Life cannot be contained in a text box, but I will try. Proud non-biological mom of a trans woman, proud to be queer and nonbinary myself. Anything else? Just ask. theantileslie at hotmail dot com.
I am not superstitious because I can read a room. I don’t do rituals to try and keep things from happening, because nothing can stop the random dice from rolling. I do feel all the emotions in a room at once, though, which feels like ESP. A lot of the time, I can pick up the undercurrent of a couple’s relationship before they announce their breakup publicly. I didn’t know it, I felt it. Energy swirls around me and it comes in the form of being able to see relationship dynamics while being in a crowd. I take in most information by sight, and my body reacts. My nerves can sense when I’ve walked into a room with a couple who is in an argument, for instance.
Those moments are when my autism blossoms. It’s not my pain, but my pain signals are going to tell me to hurt, anyway. This is also not license for anyone to walk on eggshells around me. I actually take Tylenol to turn that sensory input down. Tylenol dulls both emotional and physical pain signals, in case that is a thing you needed to know. It’s my responsibility to manage me, and I’m sorry for every moment I haven’t been able. Processing disorders and mental illness are so hard. This is not to garner sympathy, as if any of it excuses my behavior when it is genuinely bizarre. I’m saying it as a patient. Mental illness is so hard. It’s relentless. Every feeling I have has to be thought, then analyzed to see if it’s real or not.
As in, “is this my real emotion, or is this my depression telling me a lie and I’m falling for it?” This is when I am talking to me about myself. I am generally good at picking out what is going on with everyone else. Generally bad at saying anything helpful or useful because I’m autistic. Likely, you’re not going to hear what I say due to the translation layer…… and whatever it is I think you need right now, it’s not an autistic amount of it. Other autistic people will probably laugh at that, because we all know what it means to think about something “an autistic amount,” and how that is so exhausting for other people. We learn to laugh about it, but it’s yet another thing that makes me too much for most people.
I don’t have communication issues in terms of receiving the emotions under what people say and I can predict group dynamics early. What I cannot do is then imitate it successfully so that I can convey to you that I understand (or don’t). I know what’s going on by the way it makes me feel, but fail in the execution at describing those feelings to other people.
People get so, so, so angry at me for things “everybody knows.” All of the feelings that I should have had in advance because of the social rules I should know. I am not a sociopath, who doesn’t have emotions and just imitates them, my blog a slam book because I don’t care about anyone else’s feelings. I’m autistic, which means that I feel every bit as deeply as you, I just process it differently….. and the way I process it is to write it out. I often don’t know how I feel about something until I’ve had a chance to take a step back from my emotions and craft the narrative that is going on in my head by squeezing out all the noise to find pure signal.
I create my own future by looking at my past. I don’t know how to predict other people’s behavior, but I’ve got 10 years of entries telling me everything that made them blow up previously. If someone won’t take the time to explain the rules, I will explain them to myself. I’m often wrong, but I’m not afraid to be wrong. I’m afraid to be unheard.
I sent Zac a message asking him for a scenario I could work from, like, “take a real conflict and make it fictional by changing around the countries or something. Just bare bones………” I haven’t gotten it yet because I said “everything goes to shit in a paragraph,” and he’s 1350 words in….. apparently I sparked his creativity when I asked him to spark mine. However, he could come up with eight of these scenarios before breakfast, so I don’t think it’s a competition. I think I just said something that stuck in his head, and I’m glad to be there. It honestly means more to me that I said something I said really resonated with him. If this turns out to be his magnum opus, I want you to know that I am entirely responsible. If it doesn’t? Totally his fault for not putting the material in more qualified hands…… laughing….. we’re not competitive, mostly because we can’t be. The kinds of writing we do are so different that there’s no comparison.
It’s just nice to have someone in my life who is also dedicated to the craft and understands that push/pull. Do I want to be with my friends or do I want to be with my characters? You pull yourself into your own world and at times struggle to resurface.
I notice more of the worlds inside me than I do my outside environment- I only understand the former, with no ladder to the latter.
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
I have decided that I am a moose. This is because I have spent a lot of time thinking I was a squirrel. Yes, “Rocky and Bullwinkle” has fed my love of intelligence for many, many years….. as has “Inspector Gadget,” “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego (I even have a retro t-shirt), and strangely, Jeopardy!. A lot of the time, the answers will contain intelligence operations that I’m interested to look up, because those questions come in lots of areas. Geopolitical, CIA’s affect on the United States’ reputation, etc.
You could have heard a pin drop in my mind when Jonna Mendez said MK Ultra came out of her office, and she walked past those drugs every day for 30 years because the refrigerator was from the 1970s, meaning it will outlive all of us. I’m sure that eventually, the science officer was made to destroy them, or the rest of the department was able to wrestle it away from him at some point. But, it was the first time in a long time that all the blood drained out of my face.
The truth is stranger than fiction, especially when it comes across in news spin and not data.
For instance, is it fortunate timing that we are now sending Palestine more aid, or did Biden specifically keep that little chestnut for the State of the Union address? I was telling a friend the other day that I think this whole thing revolves around having not to hate what Israel has done. That we really can’t stand what they’re doing, and also can’t afford to cut off intelligence from Mossad. It’s trickier than you think. Intel from Mossad is valid. Info from Palestine may or may not be valid because they don’t have government checks and balances. They don’t have a government because they’re not a state. It doesn’t have anything to do with “we don’t like the Palestinians.” It’s that they don’t have people in the room.
The answer is getting the Palestinians in the room. Most Israelis want this, too, because the neighborhoods are so integrated. Palestine comes across as a terrorist group because “they don’t have a flag.” It’s not that it’s not there. It’s that it can’t be recognized anywhere in the world as a sovereign nation because the Israelis absolute do not want that….. coming from the top. This is not a bottom up resolution, but top down. I swear to you, Netanyahu wouldn’t think twice about killing his grandmother if she was Palestinian. He also doesn’t care how many Israelis die because they’re just collateral damage.
And people think this is about Judaism and claim anti-Semitism when I don’t give a fuck what religion you practice, and neither does he. If he’s bombing integrated neighborhoods, he doesn’t care what religion you practice, either. Notice there aren’t many surgical strikes. It’s kill everyone.
They aren’t fighting over religion like they did in ancient times, they’re fighting to keep Palestine from getting an equal shake in things like NATO, or anyone else who could help them.
If you sided with the rebellion in Star Wars and you aren’t standing up for Palestine, you are not admitting what’s really going on here. Netanyahu and Putin are both trying to keep countries from recognition by taking them over.
Except Putin doesn’t care how many people he kills, either. So, whether you’re a Ukrainian fighting for your country or on the Russian side of things, you have an equal chance of dying, because Russia will just send in more cannon fodder.
It’s not about people’s lives, it’s about winning.
And now we want that kind of totalitarianism to come to the US by electing Donald Trump again, or at least, a huge minority that’s threatening to provide undertow to the fall off Rome. A good bit of the military is conservative as shit. What happens after the next election? We all of the sudden have two armies. January 6th will look like child’s play, because apparently the right to be a bigot is a huge ass deal here. Just like it is in Ukraine, and just like it is in Israel.
The only thing is that the Russian and Ukrainian people probably got along before Putin shook them up like ants. Finland is worried now, and it’s opening a very old wound. Sweden just joined NATO, so there’s something. We at least have one country over there in the general vicinity of Finland until they join themselves.
It’s all a mess. It’s all protecting the world from fascism. I don’t think we want it here, but if the Republicans win, it will be ushered in…. ballet service for pablum. Keep us occupied and we won’t revolt.
Reminds me of the old Apple commercial for the Macintosh (clever). Something about buying the computer is not making “1984” into 1984. And then they invented the iPhone, so clearly they didn’t mean it.
How much Facebook absolute shit do you have to wade through to see the few things you actually wanted to see? Who doesn’t respond immediately to their notifications unless they can disconnect long enough to put on “Do Not Disturb?”
“You can’t do that. We live here!”
Et cetera.
Suzy Izzard has the answer to everything.
I’m sure that relationships with countries evolve like relationships between adults. After all, it’s actually individual personalities and patterns move the same way as specifics. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but as a preacher’s kid I constantly noticed little things writ large.
Again, I grew up as a preacher’s kid and I’ve had lots of pastors as an adult. I have been to many, many committee meetings as an adult, just armed with a lot of back channels to be able to understand the bullshit games running in the room. I didn’t even have to call my dad, and most of the time, didn’t. I called friends who were either theological giants in their own right, or students who’d been taken under care by our church (what it means to be in discernment/seminary because you need a home church to be able to support you in some ways….. why it’s called “being taken under care.”
The Methodists do it differently than the Congregationals. In a Congregational church, like a Presbyterian or an Episcopal church, you are called by the individual church. With the Methodists, you basically function independently from step one, which is how my dad ended up pastoring two churches (called a “Circuit Rider,” a term created where ministers traveled by horse). Here’s the rest of the story. He was 19. I am sure some days went better than others, and he’s got more class than I do, so I’m not sure that he said “fuck” every day, but it wouldn’t have been a bad idea.
My dad could deal with enormous tragedies as he got older because he saw them all as a pastor.
My personal moment of pastoring was when we had a couple give birth to a baby who was only at 24, 25 weeks at most. She survived, and I became her babysitter. We bonded because I was eight weeks early. I was 14 or 15, and I wanted the parents to always ask me to come back because I’d imprinted on her. They called me often. I still remember her name was “Peyton.” Being up in front of people and preaching is 10% of the job at most. The rest of the time, it’s dealing with parents who have lost children, children who have lost parents, spouses who have lost spouses, and all the intimate conversations you have with a pastor leading up to it. If someone was going through a thing and at our house or church a lot, I got used to seeing them and took on all their pain by osmosis, because I don’t go looking for other people’s feelings. They come to me quite naturally, as if by a magnetic pull. I can open up to people, which gives them license to open up to me.
So, I feel like I don’t have the ability to stop caring about anyone, because those feelings flow through me all the time. I remember people’s stories from 40 years ago. That’s the two things that stopped me from starting a church. The first is that I burned out on pastoral care already. The second thing is that my mother died and two things happened. The first is that I needed her as my music director and she died. I didn’t want to work with anyone else at first. We were building a church. We weren’t to the stage where we can invite major musicians to play, and I assure you, my mother has sounded amazing with the best of the best. Google “Sylvia Danburg,” my concertmaster at HSPVA. They did a duet at my church when she was 14 that still lives in my memory…. not the melody, but the way it made me feel.
Being that empathetic and that neurodivergent cost me, because I’ve always been too intense for everyone. It’s why I spend so much time alone. I don’t have to hear it. If people think I’m too much, I am not threatened. I got shit to do.
I think bigger than most people because my personality type is very rare….. and all the comorbidities with my mental health make me astoundingly curious.
It’s a lot.
