Category: Uncategorized

I’m On My Own Today

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 1 Comment

Apparently, when you answer one of WordPress’s prompts, it remembers. So, even though I answered the prompt when it first came around, I’m not eligible to answer it again. The prompt was “what’s something that most people don’t understand?” If I remember correctly, I wrote an entire essay on how most people don’t understand themselves. How blogging is kind of a superpower that way, especially when you write every day. I understand myself because I go back and look at the entries from the last few days before I write the current one. That way, I can see if what I said then is still true. My mind works very fast, and is a busy place. I’m also not afraid to admit I’m wrong, so a good bit of knowing myself is saying, “Ok. I felt this…. but I don’t feel that anymore…. this is still good…. that can go in the back of the closet, etc.” It is a quilting of my life, because not everything is bad and not everything is good. But in order for me to see perspective with clarity, I have to be brave enough to read my own writing.

That’s the hardest part of blogging, the reading your own writing. Even when what you’ve said is embarrassing, you have to stand next to it because it was all how you felt in that moment, even if you don’t feel that way anymore. Also, processing my feelings about other people makes me feel closer and further away from them, too. When I think about what has happened to me over my life, none of it compares to my reaction at what I’ve allowed. No one affects me more than me, and I have not done things I needed to do to protect myself, and have also done too much. Apparently, I don’t know a whole lot about balance, but I don’t know many neurodivergent people who do.

For instance, yesterday I told The War Daniel that enough time had passed between us and we should start talking again. We agreed that we were assholes to each other. That I hoped he realized that I was never going to abandon him in rehab, and he told me he didn’t feel that way. We’re healing, a day at a time, and I get pictures of “my kids and grandkids,” who are apparently cats, a service dog, and a snake (between The War Daniel and his daughter, Cora). The War Daniel is getting his PhD in English literature, and it’s fun to hear about that project, too.

I realized that if The War Daniel wasn’t brave enough to come to me and say he was an idiot, then it was on me. Because it wasn’t a matter of losing or winning a fight. It was a matter of losing or winning Daniel.

I told him that I’d lived on something Cora said for a year….. “I don’t think your faith in my father is misplaced.” He said it was such a relief. I am not rushing for any specific outcome, I’m just glad to have the big rift healed. We’ll either end up moving in together or we won’t, but that’s not my main goal. My main goal is getting us stable enough to be able to communicate every day without leaving pricks on the other’s skin that won’t heal anymore. I don’t have time for things to fester, because I don’t want to live with that level of insecurity in my life.

So, at the very least, I have solved the most important rift in my life, and that is enough. Two important rifts, if you count the peace I feel after getting Supergrover’s letter and letting her go back to what she’s used to with her own family. I feel like that rift is fixed, because she’s welcome to show up with real feelings just like she did previously, she’s just not welcome to kick the can down the road and make me think we’re fine when we’re not.

I am stronger than that. I can take it. Whatever our real problems are, that’s what I’m built to solve, not to figure out the neurotypical games that come with talking around being anxious/upset/angry.

I’d rather just get back on the same page with someone, even if the writing we’ve previously done is good and we have to scrap some. Daniel and I have a new timeline and a new vision, but I decided that if I was quiet, I was part of the problem.

Now, there is hope where there wasn’t before.

Hope that I didn’t know was there, but had to ask and see.

I promised both you and The War Daniel that I would not give up until he’d been out of rehab a year and his brain wasn’t fuzzy anymore. I kept my word, and I was right. That was the surprise, that I was right. That we’d both been assholes under extreme pressure but it didn’t mean we didn’t love each other.

Other than that, though, nothing changes. He’s in grad school in NE Texas and will be for the foreseeable future, though his classes are online because his tuition assistance also comes through Texas, but once he’s done with school, he’d definitely think about moving here, because he wanted to last year as well. Cora has also said that if Daniel moves here, she wants to come with him because trans laws in Texas are terrible. So, all of these are things that need to be discussed a little bit at a time, while our timeline is long enough not to miss anything.

I have found that Daniel and I are both driven to write, and we need to cut that shit out. For instance, I think we should start video calling at least once a week to FORCE ourselves to stop being writers. This seems like it should be a joke. It’s not. Writer personalities are real and deep.

Supergrover and I have rarely ever gotten out of it, and if the same were to happen with Daniel, I think our relationship would go the same way- not feeling it as secure and real because it’s just text.

I learned the difference with Zac, who sends me pictures of him and Oliver, who leaves voice notes, etc. It helped me get out of my writer personality with him because there were more than just paragraphs to our relationship.

Supergrover doesn’t have time to send me pictures of herself and her dogs on a schedule, nor does she have a committed time for voice notes. The ones I’ve got, though, are priceless. They indeed made me feel close to her in a different way, an added layer. Getting to know the way she talks felt intimate- the mask in front of all her words after I’d internalized them.

Therefore, in online relationships I’m different now. This is not an online relationship because I’ve known The War Daniel since we were seven…. but it’s online now because that’s how we can communicate across states easily. I want voice notes. I want video calls. I want everything to feel as grounded as humanly possible.

So that I do.

This One?

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

How has technology changed your job?

I have always been a writer, but I didn’t really think of myself that way until after I learned to type. The way I learned to type was by imitation. I watched my friend Luke touch type for months, and being able to see how he did it long term just transferred. But it wouldn’t have happened so quickly without Internet Relay Chat. I wouldn’t have needed an impetus to learn how to type quickly and without errors if I wasn’t trying to keep up in a conversation. I learned to chat with people all over the world before I learned to write for them. I am sorry for all the broken hearts I left in (insert your country here).

