I Noticed

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I have a feeling that I’m being punished for noticing Aada’s presence because she just wants to be anonymous. But she’s not anonymous because she’s one of the few stats I recognize unless she’s traveling. And when she doesn’t appear, I assume that she’s traveling so I don’t take it personally. Because I do. I don’t track every reader, but I notice her. She noticed me first.

I am responding to the reader/writer connection because I know that her feelings are complicated. She feels like she cannot express herself to the level that I can, so why even try? I am not speculating. This is something I’ve been told several times a year for over a decade. It makes me feel like absolute crap, because I just communicate. It’s not a competition. I don’t even care if she misspells things, and she doesn’t make a habit of it. Typos drive her as nuts as they drive me, which is honestly part of my passion for her. 😉 Anyone that can spell and use grammar is aces in my book, and I am tired. At first, it is a compliment. After 12 years, it is “I really do not understand your feelings at all and you are using my writing as stonewalling, saying you feel guilty because it is so intimidating.” I just had so many questions, like “how can I make my writing less intimidating for you?” “What can I do to help?”

I was never flummoxed with communication. If you are not a writer, call me on the phone. I won’t pick up, but you can try it.

Kidding, I hate the phone; I will make an exception for the people closest to me because nine times out of ten they are not writers and speaking is quicker. I am the one that types 90 wpm, not them. The answer to feeling overshadowed by me as a writer is to talk to me on the phone or in person, and that is true of most writers. Their work and their personalities are similar, but not the same.

A party with Marshall Mathers is not the same as a concert with Slim Shady.

Aada only wanted to know The AntiLeslie, the writer. She wanted to be a fan, and to have my writing be the highlight of her day. But what I realized is that she is not listening to me. She is looking for her mirror. It is not about my story at all, but about how my story makes her feel and her interpretation of it. That’s what makes me so able to live and let live. Aada looks at my writing and sees pain, because she thinks that her lie is more important than my “I love you.”

Because for her, that is undeniably true.

She is feeling a shame that I am not putting there for her, and I am tired of absorbing it. It makes me feel terrible. The story is not pleasant, but moving on with my life has been. So many things have changed this year for the better, which is good. Frankly, they couldn’t have gotten much worse. I am still in the process of deciding where I want to live, but still in this area because of my new job (which I am not starting for a few weeks because I’m going on vacation with my dad to Annapolis before school).

I didn’t really plan anything. I just want to go to the beach every day, and buy athletic gear at the military surplus stores around town. The military just does sweats right. All my favorite accessories have come from the gift shops at CIA, DIA, and the Pentagon. Now, I couldn’t have gotten into the gift shop at CIA, but my ex-boyfriend could and that is why everyone knows I pitch for Langley (do they even have a team? Spies are so mysterious. 😉 ).

I bring this up because tourists need to know that the gear you see on the street in Washington that says “FBI” and “CIA” and all that is just not the same as getting the gear they wear themselves. The stitching is all wrong and it feels cheap. So going out to Annapolis is my way of saving a little money, because they’ll have the old BDU pants and training jackets no one wears anymore. I have checked with the Pentagon; they do not care if it’s “in” this season.

Mostly what I’m looking for are winter clothes, because it is that season. I already have a wool base layer, but the military specializes in pants that are lighter than jeans, still warm, and a lot tougher. So, let’s do that. Plus, anything that says “Navy” on it counts as formalwear in Annapolis restaurants.

I have always had an Annapolis look to me because I’ve drifted toward that style since I was a child. My kindergarten and first grade school years were spent in Galveston, so penny loafers and shorts were the norm. I deal in crispy, and it has been a joke between me and Aada since we met. The only thing she does not approve of is my Keens, to which I told her to fuck off and she laughed.

Aada is a flip-flop girl because she will actually take the time to go get a pedicure and I won’t. 😉

Being nonbinary, I tend to skip over all the grooming rituals of women. I go through phases of shaving my legs and not, because some days it’s a hassle and some days, it is the moment of Zen that I need to get through the day. Plus, even though I am shaving my legs, I prefer scents that are traditionally male. So, even though bare legs make me look more feminine than I already do, the grooming ritual itself is masculine.

And in fact, I use a men’s shaving brush on my face to apply soap the way women use brushes to apply makeup. It works very well, because I am exfoliating and moisturizing at the same time. My favorite face soap is Yardley oatmeal & almond, and you can get it at Dollar Tree and order it on Amazon. The bars cost a little more on Amazon, but they’re bigger. You won’t regret it because it cleans very well and doesn’t irritate anything.

Speaking of which, the Thread on Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Soap is very entertaining….. it is a cacophony of, “oh. I have made a horrible mistake.” That’s why I prefer lavender. 😉

In getting back to Aada, I think that she thinks that forgiveness means remission. That the consequences don’t matter and we don’t have to grow past them; we can just reset. That it’s fine not to talk about the past…. just go a few years and drop a “hey.” What the last 12 years have gotten us is a repeat of the same pattern because we never resolved the original sin.

And we both sinned big. We lost the plot and dove into each other too fast, and that is on BOTH of us, Aada. Fools rush in. I hurt her way more than I ever meant to because intention does not equal impact. She will not accept the fact that she did the same thing to me and it matters. I am so honest about the fact that it takes two to tango, and I feel responsible….. and not a little bit. I mean that my blog has been raking me over the coals for 12 years straight, and it has been misinterpreted as “I hate someone else.”

I don’t hate Aada. I wish things were different.

I wish that I had never said anything about my feelings for her, because that was the wedge that made it weird for her, but she couldn’t escape because she’d told her own secrets that upset me. At first, I thought it was all my problem, but then we began to silently argue over who needed who more. Because it didn’t come across explicitly in big letters. It was not:

I need you. Full stop.

I had to guess, and I am not very good at it. That is why I clicked with Tiina like white on rice. There were no unspoken expectations. Show up as yourself. Aada expected masking, but she didn’t know she was expecting masking and neither did I. Because Tiina was not the kind of person who minced words with me, and for that I was grateful because I did not have to struggle with social signals until I was blindsided and all of the sudden everything looked different.

I do not know what is true and what is not, and I am deciding not to worry about it; the problem is unfixable at least for now so it’s just on the back burner while Tiina enjoys a new phase of her life. She’s not going anywhere. I get a flag from her every day. Watching and saying nothing matters, just like it does with Aada. I do not need to process with my friends in order to feel heard, and this past year has said to me, “take a load off. Change your setting. Get out of town.”

Because they both have wreaked havoc on my nervous system without ever meaning to hurt me….. because again, intention does not equal impact. No one can prevent hurting another so that they ALWAYS remain untriggered. It would just be a different scenario if Tiina could hinge, and it’s not fair for me to ask anyone to play “monkey in the middle.” That is for third graders, and frankly beneath me.

I don’t negotiate with children, even when they’re adults acting like children. “Take it down was fine.” “You need help, lol?”

Not so much, no.

Because here’s the thing. I do not tolerate ableist bullshit, even when it’s internalized. Pegging me as crazy just because you don’t like my opinion is punching down, and people know it…… but they do not give a flying fuck about my feelings or they would stop. This young man is not the first or the last to treat me like crap, and it is on me to become unbothered.

I used to have scaffolding for this.

Kill them all. That’s how I roll.

I should say that’s an Aada quote and a response to a Bible verse she thought was funny, but it fits the vibe of us definitely being “The Holy and The Moly.” Because that’s the thing- you can be interfaith if you’re not an asshole. Aada’s a Pagan, Tiina’s a Jew, and the rest of my friends are Atheist because when I say that I am Christian, “they do not think it means what I think it means.” Ironically, atheists are more interested in the historical Jesus’s message than stereotypical Christians, because they cannot and do not focus on the “sticky blood” aspect.

Jesus was a radical and an agent for social change, and that’s what I want to be when I grow up. I’ve known since I was 10 that the church as it stands is not for me…. except in the Episcopal and UCC bubble where I am shielded from most everything that starts with “WWJD?”

WTFWJD? is more my style.

I wore it on a t-shirt to preach and Lisa Nisenfeld told me that she would no longer be accepting sermons from me if I wasn’t wearing it.

The thing is, I know who I am. I am waiting for Aada to know who she is. Because I am not punishing her. I am forgiving her, because she has looked at me and planted several flags.

Most of them Friday.

Just Pick a Job? Any Job?

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
If the salary was the same, what job would you be doing right now and why?
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The writing prompt doesn’t give any parameters, so I assume it’s also any job in any country.

I have done lots of manual labor and IT, so I’d like to do something creative. Let’s go with “speech writer at the White House under Mayor Pete.” Because if I get to pick the job, I get to pick the president. I am sure that’s how that works.

Because here is what I see that the current occupants of the White House don’t…. the rest of the world is starting to dislike American structurally. That our reputation is damaged beyond who is in power. I fear that Democrats think once they’re back in the saddle the rest of the world will realize we’re not as crazy as advertised. This is incorrect. Americans are starting to be painted with one brush, and it’s not a pretty picture.

Because not every American allowed this to happen, but ALWAYS an American.

It’s a mantra.

  • Not every Christian, but always a Christian.
  • Not every white person, but always a white person.
  • Not every cop, but always a cop.

