Born without Boundaries

Chris Matthews: Breaking Through

Here it is. (Above). Watch and exhale! A video of immense importance. The Morning Joe discussion on MSNBC from this past Friday (9/30/2016). It does two things that are damn near impossible:

1.) Makes sense of this election

2.) Demonstrates our Press actually doing its job

This segment shows not only the intellect but the wisdom of Mr. Chris Matthews as he nails the Trump phenomenon AND gets to the heart of the American middle class in under 5 minutes.


Catch Mr. Matthews on Hardball weeknights at 7 p.m. EST

“When you get it, you get it, and you can get there quickly.”

I am so glad someone was listening – actually listening – not repeating, redistributing, retweeting, sharing, tagging or just regurgitating, but ACTULLY LISTENING to what is import to Americans. Sometimes, you can’t articulate what’s wrong because so much is wrong at the same time. Chris Matthews made sense out of all the chaos. Why isn’t this man running for President? Unfortunately  peoples are so angry they probably wouldn’t listen. Heck, I  know strict Catholics voting for Trump, even though he, beyond all other candidates, degrades all Catholic ideals. People are just so angry, disheartened, depressed and, sorry to say, desperate. The change that Obama ran on did not come – at least not fast enough or big enough – to reach the impulsive mentality of the American metaconscience. And so now, we want to get on board with the guy who attacked him every year of his presidency.

– Hey! My world isn’t perfect after Obama – Obama was supposed to change the American government, the status quo, of the last 40 years – and since that didn’t happen in 8 years, we should listen to the guy who hated him all along – Donald Trump

Maybe he was right all along? Maybe Obama was a liar, a status-quo politician in sheep’s clothing?

Unfortunately, people expect change today as quickly as they expect their emails to load, their tweets to update, their likes and responses on Facebook to appear.

That is not the way change works.

The redistribution of wealth, the balancing of our treasury, the stabilization of our economy, this is not point-and-click stuff. Many people voting for the first time do not know this. They were raised with calculators and “modeling” (it’s a teaching strategy that’s as ineffective as time-outs, Google it) in math class, smart phones with instant messages, they didn’t have to learn how to temper their impulses and struggle for answers. This is a lesson lost on many voters, and it is a problem for all of us. They have lost or never developed those necessary neuro-pathways that enable them to discern the slow-moving, that enable them to pick-up on details and that allow them to be patient and not balk at the first sign of resistance. We have to get it back.

Another thing we have to get back? Parents.

The Prince and Princess of Wales were also making headlines today (as is often the case).

Enjoy these photos from Just Jared at

The powerful impact it had on me was shocking but telling. I realized in scrolling those photos of the happy family of four, not posed but candid, that those children may never know how fortunate they are, not only for their billions of dollars, their titles, or their influence, but for their parents! They have parents who spend more of the day with them than away from them. That is not the case with many of our children, who are predominately raised in daycare, spending up to 60 hours a week away from BOTH PARENTS, from the tender age of 12 weeks. This isn’t a moral judgment, it’s an alarm. In doing what we thought was right, we’ve been wrong, and we’ve got to fix that.

“You don’t run away with a walk-away-Joe because you’re pissed at your parents”

(Trisha Yearwood’s lovely song where I stole the walk-away-Joe phrase. Have a listen. It’s powerful, she’s amazing and a young Matthew McConaughey stars in the video!)

Donald Trump is far from a solution, certainly not the cure, but his popularity has brought many vital problems to the surface- issues that are integral to who we are as a United people – and THAT is what we should be listening to and talking about.

On a personal note: I don’t understand why Sanders fell to the wayside.


I’m confused too Mr. Sanders

I guess when you mention the word “Socialism” people stop listening, smh

The sad truth is what Mr. Sanders talked about didn’t need the title “Socialism”. It should have been called the “Get Back to US-ism”, because that is what his policies offered us. Hand-outs for the poor? No way. Just not continued hand-outs for the rich (which is, decidedly, what has harmed our economy and our social structure more than any other change in government policy). Yet I get why voting 3rd party is dangerous – because of Trump and the false solution that he is.