My friend Luke was also the person who set up my first blog, on his server called “Darkstar.” The server ran WordPress, the very first version. Eventually, I moved from a local copy of WordPress on our server to WordPress.com, for which I just got an 18th anniversary notification. So, most of the changes that have come through my work on this blog have to do with the way the backend operates. I feel that the “new” block editor limits my creativity because I cannot use as much HTML as I know….. it will break the block system.

I try to keep technology out of it. If a picture is wonky, so what. If I had more control over the design, I’d take it. There are only so many things I can perfect, and the way Automattic writes its software is not on the list. I use the JetPack app because I don’t have to code anything. I sit here and type, then press one button. At no point am I trying to make sure things line up. Remember CSS positioning? Good times. (Narrator: they were not, in fact, good times.) I can’t be on both sides of the fence in terms of talent. Do I want my creativity to go into the design or into the writing? What do I have more passion for?

I chose the writing part, because I’m an okay web developer, not a great one. I enjoy studying design, but I’m better at talking about others’ work. WordPress is actually a huge machine that allows me to do nothing but be creative, because before databases were a thing, I would have had to hand code every link to every entry. I know because I’ve done it. You get lazy and your index.html is eight months old and you don’t care.

There’s no way I want to go back to that level of detail. Technology works for me, not the other way around. I just prefer longer essays to sound bites when I’m reading other people, and thought, “I could do that.” Now, I’ve been doing it for 20 years. Unfortunately, only the last 10 are on this domain, but I’ve searched “The Wayback Machine” for the entries that meant the most to me on “Clever Title Goes Here” and imported them.

It wasn’t technology that tanked that blog. It was me. Being popular for my observations was not fun at home. I had a very thin skin, and didn’t think I deserved to take up space in the world. I stopped writing, and when I came back, the blogging landscape had changed around me. But I was also older, and a little more fierce. I began to realize I had something to say, and other people joined me.

The more I went through personally, the more I needed this space to process. As WordPress grew in whatever direction this is supposed to be, I ignored it. I use a plain text editor and copy it into the app. Everything you read here is supposed to dance in your head, with very, very few pictures to accompany the waltz.

I want it to be that way. I want for Bryn, Zac, Supergrover, The War Daniel, Cora, Lindsay, and me for us to look like whatever you think we do. I think it would be hilarious to hear people’s guesses.

Just don’t forget that both The War Daniel and Zac are in the Navy.

(All of the sudden I had this image of a little kid’s drawing of my family and I fell over with laughter.)

As Marshall McCluhan has said, “the medium is the message.” I have done nothing with technology beyond use it to transmit text. I hope it lifts you from your world into mine, and returns you mostly unscathed.

My big news of the day is that Magda and I got the house we wanted. No technology needed to imagine the crying and hugging. Such a relief.

Hardly Ever

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

How often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?

The thing about being a writer is that nothing interferes with your goals if you don’t allow it. In my particular case, dropping everything to do something for/with a friend adds to the richness of my writing, not a distraction to it. I think of my blog as one of those video games that you can get lost in, because even after you’ve finished the main quest, you have so many side quests that you keep returning to that world. In this case, the main quest will be over when I die. My “stories that are all true” won’t end unless I do. Therefore, my blog is entirely driven by the way the B plots of my life work out. Everything is a B plot when the A plot is just my time on earth.

The main reason I started writing every single day was just to see if I could. If I could be dedicated to such a thing. That I wouldn’t even take off weekends, that blogging was serious business not to draw people in, but to heal me. I have said this before, but this blog is almost entirely my therapy, because a therapist only spends an hour a week with you. You don’t get well on an hour a week. I began to view writing as important as my medication. I have to take my medication every day to make me feel better, so I process my feelings as well.

Sometimes I wait until the afternoon, but most of the time I wake up, fill my water bottle, take my medication, and start writing. It is now 0524. I have been up and down since 0300, and I don’t know why. Oh, yes I do. When I knock myself out with sleeping pills, I go so deep that I don’t need as much. So, if I go to bed at 2100, I’m guaranteed to be up at o’dark hundred.

Generally, when you get entries later in the day, it’s because Zac goes to bed a lot later than I do, so our day starts later when we’re together. It’s an interruption I’m gladly willing to make, because as a boyfriend, he is killing it. Our next date is going to the Kennedy Center to see Jason Moran, and I’m so excited. I’ve known Jason since he was a senior in high school, when I was a mere freshman. He taught me to listen to jazz and analyze it so that I could repeat it, but he didn’t say that. He said, “never take your headphones off. Listen at home, between classes, have a radio under your pillow.” Guess what. I can analyze jazz now. If I see which way the band is going, I can go with them…… and I got that phrase from Konrad Johnson.

Konrad Johnson was a high school jazz band director in Houston, Texas who made fame. Kashmere’s Jazz band is known all over the world now, because one of their charts is on the soundtrack to “Baby Driver.” The way I know Konrad is that he was my director at Summer Jazz Workshop. I cannot believe that I got to work with the two greatest jazz educators in the history of the world, because my jazz director at HSPVA was Robert Morgan.

“Doc” is directly responsible for Jason Moran, Everette Harp, Eric Harland, Robert Glasper, Jon Durbin (The Suffers)…….. the list is endless, because if you studied jazz in Houston, it was probably with him. Everette was before my time, but Robert, Jon, and I were all in the same band. I didn’t choose to continue with trumpet, but I sometimes wish I had. I enjoyed it, I just didn’t enjoy it as much as my dad did, because he didn’t have the same problems with pain in his embouchure that I did.