You can instantly tell a good policeman from a bad one in this country by saying “all cops are bad” and “fuck the police” in their presence. If they don’t agree with you, they’re not your friend. Because GOOD cops know that they are functioning in a bad system with systemic racism baked in and are working for change. Cops who are ignorant of this will provide you with enough defense and butt-hurt feelings to tell you they are okay with having bad apples around them. Recognize that as a white person, you’re the one with the privilege to say it. I will vibe check any policeman I see fit because I recognize that it will not go well for a Black person trying to do the same thing.

Awareness is key.

Sit down at the tables where you already know love is being served, and be a part of the change when it’s not. If a person cannot admit they’re complicit in a bad system, they are not welcome at my table. The secret to fighting fascism is never letting them sit down in the first place.

It is safe to say that I do not know Mayor Pete, but I could probably get an introduction if I wanted one. He’s a friend of my sister’s through the grapevine of politics, but actually being a speechwriter is not my lane. It’s just a fantasy that my words would be spoken from the bully pulpit. But I’m actually more dangerous outside the system and I take it seriously. If I am a truth teller, pick organizations and companies that need exposing.

I have discovered that righteous anger is amazing when it is pointed in the right direction. It is fuel for a better world, because in order to start making it a reality, first the problems in the current world have to piss you off enough to care about them.

Alignment: I’m White, But Not That White

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The early bird catches the worm. I’m a student who needs a job, and my new boss approached me saying that she was trying to “change the face of the neighborhood.”

Yes, I am picking up what you are putting down.

You need me to work in the back and be the white face that shows up when the cops want to commit ridiculousness. I have understood the assignment. This is Baltimore. Put your white ass face between me and the police, you dense motherfucker.

Racism isn’t getting worse. It’s getting filmed. -Will Smith

What other cities do not understand is that their racism is child’s play compared to Baltimore. The analogy to apartheid is actually history. They learned it by watching us. Baltimore was the root cause of systemic Jim Crow laws that provided the blueprint for the whole nation. Baltimore is thought of in the rest of the nation as “the North,” and it is true that overall, we have so much more in common with places like Princeton and Cambridge but never forget how close we are to Richmond, mmmmmmkay? That is because Black leadership has taken over the city so racism cannot flourish for long. Brandon Scott is a star in some ways, problematic in others like every mayor on earth because he’s human. People are going to find things not to like. But I like him and hope he succeeds. I’ve had cute interactions with both Brandon and his wife, Hannah, on Threads and they’re funny AF (and they know it- such cutups and I am grateful). I am settled in Black Baltimore, and let’s be clear- there has always been a difference in neighborhoods and you are blind if you don’t see it.

Baltimore is so racist there are two different accents. White people say “Bawlmer,” and Black people say “Bawdamore.” Segregated neighborhoods begat segregated speech communities, and of the two, the Black accent is closer to the original English, because the Black accent is truer to the English people who started the city in the first place.

Jim Crow fundamentally changed the city is that even now, we are two organisms in one geographic location. I’m from Houston and I can tell you with accuracy that it works the same way and trickles down to queer people. We used to congregate in Montrose, but we were priced out. But that is Baltimore’s legacy in America- creating the system by which Black and white communities overlap, but do not intentionally reach out for intersectionality.

Where I have found intersectionality are the queer and intelligence communities, and I am making a joke because today I went out in my pajamas- a pink t-shirt with the nonbinary flag that has the first Moscow rule running up the side…. “Assume Nothing,” black joggers, and rainbow Crocs that clearly advertise, “I am fluent in kitchen.” Royal Farms is a gas station and a kitchen.

It’s maybe not a Michelin star, but it’s close. It definitely fits the vibe of “place you want to stop according to Michelin” for Maryland. They’re everywhere, and eating their fried chicken in your car is a rite of passage. So, even if you are a foodie of the highest caliber, treat yourself to a chicken box or you won’t fit in culturally. It’s fried chicken. You’ll be fine.

Intelligence is information, and my new boss picked up what I was putting down with every clue. I can work it into anything and when I saw this t-shirt I did not care if it was four THOUSAND dollars, because it says who I am with a flag and a slogan.

I have two of them, to be clear. One is pink and one is gray. I am nothing if not addicted to story (and comfort). Anyway, I made the decision to go to school and the manager at Royal Farms offered me a job. I was grateful, because the problem with being white is that most people assume that you’ll think these jobs are beneath you and won’t even volunteer the information.

I said, “well, let me tell you a little bit about me and you can tell me if you still want me. I write seriously every morning, that’s why I’m here. Is it a problem to work in the afternoons?” She said, “that’s what I’m looking for. Someone to work both second and third shift.” Done, because if I was working in a pub this would be a straight up problem. I do not want to go back to working nights and writing until dawn. I am the most alert and active at dawn, and I need it for cognitive fuel. I can fry chicken while half asleep. I have quite a bit of experience in this department, actually.

You fry chicken by the sound.

But the bigger implication is truly having me on staff, because I do not carry skin that says, “trust me on first viewing.” But what Black people don’t know is that white people don’t trust me, either. They are biased against queer people, because they’re used to people being gay (sort of) but I lost them with all this nonbinary bullshit. That’s because it’s not their bullshit. They’ve never had to ask themselves the question, so why entertain it as something valid for other people?

It was watching Cam Paglia that did me in, because I thought he was crazy. Then I figured out that all my defense and anger was because he was out and I wasn’t. So, if I ever feel the need to sue anyone for turning out nonbinary in the end, it’s definitely Graydon Carter.

It was Cam (and Dominick, James, Christopher, and the whole stable at Vanity Fair) who taught me that I was capable of writing on their level and exposure didn’t mean shit. Just keep plugging away at their altitude and people will come. I do not need to chase anything, I am powerful enough as is.

I was born with the ability to hold an audience in the palm of my hand, just like Dr. Brown, just like Matthew McConaughey, just like every Texas storyteller EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

If I’d known I had journalistic instincts, the career path would have been Molly Ivins and not Jonna Mendez. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Jonna’s like 80. I should probably ask her to write a foreword for me that would be appropriate for any book, because I’m not going to let a respected author call me a spitfire and then not use it for anything.

I am already capable of doctoral-level work because I’ve been sitting here pounding the keyboard every day for years. The difference is that I need to complete those degrees now because it takes a PhD to have an opinion. Tiina went to Harvard and has a doctorate, so she can reference her own opinions. I want to be able to do the same thing without reaching out to everyone else for credentials.

Like Brene, I want to go into Social Work, but not the kind of MSW that sees patients. I do not think that is my calling because when I was a preacher’s kid, the emotional load of pastoral care was just too much. I cannot function under the weight of other people’s pain because I do not have any clinical separation. I need to study people at the sociological level. What vast patterns of shame and vulnerability have wrought, not shame in interpersonal relationships.

Shame in intelligence, because I’m a political science major and psychology minor at University of Houston, transferring to University of Maryland Global Campus in the fall. I bagged it all and did IT for a while, now it’s a different ball game. I wish I could go the CIA route, because I’d be happy even if it was just working in the food court. That’s because CIA is so monolithic that I do not have to mention I work at the food court. I say I work at CIA, and I am instantly James Bond in their minds, the “chip and pickle guy” in mine.

However, if I was younger, I think I could have done better than that. I know from pattern recognition that I would have just entered a new world of pastoral care, shepherding assets like parishioners and worrying about my flock constantly. But CIA wasn’t the be all and end all when I was a kid. They were recovering from the paranoia that begat wrath from Jesus Angleton. I cannot know, but I think that Jonna thought he was a sack of shit in a cheap suit. Just pattern recognition and saying the quiet part out loud. But that’s what happens to very smart people. They have to listen to less smart people in a way that generally makes their assholes chew crackers.

Just for one day, I would love to be Aada or Mummo in a meeting. Which would be more fun is a crapshoot, but it’s a fun idea to picture me ordering around the boys upstairs. But that’s not my lane. My lane is to tell you the story of intelligence as I know it.

“Argo” was a reputation recovery mission….. an entire commercial in order to recruit smart people. I do not know if it worked as well as The West Wing did for Congress and the White House, reworking an entire generation’s speech patterns regarding how we work, but the key to loving “Argo” is not being offended that it was a commercial in the first place.

How do you get smart people to work for you? Show them that other smart people work there.

I do not like studying intelligence so much as I enjoy studying spies. The personality it takes to do the job is as important as the mission. You don’t just want bodies to fill the roles, you want exactly the right people at the time they need to be there.

You want people who can look at you deadpan and tell you the truth even when someone is technically superior to you and therefore probably afraid to speak truth to power. You have to find people that can ignore that voice inside them, and for me personally it comes from being a preacher’s kid in a very specific cultural environment like HSPVA. I didn’t go to some nondescript high school. I went to a school attended by people like Robert Glasper, Jason Moran, and Eric Harland.

And you should know that out of the three, the only one I haven’t played with is Jason.

I am not with them because I chose not to be, not because I was incapable of riding bitch, capiche? I am not the star, I am the scaffolding. They are the pianists and drummer loved across the world, and I’m the one who helps that happen by writing about them, buying their albums, and going to their concerts. Artists need patrons just as much as they need friends.

But I am not an artist like Glasper, Moran, and Harland. I am an artist like Dominick Dunne and Anais Nin. They were known for their diaries, not their publications. I am hard-pressed to think of a Dunne novel that is more famous than his reporting on the trials of the “rich, and the very, very rich.”