For instance, now I’m thinking about looking up the history of the moose. Because I am no longer a squirrel. I admit that I still have a “deer in headlights” look on my face a lot of the time, but at least I’m not tiny. I’m taller than I thought. More muscle mass. I can protect my brain from a lot of things, even rejection, because everything comes from me. I needed to develop a thicker skin, which I have now. I didn’t so much in the early days of my relationship with Supergrover. I believe she thought that she was more hurt than I was. We both overestimated our own pain and underestimated the other’s.
So, I hope that if Supergrover knows nothing else, she knows that this is not a cat and mouse game. We have both stopped playing, and it remains to be seen whether she agrees with me that getting real was a good thing.
I found it interesting that she said I knew nothing about her life, when everything I said about her attachment style turned out to be a double bullseye. I cannot speak to how she treats her family or her friends, but our particular dynamic was toxic at times, merely inauthenic at others. We’d reached the “merely inauthentic” phase long ago, and I could feel it on my skin.
I saw the writing on that particular wall, and wrote this weird letter in which I know I invalidated her feelings and I’ve apologized for it, because that’s not what I meant to do. What I meant to do was call her out on her bullshit so we could move on. Yet again, taken as an attack and swept under the rug so that my feelings were always invalidated and she thought that me telling her once or twice was a problem? How am I supposed to react when I open up to you and you say nothing, yet you have a shit ton of feelings about me and you’re telling someone else. I have never been wrong about that, either, until I sent her an e-mail on a related topic and she finally yelled at me……. and owned her shit like a boss.
I don’t want a relationship with someone who will string me along for years at a time. I want a relationship with someone who’s fiery and not afraid to stand up to me. I had that, and over time, I didn’t.
She said something about painting things as fact that I didn’t have the right to do. Yet, I have no idea what she’s talking about. It’s confusing, and not something we should avoid. The clearest way out is through. I just couldn’t convince her of that because she thought I was playing a cat and mouse game, or she was. Unclear.
What was clear is that we have such an incredible friendship when we’re not putting up walls that it was worth fighting for, even if I lost. That’s because the message I sent her was that I needed her anger at me. That her anger is so pure because she hasn’t been telling me what she really needs from me for a long time. Now, what she needs from me is grace and peace to think. Or, at least, I hope that’s what she wants from me. However, I did ask her if there was anything she wanted from me, including talking about our real issues now that we’re on the same page. It didn’t seem like playing games anymore.
And now I’ve explained the conflict between Israel and Palestine. Palestine has an anxious attachment to the world because they’ve never been given the safety and security of a two-state solution. Israel is avoidant because Netanyahu is not going to give up anything he’s not willing to give. It’s an impasse, and one that probably won’t get solved in my lifetime just like it didn’t get done in my mother’s. The conflict is too large, and the Americans shouldn’t do anything but send humanitarian aid to both people. Food. Medicine. Blankets. Doctors Without Borders (MSF). Those are the teams we should be sending, not military aid to a leader that will certainly unleash hell on everyone if it means he’s going home with a trophy.
This has nothing to do with Judaism. I’ve been to temple on Friday nights before, and it’s always been one of the most moving experiences I’ve ever had. When my grandmother died, I actually read The Kaddish through transliteration, because even though I’ve studied Hebrew, it’s in the context of dictionaries, not conversation. I’ve sung Hebrew before. Judaism is one of the cornerstones of my faite because just like “Little Mosque on the Prairie” (my favorite Canadian TV show), we had a church and a synagogue sharing space. The best part is the Episcopalian minister and the young Imam, because they do a kind of Denny Crane, Alan Shore thing by talking about their lives in pastoral care and they both have ALL the same problems. I could have walked onto the show and made people laugh just as much as they did, I assure you.
Here’s my favorite story in life. I will not tell you the name of the minister, because he has gone on to local television (and is a genuinely good guy). I don’t know if this story would make him laugh or make him mortified. My dad will know who I mean instantly, and that’s all that matters.
So, ministers, imams, and rabbis all have ways of marking someone as a child of God. For Christians, it’s baptism. In the Methodist church, this is not as extreme as a dunking in the river.
We just use a bowl of water and sprinkle it on the baby’s head…. what probably prompted me to wet all over the bishop, in retrospect. Sometimes it’s not easy to hear or feel rain when you’re about to burst. This is universal…… or at least, that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.
So, the senior minister asked the associate if he would go and get the Holy water in the baptismal font. He was not specific. What he meant was, “get the bowl and bring it to me.” It was in a 3,000 lb granite sacristy, and he tried to drag it across the floor. In the middle of the service. Which may or may not have been recorded.
I’ve told this story before, I think, but one time my dad did the wedding for a retired New England Patriot and his fianceé. The boys got a little too drunk the night before the wedding, and all of the sudden my dad feels who is basically Refrigerator Perry to him start leaning forward. I’m going to leave you with that image because the imagination is even better. He was woozy a long time….. but frankly, I only remember that someone ended up throwing up at at the wedding, but I’m not sure it was the groom.
Life as a minister is, as you can see, so glamorous.
The funniest stories are about the things that went wrong, not right. For instance, this little old lady we all adored because she gave absolutely no fucks stood up in the middle of worship and said, “David, have you lost your mic?” That is because it sincerely made my dad wonder how to respond and the room went still. Finally he figured it out and said, “I thought you asked if I had lost my mind.” That joke never would have been as good had it not been the “no fucks given” woman. Plus, it wouldn’t have bothered any of the four of us to be accused of losing our minds every day….. with no idea how they ever participated in the crazy because it would have been inappropriate to tell them. You’re as buttoned down as any therapist. You cannot say what you know. You cannot say at 11 years old that you know why they’re mad, and it doesn’t have anything to do with me. It’s your whatever relationship that’s getting you in trouble because my bedroom was next to my dad’s office. Yet I’m as much of a lockbox as he is, or I was until I became a blogger. Other people’s secrets were weighing me down, because I stopped putting my own opinions out there. Pleasing other people was not a choice for me, because Show Mode™ is relentless when your parent is a public figure.
You don’t have the choice whether to emote or not, because you cannot trust anyone. Is this a safe adult to talk to, or is this a way for them to get information on my dad to create a “gotcha” question in a board meeting?
My dad and John Grisham told me the most about life early on. The first, from my dad, is that people who don’t have power anywhere else will unload their frustration with this in church meetings. Their ego comes out quick, and they perhaps get more aggressive than normal. From John Grisham, “the hardest part about being a lawyer is having to convince 12 K-mart clerks you’re right.” Being a mediator becomes an impossible task at some church meetings because tempers are all flying high and you have to be the one that sits back and takes it because you’re the pastor. It’s your job to mediate them through the middle of the mess. You don’t get to have feelings, because you’re impartial- even though those decisions affect your parent the most.
It’s honestly why I believe that a church cannot be run by committee all the time, and I’m glad that even the congregational churches have denominational support. There are reinforcements to bring in so that there are more neutral parties; the pastor can have feelings, too. They don’t have to be the strong one anymore because there’s someone above them to take on the objective role and mediate.
When pastors tell you how they feel about something and try to sway a vote one way or the other, that’s picking favorites and trying to get them to vote the way you want. It’s rule 101 of being a pastor as something that will not work out well for you. The people on the outside are going to notice they’re on the outside.
You become your own nuclear bomb in which the congregation schisms because you can’t find your way to objectivity with a map and a flashlight……. which is exactly why my church fell apart and the new pastor sweated through every stitch to put us back together. I’m not sure that she knows I think that, but she’s entirely responsible for the congregation being healthy because it’s welcoming of all and not your inner circle.
This also says a lot about world politics while describing very small things. It’s applicable all over the world to different conflicts. It also depends on how you react to the pressure. Are you going to compromise or double down?
Maybe I’m a moose and a squirrel. A moose’s personality in a squirrel’s body, at least. Between Bullwinkle’s ineptitude and Rocky’s smarts, it feels a lot like the spectrum I inhabit. But part of being a moose in a squirrel’s body is learning to walk a little taller.
We may not beat Russia today, but I do hope we prevail. They need our help the most in terms of world balance, because the longer the rift goes between the US and Russia, the closer they get to China. They decide to hedge their bets and go with the other guy. Then, we keep ourselves wide open to Russia bombing the oilfields in Alaska…… because we’ve never had to face Russia and China at the same time, but I’m not thinking we’d like it. Sounds like a crazy idea, but I’m not trying to invent a conspiracy theory. I’m trying to present that the United States is up against a superpower and a former superpower banding together against us. That’s because we’re not the sun, as much as we’d like to think we are.
It takes us so much to be able to stop those kinds of things before they happen, because even if I’m not right on the money, I know I am describing a situation that could potentially happen in the wide realm of possibilities. If we got intel that Russia was about to blow up our oilfields, we’d probably burn them down before they could get to them. You don’t like us? Ok. Here goes all your oil, all the projects in Sakhalin to bring you fuel, the Alyeska pipeline, all of it. Just try us. If we can’t use it, neither can you.
But that’s why conflicts move as slow as they do. No one wants to interrupt American industry….. even in China, for the most part. Another delicate balance until China discovers they don’t need us anymore.
They’ll realize it a lot faster if we put a Russian “useful idiot” (UI) in The White House.
And then team up.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
And that describes relationships between two people as well as it does war. Do you react more when you’re hurt, or whether your friend is hurt? When you hurt someone, they’re likely going to confide in someone else about it, possibly someone who didn’t like you, anyway. Then, the original person has two enemies.
Russia and China are talking behind our backs like bitchy little mean girls, while inviting Kim Jong WTF for tea. I know most Americans don’t see this, because they don’t work in systems like I do. They don’t create scenarios that are fictional, yet just real enough. I wouldn’t have included details that sounded a bit scary if I didn’t genuinely care how this election went. It is a disaster for CIA to re-elect Trump. Neither White House nor intelligence officials will be allowed to tell you anything real. We will continue living in a fractured society with two different realities for far longer than necessary.
No one needs your version of the Bible, where the line between heaven and hell is only a hair’s breadth, making your people live in fear. No one believes Jesus, that the message is power with, not power over. No one likes a God of promise at either end of the spectrum because one has poisoned the other. When atheists meet me, it’s at first like I’m some sort of mythical creature that I can interpret scriptures for them off the top of my head that doesn’t sound like an absolute lunatic story because I know everything in the Bible is figurative and not literal. It can’t be literal. It wasn’t written down until long after it happened. Mistakes were made.
Most atheists haven’t heard of feminine or queer theology, that takes the message they’ve heard their whole lives and flips it on its ear. I don’t evangelize, I just talk like I talk. I’m not trying to change them and they know it. I allow them to take off their armor because I’m a resource if they want to know something but not an entitled dickhead who thinks they ought to know it whether they want to or not.
Even Jesus didn’t evangelize that way. It was, “I have something people want. Follow me if you want it, too.” The modern interpretation of this is somewhat alarming. Basically, you just say what you want to say and if they don’t want to hear it, you move on. That’s why they traveled. They didn’t take anyone who didn’t want to hear the rest.