I could play for about half an hour at a time, and was pushing myself through every concert ever. I could have corrected it, but there was no time. I was either right before a concert, a jury, a something important I couldn’t miss.

My voice is trained much more than I ever trained as brass, and in retrospect, I should have gone the choir route. I think I would have gotten along with Mrs. Bonner, because I definitely did with Mr. Seible (who was my conductor at Bering UMC). That’s because Mrs. Bonner was also a Methodist. 😛

However, I still wouldn’t have been in class with Beyoncé, because my dad was transferred from The Heights to Sugar Land, and I chose to go to school out there. I was grandfathered in terms of the new rule that you had to live within HISD to go to HSPVA, but I didn’t want to commute. It would have been hell every single morning for two years. For reference, it’s about 27 miles, so half an hour at three in the morning and two hours at 8:00 AM.

It worked out. I had a best friend that picked me up for school every morning, in which we listened to the same tape every day. It was “Three,” by Blood, Sweat, and Tears. As a result, I still listen to that album all the time. “The Battle” and “Lucretia McEvil” are my favorite tracks, particularly Lew Soloff blasting the top off that trumpet solo in “Lucretia.”

I met Lew at a Jon Faddis concert in Virginia in 2002. It was great, because he assumed that if I knew who he and Jon were, I was probably a trumpet player. Good guess, but not currently looking for work. He told me I should audition at Manhattan School of Music, because that’s where he was teaching. It was sweet, but I told him that I just liked watching him and Faddis now. The great thing is that Lew was just a fan. He wasn’t in the band that day, we were just making small talk before we could get on the bus to see Faddis.

So, I was charming to Faddis, and the other guys on the bus started busting his balls because he had a fan. It was great.

So is “Into the Faddisphere.”

It’s all B plot. It’s all richness. It’s all side quests.

Nothing distracts from my goals. Everything is a new layer of complexity. I am aging like fine wine, which often takes on new character as the years roll past.

Pickpocketing

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had?

I love Skyrim. When you pickpocket someone, you get to see the inventory of their pants.

For me, pickpocketing would be about magic, not stealing. It would have been a hit at parties if I set it up in advance…. that someone will lose their wallet, and can claim it later.

I will have all the wallets in five to seven minutes, because that’s how long I’ve got. Take longer than that, the easier it is to catch you in action.

In real life, I’m not comfortable racing against the clock, even in a video game. The exception is the kitchen, because I’m not solo. This is unacceptable to my ADHD. I thrive on ironclad structure and the other half of my brain hates my fuckin’ guts. This is because when I create iron structure, I cannot maintain it. I am happy for a little while with rigidity, but the longer it goes on the more my ADHD can’t handle it. That’s why my energy levels for tasks are different all the time. My ADHD makes it its mission in life to ensure my autism is miserable.

I have demand avoidance down to taking care of myself. Yet, at other times I can be the life of a party. I’m sure depression and hypomania play a role in my energy levels, but now that I know so much about ADHD and Autism (through endless panels and lectures on YouTube), I am finding that maybe I’m not depressed. Maybe I have been mistaking depression for autism. Every one of my symptoms of depression and hypomania feel like what the psychiatrists and psychologists are trying to explain about how AuDHD works. To me, it’s a reframing, because it doesn’t feel like depression and hypomania all the time. Sometimes, I am very stable and still have demand avoidance down to taking a shower.

I am fairly certain that I have pathological demand avoidance syndrome, because it takes a Mt. Everest amount of energy for me to do anything. I’ll know once I go through the autism diagnosis process. Basically, they treat you and if it doesn’t work, then it’s pathological. “Pathological” is a scary word, but yet it’s not. It just means it can’t be treated. It’s more scary to tell someone you have something pathological because they don’t think “pathologist,” they think “serial killer.” Not a good look.

Yet, that’s still the name of the condition, and it’s already on the spectrum, just a major part of some people’s cases of autism. If you’ve met an autistic person, you have met one autistic person. For instance, I’ll talk your ear off about The Cold War, but I don’t have food issues and I don’t have too many sensory issues. I don’t have emotions like neurotypical people, but I do have them. I just process them quite a bit differently, and writing gives me an outlet to do it.

So, honestly, I don’t need some mythical power to be a “Super.” I’ve got my superpower right here.

Why Mansplaining Isn’t Always a Thing

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 3 Comments

I found a meme that explains all of this better than I could, so let’s start out with it:

I am not saying that mansplaining does not exist. Far from it. But what I am saying is that as you get to know a man, it’s easier to tell whether they’re egotistical or neurodivergent. For instance, I would never accuse any of my male friends of mansplaining, because I’m just as likely to mansplain to them, because we are all working from a neurodivergent brain. I have had many men who worked from the first paragraph in my life, and they aren’t my friends.

In fact, a very effective way to get a man to stop “mansplaining” to you is just to ask them what’s up. Say, “are you telling me this because you think you’re the expert, or are you ADHD/autistic?” That’ll shut ’em up…… or you’ll get a real moment of authenticity and a breath of relief that will almost make them cry…… because they feel seen. That’s because I asked him a question that, dollars to donuts, no other woman has. They automatically assume that man is trying to one-up them, and don’t even think about that man’s self-esteem. That maybe he’s not trying to be an egotistical bastard. He has a processing disorder, and he thinks you think he’s dumb, not the other way around.