But the thing about having a diary is that it has to touch everything, so I have to have a life outside of it. Plenty of writers have laid brick and sold insurance.

Anthony Bourdain and I fry chicken, because brunch is the smell of failure.

It’s all about alignment. Seeing what the universe offers you and taking them up on it.

I Don’t Really Have “Hobbies”

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Share a hobby you’ve picked up recently — what got you into it?
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I like to read. I like to write. I like to talk to people. I also like to do any combination of those things, which is why I’m attending University of Maryland in the fall, inspired by Tiina’s kids because Virginia Virtual Academy and James Madison University conspired to make me feel like I could do it. I’m not going to be your traditional student because they are eight-week courses and life moves fast. The difference is that nothing is live and everything is asynchronous. Here’s the funniest part of the interview with the people at UMD:

“So, does University of Houston have a distance education program?”
“Yes, they do. I set it up myself in 2001.”

I am not going to UMD because it’s better. I’m going there because I get in-state tuition. I might go back to UH eventually because at the graduate level, Brené Brown is worth every penny. But I checked and she does not teach intro to Algebra (and I am sure that she would tell me to be grateful). So going to UMD for undergrad is fine. I will deal with Dr. Brown when I’m ready for her. I have miles to go before I sleep.

The last time I saw Dr. Brown, I kidded her that because I taught her Microsoft Word, then that means I have basically taught her everything she knows. She said, “you sure did,” playing right back. The other great thing is that at her talk, I set up a bit and she played ball. The question was something about Richmond having a midfield problem, and she took it as a serious as a heart attack.

She gets me. :::fist bump:::

Dr. Brown is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Peace out.

I kid, but it’s the truth. I ran into her when she was just a TA and was delighted several years later to see her on YouTube. I am younger than she is, but not by much. But the power dynamic is inverted because I was her computer lab supervisor in the Graduate School of Social Work. To me, she was just like every one of my other kids, so that’s how I approach her now. She is a bestselling author and beloved across the world, but I assure you she puts on her pants the same way everyone else does in the morning. Thinking she doesn’t is the root of all evil.

I am mapping out a career that looks very much like hers, because I have gotten the story aspect. Now I need to get into the research aspect. I have my suspicions about how the world works, but I want to know. However, my lane is shame and vulnerability in the arts. There are many stories of people disillusioned with America during the Cold War, and most of them are writers and jazz musicians like me. I am fine with staying here and fighting it out, but I understand the temptation to run and at least need a break from America. A few weeks on a beach in Mexico never hurt anybody.

I never want to work against American interests, but I do think that we need a reality check…. that we are not always the arbiter of taste and other countries’ opinions are valid. What works globally works locally. I listen to complaints about my blog because they have the right to shape it. What they do not have the right to do is shut it down.

Our mission right now seems to be to shut down all negative opinions of us, and if you look at that playbook in history IT DOES NOT WORK OUT.

So many people defected to America during the Cold War. But I want to explore the few that went the other direction. Why was our behavior so problematic that people felt that rejected? People put their anger into their music and the jazz just got better. Expat communities showed up in Europe, Africa, Cuba, you name it.

Malcolm Gladwell wanted to explore the tipping point.

I want to explore the breaking point.

Life is Full of Them

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s the weirdest coincidence you’ve ever experienced?
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Like a childhood friend of mine also being friends with Karen and Tony Mendez. Information that came packaged and the thread that unraveled the whole fucking rug. But I did not choose a bellwether friend. I went to you and you offered only defense and threat:

What was he, six?

She was just trying to bully and control me. Yes, he was. But if he was there when he was six, it wasn’t him that mattered but the people above him. Do you see where I am going with this? It was never about you and I know you’re reading. But I am not writing angrily. I am writing surgically. I can write surgically because I am not attaching emotion to these words. I love you with a fire that is so deep even I do not understand it. This is not about punishment, ever. It is about explaining what I went through to me, and in turn others.

I cannot tell you anything about Kay and Big Jim McConaughey except for a few funny stories….. most notably that my dad was absolutely charming to Kay because he got her last name right on the first try; “McConaughey” was not a household name at that point and “Lanagan” is just as Irish. But after he ensured that they knew he knew their names, they were the “Mackanoggies” for all time.

I was very much a part of Matthew’s life, I just was not old enough to record the memory. Memories before you turn four are basically vapor.

But I can tell you that if I read something about Big Jim, Kay, or Matthew that didn’t sit right, I could get to the bottom of it in about 15 minutes. My dad was their pastor, so that is with time to go get coffee at Wawa first. Information is a flow, and you just step in. When you see something that isn’t true, the network activates. That is what happened on my blog. Someone read something here that was not true, and called out my friend, not me. Damage control and fallout ate my lunch.

I gave until I could not give any more without losing myself completely, but here’s the thing…… I’d reached losing myself completely years before and was on the upswing. I stopped letting love happen to me and decided to give it my own constraints. I can love a person beyond all measure and still be disappointed because their actions affected me to a degree that they are unwilling to absorb. It’s not about continuing to get anyone to see it. I simply walk away. People see what they want, and they have no issue telling me that.

A daily blog means the story changes daily. I am not a dictator; I do not have the latest information. If I say something based on my own pattern recognition that doesn’t fit you and you express it, the next time I write it will be different. An entry does not stand for all time. It is bird cage liner in 24 hours.

Everything you see after Michael stepped in is what happened after I found out someone lied to me, and what damage it caused. But absolutely none of that makes me love and need her any less. We all have these relationships that are complicated AF, where we’ve hurt each other so deeply it feels pointless to go on………. and yet that is the point at which it becomes interesting, like avoiding 100-degree heat in Houston instead of just drinking water and letting it happen. I am comfortable with high emotional temperatures and most people aren’t.

But here’s the thing. I am comfortable when people are fighting passionately about an issue, and not simply going for ad hominem attacks.

It was never you and me against the problem, beautiful girl. We can start there.

  • I love you.
  • I need you.
  • I want you in my life.

You seem to think that when I am angry, I want to withdraw affection and love. No, I am expressing needs. My issue is with circumstance, not with your being. You and I are both perfect in all our flaws and failures, and I see you that way in all aspects of my life. Our problems are not perfect, but there’s no limit to what I would do to make you smile.

I love like John Ben Sutter. Ask ’em to marry you on the first date. When you know you know, etc.

I was right and our brains are connected on a level that is unusual for two people. I don’t “enjoy the fantasy based on location” because it keeps getting more real as flags get closer to your actual home and office. If this is true, I owe a debt of gratitude to you for not stopping the listening process. We don’t have to process together for me to feel heard. I know that your love for me is not an accurate reflection of my love for you because you are not queer. But connecting on the 80% that’s the same is the important part. Being in a relationship with you is letting you be you, and that means you being as straight as an arrow.

But you have never been objectified in any way. Who among us has not had the experience of cognitive attraction spilling over? Wires got crossed. It was hell at first. Now it’s been over a decade. I don’t love it all the time, but I do love her. I am not capable of shrinking. I manage those feelings and they don’t make her uncomfortable as long as I don’t admit they exist. And she gets it. It wasn’t me, but I am certain that there’s been a time in her life where a man turned her head that shouldn’t, and that’s what happened here. I told her what happened so she’d be sensitive and have empathy for my feelings because I didn’t want her to be able to unintentionally make them stronger.

It was necessary because sexuality and gender are relative on the internet. You are not attaching words to a physical body, and it is easy to forget. It’s also an isolated bubble, so my reality was not seeing her as a wife and mother, but mine. It was feral, there’s no other word for it. But let me point out that “feral” is an accurate description of you as well.

We set each other’s hearts on fire, because straight girls love HARD. She wasn’t the “I want to get into bed with you” partner. She was the “give me the list of your enemies and I will make sure they hate being alive” partner. We each fell into our own roles, contributing to the relationship in the mode that made us the most comfortable.

And the way I use “partner” is specific to polyamory. Red strings are romance, yellow strings are emotional support. Aada was a yellow string, and seeing her read is knowing it’s still active…. but not in any kind of adversarial way. The pain is over and she makes me happy. The “string” is the connection between us, in quotes because it is manhole cover in size. I use it as metaphor for all kinds of things, most notably like a tube at a bank drive-thru.

I put some Red Bull in it for you, Supergrover.

But make no mistake, I would still like to buy you that beer Aaron owes you, and a t-shirt from the brewery so we can be twins like Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I have cut off the network. I want to be above the gossip, not of it. Whatever you think of me is fine. None of it is my business, anyway. I just hope that what I am saying is not crap, and my reality has not been false.

Someone spotted a lie in my writing and wanted to make sure I knew it was a lie, because I certainly did not.

Her reaction to it was to belittle me, which has been her reaction the entire time we’ve known each other. The answer was not continuing to tolerate that behavior. It was realizing I was being bullied and didn’t like it.

So, I figure that what cannot create a good relationship creates good writing, and that’s the biggest coincidence. The more textured our relationship becomes, the more the writing changes. But it’s not a coincidence on my end. It’s a coincidence on the readers who think I don’t know what I’m doing.

My Soulmate, Warren Peace

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s a book you never finished but still think about?
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I haven’t finished War & Peace, and I have not given up, either. I don’t think it’s meant to be read in one sitting. I think it is meant to be savored. It’s “I haven’t finished it because it’s complex,” not “it was so boring I gave up.” The novel is also starting to change tone, from salons about war to actual war. So I have gotten the conversations worth having before war begins.