We of the United States have not had that policy very often. That’s due to Evangelical Republicans twisting the meaning of Christian so badly that I cannot stand saying I am one, because it instantly brings up all the wrong images. Everything I stand for is concentrated into venom towards the limitations that that sect has put on me. I am a very flawed individual. The teachings of Jesus help me deal with that. What they don’t do is tell me to bother my friends when they’ve already stated their beliefs, and the most I’ve ever said is “if you’re looking for a church, come with me.” She did come, but wasn’t ready for membership.
Now she’s the accompanist, and I told her that if I could play inside baseball, I’d tell her to do a jazz arrangement of “Joyful, Joyful” as the postlude. I once watched her play Janis Joplin on stage, and her band (Twisted Whistle) used to play at my pub all the time.
I think she can handle it.
My purpose is helping people to be stronger in themselves by laying out my fears and dreams first. It makes it easier to come clean with yourself when you’re already in a vulnerable place from reading. I lay out my fears. You lay out yours, to yourself. And we both allow ourselves to feel nourished. The writer/reader connection is as unbreakable as hearing Bullwinke say, “hey, Rocky! Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!”
I love cartoons, especially when they remind me of me.
I’m starting to think that we’ve made it. We lived eight years past our grandfather, which I never in a million years thought would happen. I thought I was too unstable to last this long. But, thanks to our emotional growth in our 40s, we gained the will to live and to fight back. No one likes blowback. No one. I don’t like it about my writing, my people don’t like it about anything. People in general get defensive at blowback. I know I do. But it hits different when I emote and get punished for it. They emote and expect me to lie down and agree with them all the time. They’re not the jerk for the way they behaved. I’m the jerk for writing about it…. as if they’re not affecting my life at all.
When they affect my real life, they affect my story. I don’t make shit up. If we work through a conflict, people will see it in real time. Sometimes I wonder if Supergrover thought I was stirring up shit. I never was. I was expressing my real feelings about how her actions affected me. She’s been gone for roughly 15 years now, because she hit 100, too. We had a hard road the entire time, but it was worth it. Just wait it out. Eventually, she’ll read something that moves her and she’ll be back on your radar. I thought for many years that I wasn’t loved, and then found out I indeed was, in a very particular way and separate from her “real life,” but it wouldn’t have lasted our whole lives if we hadn’t had an absolutely horrible knock-down drag-out in 2023-2024.
We stopped being polite, and started getting real.
It was the thing that needed to happen to get us back on the same page, and not the asynchronous relationship we had before. Reading and drinking coffee at different times affected the story as well. What kind of mood were we in when we read each other?
I also needed to stop thinking of her as a fictional character, which I did given how much she dropped in and out of my life. Now, I don’t. But what I said last year became true. “I’m going to pour the love I have for you into the character because I cannot pour it into you. You have said that you do not accept it.” So, my character and I went on a journey and left her out of it, because she said that’s what she wanted.
Come to find out, she did not, because she didn’t see what the fictional part actually was because she didn’t ask me about it.
In retrospect, it was “the very best bad idea we’ve got sir. By far.” There is an “Argo” quote for every occasion. (I mine Bryan Cranston, John Goodman, and Alan Arkin for lines all the time).
If I had to pick a favorite line from Goodman, it’s when his assistant brings him a telephone and says, “Kevin Harkins for you, sir.” He picks up the phone and says, “hey, Tony.” He’s smoking a cigarette and laughing to himself. I’ve never seen a chuckle like that before. It was great.
In 2003, Supergrover sent me a note that said “Argo” was on TV and it made her think of me. You cannot imagine what a big compliment this was, because she’s not an intelligence peon like I’d like to believe I am. 😉 Our relationship expanded to fit both of us. She will also listen to my overtures while trying not to yawn.
I am still a lot.
Admitting that the storyline was a bad idea is great. But we had to work for a long time to come up with the right one. One that showed us both after we’d come into our power and stopped nitpicking each other.
I’m proud of you. Desperately, enormously proud of you. You’ve had a lot to deal with while struggling through this world not built for you. If there’s anything you should keep in mind, it’s that you’re not irregular, so your friends aren’t, either. I loved when you learned to stop trying to placate everyone else and started standing up for yourself, instead. It gave you hope and a future, just like Jeremiah predicted.
Because when you look at the future, you have to look at the past.
If money were no object, I’d outfit my room with a new desk and chair, plus get some serious electronics to go with them.
First, I would like a gaming rig because they’re easy to use for audio/video production. I love my computer now, but I need to see if it will support an external GPU and not run like a three-legged dog……. or whether I would be better off getting a new motherboard so I can add a PCI graphics card…. but then I’d need a new chip, a new everything. It’s a lot, and the graphics card I’d want to put in it would be at least a thousand dollars. Going that high end would also allow me to have an income stream, because I’d try my hand at mining crypto or something equally lucrative in distributed computing.
If I had an unlimited amount of dollars at Amazon, I’d be able to build a computer that would serve me for more than a few years at a time. It’s expensive not to have money for things like that, because you end up replacing them so often. The iMac I had at the Bob White House in Houston is still viable in 2024. I am absolutely kicking myself for not bringing it to DC. That’s because the hardware was plenty fast enough all on its own, and upgradable back then. It was also an Intel Mac, so it could have run Windows 10/11 flawlessly. I’m an idiot who doesn’t think things through, with both UNIX and Windows in the palm of my hand and I let it go.
That’s because they don’t make an M version of Windows. Any Mac I got now wouldn’t run it on bare metal, there would be a translation layer. It would make a $4,000 (or whatever) laptop seem like it was 2015, so forget about Triple A titles….. which I probably wouldn’t even play because I’ve been playing Skyrim for 10 years and I haven’t even finished a quarter of it.
With mods, I haven’t been through a tenth of it.
So, regardless of how we all feel about JK Rowling, we’ve all read the books (or at least, a majority across the world has so this will be universal). Returning to Skyrim over and over is returning to the comfort of Hogwarts. Getting to know characters you love rather than constantly changing books. I have, in effect, been reading the same story over and over, which explains a lot about my blog, I think…….
There become lines you will not cross because you love characters. I will not kill Alduin AND Paarthurnax. Paarthurnax has been sitting on top of a mountain for a thousand years or something like that. He’s constantly been alone for a thousand years. That’s punishment enough for his war crimes…. again, a thousand years ago when he already sacrificed of himself and gave the mortals a shout that would kill dragons. He is the Christ figure in the story, not the villain.
I will not let the Stormcloaks win the Civil War, because they’re racist bastards. I play Dunmer (Dark Elf, which doesn’t mean nefarious, just better at magic than a Nord without practicing). However, even if I was a Nord I would think they were full of shit. Other people run on pure emotion. They replace Jarl Balgruuf when they win the Civil War and instantly regret it. They get a huge “fuck around and find out” tax, but them’s the brakes, kid.
Or, in the words of Will Hunting, “how ya like them apples?”
I learned all this from reading reddit posts on the story, not by watching it play out in front of my eyes. I’ve watched so many people regret their poor decisions and reload a previous save.
By now, I’m head of the Thieves Guild, the Dark Brotherhood, and the Dragonborn. That’s three quest lines out of about a thousand. I also find it calming as a gardening and beekeeping simulation, because potions I create from my garden are quite valuable, just like I’d be very wealthy if I sold pain medication, essentially.
In Skyrim, you have to go to traders yourself all the time. With mods, you can set it up so that your employees do all that stuff, you just get the money. I have a home called Silverstead that sells everything, because I’ve expanded it into a whole town. There’s even an inn with a bard. I wish it had full game integration, so I’d see the people I normally see in my own pub. But that’s harder to do with a mod, so they normally only integrate the guards’ dialog.
Which often results in funny things.
Like, even in my own house, where I’m basically a laird, I hear, “SPEAK, elf.”
However, it does have follower barracks, so they all live with me and makes the town look a lot bigger. It’s more like bringing home with me than home being a specific place by now. I used a mod to marry Serana so I get all the perks that come with being married as well as a follower marked essential so she can’t die. The only thing the mod doesn’t do is give you a wedding at the Temple of Mara. It’s a very wise trade, because Serana is a powerful magician.
It’s especially important if you’re on a tank playthrough, or archery (bashing and cutting everyone, or shooting them with an arrow while obnoxiously overpowered). I try to get followers who can do everything, but start out with the basics. For instance, Lucien was a swordsman, and as I taught him more spells, he began to prefer magic. So, I added Lydia. She began to prefer staffs. So, I tend to have this affect on people, guiding them toward the light, literally. Spells are amazing in caves where it’s dark.
It’s also nice to have a vampire on the team, as Serana is. I get to live vicariously through her rather than having that type of magic myself. I’ve let her bite me before, and it sucked. Even when you drink blood potions, your eyes still burn in the sun and my eyes cannot take it. I’m not speaking figuratively. The screen goes very blurry and it stuns me as much as the character.
I have never become a werewolf because being a vampire lord was difficult on PC and I couldn’t figure it out. I have put off doing The Companions storyline because the vampire lord thing was so difficult that I thought, “I’m not sure I’d like playing as a werewolf any better.” So, mostly I keep doing the main storylines, but adding different followers so the dialogue stays fresh.
If you outfit Inigo in dragonbone armor, he will run out in front of enemies, yelling “I am wearing the remains of a giant lizard!” Although my favorite line is actually from Serana in her quest line. She says something about the Falmer being able to build better traps than bridges, and it cracked me up to the point of tears because I thought, “that’s probably because they’re blind, Serana….” I do what I can to add to the humor.
Lucien is written very posh and shits on himself all the time because his character is not built to progress in confidence as he gets better. So, after a battle, you’ll hear, “WE killed a dragon! Yup. because that’s exactly what happened!” He pretends like he’s been hiding the whole time.
The game is much better with followers that have contextual dialogue, so if there are vanilla players that have dialogue overhauls among the mods, I always add them. For instance, Lydia’s dialogue makes it clear that she is not so trusting of Serana because she doesn’t want a vampire on our team at first, for obvious reasons. Serana could kill us in the middle of the night, or turn us into vampires as well.
So, there are multi-layers to work through instead of just the surface.
I do not like The Blades, because they mettle in affairs they can barely understand. I am ashamed to lead them, so they stay in their little temple, seething that I won’t kill Paarthurnax.
Dude is probably my great grandfather or something.
People spend money on graphics cards to make everything more lifelike, more immersive. I don’t because to me, it looks immersive enough.
My primary goal in a media machine is to be able to edit audio and video. But it’s not a bad thing to make the game more realistic when I needed the resources, anyway. I’m not really a gamer, I just like spending time with characters I’ve known for years.