I feel like I know this better than most because I am nonbinary. I have told Supergrover over and over that I don’t write to her, and I don’t write for her. That my writing would exist whether she was here or not. This is the one exception. This meme is definitely for her, because I have a feeling that she’s been reading my e-mails like “I’m the expert,” and because of it I think I’m doing a terrible job of explaining myself, so I overclarify until “the cows can tape something by now.”

I feel this way because Supergrover has called me a “judgmental dickhead” for 10 years, and in her last e-mail said that I should stop thinking of myself as the expert on everyone and everything. “Not a good look.” So, my reaction is just to leave her behind. Fuck that noise. I will never in my life put up with that shit again. I talk how I talk.

I was absolutely moved by her e-mail, but after some time, I realized that she’s just as shitty a friend as she said she was, because the e-mail opened, “Ugh. I vowed never to respond to another of your e-mails.” Opening with disgust didn’t win her any brownie points, especially when I came to hear heart in hand and asked her for help with something she knew intimately.

Granted, she answered all my questions and even clarified within herself what she’s meant all these years, and it was basically “I hide all my feelings about you so that you can just twist in the wind.” It’s easy to keep someone feeling desperately insecure in a relationship that way, because they don’t know how to act. What is real? What is not?

I have been saying over and over that I’m not the expert on anything but the way I feel. If someone feels differently than I do, there is room for both our opinions in the world. Me telling my story and you hiding yours is just a shortcut to calling me a dictator and blaming me for everything when you’re the one that’s emotionally unavailable at every turn. It’s a stalling tactic, and a good one, because it makes me feel like shit.

The reason I had to get her out of my life is that I’ve been in relationships with too many women like this. I am attracted to emotionally unavailable people and they’re attracted to me. It’s because we each have something the other lacks. I lack pragmatism and logic, They lack the ability to feel as deeply as I do. So, in the beginning, it feels like you are each meeting each other’s greatest need.

Without fail, in every single relationship I’ve been in that works this way, over time it devolves into division of labor. They do all the thinking, I do all the feeling. It leaves me anxious and insecure, because in the beginning, they weren’t like this. They were high on new relationship energy and not so opposed to letting themselves feel. After that, they go back to what they know, which is not letting anyone know how they feel so that you have to walk on eggshells…… because they won’t tell you that they’re angry. They’ll say nothing is wrong when it clearly is by the way they treat you.

That has been my life for 10 years, and I’m done unless I actually feel some empathy for the way my brain processes information, because I am not an expert.

I’m a train wreck.

Crisp

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What is your favorite type of weather?

I lived in Oregon for so long that my favorite weather had to be rain, because that’s what you get 280 days a year. It actually rains more in Portland than in does in Seattle. But now that I’m in DC, I have a new favorite kind of weather…. cold and sunny. I love it when it’s between 40-60F and the sun is beating down. Perfect weather for “the Portland uniform,” which is jeans, a t-shirt, and a fleece or hoodie. The only change in my Portland outfit is something they would hate. I now own an umbrella. Please don’t hate me too much, it was a gift.

Although it comes in handy here where it wouldn’t in Oregon because the type of rain is completely different. The reason that we say in Oregon that “umbrellas are for tourists” is that it’s not really raining. It’s misting. There’s no need for an umbrella because you’re never really going to get that wet.

Unlike DC, where the sky opens up and we get real rain. The first eight years, I was too proud a Portlander to break down. I’m still too proud a Portlander to break down, so it’s good I got an umbrella as a gift. Otherwise, I would still be walking around the city looking like a drowned rat.

But honestly, I still don’t use my umbrella unless it’s a thunderstorm where, when you step outside, it feels like buckets of water are actively dumping themselves on your head. I use my umbrella a lot more in the snow. It’s great when it’s dry, not so fun when it melts.

We had one huge snowstorm in Portland while I was there. I think we got 18 inches in a weekend or something like that. Still never saw an umbrella, but lots of cross country skiers and snow-shoers.

Oh, wait. We had another memorable snow storm in Portland a few years later, and that was much easier because by then I had a Jeep Grand Cherokee. In the first, I only had a Ford Focus. Now, the Ford Focus is one of my favorite cars, especially as a stick shift. It does not do snow well, however.

When I moved to DC, after a couple of years my sister sent me her old car because she was getting a new one and hers wasn’t worth much. It was a Toyota Yaris hatchback, and it was fine in all types of weather because it was a stick shift. The Focus was an automatic, so I didn’t have as much control. It’s also not the same kind of snow in DC.

Occasionally we get dumped on, but I can only remember two years that we got as much snow here as we got in Portland. Most of the time, it looks like regular rain, not ice blowing sideways. In fact, for the last few years, it has snowed, but there has never been more than an inch of accumulation, and sometimes it was an inch of accumulation across three storms, not all at once.

The first time I saw a blizzard of Portland magnitude, I was in DC. It must have been 2002, because it was after Christmas…. I think. But anyway, we were snowed in for several days, and teleworking was not a thing you could do.

Teleworking and Zoom have both erased the idea of having a snow day. Sorry kids.

I do like going out and about after it has snowed. It’s hard being out when the snow is actually blowing, but if you get out there just after it has stopped, the cars haven’t had a chance to make a mess of it.

The monuments in DC look objectively better with snow, or that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The thing I hate most is summer, because the temperature swings between indoor and outdoor are LARGE. My autism freaks out when I wear shorts in the summer because I’ll be outside and having a good time, then go inside where there’s air conditioning turned down to Jack Frost and I’m miserable. I wear pants all the time, and keep a hoodie in my backpack because even when it’s 95 degrees outside, it’s still 70 in all the museums. 70 is comfortable for most people. I need to feel wrapped up like a burrito.