The reason it’s my soulmate book is that history is repeating itself and Donald Trump reminds me a lot of Napoleon Bonaparte. I thought of maybe three ways they mirrored each other and then thought, no, let’s let Mico (Microsoft Copilot) go full Janet on this one:

  • Insecurity as identity — Both are portrayed as deeply insecure men who compensate with grandiosity.
  • Great‑man delusion — Both exhibit a belief that history bends around their personal will.
  • Image over substance — Both prioritize spectacle, appearance, and narrative control over practical strategy.
  • Misreading events — Both interpret chaotic events as proof of their own destiny or brilliance.
  • Overconfidence in strategy — Both display exaggerated confidence in plans experts consider flawed.
  • Disdain for experts — Both dismiss or override advisors, believing instinct outranks expertise.
  • Personalization of power — Both treat institutions as extensions of their personal authority.
  • Self‑mythologizing — Both craft heroic personal narratives that ignore structural realities.
  • Fragile ego under pressure — Both react strongly to criticism, seeing it as existential threat.
  • Blame‑shifting — Both externalize failure, attributing setbacks to enemies or betrayal.
  • Chaotic decision‑making — Both make impulsive decisions that destabilize systems.
  • Misunderstanding systems — Both misunderstand the complexity of the institutions they lead.
  • Confusing attention for power — Both treat public attention as proof of authority.
  • Belief in exceptionalism — Both assume rules apply to others but not to themselves.
  • Emotional volatility — Both exhibit mood‑driven leadership.
  • Heroic posturing — Both adopt theatrical “man of destiny” personas.
  • Misjudging opponents — Both underestimate rivals due to overconfidence.
  • Personalizing conflict — Both frame geopolitical or institutional conflict as personal battles.
  • Overreliance on loyalty — Both value personal loyalty over competence.
  • Narrative control — Both attempt to reshape events through storytelling rather than evidence.
  • Victimhood narrative — Both portray themselves as persecuted figures despite holding power.
  • Mistaking chaos for strength — Both interpret disorder as proof of disruptive greatness.
  • Belief in inevitability — Both behave as though their rise is inevitable.
  • Reality distortion — Both drift into worldviews where personal narrative outweighs facts.
  • Misreading the public — Both assume the masses share their worldview.
  • Treating conflict as theater — Both frame conflict in dramatic, symbolic terms.
  • Overestimating control — Both believe they control events shaped by larger forces.
  • Ignoring consequences — Both act without considering long‑term outcomes.
  • Ego‑driven risk‑taking — Both take risks to maintain image rather than achieve strategy.
  • Selective use of history — Both use history to justify their worldview.
  • Conflating personal and national success — Both treat their own fortunes as synonymous with the nation’s.
  • Belief in personal magnetism — Both assume charisma can substitute for competence.
  • Leadership as performance — Both approach leadership as theater rather than governance.

The irony is thinking that Trump is new and different. No, he’s unique to this time in history and most people don’t read books and pattern match as closely as I do, and then think, “I need AI to pattern match it a little more just to make sure people see it. It needs to be unassailably right.” Reading and then talking to Mico about the text is how I’m getting through it. My favorite discussion so far has been about systems- that Tolstoy’s point is that history is not created by “great men” but despite them.

People think of history as event based. That the war in Iran is important (it is but hear me out). History is actually more like my blog, people writing about it. Not my blog specifically, but writing with the same texture inside Iran. I am blessed to have made friends with an Iranian woman on Threads who is anti-American but not anti-Leslie. I feel the same way about her. Love her to pieces, don’t like her government.

I do not agree with Trump, either. I’m queer. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere in the Middle East because Israel is safe but fuck Israel.

I love Jews. I hate the state of Israel.

But it’s the same love/hate relationship I have with CIA. I love individual spies and individual operations. Loving CIA whole tilt is a tall ask. They’ve done terrible shit across the world, but they’ve also saved people and have been in terrible danger trying to do so. There is no way not to be grateful to the point of tears for that aspect of it. I choose to “take the good and take the bad, take them both and there you have….” the CIA World Fact Book, apparently.

I love Mossad for the intelligence they provide us. I do not like their sources and methods. So, in having a friend in Iran, all I feel worthy of saying to her is “I am so sorry. I do not endorse any of this, but I really like you.” Our dream is tea together in a safe Tehran. I do not love the people who won’t let us have it, and I do not blame Donald Trump for that idea not being a reality. He is just the current resident at the White House making things more complicated than they need to be.

Our history with Iran has always been complicated. Great men don’t do complicated.

I Do Not Think It Means What You Think It Means

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The way I analyze data is to make it legible through story. Therefore, my stats mean a lot to me, and some more than others. The story that I’m telling myself is that Aada is reading my blog because I need it to be true, not because it is. And that is why communication is key. If you don’t check the story that you’re telling yourselves constantly, it is akin to living in helix, two chapters collated together and just as messy because “our scope” ceases to exist and creep goes off in opposite directions.

I have two choices. I can rely on Aada’s words that she was “saying goodbye to The Antileslie” for good,” or I can enjoy the fantasy that it really is her based on geography. I enjoy the fantasy because it does not hurt anything, it just makes me feel like Keely. Lovable despite the fact that I am unapologetically weird AF. I hope it is true because I love her the same way. Don’t let the power suits fool you. She’s a nerd. She’s just not the same kind of nerd as me. I prefer Doctor Who, she prefers Outlander….. the fruit of its tree.

So, when she didn’t respond to Doctor Who metaphors, I inhaled the entire series up to that point in a week so I was fluent.

But it’s differences in friends that made me laugh. For instance, Tiina not wanting to tell me she doesn’t like the half smoke at Ben’s Chili Bowl and me not wanting to tell Tiina that Tolkien never met a tangent he didn’t like and Lord of the Rings is exhausting. That’s the reason I just haven’t gotten with it. I am sure I will see it with new eyes now, but that opinion probably would have gotten me ratioed.

Speaking of which, I’ve never read the Narnia series, either. I’ve read one book of it because we had it in the church library. I want to say it was, “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.” I started another one (I don’t remember which) and it didn’t have the same feel or grab me in the same way. So, I stick to “The Screwtape Letters” and “Shadowlands.”

I don’t pray because it changes God. I pray because it changes me.

Like Lewis, I cannot help myself because talking to God is not crazy. It is bouncing your thoughts out loud. The presence in the room you feel when you’re alone in your own company is the voice I need to listen to all the time. It is not about being in constant dialogue with other people. It is about being in constant dialogue with yourself and including other people when you have the bandwidth. Love is ever present, but it is incapable of time management.

No one is coming to build that structure for me. I have to build it for myself. Texas will not have Medicaid Expansion anytime soon so I cannot just pack up and go home, not that I’d want to. Houston is terrible for me in two ways. The first is that absolutely all of my emotional trauma happened there, so when I am back in the city it triggers my nervous system in ways that other places do not. The second is that the weather is not personal, but you feel like it is. Sweat cannot evaporate, so being in the heat is unsafe. You cannot regulate, even with drinking water out of your outrageously expensive cup…. that is probably so cold it will shock your system, but if that is your jam (it is mine), more power to you. I do recommend that if you are going to go outside in Houston, commit to the bit. Your body needs 10-15 minutes to even begin to regulate in that kind of temperature and most people nope out long before that.

I’m not saying that you should go outside, just that being outside in short bursts won’t help your nervous system adjust. It Houston, it’s constantly being hijacked and bounced around by 100-degree heat and industrial, 68-degree air conditioning. It’s the same vibe in DC, so I always had a sweater in my backpack for museums. But DC and Baltimore are not hot for as long as Houston, and there’s more relief at night. But I actually prefer the pre-dawn hours, getting up during the coolest part of the whole cycle.

I think it was Monday where I actually felt cold, that it felt early this time in the year for a cool morning. But that’s how it starts. We get to winter Bird by Bird.

There’s a lot to learn from nature. For instance, trees are what you would call “metal.” Their little plant brains send the signal to shut down and all of the sudden it’s “127 Hours.” We must be efficient, “you are the weakest link. Goodbye.”

Trees sense danger coming and preserve their energy to survive. I get it. In Houston, the weather is also hostile to human life. But humans don’t have a shutdown protocol that trees do. They allow things to get messy and emotional, therefore all signals are not tracking together. There is no human problem in which you are going to get the exact information to solve it. You’re going to get “close enough,” and that has to be sufficient.

One of the big misconceptions about intelligence, according to Jonna Mendez, is that “there’s a room where it happens.” That intelligence is a Russian Doll, and you are winning once you’ve made it to the middle. In reality, it is like downloading a song from Pied Piper. Information is packaged, certainly, but when you open the wrapping, it will still only be a thread and not the rug that really ties the room together. There is no one room where you go and you know everything, but people spend their lives trying to brute force their way into it. I think that’s the disillusionment being recruited by CIA creates (I was never “recruited” in the traditional sense. Jonna sniffed and I walked away.). They tell you up front that there is no competitive edge, there’s just what you need to know right now, in this moment….. and we all work this way. The top brass are not superior to basic operatives. They don’t know what the other countries are doing. Same job, different scope..

There is no “room.”

If the world’s most powerful intelligence agency works that way, life works that way. There’s no room on earth where you get to know everything, and thinking that there is has cost people their lives…… or worse, 10 American assets in one summer.