I like story building, not tearing it down. I want it to be more interesting. I do not want anyone else to be the villain. Yet people are shocked when I write them that way, because I don’t make shit up. You want a better review, compromise with me. I’ll go back to treating you like you earned it in text. What I won’t do is kowtow to people who love my writing….. but only when they look perfect and I don’t.
Probably one of the reasons it’s easy to get lost in the game. I have to have a reprieve. A way to get away from everything like my sister watches “Below Deck.” It’s absolute trash. But it gets her mind of her job. I respect that. It’s what she likes.
I like intelligence and computers. She’s starting to get into intelligence because I like it…. the stories of women who do incredible things. But even if she never picked something to like that I do, it wouldn’t matter. I will watch Below Deck and get interested in it for the amount of time she has to spend.
She’ll talk to me about the Mendez lecture even though my brain is spilling over with information and it’s all I want to talk about. It’s a balance. But mostly because Lindsay was also a political science major, so it’s not like I’m telling her stories that would be uninteresting to her, anyway. I like reality trash TV, just not as much as her. She doesn’t have to like intelligence and Skyrim as much as I do.
Which she doesn’t.
Probably because my brother in law got me into it.
Although I’ve never asked him what race he plays, his play style, etc. I was just watching him play one day (Xbox vs. PC) and thought, “that looks fun.” It’s years later. It’s still fun.
It’s something that makes my autistic brain play, when I’m used to hearing “God, Leslie. Chill!” I think that should give comfort to her and many people.
We have let our relationship grow to accommodate both of us. Even coming to DC is not leaving everything she knows. She works here a lot of the time. So, wanting to move here is not unlikely or unreasonable in the grand scheme of things, because she could end up with a job here literally tomorrow. I don’t think she’s looking, but what I do know is that in Austin, Houston, and DC she is a motherfucking badass and that’s why so many people want her. It’s not that she’s looking, it’s that she attracts energy to her and people ask her to work for them a lot of the time when she doesn’t see it coming. A lot of the time she does and refuses to be poached.
But honestly, wanting her to move here has nothing to do with anything except feeling protective of her. I have wanted her to move here for years, but it’s not because I’m trying to derail her life at all. Her life is also built here, so it doesn’t matter which city she lives in, really, as long as she stays in politics. I am not offended by “nope. I’m happy where I am.”
But even she agrees that it wouldn’t be impossible given her job choices. It would have to be a lucrative offer, like working in The White House. You don’t make much money there, but it’s on your CV your whole life.
It’s what I thought gave Kal Penn the edge on “The Daily Show,” but they didn’t go his direction. Hassan Minaj had it in the bag until that exposé came out about him. Then, Hassan and Roy left at the same time.
Jon came back to right the ship, I’m sure of it. However, I thought Leslie Jones should have gotten it. I have never laughed harder.
Back to my sister. I don’t want to be pushy by any means, but I’m also her older sister and we don’t have a mom. We’re our own moms now, and that’s not the easiest position to be in with a younger sister, especially with 5 and a half years between us. I go instant mom face at everything she says….. and mom face is “come here, let me fix everything.”
I got my review on our interactions at the book talk. Jonna Mendez told my dad that I’m a “spitfire,” and she won’t have any idea how much that means to me, because everyone has called my ex-wife that since she was a toddler and it felt like at the lecture, I brought my own shoes. So, not only was it an enormous compliment, it was sentimental in word choice for me. I loved it.
She’s kind of my inspiration as for what life will be like for all retired spies. That they’re having fun in their retirement when they’ve had such thankless jobs all their lives. The military gets plenty of recognition, but at CIA, you don’t want anyone to know you’ve literally moved heaven and earth that day. You can’t let anyone know. So, you’ve basically got a vet with PTSD living in your house and you may never know why. That doesn’t seem fun to me….. not the doing cool shit part. That seems great. Not being able to tell people what you do leaves out an entire piece of who you are. No one thinks of government wonks as having PTSD, and let’s face it. Most people at CIA are, in fact, government wonks with a desk job because the directorate of operations is not the entire Agency.
You just have to assume that every employee is Jonna Mendez, because if they were, they couldn’t tell you. It’s how you have empathy for intelligence officers in operations without asking any questions at all. Most people tell their partners that they’re CIA because of the logistics involved with why mom or dad has to be gone so often and at a moment’s notice.
No one tells their friends, their parents, their kids anything until they’re at least able to understand the seriousness of keeping quiet. It varies. Marti Peterson’s son figured it out on his own, I think, at about 15 (Marti Peterson was Trigon’s handler, the one that kept us far ahead in the Cold War.). Some people, like taking the vows to become a priest, decide that having a family is too much to handle and they live their entire lives under green glass.
The road to Oz is paved with good intentions.
I think I have found why I’m in love with intelligence. It’s the only profession I’ve found in the government where the research makes me wonder about their lives at home. I’m a very emotional, highly sensitive person. When I read things where Jonna is in danger, my heart still beats fast though nothing physically happened to her, BUT IT COULD HAVE. I’m such a tender heart hear that I want to hug her for surviving something that happened 30 years ago, so she’s probably okay, and I’m still like, “do you need Kleenex?”
I treat her like the cool grandmother, the one that makes Halloween exciting because who would know more about disguise? Ok, so Jonna and Tony Mendez Halloweens. Gotta talk about it. I wonder what it was actually like vs. what I think happened. They’re retired disguise artists and Tony was a magician. I’m not saying it was epic, but it being boring doesn’t add up in that particular household.
I’m buried in her book right now, and I’m debating getting a Kindle copy because it’s not large print. My eyes are glazing over even though I’m desperately interested because I don’t have a bright enough light to be able to see the text.
I know I’ll get a copy at some point, anyway, because I would like to have it in my digital library in case the house catches fire (now that I’ve been through two house fires, I’m practical). All of my signed Mendez books are kept in the top drawer of a very tall dresser- no mirror, just extra storage. There’s probably a very fancy French name for it, but I’m in the groove and I don’t want to break it to look it up. I have them all now. All of them autographed, and all but the newest on my Kindle as well.
So, that’s why it’s cool that Jonna thinks I’m a spitfire.
Who gets to meet their favorite author, and it turns out they like each other? It’s insane.
As I joked many years ago, “I have now met all of my favorite authors- Anne Lamott, David Sedaris, and Jonna Mendez. It was an absolute pleasure for Jonna to meet me.” I think she said something like, “charmed,” but it was funny. She is so fast.
When she’s in front of me, I just see graphics of “The Flash,” because that’s what happens in my head when I think about all the layers of complexity there are to the things she says in public. I actually do get more of that in my daily life thanks to Zac working in intelligence, which just reinforces my strict boundaries on what I will and won’t ask her. I wasn’t trying to throw her a fast one in the YouTube video. I was giving her a true moment of authenticity because when she was talking about a practical joke or whatever, of course it wouldn’t be classified. She could just be herself, with all her real emotions.
I am not a journalist, and I am not pretending that having a blog is equal to having a newspaper. Therefore, I just wanted a “slice of life” kind of story. What happens when I get involved with discussions on intelligence is that I am often quicker in my questions than they are in their answers; they begin to struggle against it because I am so smart that I am definitely on the right track but we can’t go there anymore. Zac can tell me with one look when the Chinese Wall needs to go up, and he doesn’t even have to look at me. I can tell by the way he reacts physically, even when I’m behind him.
I do not want to know the rest of the story. I want to know how much I’ve gotten right in the reading I’ve done. I am really the Autistic State Department all by myself, or so it has seemed some days. I am also every bit as uptight as Leo calling The New York Times to tell them they misspelled Qaddafi in the crossword.
Lindsay once called me David from “Six Feet Under,” and in retrospect I know it’s not because we’re queer……….. Lindsay and I are David and Claire to an enormous degree depending on when you meet us. I’m reminded of this because earlier I was talking to someone about how I loved the ads in the pilot.
I would like to think I’m more David Rose (Schitt’s Creek) than David Fisher, but you get what you get. Honestly, it being surprising Jonna called me a “spitfire” is precisely because I think of myself as David Fisher. I’m completely buttoned down except to one person. A spitfire seems exciting. David Fisher is boring.
But maybe my inner David Rose comes out more when she’s around, like flipping each other shit after the book talk. If I had been drinking something, you would not be getting this entry. I would have choked and died right there.
I told Oliver, who is a dog, all about it. He is now apprised of all my current operations, covert and public-facing. The thing I love about Oliver is that he loves being around me whether I’ve been a jackass that day or not. And I have very few days in which I don’t look like a jackass at one point or another. He’s the one I go to when I’m at the end of my rope, because what he lacks in conversational skills he makes up for in presence.
But sometimes, I do like feedback.
I need to talk to someone who knows geopolitical affairs and yet has no access to classified documents so that whatever they say won’t get me into hot water when I talk about things here. That’s why it’s easier to run my relationship with Zac through the New York Times. If it hasn’t been published there, he doesn’t tell me. We are not keeping each other out. We are protecting me as a writer and him as a civilian employee in intelligence, as well as Navy Reserves. It’s just better all the way around if we pretend the world isn’t going to hell in a handbasket and just enjoy “Slow Horses” together.
You know what’s better than watching Slow Horses? Watching it with someone who is really in intelligence and pauses it to point out sloppy tradecraft and/or plot. I like pausing it because it is literally the VH1 Pop Up Video of MI-6.
That’s the best thing about seeing spies talk about their memoirs when they retire, actually, because depending on when they left, you can learn about the operations that went on during your childhood….. for instance, one of the things I loved about Argo is that the real events happened when I was two. It was not ancient history to me, it was within my lifetime.
I feel the same way about operations in Kosovo, Iraq, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, etc. All the things that informed who I was as a person back then. Getting to see behind the press is the most fun part of studying intelligence. Getting to beat the press? I’m not that important, nor do I want to be.
I can say so much more in describing people than I can in describing what is going on politically, because people can relate to a conversation in the room. They can’t relate to countries talking in a room. It’s like most people not having a relationship with a million dollars, so they have no concept of how small or large that is. However, they know exactly how much $25 is and how it would affect them if they lost it.
I know this because one of my friends from one of our churches told me that after we left (by many years), they were in a huge budget discussion over a multimillion dollar restoration project that resolved quickly and fought over buying the kids’ Easter baskets.
People don’t have a concept when it comes to scale.
I am happy being but a citizen of Locker C, because I’ve found the right balance of how to know without knowing. How to judge by sensory perception and not words. Ultimately, what happens in the world doesn’t matter as much as what’s happening inside my boyfriend’s head. I see the difference, because he can say “the world’s a mess and I’m tired,” but he’ll be taking no further questions. I just try and hug the tension out of him, because I know that he’s carrying information he can’t talk about, but our mirror neurons can. They’ve had extensive conversations at this point.