I have found this is true of a lot of autistic people, both hating the swings in temperature and needing soft and warm clothing/blankets every day. I wear silks or leggings from Uniqlo a lot because in the cold, it helps to have an extra layer when you sit down, like on a bus bench. Wearing jeans over them is for truly cold weather, but I like fitted jogging pants better. The kind with a waist and hemmed, open cuffs as opposed to elastic…. although Zac got me a pair of sweat pants from the Pentagon that do have elastic at the ankles, but it’s more of a sleeve that goes around my ankle. It feels nice, and I have running shoes so that they don’t look weird when I wear them.

I don’t run, but I could.

Since it’s spring, it’s a good time to tell you that I buy all my winter gear from Uniqlo. There’s a store in downtown Silver Spring now, but before that I ordered online because the company is from Japan. I have tried everything in their HeatTech line, and I won’t buy anything else. I would advise against getting long johns in white, though, because if you drop something on them, good luck getting it out. I need to get all my whites together and bleach them, but I’m very afraid of bleach and washing machines. I have never put bleach in the washer before and it makes me nervous.

I have had good luck with OxyClean, so thanks for that, Billy Mays.

Anyway, Uniqlo makes charcoal gray leggings and long-sleeved shirts. It’s what I wear 99% of the time. I have also found that gloves, a hat, and a scarf are just as or more important than your coat. If I am wearing my HeatTech gear, I just wear a hoodie. No coat needed as long as I have my gloves. The hat and scarf are generally stored in my bag, because if you are walking, you don’t want to start out with everything you own piled on top of you. You’ll go .3 miles and think, “I have made a terrible mistake.”

It’s why my favorite weather is cold and sunny. I don’t have to worry about dressing as if I am taking all my bedclothes with me.

I will say, though, that when it gets overcast, my memories of Oregon dance in front of my eyes.

Just Roll With Me a Bit

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

So, I read my last entry and it was so full of typos that I thought I’d gone stupid for a second…. and then I realized, no…. I am, in fact, blind as a bat. I had the font size on my tablet turned down too low in my editor, and I didn’t switch spell-checking on. So, obviously I am a genius and you need my mind.

I just got finished making supper. I didn’t know what I wanted, so I went for my go-to. Pancakes. This time, I didn’t stuff them with anything except milled flax, cinnamon, and Mexican vanilla. Normally, I add fruit and nuts, things like that. The fruit and nut ones make great peanut butter sandwiches. If you make them too thick, you can always cut them lengthwise. In fact, a couple of my pancakes look like they have bites taken out of them. This is untrue. I tore pieces off and ate them. I was already full, but I didn’t have any Tupperware, so I was trying to fit them into sandwich bags.

Which reminds me of the time I went to an Indian restaurant and ordered peshwari naan (I think that’s the one with raisins and other fruit.). It was to-go, and I was talking to the hostess. I said that peshwari naan was really good with peanut butter, and she looked at me like I was everything wrong with white people.

Fair.

However, now the house is steeped in a brown butter aroma that I haven’t smelled in a very long time. We used to make a brown butter vinaigrette at Tapalaya, and it’s a scent that takes me right back to that particular kitchen. Kinkaid says his recipe for bourbon maple syrup, which went on our fried chicken, dies with him. No the hell it won’t. I will stand over the stove for a week until I get it. I know what it tastes like ’cause I’ve made it. It’s just a matter of asking Zac for some bourbon to make it. 🙂 (I should ask him for some scotch, too, because I’ve never made butterscotch from scratch…… These are two things that would probably appeal to his appetite, so a shot or two is probably not out of line. 🙂

Kinkaid was an awesome chef, and any memory that takes me back to him is a good one.

But I make big pancakes. The best. No one can make better pancakes than me. I’m here to make America plate again.

Yes, I am making fun of the former president, but for real tho. You don’t run a brunch program for years on end and get out of there unable to make anything breakfast-wise….. except an omelette. It’s not because I don’t want to learn, it’s because I’ve never worked at a breakfast place that had them on the menu. A correct French omelette takes being in a restaurant because you don’t learn how to make them in a weekend. It’s different when you make a hundred a day. The closest I’ve ever gotten to an omelette was three eggs that looked like a broken waffle cone. But even that is progress.

It’s why if I could meet Anthony Bourdain, if it was a thing that were possible, the only thing I would ask him is “could you teach me how to make an omelette?” You don’t learn things about cooks by talking to them. You learn things by cooking with them. Everything about them comes out when they teach technique. Plus, it’s just the thing about doing an activity together makes you connect more.

When I miss him, I turn on the audiobook of “Kitchen Confidential.” I start to cry and turn it back off. It takes about 30 seconds.

To switch to another favorite chef, Gordon Ramsey, he had an interesting idea on his episode of Last Meal (YouTube, Mythical Kitchen). He said that the future of cooking is buying and trading chefs all over the world like professional footballers. The host asked him if there was anyone he’d want to slide tackle, and he said, “I did. David.” I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my bed, because the “Becks” is implied.

Gordon is who he is. He’s a rough, tough footballer who had his career taken from him at a young age due to an injury. But now those injuries are worth 17 Michelin stars. Not bad for a rookie………. who could have played Roy Kent no notes.

Here’s the thing about being a cook. You have no friends and no family beyond the kitchen, because it takes over your whole life. This is because we work while other people play. We don’t fit in with the rest of the world who thinks there’s something really wrong with you if you don’t wake up before noon. You get lots of “it’s nice to see you finally showed up to something.” Bitch, I haven’t seen my mother for Christmas in eight years.

