss prevention person set their chair in front of the door, it was explained to me I wasn’t leaving until I agreed to the written terms. It’s interesting in hindsight; if one should refuse to contribute without an attorney present, which is our right, though I would be deemed guilty by onlookers just on virtue.
Interesting factors in my case, I was under duress undoubtedly. As a cashier previously, I thought it odd that I never witnessed a count of my drawer; I simply slide it into a hole in the literal wall for a “cash office” to count down without any knowledge of the outcome. After long hours of insistence, I signed the documentation loss prevention put before me. I reconciled that I would deal with it later, not realizing I had sealed my fate. I was tired, I was hungry, and I was scared. I wanted to go home. I wanted to ask a “grown up” what I should do, but no one was available to me. I signed the document.
I was dismissed from the job. Over time, my most pressing concern was getting a new job, as I had lived on my own and going back to my parent’s home was not an option. Steadily I received letters from my former employer insisting that I “pay back” the loss from the cash drawer. Broke and barely making it, I concluded I would not do so since I felt there was nothing to substantiate this. The letters specifically stated “may or may not press charges” & I felt that if I had paid the money it would warrant pressing charges, in presumably admitting guilt.
As time went on, the letters continued & the amount demanded increased, as my former employer added interest, bringing the amount from a misdemeanor to a Class D felony as I would learn. A complicated set of circumstances created the perfect storm, and it was official, charges were indeed brought against me & filed. I was fortunate in that growing up somewhat orphaned, families of my friends would look out for me where they could. It was then all hands were on deck, as they advised I needed an attorney.
My dad sought out the best attorney he could find. I had plans to enlist into the military, after all and this would significantly impact that. This hotshot lawyer bragged of his no losing streak. Indeed, as we had later learned, after paying him a pretty penny he advised me to plead out. Scared at the concept of facing prison time of 5 years, he advised us the risk was there, we should take a plea, and that I did. I asked if letters from community leaders and peers would help? He advised strongly against it. Being “mouth”, I did it anyway. Fortunately the judge decided at sentencing that if not for those letters I would have served a significant time for a new felon. He had mercy on me and had me serve two weeks. Resolved right? No.
In jail, I learned little nuances that one could never know of this culture. Such as, I wasn’t aware I couldn’t wear undergarments that weren’t white. Upon coming into jail I was ordered not only to a strip search, but to dress in jail attire without underwear. No big deal right? No. It would be a cruel twist of fate that I had started my period just a couple days in. It turns out, if other inmates see you bleeding you will get beat up. I also didn’t know the secret culture in which you must shower your first day there, or you will get beat up as well. I can tell you, taking a shower without shower shoes and risking a fungal infection was not a high priority on my list, but I did so with the advice of a fellow inmate looking out for me. She gave me menstrual pads to stand on. Sounds funny, but it’s a real problem. Starting my menstrual cycle was a big deal because you can’t let others see you bleed, though in my case they likely would. Why? I had no underwear, and you do not get tampons, unless you buy tampons. I had pads, but nothing to stick them to.
My jumpsuit was over sized, you get what you get. The crotch of it came down to my knees. I slept on the floor since it was overcrowded for a while, on newspaper. I sat in one spot as long as I could, with any pads I could get or homemade toilet paper made pads. I was a criminal after all. Though I wasn’t guilty of this, I am not without folly and justified to myself, I deserved this. “You can have tampons, if you can buy them” a nurse advised me. You buy items with money on your book (account). How do you arrange that? I had asked any and all support system I could if someone would answer my collect call. Visibly bleeding was problem because it’s considered a risk; infectious disease is a serious problem in jails and prisons. I had learned I was surrounded by many women who had HIV/AIDs from prostitution or otherwise. Finally I got a bunk; top which turns out is not what you want. It was of course the perfect size for a small child. Getting in and out of it tore up my legs.
Finally, I got out of jail. On my last day, just hours before I was released, I got a bag of items I ordered through my account. Items such as toothpaste, tampons, etc. it took two weeks to process, so I no longer needed it as I was being released that day. I started with visiting a probation officer on my full day of freedom. Where I learned I would need to abide my very strict standards. He explained I could not drink; I could not have an empty beer can in my trash whether it was from myself or someone else, as random home and job site search would commence. I could not have expired tags, I had to have a place to live, I had to have a job, & more. If I did not abide by these rules, I would go back to jail to serve out the rest of the 5 years. I was scared to death, I was young and I knew my friends would drink or anything else. I couldn’t even be in their presence without being at risk. How could I know if they had a substance on them? I made a conscious decision to seclude myself. I was on probation for 10 years, 5 of which was supervised.
I decided I would go to college, work two jobs, and have no time to be physically around any possible threat. In that time, I slept 3 hours a day and worked myself to the bone. I wanted to have children one day after all, and how could I justify it if I had nothing to offer them? So I worked. I donated eggs a couple of times, intrigued with fertility and birth I once dreamed of being a midwife. I intended to go to school for nursing, but was told it may not be the best idea given my circumstances.
I eventually completed my education, nearly 10 years after having earned several degrees. I enjoyed learning and rationalized I would overcompensate for my dyslexia and background issue. I learned in the worst way possible it wasn’t that easy. I was honest on applications, just to be turned down with the felony as a reason. Eventually, I grew tired, wondering why anyone would waste my time interviewing me just to tell me this was a barrier. Applications aren’t consistent in how the question is asked. After 7-10 years I would answer no,when the question was specific to that time frame in some instances. I have had jobs for a couple months, to alternatively learn it was a problem despite my performance.
I have had offers, just to have them rescinded after having given my notice due to a current employer as a result of slow background checks. I have lost my position in mergers where company A signed off on it, but company B did not despite years of superior service. You wouldn’t have found a more dedicated staff member than me! I learned in time KY FCRA laws are one of few that allow lifelong checks, so the question of time frame is not relevant in the state, asking gives the wrong impression. I was married eventually. In our marriage we were having trouble conceiving. I was told I could not adopt. My only option would be to get IVF. Having donated before, I knew very specifically the cost and time for IVF, so I worked hard and I saved. I worked harder in my life than I ever had. I donated plasma, I participated in medical experiments, worked multiple jobs, began publishing & journalism in part to have a voice where I could not vote, and to stabilize income for the never ending job drama.
I did everything I could do to raise money. With that and other options we invested 30k into attempting IVF, though results were not guaranteed. The situation didn’t pan out, and the marriage ended. Nearly 20 years out, I am still considered a threat to society because a lack of knowledge that a class D felony is not the same as a class A capital offense is held against me, there’s no knowledge to distinguish the difference. I’m being retired by non-experts. Upon discovery, with shock and awe as if I am suddenly not worthy to sit in the same room as others more fortunate, time and time again I was turned down. At times, people will say “you’re are the exception, & this is unfortunate”. I can tell you, nothing makes me sicker to my stomach then knowing that redemption is considered for “exceptions”. Perhaps not going to college may have been wiser, that is what society was showing me. Moreover, I am not an exception; I am some representation of the majority. At the very least, we all make mistakes, but we move on. I was reliving the very rejection I grew up feeling in the worst way.
2nd Chances was birthed from this. Many pardon applications I’ve submitted have been overlooked at the end of administration terms, & this is how it works. I looked for a mission, an action, what I’ve been doing hasn’t been working & now was time for change. Serendipity would have it; I met a Jason Smith and eventually Crystal Powell through Facebook comments on news sources. I asked Jason if he would like to be a part of this, where he introduced me to Crystal and organically the same was asked.
At the time, we proactively shared information and passed on resources, beyond that this was the extent of what we had to offer. Concurrently I had a peer group of volunteers brainstorming with me on what should happen. It occurred to me, if we could just place people in jobs specifically with these setbacks, that’s the resolution. My experience is in analytics. So I pulled the data, I had to see it for myself, and it was substantiated. In time, the two groups merged and we are on a mission.