Special thanks to: Cast and Crew of Morning Joe  Chris Matthews and Hardball   Just Jared staff

And:  me, shameless self- promoter, Michelle Santagate @NokomisMichelle


Platform 3


After all this time, I finally have
a blog.
I don’t blog everyday. It’s a burden too great for me. Everyday is not the day I feel something inspired. So I wait. And sometimes it takes too long. But it always comes eventually. Today is one of
those days.

“This is all about a boy, just to warn you,…”

I was standing on Platform 3 at the Stamford station waiting for my train to arrive. The feelings running through me, swarming and churning like the air of this tropical storm we’re expecting, were a rapture inside me and the heat from their tumult was making me flush.

This is all about a boy, just to warn you, so if you feel that is too plebeian a topic for this grand introduction discontinue reading. You will only be disappointed.  Because these thoughts, the ones that came and finally inspired another blog, are all about a boy; a boy I wish I could dignify these feelings for by calling a man but alas, no. That’s not meant as a dig. He is everything delicious and irresistible that could and have inspired such feelings but if you knew him, believe me, boy is the better description. Did I fall in love with him? I don’t know. I don’t think so but none the less he affected me and deeply so what does it matter that it wasn’t (or may have been) love? It was movement and it has shaken me. Thankfully some coherent thoughts have finally surfaced, after all the muck and steam, fractured rock and molten lava of emotions have run themselves out, and I can finally articulate something useful from this experience. As I stood on Platform 3, looking at the empty train tracks just beneath me I realized this: when you decide to change the things you like to make another person happy you are moving in the wrong direction. If you are (and by YOU I mean ME) ignoring or neglecting those things in your life, putting aside those people in your life, that are important to you in order to enjoy time and experiences with this new person but they are making none of those sacrifices for you – they, in fact, only make time when they have no other option or opportunity that beckons – you have an absolute obligation to the sanctity of your person to end that relationship. Because clearly you value them but they do not value you. And if they are not reciprocating the value you place on them then you, whether or not maliciously- say, by default-, are being devalued. That is not something you can allow. Unfortunately it is also not something you can change.  You can’t change someone else’s perceptions.  You can’t change someone else’s values or priorities. You can’t change someone – period. You can of course inspire someone to change, but that sort of inspiration is not
usually intentional.

I digress.

Staring at the train tracks I realized I had no choice but to make the decision I made and move on from this bit of deliciousness that had me licking my lips as well as my tears.  I valued him. I looked forward to our interactions and missed him in his absence. Happiness would flood me when he’d connect and melancholy when we’d say goodbye. Normal stuff when you’re attracted to somebody. Natural. And so the choice to move away from it seemed almost irrational. In fact it came as an impulsive response to a discovery I made late one night but also it had been building for some time and really just erupted from that final strain. I’m sorry he didn’t see my worth. I’m sorry he didn’t find value in those things I was offering him. I’m sorry he didn’t reciprocate my interest equally. But it makes no sense to stay where you’re sorry about so much. And the same goes for him. To stay with somebody who is always moving in a different direction, who expects more than they are willing to give, or, better stated, who expects more than you can give while maintaining your own happiness, why are you staying? What fantasy has possessed your mind so integrally that your are walking through life with your eyes wide open but not seeing a thing? Oh please don’t call it love. We have to get rid of that antiquated, wholly inaccurate and completely dangerous use of the word, that what I just described is love. It most certainly is not. It’s escape. It’s addiction. It’s a high. It is not love. I have felt real, true, pure and unconditional love, and I guarantee it does not make you blind or high or float or fly – it makes you free! It makes you see. It’s makes you better then you were before not
lost at sea.

from – Anhung Photography
Lost at Sea  by Victoria Obscure – DeviantArt
Lost at Sea  by Inessa-emilia – DeviantArt

Believe me, love lifts you to higher levels on your own two feet. You can’t loose yourself if it’s really love because love requires your presence and continued participation. You are a part of love; when you get lost it ceases to exist. I don’t think I loved this person because I never had the chance to really know him, or show him who I was, to be completely present in his presence. I needed more time. And to invest more time I needed more reciprocity.