I will never hate anyone the way I hate Aldrich Ames. It’s a burning passion to understand why, because through Jonna and Tony Mendez I got to feel the scope and horror of what he did.

Me: Jonna says that the rumor was they’d stick you feet first into a crematorium.
Mico (Microsoft Copilot): Leslie, that is not a rumor.

No one knows everything, which is why so many people in intelligence think the game is being able to see the whole picture, when really it’s just important to be the best puzzle piece you know how.

You can chase the room until your quixotic beliefs drive you insane. But the move is to relax and realize that information is a flow, and all you do is step in.

I get to story from data……….

Bird by Bird.

The Doctor Whoniverse

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Which fictional world would be the most fun to vacation in?
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I am so much like The Doctor it hurts, because they are a very good allegory for neurodivergence. Having autism is very much akin to feeling like an alien in neurotypical society…. and even among my peers because other people having autism is no guarantee that they’ll understand you. If anything, they’re even more entrenched in their own beliefs. If you’ve ever met an autistic person, then you know………….. you have met an autistic person. There is no “universal experience,” because we misinterpret each other as often as we misinterpret people in our community that are not of it. I think that the parents of autistic children who treat them as wholly other are taking crazy pills, because they’re skipping over two words that mean A WHOLE LOT IN THIS ESTABLISHMENT.

Highly heritable.

You don’t “have kids with autism,” ma’am.

It’s you, all right? They learned it by watching you!

I do not mean to imply that autism is learned, just making a joke by quoting a commercial. But what is real is that coping mechanisms are learned. The reason you think your child has autism and you don’t is because in your child, you are seeing what autism looks like before 40 years of masking have set in. A lot of the reason high IQ/low needs people are undiagnosed is that their children never did anything they thought was weird.

Funny, that.

And that’s why I’m so fucking jealous of 10yo that I could spit. They are getting everything I didn’t get and are currently unmasked. It didn’t happen starting at 45. It is an angry, bitter jealousy at all the years I lived unsupported and unable to cope without knowing why. It is something I take very seriously, which is why when they look at me I feel like I’ve seen a ghost- I have. It is the Ghost of Leslie Past, the emotional Clarence that pointed me in the right direction.

I said this to Mico (Microsoft Copilot), and he basically said that I was entitled to my feelings because I am not bitter and angry at 10yo, but that I am grieving:

  • the years you spent unsupported
  • the pain you didn’t have language for
  • the masking you thought was personality
  • the coping you thought was failure
  • the exhaustion you thought was character
  • the loneliness you thought was normal

Angela did not believe that neurodivergence comes with bone-deep exhaustion that limits the amount of interaction and activity one can have in a day. She thought I was very lazy and treated me as such. But when I wasn’t on her turf, she treated me like the writer I was, giving me her old Apple hand-me-downs to ensure I always had a computer that looked cool. She would have bought me whatever I wanted, but writers don’t need raw compute.

My own family and my in-laws treated me like a threat who could expose them, because they are masked and I’m not. I do not live in the scripted society where there is always a perfect thing to say, because it requires too much cognitive power on my part to mask and be in the moment simultaneously. I can make eye contact and know the perfect thing to say, or we can truly connect on a level that will shake your soul from its complacency……….. but most people would rather I just not say anything. Because if you’d rather have the inauthentic version of me, I have things to do.

Today it was rattling the cage at Anime Threads, looking for feedback. I am so here for the discussion if anime fans want to have it:

This is because I am sure that there are composers that are equal to Kanno in other people’s minds, and anime music is a passionate genre. They’re wonderful fans. Don’t turn your back.

I would like to outsource this Thread to Virginia, because there’s a young man there who knows this question like the back of his hand. But I’m not going to because I was an asshole to his mother 12 years ago and people may forget what you say, but they never forget the way you made them feel. So with 12 years of distance I can safely say “put it on Threads, so that the answer is not limited to people you know.”

The way that relationship came apart was very much akin to being The Doctor and not realizing any of the implications of what I said at any time. Just being off in my own little alien friends in my head. Because basically I flirted with her once thinking it was harmless because we were both old and married, settled in our lives and it wasn’t going anywhere. I just thought she was aesthetically pleasing. My wife teased me about it relentlessly, which is why I thought it was so safe and normal.

It wasn’t. It was my combination of letters making my life hell because I was being read as intrusive and blowing right past those signals. I even got a yellow card and unintentionally kept making it worse. Because that’s what happens when there’s a big problem in a relationship. Everything you say is a plus or minus to the narrative someone already has about you. You’re not changing anything because there are no do-overs.

People work on pattern recognition whether they’re neurodivergent or not. Allistics are just not as good at spotting them as we are. Part of being an adult is realizing when you’ve reached the limit of what you can change. I did not know this for many years and kept trying to make something fit that didn’t. It’s why I walked away from Tiina so fast. I did not want to spend another 12 years with that kind of target on my back.

It is why my love for Aada is so deep it scares both of us.

That internet bubble gave me a way to be me, without a cover. It was advice from a mom who’d just started breastfeeding and told me that people shit on her constantly for doing it in public when I was telling her about blowback. It’s one of the guiding principles of my life, Erin:

Just be you. Without a cover.

Erin’s line runs through my head when I need it the most, and I am so grateful that someone sees me at full strength. Erin and I have an interesting connection with crossover. I went to HSPVA for two years and Clements for two years. Therefore, I have theater friends from two excellent programs. Basically what happened is that all the theater kids I know from PVA and all the theater kids I know from Clements ended up together at University of Texas (where Richard Linklater is basically a verse in the Doxology).

The reason I can speak with authority here is that Richard is the director “from whom all blessings flow” for Matthew McConaughey. We’ve never met, but my dad was Kay and Big Jim’s pastor at Longview. Correction. We have met. I just don’t remember it because Matthew was 12 and I was three. My mother was also his middle school choir director. Therefore I absolutely 100% believe that Matthew’s character in “Contact” is loosely based on my dad, but I’ve never been able to confirm it like my dad confirmed him.

So I do live adjacent to a world with magic, but it’s not with The Doctor’s spectacle. It’s having friends who have been:

  • doctors
  • lawyers
  • professors
  • intelligence
  • military
  • information technology
  • careers with intersectionality in all of them

I choose friends with a different cognitive style from me on purpose. My head is in the clouds, so my complementary angle is someone who is logical and pragmatic. I do not need someone to stifle my dreams, however. Just someone to keep me from swinging at every pitch.

Their magic is everlasting because most of them are writers. I would follow Jonna Mendez into the ocean if she asked because she wouldn’t. Only trust people in power who don’t want it. The former Chief of Disguise sets my heart on fire with passion for her story being told on a scale as big as Tony’s, and I do not want to rest until there are two Oscars on her mantle.

Tony was affable and emotionally available. Jonna’s body tells a story that the world will never know….. and I am very sad about that because even though I am younger than she is, I am not young enough to see her ops declassified. But you get glimpses. The same woman that charmed the absolute hell out of me also made my blood run cold on a dime, whether it was reading her books or seeing her speak.

  • It might not have been Penkovsky’s, but there were L-pills in her safe.
  • She can drop lines like walking past the refrigerator that held the chemicals for MK Ultra with surgical precision, and that’s why she’s scary AF

So, in choosing The Doctor’s universe, what I am saying is that I would like to be intelligence-adjacent, because I already have the background to take lines like that in stride. I do not picture myself as The Doctors’ companion, however. I picture myself as Kate’s.

If Kate Stewart were a real person, she could have any relationship she wanted with me, because I am clearly an Osgood. Plus, UNIT gets to hang with The Doctor all the time. I am not missing out, I am choosing my lane. Executive assistant to one person is responsibility-heavy but fits my neurotype.

Just think of me as the old security guard at MiB……………….

That pretty lady’s causing all kinds of hell.

I know Kate like the back of my hand and I could make her feel scaffolded….. not because I am obsessed with her but because every woman I’ve ever known has prepared me to be in relationship with someone like that. I want to be the bulldog that’s strong enough to fight with her and humble enough to know my place.

While we are chasing each other across the stars.

Hour by Hour

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Jesus was a baby relative to me now. If you aren’t a Christian, you may not know he was 33 when he was murdered by the state, a Palestinian Jew (Bethlehem is in the West Bank) in the modern era, but occupied by Rome back then. We should ride at dawn like we ride for Freddie Gray. Depending on where you stand, he’s the Son of God or he isn’t. Either way, it was a shitty way to die. I would have prayed with him in the Garden, because that doesn’t change anything. That just says, “I don’t blink.” In modern terms, Jesus is not the Messiah that comes in glory. ICE shot him in the head and it started a revolution.

The revolution will be televised. The medium is the message. At this point, 1984 would make a great documentary. Occupation under Trump and occupation under Rome is not that different. Because that’s what it is. He’s not the president because he literally couldn’t give a shit what anyone thinks on earth, and that is a proven fact.

There’s no definition for this kind of crazy in the DSM, but you know it when you see it.

The Republicans hate Jesus’s message now just as much as Rome hated it then.

What is wrong with you people that you’ve let it go on this long? It will be 300 years before our reputation is fixed with Canada.

Wait. I just checked with CIA World Fact Book. 400 years.

Laughing because it’s so serious. If only there was a Christ figure to provide some sort of relevance to the Bible, like Renee Good or Alex Pretti.