The thing about Bourdain, though, is that there’s so much hate for him in the cooking community because mental health isn’t valid. Someone in my line cook group actually said “shame on him.”

My reply was, “you know, Anthony Bourdain is never going to hear what you said, but your friends in this group will. And now they know exactly how you feel about depression and mental health, so they know not to come to you.”

This is why people die.

You’re fine with bipolar as long as we never seem depressed or manic.

You’re fine with ADHD until you can’t track with us, and then we’re stupid, because neurotypicals think, “that’s just the way it is.” ADHD has no reference and does not give a flying fuck about the way things are. You’ll struggle in school as much as you do at work, except no one at work likes you enough to learn your communication style and how to get what they want out of you. It is all on me, all the time, to know what is expected of me because “these are things all people know.”

You’re fine with autistic people until meltdown and burnout, because you don’t understand the inconsistency in our energy levels, or demand avoidance, or literally being confused about anything because the instructions are so clear……. to a neurotypical brain.

I am not saying that I am not responsible for anything. Just because my brain works differently than yours, that does not mean I get a free pass on doing stupid shit. However, it does mean that people will get frustrated with you very, very fast.

No one wants to work with Sheldon from “Big Bang Theory” or Sam from “Atypical.” We ask too many questions. We want logic to be able to buy in. It’s logic that not many coworkers have. So, you become flaky, stupid, and whatever else choice words the boss has for you when they’ve reached the end of their ability to communicate with you.

It’s schoolyard tactics. The best way to deal with the neurodivergent kids is to leave them alone, like Special Ed is catching. Neurotypicals think that neurodivergents are annoying af, but they also hate HR, so they might be nicer to you at work than they would be at home.

An autistic person is always going to have a fairly equal spread among good evaluations and bad ones, because our energy fluctuates so much. Everyone says, “why can’t you perform like this every single day?” There are a thousand reasons why, and none of them are valid to a neurotypical who sees you using your disability as an excuse.

Therefore, I like solitary work. Being with coworkers is often downright embarrassing because when they learn I’m neurodivergent, their voices take on a different tone. I’ve never told anyone at work that I was autistic, because I didn’t know I should. It’s only been within the last year or so that I’ve learned so much….. mostly because my Adderrall only works half the time at keeping my ADHD symptoms managed, so it cannot be the whole answer.

In some ways, I think it is harder to be low needs autistic than high. People recognize autism when the person has no ability to social mask. They put up with meltdown and burnout because that’s what an autistic person does.

It is very hard to tell that autism does the same thing to people who are low needs. It’s not that we don’t have as big a problem, it’s that we’ve learned to cover it up because most people think we’re weird. You do what you have to get by.

I feel particularly discombobulated most of the time because it depends on which processing disorder is driving the bus and how much energy I have. I absolutely can be an ADHD hyperactive mess (talking, stimming), and at other times I struggle to get out of bed.

All autistic people are white knuckling it at work, which is why my favorite YouTube psychologist has three or four degrees and loses jobs all the time. Money and autism are not related. You can have the highest paying job in the world, but so much depends on your reputation.

My big thing is calling an impromptu meeting. I am the type person that cannot return to a thought. So, if I am interrupted, I basically have to start from scratch because I cannot go in the same direction anymore- it’s lost.

I don’t want to socialize at work, either, because I’ve learned over time that it gives your coworkers more ammunition against you if you tell them anything with which you struggle. Office politics determine job security, not necessarily performance…… and with an autistic person, performance is relative. With an allistic person, “it’s just how things are. You can’t hack it, and we know it.”

The bitch of it is that I have really high self-esteem, and a lot of confidence. I am not raking myself over the coals, this has been my job history and that of many, many others.

Because mental health is shameful.

Teachers, and an Update on the Move

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Who was your most influential teacher? Why?

Before we get started on influential teachers, Here’s a basicl life update. Colin has said that he really enjoyed meeting both Magda and I, and he promised to get back to us by next week. We’ve continued to taxt- he sent me a message saying that he enjoyed meeting Magda and her daughter, And I said, “I was on pins and needles waiting to see how it went, and I’m so glad you like her.” He apologized to me, as if how he got along with her was his responsibility to tell me. I thought it was sweet, and said, “no need to apologize, you said it would be a while before you made your decision, and I watned to give you your space.

He told me that he was disappointed I couldn’t come up in price, because that would solve all his problems, but that he’d run the numbers and see if he could take my offer. Because it really was me reaching out and asking about the house. He told me he wanted $1230, and I said straight out I can’t afford it and tried to walk away. He still wanted to meet me, anyway. So, when he said that, I went over and met him and his dog, and really liked the place. He also mentioned that there might be enough room to rent to two people, but he wasn’t sure because he thought three people in the house would be cramped.

So, the next day I asked Magda if she needed housing, and she said yes. So, I went back to Colin and said, “I have an idea. Do you have time for me to run it past you? He said, “I’m going into a meeting, so just leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can.” I told him that one of my housemates herre also needed housing and we love each other and want to stay together (she’s like my mother, she’s 73). Three minutes later (probably in the meeting 😉 ) he said to give her his phone number, just to make it clear he hadn’t decided anything yet.