The ingredients weren’t there. He wasn’t  present. Physical proximity had nothing to do with it. I know you can feel lonely in the physical presence of one person and warmth from the sound of someone’s voice over the phone. It’s about the energy they share with you. But they have to share. If not they are a black hole and you will be lost forever. So I found myself on Platform 3 this morning while waiting for the express train. I found myself hurting and sad but finally okay with my decision to disconnect from a person that will continue to bring a smile to my face every time I remember his face, his smile, the sound of his voice. I can’t imagine not looking lovingly at our photos. Right now, I can’t imagine not missing him. Thankfully I’m not that 20 year old girl I used to be. The one that didn’t know that the hurt eventually subsides and that new, equally wonderful things follow. So I take solace in my daily routine, dropping off my son at school, waiting for my train, stressing over deadlines and looking forward to weekend plans with friends, because my life experiences have taught me that moving forward is the only way to start a whole new journey.

Anhung Photography

Thank you to

(Anhung Photography)

Thank you to VictoriaObscure @DeviantArt

Thank you to Inessa-emilia @DeviantArt

The elected double mastectomy

A lot has been buzzing around about Angelina Jolie and her double mastectomy.
I will not download pictures of her or quotes from her recent interviews. I have no wish
to use her image to sell my blog. My blogs are my opinions, nothing more. But such a
strong opinion has developed in me over Angelina’s recent activity that I couldn’t stay
away from this page. I had to get my thoughts out.
First let me say that my grandmother had a double mastectomy. She was a breast cancer
survivor. I’ve a very close friend who has had regularly scheduled mammograms from early in
her life because of the frequency with which her family has encountered the cancer. I take
breast cancer and all cancer very seriously.
But not as seriously as I take life.
Life is more important then cancer.
It always will be.
But when thinking about cancer,
preparing for it, and preventing it, becomes a priority in life my skin begins to crawl.
It was because of the discovery of a faulty gene, one that makes breast cancer far
more likely for the carrier, that Ms. Jolie decided to undergo a preemptive, preventative
double mastectomy. She is a mother of six. She wants to live.
I can understand that,
more then understand that. My son is my reason for living. He is “my best thing”.
I’d take out anyone who may take something away from his life,
I’d even take on death itself.
But is that what Ms. Jolie did?
Because I don’t think so.
She decided to play into the odds that, because of this gene, she had a 60% chance of developing
breast cancer. She decided to decide that cancer was inevitable because of this specific
gene that may or may not decide to show itself.
It is her right. Had she decided to take off her breasts simply for aesthetic preferences,
it is her right. That is her body, she can do what she likes with it. And she’s never been a particularly
conventional girl so it wouldn’t have shocked me. But my concern is not for her actions,
but in the reactions of the press and public.
Ms. Jolie is a hero.
She is being hailed as “brave” and “strong”.
I do not agree.
I do not believe that bravery and strength is reactionary to “maybe” and “what if”.
Nor do I believe that either can live where one is so willing to surrender to a “possibility”.
My possibilities for success, based on my birth place and life experiences thus far, is slim to
none. Should I play the odds and stop trying?