Because I’m starting to think that Zac agrees with Jonna. I’m a spitfire, and other people know it better than I do. Honestly, what gives me the balls to write what I write is being a preacher’s kid. I have seen/met so many, many people over my lifetime and I’m only now starting the process I saw as a child. Seeing someone transition from being afraid of having an opinion to knowing it’s not right to let someone steamroll all over you and if you don’t say anything, you’re part of the problem. I was part of the problem in a lot of cases because I wouldn’t talk about my feelings. I have a barbed wire fence in my heart, and I gave SG! my access code. That way, her area was compartmentalized- what made it feel so much like a secret.
Seeing each other in a different context so that we weren’t constantly at each other’s throats has only been on the table once, and it was a long time ago. She wasn’t ready, but she told me that there was a possibility in the future and she’s told me over and over that she doesn’t lie about anything. It wasn’t a put-on, we’ve just changed over the years.
I wasn’t so much creating a dream, in retrospect (from yesterday 🙄). It was constant reassurance that we could do such a thing. That I wasn’t weirded out by the idea when it was frightening we might not vibe in person the way we do through writing. It might have broken what we have rather than supporting it. I don’t think I’ll ever know. But what I do know is that I was reassuring myself that this was real, keeping myself grounded, and hoping she’d help. She didn’t until recently, because the longer we didn’t talk about things, the worse I felt. It was dehumanizing to an enormous degree, because she doesn’t see me as hurt. She sees me as angry, so she’s hurt. I am angry. I am hurt. But it doesn’t turn off the emotions I have regarding things that have felt like love but somehow aren’t?
I felt that tension, and she confirmed it. She was hiding how she felt because she was afraid of my reaction, which has now happened three or four times in our relationship, and the first crack in the facade that this was not going to be good for me is that she accused me of something I didn’t do and held it over my head until I explained to her what actually happened. She admitted she’d been deflecting from another issue. It’s a pattern that has repeated for ten years, except her avoidance of problems scares me. I’m used to being able to talk it out. She’s used to sweeping things under the rug. It’s a fundamental difference in what makes us achieve equilibrium.
So, the more I opened up, the more she felt guilty. The more she felt guilty, she tried to placate me. She thought that I was demanding of her time, when I was demanding that she tell the truth. That’s all. Stop leaving me in the dark about everything so that I know how to plan for any kind of future. It’s exhausting thinking about all of them.
I don’t know what changed, but something did. I couldn’t anticipate her needs. She couldn’t anticipate mine. But we could have fixed it a lot earlier than we did…. because at present I feel like it’s fixed. I didn’t deny anything, and I didn’t apologize for it, either, because I refuse to know you’re hurt in advance. You’re the one derailing my story at that point, because I don’t make shit up. I think about what I know, because that’s how much control I have.
If I have enough chutzpah to talk about my problems every day, I expect that other people are also that emotionally capable. I’m not always right, but I know I’m giving everyone the benefit of the doubt and not “talking down to the audience.” I tire quickly of people who can’t emote, because I refuse to live in the traditional culture of women….. doing most things by inference while men just say what they want and if other people agree with them, they say so. If they think another man is an idiot, they’ll say that, too. What they won’t do is stand there and say nothing….. at least in my experience. A Texan will not let themselves be wrong with grace and style. They won’t let other people “be wrong,” either, because all men are convinced that if they explain something, it’s correct. When men are together, everyone decides how correct they are in percentages.
It seems dumb, but it allows everyone to take up room and have their own opinions while also allowing everyone to save face….. the idiots gaining at least a point for comic relief.
That’s what I need in my relationships. For the other person to realize that I know I own 50% of the problem, but if your way of resolving it is to put distance between us, you’ll only feel more resentful the next time we get together. You think you’re saving my feelings. but it hurts more when the fight resolves a year or two later by taking 20 minutes to talk/cry it out. Now we’ve traded 20 minutes for a year in which we could have been happier, because the energy it takes to dislike someone is heavy and dark. I don’t want to carry it longer than necessary.
If that’s how my feelings are about someone, I’ve learned to find closure in myself and move on. I don’t have time to waste on people who find deflection easier than conflict resolution. I have found those people over and over in my life, because lots of people tiptoe around me. I want to know why to change me, but also why other people stop taking up space when they’re perfectly entitled to it. It’s so much easier to be giants together than unable to express ourselves because we’re afraid.
However, it’s easy to see how this pattern begins. You think you’re compatible because the connection is explosive. You think differently, so you’re feeding separate parts of each other’s brain. Over time it becomes toxic because one person gets so tired of the other emoting………. which makes the other person scared of emotions and avoidant as well. Then, neither of the people in the relationship are helping to resolve conflict and move on.
The trap is manhole cover in size, as has been with all of the women I’ve been with. Even with polyamory sometimes it’s about difference and sometimes it’s not realizing that the people’s unique experiences make them seem different. You just don’t realize it until the new wears off….. my fear of ever getting married again. That I will get stuck with someone who can’t talk about their emotions, but I won’t find out until I’m completely invested like I was with Sam, et al, I assure you.
For me, getting married again would be paperwork, because I don’t want a partner to be able to touch my inheritance, for instance. It’s too precious, not that I wouldn’t share it should I choose to when I’m as ancient as you’re going to be. I’m the type person that if I have it and my people need it, it’s theirs. But I’ve never had enough money to test my limits, which so far have been using me up first.
It was worth it for a moment of being a spitfire, because I know it takes one to notice another.
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
The moment I saw the prompt, my head began to explode.
I’m feeling all of my feelings right now, and it is not pleasant. But to understand where I am now, you have to understand that absolutely none of this has to do with my mom and dad. I love the name they gave me because it’s mine. Ann Davis’s mother says “Leslie Lanagan sounds like a movie star name.” I’ve smiled about that to myself for 20 years.
The problem is that I can’t say my middle name without my guts twisting up.
It should affect me as much as it does. It’s the tender place inside me that reminds me that I’m smart, strong, and brave to be able to handle everything I’m handling. It is redemption and recovery from a battle with a narcissist in which I lost, but I won the war.
And in fact, I think I’ll write about something else now. If you’re really that interested, I’m sure you can Google it. I don’t feel good about the direction this is going, and I need to give myself some grace. I can see the trails of thought setting themselves up in front of me, and none of them are positive.
But, I am entitled to my feelings, and they serve as a warning. My intuition is tuned. It’s why I haven’t changed it. That, and I tried changing my signature. It does not work…. changing any of it.
What’s done is done.
I’m not being dramatic. Maybe this story will come out another day, except it has. Just over and over. The emotional tendrils a narcissist puts in you are hard to get back out. You need a lot of meat tenderizer and a sharp razor.
My middle name is where the rubber meets the road, and if that’s all you ever know about it, you’ve gotten the important part.
And the fact is, everyone who’s met me from grade seven on knows why. I am sure I’ve even said it before on this blog, because I was a writer long before all of this happened.
My name didn’t change. I did.
It’s as dramatic a change as the time I spent with Meagan- first girlfriend, we were 17- my speech patterns changed from American to Canadian because I say grade seven now rather than seventh grade. It’s a great analogy for so many things, because there are so many Canadian-isms that I’ve adopted. That’s just one example of something second nature to me that didn’t come from my parents.
Having a tortured, nauseous feeling when I think about the fact that I have the middle name that I do? Not given to me by my parents, either.
When I was at my smallest, most insecure place about the future of the relationship and I couldn’t see my way through it, all the crying, all the avoidance, all the trying to let go and not…….
It lasted a grand total of eight months.
That’s because she never said anything like, “I have to prioritize other things over you, but I think about you all the time.” It would have gone such a long way in calming my anxiety, but I had to beg her for even that much, and it was in reminiscence. I couldn’t do anything about it, preventing a problem from happening. I could only watch it happen from the outside, because otherwise, I would have seemed entitled. I could only rage about my own feelings in abstentia of hers.
It’s what happens when we stop telling ourselves the same story. A lot of my blog is a coping mechanism, and she’s responsible for a lot of things over which I need to cope. However, they are not bad things. They’re good. I love them. But I can’t do it all by myself, and the thought of saying goodbye to all of it scares me, because after 10 years, it’s what I know.
I had to decide which was more scary. Living without Supergrover’s response or living without her, because I was living without her either way. I have never been sure I could cope on my own until now, because she said “if you write about me, I can’t stop you.” At first, even this was up for debate, entirely why I said I’d give up my career for hers. Not to own the fact that some of the reason I moved closer to her was valid. Some of it wasn’t. That’s because it was all based on my perception of what happened, and not what actually did.
It’s not that you’re not getting real feelings. It’s that when I don’t know someone else’s story, I’m writing out what could have possibly happened so I know what set that person off and why. I’m my own survival manual in terms of social masking.
Over time, I just got this image in my head of us taking over an office with desktops or bedroom with laptops. To be clear, this is the part where she says something like “my husband’s out of town and I actually have bandwidth to spend with friends,” or whatever. NOT “I think you should give me this and I won’t be happy if you don’t.” Talking about my best wishes doesn’t have anything to do with what happens. I can dream of it, but without a dream, there’s no goal. Without a vision, the people perish.
So, when I take a left turn at Albuquerque, it’s not because I’m trying to hurt her. It’s that she sees the story she’s telling herself and it’s one I didn’t know until recently. Neither one of us could come toward each other because we were constantly afraid of setting the other one off. The things that endeared us at first pulled us apart.
I just kept thinking more and more about how different we were, and that since I had done so much growth over the last two years, I had the right to dictate some terms in the relationship. Not all of them. But establish boundaries. Mostly, it was being consistent. I could not tell whether she was in or out at any time, because I didn’t feel enough safety and security. I felt the surface and the undertow every single day.
I am not sure that she did or didn’t. I can’t speak to that. But what I can say is that I didn’t know which person was going to show up, so I was constantly trying to predict her next move. If my words were being received as attacks, what am I doing that makes her think I want to attack her? All people get mad at each other and act like children.
At what point do you accept it and learn to move on?
I know our responses to each other are always going to be feral because there’s no filter. I’m prepared for that.
What I didn’t count up is all the ways I was unprepared, because she wouldn’t open up. It grew so tiresome that I thought, “I need to get out more.” I didn’t give up because I was so insistent on breaking her boundaries. I gave up because how do you talk to someone who doesn’t want it?
You’re a land of secrets; its only citizen. Though I paid my dues, I was never allowed in…..
-Hope Alone, Indigo Girls
Which is why our relationship is so beautiful and so fucked up……. the reason, beautiful girl, that I write beautiful and fucked up things.
It’s never been easy, and it won’t be now. It may not even exist now, because I do not understand what is going on in a fundamental way. What I do know is that my lack of understanding will, as far as I know, last about eight months.
There’s been a bit of bending the spoon lately, because I’ve realized that I’m part of the problem in not seeming approachable in terms of talking to me about problems, but I’m not responsible for trying to predict/avoid other people’s avoidance. Just let them go. Stop calling them on it. They know and they don’t care how it affects you. If they did, they’d tell you so. I am not responsible for keeping both halves of a relationship going. It’s going to be healthy or it’s going to die. I cannot predict what someone else is going to do next, and I’ve stopped trying.