We made an impression, and I can tell. I joked with him that he wouldn’t have to work so hard at keeping up the house. He said, “I thought everyone would just clean up after themselves.” I said, “that’s not what I meant. We’re both handy. If you want to turn the basement into usable space, we would help you. We also know how to do basic maintenance (Magda’s father was a carpenter and I’m a great assistant), as well as knowing what materials are good/worth the expense and where you can buy any brand. He said, “I hadn’t even thought about that aspect of it.”

By the time Magda left, she couldn’t say enough nice things about Colin and neither could I. If we don’t get this house, it will be sad, but not the end of the world. I have until May 1st to move out, so whether I have a place by April 1st doesn’t matter. I am best off prorating rent at both places if I do get the place on April 1st, because I want Zac to be able to help me move and he’s not free until the 13th or something like that. Plus, I told Zac that I never wanted to move into another place where he wasn’t welcome. He’s never spent any time over here becuase I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want us to be on camera for shit, and there’s cameras all over the house. I don’t even know where all of them are. But this is a new development, and I’m certain it’s because they don’t want another fire. However, the fire was caused by an electrician drilling into a live wire in the basement. None of the housemates had anything to do with it, but for all of us it’s starting to feel like a jail.

So, it was a good time to move, because even though all three of us are freaked out beyond believe and feel locked in our rooms all the time, It wasn’t always like this. For me, the last straw was not getting any support in my quest not to clean up someone else’s pubic hair.

Then, I was cooking, and I heard them talking to a real estate agent in another room. I asked Samantha if they were selling the house, and she said, “I don’t know,” but it was very, very obvious that she did.

Not five minutes later, Hayat calls me down to talk to her and says that they’re getting the house appraised. She turned out not liking that guy, so called in another one. She told me that she wasn’t even sure she wanted to sell, she just thought that the house might be an easy way to fund her retirement….. she just didn’t know for sure because the first guy undervalued them so much. This was Saturday or Sunday, and the photographers came yesterday. So, apparently it was an easier decision than I thought.

I think it was Monday or Tuesday when she officially told me I had 60 days to move out, and we both cried together. It’s been nine years. It’s a huge transition no matter how I feel about the situation now.

So, anyway, I sspent a little of Tuesday and all of Wednesday preparing for photos, I was so glad I was done by Wednesday night, because I could go to bed without setting an alarm. I don’t, usually, because when I go to bed between nine and 10, I automatically wake up at five or six.

The photographers left, and I shut down. I couldn’t write, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t do anything but lie there. I am processing a thunderstorm of emotion, and it’s too much in its immediacy. I know I will feel more and more calm over time, even if we don’t get the house with Colin, because the shock will have worn off. I am so glad that they were talking loud enough that I could hear without eavesdropping, because I wasn’t trying to be intrusive. I was making dinner, and their kitchen is only separated by a wooden door from mine….. the real estate agent was especially loud.

But the reason I’m glad is that if I hadn’t confronted them, who knows how long of a notice we’d be given. I don’t think that Hayat would have left all this to the last minute, but at the same time, you’re never sure about things like that.

So, as I told Colin, Magda and I have decided that we want to live with Jack, who is a dog, and he’s just an accessory. He got a big laugh out of that one. I do think that Colin will come through for us because he’s alrewady invested in us….. and that’s a great feeling. It’s also amazing that my rent won’t change in the slightest. Since I told Colin I could pay $795/month, Magda said that she could pay $700 and I could have the bigger room. Colin said, “I think the rooms are the same size. I should get out a tape measure.” It’s the only appropriate neurodivergent response. I said, “it doesn’t matter. She thinks mine is bigger. Don’t take all of that upon yourself. We’re very happy with everything we saw and we like boht you and Jack.”

That’s because he said it wouldn’t be worth it to him to only get $1230 for two roommates, but he would consider it if it were $1500-1600. So, I found him another person who could get him up to $1500, because I’m so sold on the house. Then, so was Magda. Now the ball is in Colin’s court, but as I said, he’s really already made us feel welcome.

When Colin moved in, and I know this because of pictures on Redfin, the front of the house looked German, because all the wood that would traditionally be on a Tudor house was painted green. Now, it’s back to black and it looks AMAZING. It’s also a quiet street and only a 10 minute walk to the bus, with maybe another 10 or 20 to the Metro. I basically found a house two major stoplights from this one. It’s a miracle.

Plus, I hate moving. I really hate it. So does Colin. Both of us are interested in long-term, not six months. And because it’s possible that my futon won’t fit in my room, I said, “if we make a man cave downstairs, I will be happy to donate the couch.” I could sell it, as it’s worth a lot, but it was a gift from Hayat. I might tell Colin to take the bed out of my room so I can keep this one, but I’m not sure. There are too many possibilities to just concentrate on one.

My shutdown hasn’t been better today. I haven’t been able to do anything except lie here and think about all the moving parts in an actual relocation. It’s overwhelming to an enormous degree, and my reaction is to shut out the rest of the world. I’m not even listening to music or have the TV on. All I want is quiet.

My most influential teacher was Robin Stauffer (grade 11), because she taught me that my life was going to be hard. She invited me to do things with her, like put up bulletin boards or something, and then I came out to her. My grades dropped immediately and I was transferred into another class. There’s more to the story that includes sweet revenge, but it wasn’t until years later and I can’t really talk about it for privacy reasons. Let’s just say it was epic, but it’s not my story to tell because the comeuppance wasn’t from me.

In terms of love, I thought my grade four teacher, Jan Forrest, hung the moon. I was one of her stars because she was an English teacher. I won a couple of competitions for poetry reading that year…. not analyzing it. Getting up in front of the class and reciting them.