Athletes throw themselves into harms way daily, making their bodies 95% more likely then mine to
be injured, possibly irrevocably.
Should they stop playing?
But Beyond the playing of probabilies,
what of all this making God out of science?
Now science not only creates life, but is the sole provider of it’s sanctity as well?
Genetics is now predicting our future and it is brave, strong and, yes,
(at least this is what the press implies)
MORAL to concede to it’s predictions!
Are we living in the world of The Minority Report?
We can now predict and are being encouraged to react to what MIGHT happen as
what inevitable WILL happen and so here comes our higher evolution.
But I think it’s de-evolution.
Because once upon a time people were brave enough to not have to predict the future to get
through each day.
They used a thing called faith and it worked very well.
And yes, sickness would come
and so would death.
But that didn’t scare people either.
Not only because of the belief in an after life, because not everyone with faith believes in an after-life,
but because of their belief in the sanctity of life, and it’s right to run out of us as surely as it
ran into us.
Fighting for our lives is at the core of who we are as a species. Every species is programed to
do what it must to survive.
But is this what we’re doing?
Are we attempting to survive, or refusing survival by attempting to take out any and all obstacles?
To me, survival is not so simple as preserving our lives or extending our life span. It’s about facing
down obstacles and persevering through them.
This is not what we do when we decide to react to what MIGHT happen as if it were what WILL happen.
When we do this we are actually cowering out of a potential challenge, a chance to show
how well we can survive.
Life is not merely a chance to preserve ourselves for as long as we can.
In fact I do not believe that is what life is at all.
Life is a series of experiences to be learned from and to grow from,
NOT to run from. Especially when what you’re running from is a mist or a shadow
from some kind of fortune teller-
even when they call themselves “Doctor”.
My heart goes out to Ms. Jolie. Because to me it looks as if she has deduced a sickness in her chest
and wrongfully focused on her breasts. The way I see it, her ailment is in her heart. She has never dealt with
the death of her beloved mother and her sadness has grown into fear and that fear into a convoluted logic that somehow what she’s done can prevent her children from ever experiencing the same pain.
I get that.
None of us want our children to suffer, physically or emotionally.
But when we treat illness it’s nonsense not medicine to treat the wrong organ,
to misfire and direct our ‘treatment’ toward something easy to ascertain instead of what is more
difficult to understand.
This will not relieve her fear.
It will be back again. And no, I can’t predict the future.
But I know that fear grows when it is unhampered. It’s not like a dormant gene.
It shows itself in many ways from the moment it creeps into our souls.
And it festers.
What frightens me over this situation is that fear has been dressed up as courage, wisdom
and yes, morality.
It’s taken on that guise before and never lead us in good directions.
For all those women, and men, who have been touched by breast cancer,
my heart goes out to you. And I admire your struggle. I admire your courage in the face
of an obstacle that you choose to confront and fight everyday.
Understand that even for those of you who will loose the battle, you have not lost even
one moment of your life.
Because life means living. And death can happen even before you stop breathing.