People have noticed the change, because I’ve ridden down a lot of rivers in ramshackle boats trying to keep a relationship’s current from dragging me under. I am not, day to day, a strong personality. I seem like it in my writing, but I do not have the strength to just lay it down in front of everyone, especially after I’ve already spent my “emotional energy” spoons here. After I finish writing, it’s the dance of intimacy.
I have the same relationship with myself that I do with everyone else. After a fight that gets emotionally crispy, I retreat to recharge. Writing about difficult things leaves me just as fried as a conversation about something complex. So, it is very true that before I put myself around other people, I have to recover from myself, first.
It’s a lot.
When Supergrover said those exact words the other day, “it’s a lot,” I thought about it for a very long time. She sees that we’re both a lot. Again, what is she reacting to that I’m not? The only thing I can come up with is that she thinks I think there’s a problem with her, when there isn’t. There is a problem we need to work on. It is a group project, and me working on it alone has produced results she didn’t like because she wasn’t in on the story and couldn’t be. I had to have it whether she was here or not……
Because it’s not her story.
There are so many things built up here that are nothing. They got big by continually ignoring them.
I do not want to be a judgmental dickhead, nor do I want to be a dictator ever again. What I do want is to be a decent friend. That’s just not going to come at the cost of inauthentic relationships so I can keep other people from getting mad at me. I don’t care if people are mad at me, because I didn’t cause their anger. They chose to react with anger. In all cases, and a universal “they.”
I am responsible for helping put the relationship back together after a conflict, but I am not the reason you got angry. You are. Just like it’s my responsibility to control/regulate my emotions.
Supergrover could see that I needed that kind of help because I’m on medication for it. It’s easy to tell the bipolar kid they’re being unreasonable. Not so easy to tell an adult who’s got it together that they’re not any better at regulating than you are, for different reasons.
She wasn’t regulating her emotions, she was storing them up until she said she lost the ability to be a decent friend.
She was just going to keep me going like this for the rest of my life if I’d never called her on her bullshit. She was never going to regulate her emotions enough to be able to tell me what she wanted without stuttering and without becoming the princess of mixed signals at every turn.
I didn’t do any better. I just got caught up in her wake and drowned trying to learn to surf.
It became pricks on my skin I couldn’t close anymore, a phrase I could not have crafted and yet love so dearly.
My beautiful girl.
I never wanted that for either of us. I hope we both give ourselves the grace and peace we need.
But the thing that will stick with me in this argument is that she picked up her toys and went home because she thought I was telling her that our problems were all HER fault….. when all this time I have been saying that if I wasn’t a problem, we wouldn’t have any others. I’m the root. I take responsibility for that.
But in my own mind what happened is that she became disconnected from what happened long ago, maybe doesn’t even remember everything, and I am treating it as one entire narrative. She is doing something that’s hurting me right now, but it is in the tumble and roll of our relationship, not “I am right about this and about everything else.”
I do not need the whole world. I am happy with a tiny, tiny piece.
I’m the president of Overthinker’s Anonymous, who needs her VP and is telling the world she is unhappy about that.
It would be funny if it wasn’t so serious.
But learning all of this so recently has prepared me for other relationships. There’s just a sweet side of me that hopes she’ll again come back to me and say “I was licking my wounds,” because when she doesn’t tell me what they are, I can’t really help with the Neosporin, either. I don’t have a right to her thoughts, but I do have the right to insist on the truth when she does talk to me. I cannot survive on carbs alone. I’m going to need protein at some point.
But I didn’t realize she’s been carrying granola bars the whole time. I couldn’t hang because I was working blind.
It takes a lot to be a blogger, because essentially what you’re doing is trying to show the world in minute detail, and you have to do it in a hurry because the new prompt comes at midnight. I have one day to complete the assignment. When the prompt only asked for the first line of my autobiography, I thought, “OK. I’ll bite. That way, I’ll get a day off without breaking my streak.” It was more time to devote to the characters I love…. not that I was trying to be mean to you or anything. Sometimes, I just have to live more before I react.
However, criticism very much feels like the criticism of the other arts. Your muses are offended because they don’t see themselves the way you see them. Your family is embarrassed at least some of the time. I have to deal with the fact that my life is on display, and so do my friends. But they can be grateful I will never film them. This is not Instagram, where I surprise people by taking photos of them in unflattering positions. Painting a picture with words is a lot harder than taking a picture, I think, because we don’t start from a picture that is necessarily accurate to us, certainly not objective.
I wish I had pictures of me and SG! when it was good, because it would have been a nice keepsake. I mean, it’s one thing to have pictures of her, it’s another to banter together long enough to want to take it. Getting to take pictures with her would never have been the point. It would have been her wanting a picture of us together and saying “I’ll text it to you.” Even my sister makes me feel important when she does it, because a powerful person trusts me with their intimate images and I get the bonus of looking at their faces when they’re out of pocket.
I look at both of them lovingly. I’m sandwiched between them age-wise and shit rolls downhill. I sound a lot like her in person, and I want her to laugh her ass off about that given our conversation the other day.
I just had a thought that cracked me the fuck up, so I want to make her laugh even harder. If there is one, only one thing that makes her feel like a mother to me it’s that I hear her words and phrases coming out of my mouth. I do not have her accent down, so I cannot do an impression. But what I can do is say it how I think she’d say it, and she takes no prisoners.
So, what I would like to say is that if you know me in real life, I would give you exactly where to go to lodge complaints about “my tone.” But, it would not go well for you. She takes no prisoners, suffers no fools gladly, terms, conditions, provisos, the what-have-yous, etc. As I have said before, I have several friends that if we were mutual, they’d regret it. She knows what you did….. 😉 But don’t worry. She also knows a shit ton more about what I did. I can’t control your behavior, but I can learn to control my reaction.
It made me think of a line she wrote me years ago…. “my mother does not suffer fools gladly…..” That’s what I love about SG!. She can figure out the bullshit games running in any room, which is why I use poker metaphors here all the time. I know she understands the rules and the stakes. It’s a weird feeling, bankrolling me and running the juice.
The juice didn’t stop running until I was ready to make Teddy KGB choke down his Oreos all fuckin’ night.
But it’s not the last hand that matters, is it? It’s being able to read the man and not the hand. I don’t know how professional poker players can read the hand blind based on what’s left in the deck, but I do know the microaggressions of someone who has a good hand vs. a bad one.
Note to self:
At next book talk, ask Jonna if she is good at poker. I think her next title, should she write a sequel to “In True Face,” should be “This Would Be Funny If It Wasn’t So Serious…” which is something she said during the talk. I’m sure someone has thought of that title before. Not sure the subject has ever been more serious as a career at CIA while female. They thought she couldn’t handle a lot of things because apparently being able to support your husband at home and at work (if you were a “contract wife,” you could get a job anywhere in the world your spouse was posted in the typing pool. That doesn’t mean that Jonna married John or Tony for a job. It means that was the CIA term for how most of the people got their jobs in the typing pool. Keep it in the family, always. Easier to manage.
Why the trope about spies marrying each other is true to life. The Agency is a bubble, and allows you to forget your real life quickly, just like the military. I’m not sure that being able to get a job anywhere in the world is true of spouses now in the military/intelligence services, but I do know that if you want to work, there’s lots of opportunity if you’re on a military base or have been to the Chief of Station’s house for dinner once if they’re desperate.
Military spouses know the feeling of their partners coming home and struggling with life not surrounding all the stuff going on “out there.” It’s a helpless feeling, I’m sure, if you’re at all interested in geopolitics.
Jonna got to take a turn from the typing pool into a career because of luck, with both her and Tony being cut off from a fire hose worth of information about the chess board every single day. So, they met with their old friends at art shows just to reminisce- respecting boundaries and just loving the people involved.
As usual, I got lost in my own head and went in a million directions, because my autism can connect intelligence to anything because that’s how I understand the world. My view on systems is bird’s eye because I can handle those patterns easier than I can handle waking up in the morning.
With autism, the little things are the big things. It takes you energy to do your job and come up with great ideas. It takes us energy to make it to said job, but amazing once we get there (a good bit of the time) if we’re low needs and if other people are willing to hear us out.
Most people say “that was out there, even for me.” That’s because most of the people who say it are “great with autistic people working for/with them.” But it’s still the same dichotomy as in high school….. “Jesus Christ, do I have to explain everything to you?” You get it or you don’t in most workplaces, and if you’re neurodivergent, the chances are always 20% that someone will think you get it.
Autistic people get jobs all the time.
It’s really hard to keep them based on social cues you don’t know at times you desperately need them. For instance, it’s really hard for me to be around people who don’t also swear as much as line cooks because it’s really hard for me not to use swear words as filler….. because I’ve been on the line for so many years….. and yet also a grammar Nazi so insults often come as not to end a sentence on a preposition. It’s like trying to control Anthony Bourdain, not because I’m something special but because he’s like all of us.
I become “Little Fires Everywhere,” the Celeste Ng title that describes be because I haven’t found many people who understand me. I leave confusion in my wake, always.
The first time I did meet a someone, I knew it. The second time I sort of did? I struggled with it for 10 years. That’s because we both vastly underrated each other. She thought I was too needy, I thought she was too avoidant. We finally met in the middle and I hope discovered that neither of the stories we’d been telling ourselves are true. I can wait my whole life, because I’m only here to receive her energy, not show up regardless. It’s starting to feel pushy even if it isn’t true, because I don’t know if she’s going to respond to my response or not. She always leaves a door open. Always.
The funniest part is feeling at times like, “you fired me yesterday.” That I was indeed just as dedicated as any fashion assistant anywhere…………….. and so was she. It just became a problem when it felt like she was always the Mary and I was always the Rhoda. It was the push pull of wanting to be my own Mary, but being the president of everything because being the Vice President of Overthinker’s Anonymous is not her vibe. President is a public facing office. 😉
I cast a wider net for friends in college.
Or, I started blogging in 2003 because I could cast a wider net for friends. Our closeness was not based on proximity, but emotional intimacy. That feeling of being able to say anything and it won’t be able to get back to your family and friends, etc. Whether I’ve ever been catfished, I don’t know. Clearly once as a child, but I’m emotionally intelligent enough to close the chat windows that feel weird. The text, even the subtext just feels off and you know it if you’ve been chatting a long time. You learn to weed people out. That’s how I’ve found lasting friendships and not flings. Getting to know people from the inside out is a great answer for millions. It doesn’t make you put energy out there so much as attract energy to you.
It is how I’ve learned to control being “little fires everywhere” and concentrate on being the best person I can be. I cannot control my havoc in a neurotypical world, but I can apologize for my responses to it without taking away from the seriousness of what happened. That I will retreat, but I will return with a clear invitation. I don’t want to be with or be friends with anyone who doesn’t want to be here. It just feels insulting to me, and something that I don’t want in my life. For instance, a little bit of the everyday type of assurance we’re good so that I don’t have to walk around thinking about a problem that does not exist,
Only sometimes do I need more support than that; mostly, I just feel insecure after a fight. Who doesn’t? I just feel it on my skin.