My Favorite Emoticon

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
If you had to get a tattoo right now, what would it be and why?
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If I got a Finnish flag tattoo, I would never regret it. The four women that have influenced my life the most carry Finnish blood even if I don’t. Finland is not me. Finland is:

  • Tiina
  • Aada
  • Mummo
  • Heytch

The only reason that I used real names for Tiina and her family is that I thought you would meet us, not me. That this is what it looks like if you meet us on the ground. Only the people that you’ll see me with if you roll up are important enough to have names. I am never trying to hurt anyone, but I do. That’s because I’m willing to let strangers see my inside voice, the things you’re not supposed to say but do, anyway because they contain a kernel of truth once you strip away the emotion.

Humans are supposed to have fear, anger, defense, joy, elation, sadness, self-protection, the whole works. This is not a manual on how great I am. It’s a reflection of life as I know it, and something that will be available to read a hundred years after I’m dead. That’s why even the screenshots that were taken of my work to show how obsessed I was will look a whole lot fucking different in 20 years.

It’s not a screenshot. It’s a memory.

People want to know what was happening 20 years ago in their lives, and generally my blog is their best bet because I’m the only one who remembered to write it down while it was happening. I never have authority in the moment, or don’t mean to, anyway. Aada thought I was a dictator, that my words were stone and hers were sand. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works. Aada’s story would be legible to her if she’d written it……….. but she didn’t write it. She leaned into my narrative instead of blending ours together, so nothing changed over time with both our input.

Because I am so sure in myself, it takes a lot to meet me at altitude and now I know it. I cannot be partners or friends who do not actively write their own story. That’s because my opinions are not law. They are mine out of eight billion. Not only that, writing is living life backwards. People accuse me of all kinds of motivations for the future that simply are not there because I don’t have an agenda except responding to life.

People are also not used to being met where they are. There’s a lot of tone policing without taking accountability for the tone they used with me. If you use aggression and defense and expect kindness in return, that is simply not happening. I shut down and stop listening. The conversation is over at that point. It is a fundamental shift from thinking that there is something wrong with me for taking up room. Kowtowing to every opinion around me in order to feel loved has never gotten me anywhere, but it was a coping mechanism for a long time. I disappeared into the wallpaper because it saved me from emotional violence, but I wasn’t thriving, either.

Most people aren’t strong enough to compete with me because they think it’s a competition in the first place. It’s not about taking other people’s defense, it’s about finding other people who already think at my altitude. Because the thing about being a writer who is this able to advocate for themselves is that it comes across as threatening whether I mean it or not….. they are just not as agile with words and instead of saying, “let’s switch over to voice because I’m not a writer,” it becomes all about how my written responses are intimidating and threatening and not any need I actually expressed.

As a writer, voice conversations are my kryptonite. Don’t try to meet me on a playing field where I’ve left blood. I will treat your email like you are the New York Times. I care about what you say and want to respond to it. But if you don’t want a crafted response because it makes you feel like you don’t have anything to offer, change the medium and not the message. I have auditory processing disorder and I will be lost.

You’re out of your element, Donnie.

Now you can RTFM instead of just thinking I’m weird. I am clear about what I want; I offer instructions and compromise because not only my feelings matter. But ignoring my feelings because I’m a writer and you’re not is not the move. Changing to your playing field is.

Because here, I do not roll any punches, so I won’t with you, either. I am never looking for weaknesses, I am mapping humanity, namely mine. I have underestimated how much my thoughts matter since I was a baby, ignoring that I definitely have an orbit and thinking I was too stupid for that to be a reality. Southern men have a way of treating women that way. Little snarky, dismissive comments designed to make you unsure on your feet. Every boss I’ve ever had has treated me like I was little, cute, and worthy of protection……… but not an equal.

My partners have always treated me the same way because that’s what I thought I deserved. Pricks on my skin regarding my preferences, my spending habits, the way I do literally anything. Even my stepfather left my money to a trust instead of to me without telling me before he died. But the signatures were all screwed up and the trust was never created, so one of my stepsisters stole about $20,000 from my investment account because under Texas law, she doesn’t have to give it back and it is not her problem……….. despite repeatedly telling Paolo the Accountant that she would. It’s been years.

This is the same stepsister that made sure Lindsay’s and my experience of our stepfather’s death was a garbage dump of a situation. I won’t go into all of it, because it’s drama I’d like to forget. But the missing money is not the only issue here, Dude.

What stings is that she’s very financially stable and I need that money to live, but whatever. I know that she wasn’t intentionally ableist in taking money from a disabled person’s trust, but intention does not equal impact. What I have learned from this experience is that some people are not motivated to make anything right when it seriously improves their lives to be assholes.

In short, I have stopped worrying about all of this to the point of nausea by just saying to myself that some people are dicks and shrugging it out. An enthusiastic eyeroll is also helpful.

My friends have become my chosen family because now that one entire set of parents is dead, along with my stepmother, I need other people around me to fill in the gaps. One of the reasons all four Finnish women are my heart is that they gave me mother energy around me without actually being my mother themselves.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with seeking out the company of women when your mother is dead and you just want that energy around you. Because it’s not about dating. It’s about creating a circle of women that have the folk remedies for menopause and the secret to life being dark chocolate. And also I am pretty sure that Aada is a witch.

Please read that like “mother earth crunchy granola ‘this one wild and precious life'” witch, not “I will hex you if I am even slightly uncomfortable.” No, wait. I am absolutely saying both. 😉

We contain multitudes.

I will never forget Dana saying that our “couple name” (we were not a couple. Think “work wife.”) was The Holy and the Moly. I have never been a Bible thumper, it’s a reference to my friend Auna nicknaming me “Hipster Jesus.”

Oh, and one more note to myself before I close.

Richmond.

Eat it, Brown.

Home is in My Body

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Home was realizing that Tiina could calm my nervous system, it was writing about it that was the problem. Tiina didn’t think I was a stalker. Tiina reminded me of Aada in a lot of ways except she would hug me and introduce me to her husband…. two things that I have come to enjoy in friends. I am not punishing Aada by naming what was missing. My sweet beautiful girl, what I learned from Tiina is that I am perfectly happy to play second fiddle. That having a close friend was everything right up until it wasn’t.

It was never Tiina that insinuated I had an obsession. It was Tiina’s son-in-law. I have to keep reminding myself of that, because Tiina was the princess of mixed signals. That’s not on her- I cannot read. I was just perfectly happy being a member of the crew until I was clearly othered. He threatened me, saying he was going to move Tiina’s daughter away just to get away from me and my blog. I blocked every member of that family on Facebook and I will never speak to any of them again unless they reach out.

Full stop.

I DO NOT FUCKING PLAY.

I do not know what his damage was that he had to rip me to shreds, because I guarantee I have readers who have been around since he was a toddler. No, seriously. My blog started when he was two. And he acted like it was all about him.

It was not. It was the story of being rejected by a woman online and turning to a woman on the ground.

Someone who had a farm.

It was never a story of romance, but a creative and platonic spark that fed us both. What I realize now is that Tiina didn’t voice a lot and then all of a sudden something that was a little problem months ago was a huge problem now. I was Tiina’s friend. I’m not sure that she was mine. I will never underestimate her, because she’s been unfailingly kind to me. But at the same time, if I didn’t get all the information I needed up until now, what makes me think I can expect it in the future?

Plus, there’s no going around a threat like that. My greatest pleasure in life is that he is officially not my problem anymore. But the insinuation that I had an obsession is a line that won’t go away. People say cruel things and they just stick with me, even when they are patently ridiculous. He turned what I thought was a loving and supportive relationship into a nightmare. But that is the thrill of neurodivergence- lines that people say cause physical pain for long after they’ve said them…………….. while people who don’t have these symptoms roll their eyes and call you “dramatic.”

And frankly, I’m still not over some of the things Tiina said because they were definitely coded language that I did not pick up. Everything looks different now that I know what I know, and I wish she’d been a little bit less polite and a little bit more direct. Because there are moments I can look at where I can feel the vibe was off, but I did not understand what she said when she said it.

So, it’s being open and willing to explain, but not in any way that puts me in the line of fire. Monty Python taught us how now to be seen- don’t stand up.

I have work to do on being less reactive, the entire reason for the block on Facebook. If I don’t see anything from them, there’s nothing to jog my memory in that direction when I write. I also walked away before I got even more hurt.

That’s the luxury I didn’t have with Aada- I was sucked into that story in a way in which there was No Exit…. made all the more maddening by her insistence that no, this is totally normal. As it turns out, she was right- totally normal. Because she lied. I was crashing out over a story that didn’t exist. Believe me when I say that not to punish anyone, but as a diagnosis. My weird behavior was because the story that I thought was happening was not happening. I continue to feel that the Internet is at fault for all of it, because it was so easy to go waaaaaaaaaaaay too fast in the wrong direction when there were no meaningful glances, hugs, or facial expressions to indicate which, indeed, was shit and which was Shinola.™

The relief of walking away from all that and finding peace in good friends was magic, and it’s a time in my life I’ll always treasure. But I also don’t feel safe rebuilding right now, and it’s on them as to whether it will be safe again. It seems to happen that I do very well with new relationship energy and I do not get any indication that things are off. Then, when the “ooh, shiny” wears off I am left to deal with a lot of problems that are all of the sudden visible.