Little Pub

Things happen that make us question our self worth. Right now
that’s what I’m going through, but instead of wanting to fight,
this time, I wanted to stay down and give up.
Perhaps it’s the result of impact shock.
I fell hard, far and fast. So fast I’m still not convinced it happened
and certainly don’t understand why it would have happened.
I got a new job a month and a half ago and it, in just a month’s time,
had changed my life back to the way I remembered it years ago. Then,
I was able to pay my rent on the first of each month. I was able to walk
into a grocery store without worrying about how much I spent. And best
of all, I was able to take my son out to dinner, to a movie, maybe even on
a day trip to Mystic Seaport, without being concerned about time off and how
much pay I’d loose.
We were happy then. Douglas never worried about where he’d live or if
he’d have food.
But times changed. After a bout with homelessness and being wrung inside out
by the social services system my son developed anxiety and a deep rooted disappointment
in me.
That was the hardest part. Knowing that my son blamed all this instability on me.
Who else could he blame it on?
No matter what I did I couldn’t find gainful employment. I always worked, full time, but
what ever I did I couldn’t find work that paid enough to bring us back to that old situation,
where we were safe and comfortable.
But then, about a month and a half ago, after once again falling dangerously behind on rent,
requiring town financial assistance to appease my landlord and food stamps as well as trips to the
town food bank to insure we could eat, I got a job at Little Pub Wilton.
I’d tried numerous times to get a position at their location in Ridgefield, CT but they were never hiring.
They didn’t need to. Every day and night their parking lot was packed. Their employees
rarely turned over. So, as soon as I saw the “Hiring” sign outside of their construction site in Wilton,
I ran in and got myself an interview.
It went very well and I was soon offered an opportunity to train. I was hired in April and had been working up until this Monday.
All was going well. Very well. And for the first time in years I felt proud of myself again. Proud because I was actually providing for my family again, providing the comfort and security they deserved. My bills were paid on time and my son got new summer clothes without us busting our monthly budget (he grows about two inches every month I swear!).
All seemed so perfect.
And then…
I’d worked this past Sunday and thought it odd that my manager didn’t ask me for my availability for the coming week. I brushed it off as paranoia and his being generally exhausted and I waited. But come Monday I began to wonder why I hadn’t received a copy of our schedule for this week. I was surprised by a text from a co-worker asking me if I wanted to work for her this Friday night. My first response was “Did you get a schedule?”
“Yes” she responded. I asked her to wait just a little while for my decision while I found out what was going on.
I called my manager and left a message.
He called back.
Turns out I’m no longer on the schedule.
Without warning, without discussion, he no longer has shifts for me.
I begged him to tell me what went wrong, why I’d been fired?! He insisted that I wasn’t fired.
I wasn’t fired???
He just didn’t have any shifts for me.
What? (What was the difference? Was it then more like being laid-off?)
He had to give preferential treatment to those employees that
had committed themselves to full-time work with the company and so had no more room for me.
When I reminded him that I had been hired as part time, that they’d known my schedule limitations, he assured me he understood but that he still had to give any available shifts to others who had more flexible schedules.
So, after a Sunday that seemed like all others I had no more shifts at a restaurant I’d come to look forward to working in four times a week.
No more shifts,
but I wasn’t fired?
I asked him to be straight with me, to tell me what the real issues were.
He insisted there were no reasons other then the one he’d told me. It wasn’t my performance he insisted, yet for some reason I was still expendable.
Worse yet I had to go home and tell my son what had happened. The first thing out of his mouth was “So what do we do now?”
I had no answer.
I understand that some people rely on that job as their only means of income. But what my manager
didn’t seem to understand was, so did I. I have a full time job working for the Stamford Public Schools as a Substitute (usually permanent substitute) teacher. But the pay is horrible ($90, no paid time off, vacations or sick days). Trying to live off that income only was what lead Douglas and I into homelessness to begin with.
I rely on my restaurant income for almost 85% of my monthly income.
Doesn’t that count at all?
And why is full time availability the only consideration that seems to matter?
How about considering the fact that most of those employees are young adults who have very little responsibilities beyond the rent they split with their roommates or significant others? Would one shift less really hurt them?
I have a child.
I’m the only earner in my house hold.
Why doesn’t that matter at all?
Beyond that, how could they not warn me?
I had no idea but it seems that my first month was little more then an audition.
They intentionally hired too many people to see who would work out best for them.
But they hired us.
They employed me and thus reserved my time for a month, a month in which I turned down
two other positions because I believed I’d already found a stable job at the Little Pub.
Now, in late May, all other restaurants have already hired their summer wait staff.
Even the school system has collected all of it’s applications for summer employment.
I would have had to begin applying around the time I believed I’d been hired by Little Pub.
Now, not only am I without shifts,
I am without any summer employment.
And this seemed perfectly natural to my manager and by reflection I can only assume
perfectly natural to my bosses.
To treat people as tools without any further consideration.
Disappointment hasn’t set in yet.
I’m still in shock.
And to be honest, really just sad. I miss being in the place.
And I’m scared as hell. I don’t really want to get up from this one.
This time, I’ve lost so much wind, I just want to stay down and have everything
else go away.
June rent is due in a couple of weeks. Maybe I’ve made enough over the past month to be okay.
But then, there is car insurance to pay. And once again this is my life. Always worrying, and wondering if or when things will be okay,
if ever.
I’ve lost a lot of energy on this one. I have already started putting feelers out for new jobs.
But I’m tired. And discouraged. And disheartened.
Once again, I’ve been treated like trash. And somehow I have to find a way to digest that.