Whether it’s joy or rage, I feel my emotions physically. It’s, I hope, why I can describe them. They aren’t insignificant.
But I only understand others’ reactions when I figure out how I participated in other people’s inner conflicts as well. I do not want to be the cause of them.
My medical diagnosis is “alternating lateral isotropia.”
What it means is that my eyes do not track together. I do not have 3D vision, which means that I cannot place an object in its environment. I have no depth perception or angle of convergence. The way it is different from a strabismus is that neurologically, by brain switches “cameras,” thus fields of vision, depending on which eye it thinks can see the best…. leaving me with no peripheral vision and also no ability to predict what’s going to be outside my field of vision.
It also makes finding things I’ve just set down extraordinarily difficult, something I’ve struggled with forever…. again, rewarding neurotypical kids for things that are very hard for the neurodivergent. When a teacher notices you lose everything, you lose all respect with them. It affects grades where the letter is an abstract concept, like essays. I wish I excelled at math, because there would have been no fear of rejection with every paper and I could have felt better about myself without a teacher’s approval.
It doesn’t help that the real non-medical definition of my medical condition is “lazy eye.” That irritates me, too. I’m a writer. Why wouldn’t lazy be a trigger for me? Trust me, I may not “work” faster than you (universal) because I don’t know how neurotypicals do it, but I think faster. It’s not because I’m neurotypical. It’s that my entire job here is reacting to life, so I feel practiced at it and more comfortable in my skin. Lucky enough to be as old as I am because the good experiences only start happening after you’ve figured out how to avoid all the land mines first.
It’s good I’m still workin’ on that.
But back to this whole “lazy eye” thing. It makes me feel lesser than, and though I know that doctors use it, they should know that for some people it doesn’t feel particularly favorable…. like “MDT” in Appalachia.
If you’re not a doctor there, you’d never figure it out. It’s not really something you can google, only something they’ve seen a thousand times and you probably haven’t. My cousin got his DO in West Virginia. Because it’s local slang for something I feel is pejorative, I won’t say it here. I’ll let them keep it to themselves because it would seem really mean outside of an emergency setting. Mostly because I don’t want people to shoot the messenger, not that I’m not brave enough. I don’t have to live there, but they do.
That was all bullshit. Of course I won’t hold back on you. If they’re willing to use it in a public setting, I don’t care about their feelings.
MDT stands for “Mountain Dew Teeth.” It absolutely will rot everything in your head if you are completely addicted, and that kind of exposure to sugar can absolutely kill you when you wait until it’s an emergency and septic.
People have had this addiction since Mountain Dew was a home brew. Long, long before it developed into a nationwide phenomenon.
There are also lots of other things that doctors don’t want patients to know, but they have to have a black sense of humor to deal with the pressure. It’s not trying to be mean, it’s learning to breathe. Think line cook.
So, I don’t know what doctors say about me behind my back, but I know lots of things they would say when lives are on the line.
Doctors’ hardest jobs are the cleanup from not having universal health insurance. They are bound by the Hippocratic Oath, yet it’s not an easy job when you are starting with fucked up. The ER is full of complicated cases where people have gone to the Emergency Room at the height of their disease. The part where it gets harder and harder to tell people they’ll recover from this.
Death happens at random, but it’s more likely when the odds are stacked against you. You think something is wrong, and wait to go to the doctor until you’re in renal failure. Other countries don’t have this problem.
Having universal heath care would help a lot of doctors’ mental health…. because there’d be so many less emergencies. It helps when you have time to prepare a plan.
I know all of this through talking to doctors when they’re off work, not by being a patient. So, I’m not as bothered when medical professionals call it “lazy eye” because if I’m at the doctor I’m already thinking in clinical mode, anyway. The emotion is not going to affect me, at least not until it accumulates.
People ask me all the time if I’m looking at them, and I don’t fuckin’ know. Your guess is as good as mine, and I am not in the mood for your bullshit ever. It’s always said with this curiosity tinged with “that’s so weird.” That’s why Zac can get away with making fun of me and no one else can. His jabs don’t feel like he’s punching down when he is also disabled, something I’ve never had in a friend or partner.
Disability is a relative term in the military. I don’t mean to imply that he is also unemployed. He’s classified as disabled, but he’s physically strong enough to work. It”s going to make a good pension for him, and I think he’s going to be really happy no matter what he chooses to do after this. It’s cool to be able to stand next to an adult when I feel like I don’t have it together.
Plus, there’s lots of soda in his basement, which adds to his charm.
Today, I’m going home because even though Zac is of and about, I wanted to wake up with Oliver. I wished Zac could have come with me, but the stars didn’t align for that one. I’ll just have to wait for Jason Moran at The Kennedy Center.
Oh, but here’s the best thing I’ve heard in a million years:
Leslie (texting a link): I know you’re not a huge fan, but I thought you might want to read my impressions of last night.
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
I wrote this last night and hit the wrong button. You’ll get today’s writing prompt later. 😉
This evening I find myself caught between reading and writing, because I just got home from hearing Jonna Mendez talk about her new autobiography, “In True Face.” I think this is my new favorite story in life, thus why I wanted to write it down right away.
As I’ve said before, Jonna and I know each other a little bit, and she was bummed she didn’t get to invite me herself- glad I got the message because “you usually come to these things.” But we didn’t speak beforehand, I just gave her a nod; she smiled as I sat down.
She talked about living in Kansas, growing up in her sister’s shadow. Marrying two case officers and living in their shadows, somewhat. I don’t think she would think of herself as living in Tony’s shadow if he wasn’t known the world over as Ben Affleck on screen. a
It’s one thing to see your life, well, in real life. Quite another to see it reflected back to you in media. I have no idea who Tony really was, but here is what I do know.
In all the time that I’ve known her, she’s never called him “Tony” when we were in the same room. I noticed it right away. The telltale sign that she’s hiding something. There has to be something left for her, that only she gets. She has to talk about him publicly. Tony Mendez is as much as she can handle during speaking engagements. That’s because she’s not talking about her husband. She’s talking about his trademark and his tradecraft.
I can’t imagine how hard that is, but I can empathize with the idea of it. I haven’t lost a partner, but I have lost a mother. Talking about what my mother did professionally is indeed the easy part. I see and understand it deeply because I have been there so many times. It gets easier, and it looked to me that she was doing okay. You’re never the same, but it’s only been since 2019. Therefore, we could both feel his presence in the room…. because I moved to DC after Tony stopped doing public appearances (he got Parkinson’s Disease), but have been one of the Mendez’ biggest fans for years. The writer/reader connection is unbreakable, especially for writers like Jonna, Tony, and me. I write every day about my life and they saved theirs up for publication, but at the end of the day it’s all us spilling our guts and trying to make sense of a lot of shit that will never reconcile.
I wonder what was going on in her head when, during the Q&A, a man asked how she responded to (and I’m paraphrasing, here) all the horrible shit that CIA has done worldwide since 1947…. like MK Ultra (my first thought? “Look here, you little shit…”). She disposed of him as quickly as I’ve been taught by my dad. How to de-escalate? Tell the absolute truth.
She said, “you know, MK Ultra came out of my office and it went horribly, horribly wrong. We didn’t want to get caught with our pants down and we didn’t use anyone who didn’t sign up. But we didn’t know all the things about x, y, and z that we do now (I am only giving the gist, I don’t want to speak for her), and that she felt CIA had already owned up to it.
Then we moved on.
Another guy asked her how long there was between John and Tony or some other dumbfuckery. It was like there was a test with some sort of “gotcha” that wasn’t there. I’m guessing those people were from magazines or something, because if you were there tonight, you were a fan. Amanda (Education and Outreach) told us that we were the fan club, and I believe it. Want to know how I know that? I talked the guy’s ear off in front of me and by the time he got to the checkout he also bought “The Moscow Rules.”
Everywhere I go, Jonna Mendez sells books. I don’t know what it is about me. I have never been able to sell anyone on anything else, but my excitement about watching real spies vs. the hyped up bullshit normally on TV seems to resonate with people. The truth is that people believe CIA is associated with all that Bond hero shit, and that’s fine. I’m not here to take away their fantasy.
But I am here to tell you that through Jonna Mendez telling her own story, I know what it feels like to be eye to eye with Bin Laden… or at least, that high value a target. She wasn’t specific. Probably won’t be, because I don’t think those ops will be completely declassified for a long time.
I wondered what it had been like to carry that burden. What it had been like not to be able to talk about what she’d been through, because I’ve been interested in psychology since university. What does it do to the brain to carry information like that long term?
If we are not doing a very good job at taking care of the military when they come home, I doubt the government is pulling out all the stops for CIA. I am not saying that there aren’t as many resources for case officers as there are for the military. I just don’t know any people in the military that aren’t allowed to tell people they joined. Your husbands and wives absolutely are doing the dangerous shit you think they are if you have even the slightest hint that they’re C/DIA.
What if you had to be next to Putin in disguise so you could take a picture of the document he was about to sign? You have three seconds and it has to be perfect because this won’t ever happen again. Would your hands shake?
Jonna Mendez has never existed at CIA. Ever. I know that while she worked there, her first name was “Faith,” but she did not reveal her middle and last names. But even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m sure “Faith” is just one of the many lives she led.
One of her fears was that she would die overseas under her CIA name and no one would ever hear from her again. I would think that someone has found a way to fix this fundamental issue electronically, but I do not know for sure. In the era of printed tickets?
There are many unnamed stars on the wall at Langley, and I wonder how many more there are you can’t count. Again, because I don’t want to worry the mothers or whatever, there’s no way this problem cannot be solved already. I felt it, though, because she talked me through it on the train home as she wrestled it out. How she got to “this is it. I’m going to die alone.” It was not an unreasonable assumption. The terrorist across from her had armed guards. They didn’t make her. The terrorist did. To be clear, he also made three or four others. This was not a mistake in tradecraft on her part. Everyone came prepared for that meeting, except their guys had AKs.
I’ve heard that story from her before, but in the books it is not made as clear as it was to me tonight that who she met was absolutely no joke. It was her reaction. The way she said pure evil. There was a bit of trying to demonstrate how powerful this person was while also trying to keep out a deeper response from surfacing. I know that her purpose is educating the audience, not scaring them so bad they won’t come back. She just described the look in his eyes so perfectly that I knew she was standing in that memory for a nanosecond and stepping out of the pool.
The nanosecond is scarier than anything she could say out loud. No contest. Her real face is the one you’ve wanted to see all along.
What I haven’t said is about my participation in the whole thing. At “The Moscow Rules,” the line for questions was really long. So, I stand up, and not only is there no line, I can’t even find the microphone at first. So, I pretend like this is absolutely nothing at all and not the most embarrassing thing I have done all day and just go stand by the mic and wait. I did not think that this would happen, however.