It seemed right to finally share my story, some people saw success of my sustained efforts and assumed it came without a  fight, even contributing resistance on my goals. Not that getting out of the gutter is permanent. They’d stereotype  that I hadn’t seen a hard day in my life and justified it. Likewise, it perpetuates a cliché in several capacities & until we dismantle those illusions across communities it will only continue, unjust as that maybe. For this purpose, for the greater good, I’ll share my story.  We will support everyone who dares to shatter stereotypes.

Again, the three biggest factors to recidivism are support system, employment & permanent home address. I find it ironic when thinking in terms of support system. Certainly that was at least a contributor to failure at the start. 50% of parolees are successful in meeting their conditions, 60% of probationers are as well. Not impressed, I wasn’t until I learned that of those 85% who return are due to technically violations such as not having a job.
1 in 4 people have some sort of criminal record. Let’s change the world together.

Courtship, Love & The Friendzone


It’s taken years for me to put into words why the term friend zone pisses me off as a woman.

  1. It’s limited to only valuing a female so long as there’s an eventual reward, quid pro quo
  2. A view that opposite sex friendships must have a physical reward; this is patriarchal, which is a short sited viewpoint
  3. The residual implies there’s a victim in a non-obligatory situation who is owed something
  4. It Assumes she intended to deceive you

Beyond insecurities, I expect that in a relationship a male should have meaningful female friends without it going south, whether he is in a relationship or not as should women. Why? Because it tells you how such a person views relationships in general, and what your role is. If a friendship is otherwise meaningless, it’s very clear the purpose in the dynamic.