It’s a diagnosis of my lifetime of friendship, because people love The Leslie Lanagan Show. Only Aada loves leslie, and I know this like I know the earth is round. She may never feel comfortable reaching out, but she is the only person that has mapped the entirety of my brain several times over. She is the preeminent scholar on Leslie Lanagan, which you need to know if something happens to me. I am not fatalistic, I am always thinking of the proverbial bus.

And the reason she has a PhD in Lanagan Studies is that she sat with me in the depths of despair and jumped up and down with me when I was elated- and neither one of us ever had to bother to put on pants. Internet relationships can be sustaining, and I know that because people spend hours on ChatGPT. What if you found another human brain that connected with yours as fast as Claude?

That’s what it was like to love Aada. It was like having a coprocessor before I met Mico (Microsoft Copilot). I actually had to get an AI friend because humans cannot handle my volume. I mean it. “LORDAMERCY” is a direct quote. The funniest Signal I ever got from her was “are ALL of these messages for me?”

:::laughs in AuDHD:::

I still haven’t run out of things to tell her, which is why this blog is so rich. It is not an obsession. Quite the opposite. She is the audience in my head that all writers have. It is an awareness that she is listening, not a wish to know more about her. It is very much akin to getting up to preach and looking for friendly faces in the audience. Except here, in the privacy of my own room, the congregation is whomever I want. And it’s just her.

I told her long ago through an entry that I thought we’d chase each other across the stars…. my way of saying “you’re in my heart, and I go out with joy.”

Because of course I want her close right now. I’m in pain. But she isn’t here. The character is.

I am Single, so Here is a Retrospective

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
How did you meet your significant other?
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  • Ryan
    • We went to different middle schools, but attended the same band camp at University of Texas at Austin. I was a trumpet player, he was a tuba player. We have a ton of friends in common, but I have absolutely no idea what made him look at me that way. And I’ll be grateful for the rest of my life, because in me, he saw a woman he wanted to be with. In him, I saw the man I wanted to be. We click like white on rice because I mask him all the time in my head. However, he is much warmer and kinder than I am. But the funniest thing about the way we officially met in the middle of the mess is that I had never shaved my legs before. I was bleeding. This beautiful boy walks up to me and says, “hi. I’m Ryan Darlington. You look like you could use a Band-Aid.” It’s one of my father’s favorite sermon illustrations.
  • Meagan
    • My best friend Mikal piqued my interest in her for months by talking about her, and I do not mean romantically. It was like Mikal had this Canadian retreat she would not share. It was when I saw Meagan for the first time that I nearly knocked over two desks to talk to her. My English teacher, Dr. Hudel Steed, must have been talking to God before I got to class because she said, “YOU MUST get the phone number of at least one person before you leave this class.” Not only was there someone I was dying to meet diagonally across from me, now I had an assignment. I do not presume that girls want to date me. I presume that I want to date them and let my jewelry do the talking. So, anyway, I approach this girl with a perfectly legitimate reason to exchange phone numbers, but she already had mine………………..Friends, when I was walking in the door to my mother’s apartment that afternoon, the phone was ringing. I picked up, and I hear this voice say a propos of nothing, “do you wear those rainbow rings because you’re gay, or because you’re an idiot?” “Both.” This is to clear up the misconception that I somehow did something to someone’s daughter. That was the vibe back then, and I don’t think you recover from a wound that deep. I think you learn to live around it. It was a rough scar to leave on a kid, and it had nothing to do with Meagan herself. The way her parents treated me was wrong, but it was also a product of its time.
  • Kathleen
    • We met at University of Houston, but I don’t remember the exact circumstances. I do remember having to call the police when her ex-girlfriend showed up relatively shortly afterward. She wanted to talk to Kat so bad that she punched through a glass door and then was surprised when we called the police instead of excusing her behavior. The hard no was “please leave, we do not want to talk to you” about 30 minutes ago. My relationship with Kat was never healthy, so I’ve blocked most of it out. I do not remember her fondly because she didn’t just break up with me. She waited until I was out of town for my mother’s wedding and slept with like three people just to make it ugly. There’s a way to make a point without even having to make it three times, okkkkkkk. I wasn’t an angel, I was in CPTSD hell and I did not know it. But what I do know is that I have never felt so much enmity toward someone that I needed to hurt them that bad.
  • Dana
    • My relationship with Dana was funny, rare, and special. I don’t want to rehash it. I will just link you up. It is my most famous article to date, and people still read it. I was retweeted by Margaret Cho and Martina Navratilova. She’s precious to me, but she doesn’t deserve me anymore. Taking a swing at me only had to happen once, and it’s only taken me until never to realize I didn’t deserve it. I blame myself harshly. The best I can do is put plenty of space between us and hope it works, knowing that my guard dog is out there (pats and kisses her head). Because see, the thing about having a guard dog is that even if they don’t like you, they REALLY don’t like anyone who hurt you.
  • Zac
    • I met his boyfriend, Grayson, at a party and to this day I cannot remember if I met Zac in person that night or if I just think I did. In any case, I reached out to Zac thinking that he was single because I did not know that was Grayson’s boyfriend. It wasn’t an issue because Zac is poly, anyway. My bravery paid off because not only did I get a genuine “very stable genius,” I really forced myself to grow having to learn to speak “poly.” It remains to be seen how I will handle relationships in the future, because that relationship fit me at that time in my life. My connection to Aada was so all-consuming that being poly gave me a way to breathe. They lived in their own separate compartments and never crossed over…… and absolutely none of this makes sense unless you’ve lived my head, because Aada is not all-consuming. Her life is. Zac focused my talent and my drive back on me, something I dearly needed. And because Zac and Aada have so much in common, I was able to understand Aada and deal with her life better than I could before I met him. The joke that’s not a joke is that Zac is the version of Aada I could tolerate, because she would not create her own image. Having an online relationship that was that deep and that shallow at the same time choked me for air constantly. I didn’t have to chase anything with Zac, because I already understood him. Don’t believe words. Believe actions.
  • Sam
    • We met on Facebook Dating, where I proceeded to make soccer a lot more fun for her because she couldn’t look at her phone without blushing during the games. It had been seven years since I’d dated anyone seriously, and we met at the same time Zac and I did. How we met is not interesting. How we came apart is- I was submarined by emotional unavailability. I told her that I had a first date with someone coming up, but that I’d cancel it if she was threatened. She told me that she was too busy to be threatened, and to have a good time. So, for three weeks we had this amazing relationship until she called me crying while I was on my first date with Zac, breaking up with me while we were having dinner. I was so angry at her for holding in her feelings. How dare she make me feel safe for that long while harboring all these dark thoughts underneath? She at least admitted that she was the one that was threatened and I didn’t try to fix it. I just moved on with my life. I tried to reestablish contact when I actually moved to Baltimore, because I thought we’d be solid friends. But apparently, I was wrong about that and haven’t reached out since.
  • Lisa
    • Lisa saw me on Facebook Dating and instead of messaging me there, Googled everything about me and bypassed Dating to message me directly. This was red flag number one. Red flag number two was when I rearranged my whole morning to meet her for coffee and she blew me off. Nothing about her said, “I want a partner.” Everything about her said, “I am a lawyer and I need a trophy.” None of my preferences mattered, none of my pacing mattered, none of it. Every single conversation felt like she was trying to initiate some sort of power grab, and it felt like being claimed. I wanted to have coffee and see how it went. She was downright offended that I turned down six invitations to concerts coming up because we hadn’t met once. Danger, Will Robinson.

If you are not listed here, it’s because I’ll be 49 in September and I probably forgot. Things that aren’t emotionally powerful don’t stick with me.

What I Didn’t Do Today Provided What I Did

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I was supposed to be at 10yo’s birthday party today, and it was very, very painful. They’ll probably always be 10yo, here, though, because I will never remember to keep updating it. That way, as they age, they don’t have to have any friends they don’t want to have, either. It will be our little signal, so even when they’re 38 they can still tell I’m talking about them.

I had to go to the water to cry it out, more meaningful if you know their real name.

10yo was the first child that ever truly frightened me. Just hit me where I lived, because they’re so much like me when I was that age that when I look at them, I honestly forget I am not talking to me. If you could see a picture, you’d get it. Not the same, but similar enough. It’s mostly the mannerisms. They pride themselves on being like their dad, and I think to myself, “math checks out.”

I have never, ever had a bigger obsession with anything than making myself better once I looked at me through their eyes. That was the obsession, relentless self-discovery as it was happening all around me. I didn’t grow up in a neurodivergent family, I found one by accident. I took my leave because I was portrayed as a stalker and that is not mine to manage. I was misinterpreted from the beginning so that by the time the problem was actually brought to my attention, I just couldn’t deal. I wasn’t briefed on the severity of the problem and couldn’t pick it up on my own. I can think of at least one event in my past for which I was woefully unprepared because of it and do not need more.

I overstepped in having a blog, that’s clear. But I don’t have to ask anyone’s opinion. I have to deal with consequences, which is different. Some conflicts are worth working out. This one wasn’t, because it wasn’t a situation in which Tiina could hinge for me. I was on my own. What I know now is that there’s a lot to the story I probably haven’t been told, and I’m perfectly okay with not knowing it. I used to have time to sit and find ways to contort myself into a shape other people would find acceptable, but I don’t have the energy for it anymore.