Someone said, “the first question…” and she finished “is from Leslie.” I get to the mic and she says, “hi Leslie.” I said, “hi, Jonna.” She said, “how ya been?” It was like this unplanned “bit.” So, I thought… a spy wants to bust my identity on YouTube? She’ll do it. I said, “to the extent that you are able, will you play ball with me for YouTube? She looked at me questioningly, yet cautiously optimistic. I said, “I have seen you in another video describing yourself as ‘a real hardass’ at CIA. You talk about things that were done to you (she says she doesn’t want it to seem like a feminist rant)…. but what’s the funniest thing you’ve ever done to your staff? She said, “the only thing I can think of is that I married Tony Mendez. They thought I was insane.” It was the perfect end to a perfect talk for me, and I got exactly what I wanted.
At the book signing, she told me she saw my dad’s stuff, but she didn’t see mine. I told her that I’d gotten a professional author’s page, so you might see her lurking around the Facebook version of Stories, you might not. She asked for it, but when you write it down on a Post-It note, you never know if the person is going to remember or not. The funniest thing about Jonna’s Facebook profile is that it lists her profession as “photographer,” which is, I think, drastically burying the lead.
Oh, and I have never felt a more sick burn. Like, Supergrover sick burn it was so good. I laughed so hard I died for a second, then almost made her spit out her water because she didn’t know I spoke “microaggression.” I told her that some day I’d write something as good as hers, and she said “it’s good you’re still workin’ on that.” I said, “I’m going to laugh about that for three years.” It was to lighten the moment.
I saw her. In true face, I saw her. I said, “congratulations on owning yourself.” I’ll remember that smile forever. When you own yourself, you see others doing the same. Themes repeat themselves in my life and it was the only thing I thought would be in any way eloquent enough for the occasion.
She knew what I meant. Her bottom lip twitched in recognition of what I’d said while the rest of her face didn’t say anything at all.
Except I know she’ll show up at the end. I’m at The International Spy Museum. I made sure to get here an hour early because my dad needed me to buy the books, and I thought there would be a line. Not only was there not a line, the bookstore doesn’t have them. You get them at the event. All I have to say about that is that it is a very good hour I could have spent reading the book. I’m trying hard not to be mad about it, but it’s like getting the new Outlander for me. This is Autism Christmas, okkkkkkkkk………..
Intelligence is my special interest, and has been since 2008. I have said this many times before that the obsession started not with wanting to do intelligence myself (although it would have been nice in my 20s), but with wanting to write a script like “Argo.” The humor about The Agency was funnier than anything I’ve heard in a long time…. except, perhaps, Burn After Reading. It’s tied for my favorite because I didn’t even know I needed to see CIA written as a Coen Brothers movie until I did. The last line of the movie made me fall off my couch, I was laughing so hard. Everything is building to it. EVERYTHING. You don’t see it coming, and J.K. Simmons knocks it out of the park…. as always.
Jonna says that “people will be shocked.” If I had half a brain I would have brought two copies of that “People” magazine (!!!!!!!). I would have needed one for my dad, because now he’s into it. I am sure that he’s got his own magazine, but he’s not three floors from her and I am. 😉
After this my sister and I are going to Zaytinya. She’s getting her hair cut and doing her thing until this is over. Our timing should be perfect. Doors open at 6:30, and our reservations are for 9:00pm. I was going to stop for something on the way home, anyway. Preferably a coffee shop so I could finish the book. But it would have to be one of those 90s coffee shops, like Tryst or Afterwords if they were open 24 hours.
Let’s not kid ourselves. I’d be done by 11:00.
It’s not only because I read fast. It’s that Jonna’s a blogger. Her style is just as easy and clear as mine, painting her feelings as fact as I am. Probably why I sound like a professor all the time, but if you read both of us you’ll see that I read her as fast as I read me, because she writes just like she talks. When you see her in a YouTube video, THAT’S HER. You can take that check to the bank and cash it. When I think of how much Argo, Master of Disguise, Spy Dust, et al have changed my writing style, it’s mind boggling. But not hard to comprehend, because when I wanted to write something like Argo, I went to the source.
If there’s anything I’ve learned in all this time from intelligence operatives, real and otherwise, it’s that you can prevent wars with more information, no matter how many people are involved in the conflict.
How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?
When Supergrover emoted, she gave me two things. The first is closure. The second is the ability to work toward our goals now that all the cards are on the table. It has been a hard row to hoe when she’s only given me the flop, keeping the turn and the river in front of me, out of my reach. This is because all five cards had been revealed before, and they weren’t cards we could put back in the deck.
It reminds me of Plants vs. Zombies, if you’ve ever played that video game. The second time you go through the levels, Crazy Dave picks out three seed packets that are at random, but they’re locked and you can’t remove them- you have to hope that you win based on what you bring to the game.
We have nine seed packets, and three of them are locked. It’s an even better analogy, because Michaels is holding the flop, the turn, and the river because I fucked up. If there’s anything that made me fail, it was me. For Supergrover to say that this is all her fault is ridiculous. If I hadn’t been an asshole, none of this would have happened.
Full stop.
I have been saying that ad nauseam on my blog, not going after her. The constant feedback that I get from my readers is that I am way too goddamn hard on myself. I have never once heard “you’re too hard on her.”
Not once, ever in my life.
But, if people had said that, I wouldn’t have deflected, either. I would have said that they didn’t know the whole story, and that they couldn’t know what went on behind closed doors, and they never would. So, they have to put a lot of faith in me that I am not being too hard on myself, that I own 50% of the problem. Don’t treat me as innocent here, because I’m not.
Meeting Supergrover changed the course of my life for all the right reasons, and we both feel guilty about rushing into this relationship because it wasn’t a problem we thought through together. If we had, we could have avoided a lot of turmoil later on.
I said, “do you think I write about you just for shits and giggles? No, this is my very real inner monologue.” What I didn’t remind her of yet again is how much it takes to be this vulnerable. That I shake and cry through some of these entries, that it’s hard to get my feelings out and yet absolutely essential.
And then I told her what I was really writing and why I was writing it that way. I hope she’s shocked out of her mind, because I think I won this hand.
I just hope she, like me, doesn’t move the goalposts and say my response should have been happier. Because we’ve both been doing it to each other for a very long time.
When we don’t open up to each other, we are no better than we were before. It’s just going to keep being a toxic mess. When we put up walls, we don’t fulfill our purpose in each other’s lives, why it’s always been just her and me. That sometimes it’s nice to have that “stranger on a train” feeling where you can just dump anything and let the other respond to it.
That feeling is exactly why it’s not incumbent upon her to give of herself and her time. I am not asking for more than she wants to give. I think we’d be great comic foils, and have a ton of fun no matter what our relationship looks like in the future.
For instance, I don’t like the lines in this blog where I flip her shit. I’m not as funny as she is, so basically it’s “I set ’em up, you knock ’em down.” I like the response better than I’ve ever liked anything I’ve said. I have gotten a touche once in the history of our relationship, and I cannot tell you what that line was, but I came in Kings full over Aces.
We set each other up to fail. Badly.
But now I can either start moving away from her comfortably, or moving toward her with peace and grace. No matter how she feels about me, I’ll always be hers.
It’s just up to her to see which way we’ll go, because I don’t know whether she’ll understand why I’m doing what I’m doing or not. But like it or not, the important part is that she heard my thu’um instead of my whisper.
And whispered back that I wasn’t on the wrong track.
She’s just hurt and tired….. with me waiting to kiss her boo-boos exactly the way she kissed all mine 10 years ago. I have Bactine, Band-Aids, lollipops, the whole works.
I wear my CIA baseball cap most days. Zac knows this. First of all, it was a present from him. Second of all, it’s my comfort item in his absence. It’s a great baseball cap, too, but also it reminds me of him. We don’t get together that often, but I think of him all the time and vice versa. I love that he sends me pictures of himself every morning, pictures of Oliver (who is a dog), and random memes (mostly regarding making fun of religion or linux or both). All of those things are important, and yet not a sensory thing like a piece of clothing.
I wrap up in my Outlander plaid at night. Bryn knows this. It’s not branded, it’s just what I call it because Bryn sent me a Scottish plaid when we were both in the middle of inhaling the book series (I like reading, she likes audiobooks). It’s green and meant to remind me I’m loved- it does, and it has for many years because it was in the box of the first things Bryn sent me when I got here.
I like iced coffee better than hot, so I brew the coffee at night and pour it into a cup with ice in the morning. I got the cup when Supergrover sent me a large gift certificate and told me to have some fun on her. That was long ago, and it’s an every day carry.
Supergrover does not know this.
I was thinking about “choosing to air all this” afterward, and all that really made sense to me is that she was okay with step one, but forgot about steps two through ten. As in, if she started being aggressive in step one, then why would I think she would want to know steps two through 10?
It’s a weird dichotomy, because I think she really did want/need to hear the things I said after we parted, but because every conversation between us made me think she wasn’t interested, I picked up my toys and went home. I tried to take up as little room as I possibly could, because if I tried to emote, I was met with either “I’m too busy” or “you’re too needy.”
She thinks that all of this is her fault, that I have said all of this is her fault. Then, she copped to everything I said she did and apologized for it, then reamed me out for telling the world I was unhappy about her doing exactly what she was doing.
wtf kind of bullshit is that? 😉
So, when her response to me was as angry as I’d ever seen her, I met her with joy. When you get the gift that you’ve been asking for for SEVEN YEARS, you don’t complain about the wrapping. She emoted. She broke down and told me what was really going on. That’s what I wanted. If I had responded with more anger, it would have been moving the goalposts and saying her response wasn’t happy enough. She doesn’t need to be happy with me. She needs to tell me the truth.
But I want her to be happy with me. I just don’t want to be the only arbiter of our relationship. I need her to take up space by telling me how she’s feeling and not covering it up, running away from her emotions, making me do a lot of emotional guesswork that makes me set off land mines I never knew were there.
She’s never opened up about the tender places in her that I couldn’t see, that I really wanted to….. for instance, she said that she has had the chance, countless times, to stop what she was doing and respond. She didn’t, and takes responsibility for that. I could have been an asshole and said “how dare she?,” but the take home message was “I think about you all the time.”
If she’s willing to show up like she did the other day, she’s welcome every day. I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to feel like a secret anymore. It doesn’t feel like a secret anymore, because when she gave me a clear picture, I could see for miles.
I told her it felt like she owned herself, and I loved her. None of this is all her fault. There was no preconceived plan, just fools rushing in. I’m just not the only fool, for very different reasons.
So, she may not have known that “her” Starbucks cup is the one I every day carry…….. because it’s just one of the things I would have told her if I thought she’d wanted to hear it.
That’s what this has all been about. When did we both just stop taking up space and trying not to offend each other?
Stories That Are All True 