Dynamics are not as complex as we think. The jealousy a women or man may feel because of a significant other having opposite sex friends, is due to any of the following

A. A valid threat

B. They do not trust their partners friend e.g. “I know how men are”, “I know how women are”

C. You’re insecure, but your feelings should still have a value, why? 

Why is this a threat? Well, that’s what the honeymoon stages represents, babies don’t make themselves, and women are just as much primal a men despite what you’ve been taught. In fact, we’re all animals, and animals linage rely on creating offspring. You will hear people say ‘men have a desire to spread their seed’ implying it’s on an unconscious level, somehow negating that women have any desire, or are strictly maternal.

Considering all of this, the honeymoon stage is no coincidence; pheromones have a proven shelf life of 6 months-2 years approximately. What does this mean? Well, it takes more work after that time, or not depending on your dynamics. Though it’s not as euphoric, which is fine since that’s not sustainable. Why do people keep relationships, we’re conscious animals, and unless we are always willing to flip the apple cart for fly-by-night feelings, we’re somewhat civilized and like consistency, at least somewhat.

The purpose of this honeymoon stage? To get some babies made, and see them through surviving the most critical portion of their development of course. Not necessarily a conscious desire of the man or women, its nature. This is why an opposite sex friend seems an option (see 1), or is a threat (see A). That is how it happens right?

Undoubtedly men are more apt to feel slighted being “friend zoned”, It’s very possible what she shared of her thoughts was only just the tip of the iceberg, perceived as it couldn’t be any deeper, likely it was. Both genders have manipulators, but it does not mean s(he) specifically intend to do so in the friend zone situation. Beyond that, let’s be fair, women always have options, men not as much so.

All people have levels, and it’s not likely your friends with anyone who doesn’t reveal their personal thoughts. Men don’t share theirs easily in western culture, and not all women are an open book. The onion starts to peel back, instincts kick in, it appears an opportunity has presented itself, and it may have, or not.

For a man, I imagine any process of witnessing this feels intimate, while to women it’s most likely an evolving process but at the very least is a byproduct of friendship ( a significant component to intimacy at the start). Timing is everything; dynamics are always shifting, and if you feel slighted see #2. Otherwise, my best wishes, sometimes it just doesn’t work out.


#*%! YouTube Legacy & Google Madness

So if you have a YouTube acct, and slowed down on posting videos for the past handful of years, and tried since you will have a rude awakening. Course this is old news for some of you, as for me I was aware of it, but unaffected as my primary channel was through another acct. 

First it began slowly, you see, I posted often directly from my phone. Back in the good old days when IPhones were awesome, I once discovered I couldn’t do so as easily. A fan of work arounds, I got an app for that. What I paid no attention to at the time, the app was needed because Google and YouTube merged. 

It later occurred to me, but whatever, I was set. Moving forward, I no longer have an IPhone and moved on to Android, to which the app does not apply. Here is where it gets interesting, back in the IPhone days I primarily used my yahoo email, which was linked my YouTube acct, now known as “Legacy You Tube”, God I feel old…

No biggie I will just log into the old timer YouTube from my yahoo, NOPE. You have to merge the two. So, you must have a Gmail, weird, but OK I have had one for several years now, link Em’! NOPE…

I dare you to find an instructional piece of information on the internet that will give you instructions that will work. You will find that if you try to log into the legacy link it’s a bit finicky about the order in which you’d have to log into both email accts to merge your YouTube. To make matters worse, if your legacy password does not work, or you’ve forgotten it (turns out if happens even if you remember it, I have the documentation to prove it) it will guide you to request it. OK, no biggie, right? NOPE…

Upon attempting to request your legacy password, for your non Gmail acct it is actually asking you for your Gmail password.. Well, if you were using your Gmail during those days you’re lucky, but anything outside of it is a train wreck constantly prompting you for a log on insisting it must be Gmail, I need my legacy password for Yahoo not Gmail, since you hijacked my vids!

Very poorly executed. I am sure Google made some mistake, purged data and is making it difficult to assure you it’s your fault. 

 That being said here are the steps I have attempted, you may as well if you’re in my shoes. 

There is hope, found this gem, we will see what happens. I am told I need to plant magic beans and wait 24 hours, more to come. 

1 works if you had a previous Gmail to your legacy acct clicky click

2 Oh, you didn’t have a Gmail back then, another email perhaps, good luck suckers. Try this clicky click

3 HAHAHAHAHA…..NOPE You got this didn’t you? clicky click 

4 Oh, ok, this will clear it up clicky click 

5 Phew! Ok, wait, wha….. Ah, yes, magic beans! clicky click 




Go to Gmail login, log in even if you have an AOL acct or something you will log into it with those credentials.

Then go to gaia https://www.youtube.com/gaia_link and log in there

Once you are in, click on your icon to the far right in  YouTube, select add account and add it to your current email, presumably a new Gmail acct. If nothing else, log into Gmail prior to gaia link with old credentials to at least access your channel, at which you will claim the channel if it’s legacy.

I believe what’s tripping folks up on this is you would not assume to log into gmail with your other email credentials, at least it did for me.