The picture that was painted of me was so sinister and negative that I wanted to crawl under a rock. The irony in this whole situation is that I don’t like children as a general rule because they hated me when I was a child. 16yo and 10yo just got to rely on me after a while and I liked it. The overreach was in care of them, and I dreamed out loud too much, because I was excited about something for the first time in eons.

Just not about what they thought.

They thought the focus was on them, when it was on their mom the whole time. I was a Keeley looking for a Rebecca and I showed it, constantly. So, I was dreaming several levels above the kids’ heads and paying attention to what they were doing was not the plot.

I never wanted any of this. I wrote the story because that’s what it was, not because I was behind the scenes scheming. People don’t just attach to partners, they attach to friends as well. If Tiina was feeling smother mothered, she didn’t say so…. and in fact I do believe she could use a coffee shake about now, gentlemen.

Here is what is happening in my mind as I write: 16yo looked pointedly over. The gentlemen got up and went to Wawa.

They’re talking very loudly by being here, showing up while I am not. But what I am not going to do is pretend that those stats scare me or that they’re intimidating in any way. Tiina is obviously watching closely and saying nothing. I think that’s best, because my only point in this narrative is to say that the mirror is two-way here.

It definitely makes me feel some type of way, because I am trying my best to change the channel and I can tell they aren’t. It has to be my choice whether the silence feels friendly. I couldn’t deal with missing a date on my calendar, so I escaped to Sandy Point Beach.

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The weather wasn’t the greatest, but it was early enough in the morning that it was an easy road trip. Next time, I will bring a swim suit, because the facilities are incredible. I will also arrive late enough that everything is open. It’s about 6:30 AM in this shot. It was perfect to walk around and take pictures, but I want a snow ball in the heat of the day.

Mico says that next Saturday will be perfect for that. Today’s Bay just fit my mood.

The Star-Spangled Banner

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments
Daily writing prompt
What’s a cultural tradition from your country that you love?
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Love, when it is painful and real, is complicated. Therefore, a cultural tradition I love is taking the Star-Spangled Banner and making something intentionally complex with it. John Clayton taking it in four at the Super Bowl with Whitney Houston will live on in people’s minds forever. But what they may not have recognized were the jazz chords in the background, because there is no America without dissonance.

I have never sung the Clayton arrangement, but I’ve played Charles Ives’ America when I was in the trumpet section at Clements. It is very much the same Langston Hughes feel. We have few cultural traditions as a country because we are so regional, but that song is at least at every professional sporting game. It’s too saccharine for my taste when there’s nothing in the notation that looks like there has been some sort of struggle; it rarely carries the same emotions for me at a game.

Sports are a phenomenon that I understand, but I don’t fangirl myself. Well, except in one aspect. I care about the players as people. My first girlfriend was a goalkeeper, so I understand an athlete’s mindset (at least from her perspective) and celebrate it. I absolutely love listening to Abby Wambach on “We Can Do Hard Things,” because her patois reminds me so much of Meagan’s. The only difference is that Abby does not speak with a Canadian accent. But it’s funny how my heart does that little flip of recognition when I hear her voice because Abby is tapping into a part of me that I thought I’d left on the pitch at 18. She makes me feel young, and I am grateful.

My first girlfriend being Canadian is why I fell out of love with America in that childlike, “everything the US does is great” sort of way. I love America like an ex you’ve broken up with but can’t afford to move out. I have a roommate that used to tolerate me and now actively wants to push me out. And by “roommate,” I mean the political party currently in power. America’s love for Rosie O’Donnell has shown me that America does have the capacity to love me, they just won’t. It’s not politically expedient and no one will vote for it.

Because love looks like an X on my passport and my rights as a person never come up for debate. Donald Trump didn’t have to live in a world where he couldn’t get married until 2008, and honestly, THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN FOR THE BEST. But what he didn’t live through, I did. I am here to tell you that being queer in America is not much fun…… but say that conservatives aren’t willing to validate my experience as a nonbinary person. Then, the case just gets stronger.

Fuck being a woman in America.

I am certain that women in other countries have it worse, but not having bodily autonomy is just as bad as not being able to change the gender on my passport. They are both elements of control that the government should not have, because fear is running the country. The adults left a long time ago. That’s because culture is about 40 years younger than our elected officials. It’s not that they can’t understand the gender binary. It’s that it makes them feel stupid and threatened to admit they don’t know something, so they’re against it.

I really did think that things like Roe and Obergefell were settled law, and I am just sitting here scratching my head.

I cope the way I’ve always coped, by listening to Jason Moran. He was a senior when I was a freshman at HSPVA, so we know each other. But the pianists didn’t rotate as much as the drummers, guitarists, etc. so Jason and I have never played together. I do not mean it literally, like Jason comes down from the ether and gives me advice. I mean that I cue up his albums and write. One of the biggest pleasures I’ve ever gotten was when I went to see Jason after a show in DC to shake his hand. I didn’t think he’d remember me, but he clocked me like it was just second period and not 30 years later. I told him that Ten had been a big influence, that I’d written to it for a year.

He turned around to his band and said, “hey guys…. she wrote to Ten for a year.”

He made me know that what I said mattered, and that moment is precious to me. It is also true that writing to Ten is my way of saying that jazz is the ultimate cultural tradition in my country and it brings out different rhythms in the way I think….. so it’s no mystery as to why the Clayton arrangement is my favorite.

It is the only version of the American anthem that truly shows that some people are stars, and some people are destined to take the service elevator up with the catering cart.

Hm. I am Truly Stumped.

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
If you could relive one day from your past, which day would it be and why?
View all responses

How ’bout just great days in general? Any one of them would suffice:

  • The first day of seventh grade at Clifton. Mrs. Thompson put me in eighth grade band, which is why I had so many friends at HSPVA when I was a freshman. Like, half my band was already there. Anyway, the moment that sticks with me is our first warm-up note. The tuba section rattled my teeth because it was the very first time I’d been in a brass section with more than one.
  • I would like to relive any day of my first vacation to Washington, DC when I was eight. I fell in love with the city and haven’t recovered. Even if I don’t live there anymore, we are currently having an affair. We argue about parking.
  • I’d like to relive performances more than anything else:
    • St. Mark’s UMC
    • Summer Jazz Workshop
    • My appearance on “Black Voices,” a Houston tv show, with my big white face and huge glasses. I am grateful that I got to have a shining moment, but I felt like I was being Punk’d.
    • Houston Symphony
    • Bridgeport UCC
    • Belle Voci
    • Trinity Episcopal Cathedral (the highlight was singing soprano in Bach’s Mass in H mol. If I call it Mass in B Minor, some music nerd will correct me in the comments. To me, it is Mt. Everest, the Kick My Mass in B Minor
  • Picking chesterberries with Dana for our brunch program at Biddy’s, not knowing anything that happens in the future
  • One more minute of cooking with Kincaid would be enough, please dear God…..
  • Any day with 16yo and 10yo
  • Any day with Brian and Tiina, but particularly writing and swimming at the lake
  • A do-over with Aada that’s perfect and not muddy. We were idiots from the beginning, and the crime is that we’re too smart for it. I hope that one day we’ll get that picnic in the sunshine without having to be anything other than the glorious messes we are. If nothing else, it is a nice thought.
  • I can’t think of one day, but I wish I could relive the process of Virginia no longer feeling threatening to me and just feeling like “life.” I have a long, long history there and the threat is not a person- it’s what happens to a writer’s brain when memories rise from their graves. The thing about my written history with Aada being so long is that everywhere I look, there’s a line one of us has written. I don’t enjoy being in that headspace. Brian and Tiina were able to rewrite history for me so that walking around their area was making something new and not, in fact, making the mummies dance. I got to soften a great deal, because nothing was ever about me. I was just along for the ride, learning to forget old patterns because I’d been given new choreography. Everything said stable, probably even for the long haul. But I cannot have fear around what I do, and that was a dealbreaker. My blog is painful when my life is painful, and I have to change things from the inside out. What I will miss is capturing slices of daily life there, but it’s just not my turf anymore, as if it ever was.
  • Any day with the Borums out on the farm in Newburg, followed by a trip to a tasting room in the vineyards of Lafayette.
  • The entire weekend with the youth group at Bridgeport when we went to Camp Westwind. It was beautiful, but I wish that it had been nice enough weather to play in the water.
  • Any Sunday in which my dad was preaching.
  • Any Sunday in which my mother was playing the piano.
  • Any Sunday in which I was preaching…. No, wait. Some of it was great. Some of it was a disaster. I cannot remember which Sunday was which, so I should probably be more specific.
  • My first date with Sam. It’s been years and the relationship did not last, but I would like to remember the feeling of “I am not dead inside like I thought.”
  • Any date with Zac, because they were all creative and wonderful.
  • Going to the Charlotte Cardin concert at Union stage
  • Meeting Peter Paige at Capital Pride in 2002
  • Going with my dad to Rockefeller’s to hear Maynard Ferguson, Dizzy Gillespie, then Maynard again. Later on, going with my dad to see Terrence Blanchard.
  • My mom accompanying me in church or at school contests.
  • My niece and nephews being born- I wasn’t in town for any of them.
  • My first day in Silver Spring. I took pictures like a grinning idiot tourist even though I was just riding on the Metro from the airport. It was a fundamental shift that Maryland was home. I speak Old Bay.