Fate and Free Will

How can fate and free will co-exist?
Let me explain.
I recently had a conversation about my relationship with my son’s father.
And it made me remember another conversation I’d had about my relationship with my son’s father.
This most recent conversation ended something like,
“yes, but you got your son out of it, so that’s something to be thankful for”
That’s true. Can’t argue that my son is the most awesome blessing EVER!
But the conversation I had many years ago (with a different person) went more like this:
“Your son was meant to be in this world, and you and your son’s father had to meet in order
to bring him into this world, beyond that you were just holding on to someone who’d already
served their purpose in your life because you have a problem with letting go”.
You see,
My son’s father and I were supposed to be together so Douglas could be made
but that took all of four hours one night in October of 1999.
Beyond that my son being brought into this world had nothing to do with me hanging on to his
father for the next ten years.
That was entirely about me not loving myself.
And that’s when it hit me.
Fate and free can, do and were always MEANT to coexist because fate isn’t happening all the time.
It’s like check points on the road map of your life.
a road map you design,
all except for the check points.
Those check points are Fate, when the universe, the lord, the Gods, or whom ever, is saying
HEY! There’s a bigger picture than you going on here and we need you for something at this moment.
Be there.
Anything that happens to us between those check points is our fuckin’ business.
God doesn’t even CARE!
Everyone who’s had a shitty boss knows,
Only Satan micromanages!
God gave us free will to keep us the fuck out of his way until he needs us to get something done.
He doesn’t want us hanging around like sick puppies getting in his way.

And when I speak of God using “He” please realize that I only use this as a pronoun to represent a much larger idea. Insert any pronoun of your choice- she, it, THEY-
it doesn’t fucking matter anyway.
God is WAY bigger than pronouns.
But I digress.
The only time God, or the universe, is judging our behavior is when it’s asked something of us,
a contribution to the larger picture that it needs us to contribute to,
that it, he, she, they will pass judgement for us not getting done.
For example;
God doesn’t care how often you get high.
You can get high any damn day, every day, if you’d like.
But on that day you were supposed to arrive at your check point (Fate),
you better not be on your ass, on your couch gettin’ high.
THAT’S when you find your weed laced with some bad shit and your ass ends up in a hospital somewhere.
And so, hopefully, you learn a lesson.
Serve your purpose.
I don’t think the signs are all that subtle.
We all know when we’re being pulled in a certain direction.
We just don’t always listen to it.
That’s why, I’m sure, God makes back up plans.
Like some where out there at least 5,000 people are going to be tapped to conceive the second coming or the next Dalai Lama or some shit like that,
but because of how often us humans fuck up I’m sure only two are gonna get it right.
Fate has back up plans because of our inconsistencies.
God’s sort of laying ground for any number of possibilities and the one that plays out is the one
that worked the best for what God saw at that time, based upon what we gave him to work with.
If we didn’t show up at our check point, God has plenty of understudies.
The show must go on.
In other words, the people who listen to their fate are the ones that arrive at just the right time.
Stay in tune.
The signs are there.
They were with my son.
I actually could feel myself being exactly where I was supposed to be.
And for days prior, every time I looked around a street corner, I would SEE his father’s truck coming around that corner, even though I knew he was miles away in Florida.
Ever door I walked through I expected him to be on the other side.
I knew he was coming.
It was supposed to happen.
And so it did.
And my son got his right to life.
We served our purpose for the higher purpose.
Beyond that,
it was just me wasting my own time.
Doug was meant to be.
His father and I were not.
And I dug my self a hole by walking in circles around that damn check point.
True, I may have needed to learn a lesson at that check point that I’d have to know to arrive
at my next check point.
But there is NO WAY God determined that it was supposed to take me ten years to learn it.
I don’t think God, if he had time to think about it, wants anymore misery in the world then need be.
He, I’m sure, would have been quite content to have me learn my lesson in say, oh, five months, move
on and have myself a blast for the following nine years and seven months. As long as I arrived at my next check point (Fate) when I was supposed to, he didn’t dictate my suffering.
I did.
I did that to myself.
Because I couldn’t let go.
So the next time somebody says to me,
but at least you got your son out of it,
I will confidently respond,
I got my son out of four hours, one night.
The other nine years, eleven months, thirty days and 20 hours,
was about me being a complete dumb ass.
Hopefully now though,
I’m ready for my next check point 🙂