My father being a minister probably had nothing to do with this……. #eyeroll

Reeling from Feeling

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I have to, but let’s be clear. I don’t want to move. Mike and Hayat are just getting older and can’t manage the stairs anymore. They want a smaller, one-level house. I get it. However, it doesn’t make me any less sad. I have so many memories here, but none so great as “The Homo and the Hijab.” It tells the story of Nasim, one of my first housemates, and her journey from not knowing what a homosexual was to being friends with me. I nearly knocked over two people trying to get to her when I heard she was from Iran. The one thing I didn’t do is tell her that “Argo” is my favorite movie, because Iranians are touchy about that. I know, because I’ve talked to many. They all think it’s a commercial for CIA, and it is. Full stop. That’s because CIA’s reputation was in the shitter and they needed a win. George Tenet asked Tony Mendez to do “Argo,” and he said, “I can’t. That’s all classified.” Then, Tenet waved his magic wand and all of the sudden they had a story.

However, I do think that the movie starts out with incredible empathy toward the Iranians. Maybe it was the right choice to ex-fil the Shah, maybe it wasn’t. I can’t pass judgment on that. But I do hear the outrage of the Iranian people, and judge it “NAH.” That’s from the r/AITA subreddit, where people post questions and you tell them whether they’re the asshole or not. YTA and NTA are easy. The others are “NAH,” or “no asshole here,” and ESH, “everyone sucks here.” CIA needed the Shah for whatever reason. I don’t know it, but I’m sure they had more intel than I did in the 70s. I wasn’t even born until ’77. So, when the houseguests were rescued, I wasn’t even out of diapers. I don’t have a horse in the race, so I feel that both countries have a legitimate point and I’m not sure CIA would have gone that direction, in retrospect, given that we haven’t had diplomatic relations with Iran since then.

And that’s all cover-up for the fact that I’m dying inside. Hayat was there for me when my mother died. Mike took me to church and loved it when I sang next to him. Samantha gave me a Dr Pepper the moment I moved in and said, “since you’re a Texan, I thought it was probably your blood type.” Every housemate has been unique, none more than Magda, who took me under her wing from day one. I’ve checked with Colin to see if we can both move in, because that way he would get all the money he wanted and we could stay together. Magda is going to meet Colin tonight, so I hope they hit it off. If not, it doesn’t matter. I can find another place for one or both of us. I just hope it has a backyard as big as Colin’s, because our garden here is so beautiful- and Magda did all of it.

So, the idea of finding a place with one of my current housemates seems like a good deal because it’s someone I wouldn’t mind sharing a bathroom with. That’s so important, after having to clean up after two people for nine years….. myself and my Indian housemate who will not touch anything I have touched, including bottles of all-purpose cleaner. So, she won’t clean the bathroom. Ever.

I will miss her, because we used to get along. Then, she wouldn’t talk to me about the bathroom issue and I said, “WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE BATHROOM.” I raised my voice because I left her several notes saying, “please clean up after yourself,” and absolutely nothing changed. Well, she was freaked out that I raised my voice and has never spoken to me again…… after leaving my notes on the sink and walking by them for several days until all the ink was faded…… and her hair and water were plugging up the sink. That’s been my life. Nine years. I’m done.

I am over half done in getting my room ready for pictures tomorrow, but I had to take a break because I thought I needed more caffeine than I actually do, and now I feel, um…. not good. I’m hoping that by sitting down for the length of time it takes to create this entry that the feeling in my stomach will go away. We can mark this under “not as good an idea as thought previously.” I’ve got a few more hours to go with finishing touches, but mostly what I had to do was get rid of stuff I don’t want to move.

Zac is coming over the week of the 13th to help me move, which is the earliest I can get out of here because no one else has offered. I’m sure I could put out an APB, but I’m not bothered. If I had a ton of stuff, I’d be panicking. But most of my stuff can fit in Zac’s car in one trip….. minus the furniture, and I don’t know if I can take all of it or not. I mean, I can, but my new space is also likely to be furnished. We’ll just have to see. I’ve already looked at the space at Colin’s, and I don’t know if even my futon will fit because there’s already a bed in the room. However, I might be able to back it up to the bed so I have somewhere to sit while I’m putting on my shoes, etc. Again, I have no idea, and I have other spaces to look at before I sign anything, as well as Colin wanting some time to make a decision. He’s not sure that he wants to rent out his space at all. I think he put out an ad and didn’t expect to get a response so fast.

I don’t know why. He and Jack, who is also a dog, are delightful.

I’m really glad that we cleared up the moving in and being friends being two different propositions, because I would think it was terrible if it didn’t work out and he thought that meant I didn’t want him in my life. The truth is that I don’t have that many neurodivergent friends in the area. It was nice to meet one. So, the bottom line is that I’m hoping, but not a lot. Colin has lived alone for a long time, and so have Magda and I in terms of how much time we each spend in our individual rooms.

I just hope I didn’t come across as too talkative because of course when I got to his house my social battery was full. I think it was fine. I was just impressed by a lot of stuff, especially the music studio in the attic, because I’m a music person, too.

And exactly none of that means “an easy transition.”

It’s been nine years. I would say that it’s time for a change, and also one I desperately don’t want to make. This time, though, I don’t have a choice. It’s heartbreaking, but necessary because I understand all the moving pieces.

Especially me.

If Money Were No Object…

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
View all responses

I go back and forth. There are so many things I’ve wanted over time that haven’t stayed with me long enough to want to add more. There’s also the obvious. I got my emotional abuser’s favorite insect tattooed on my back, and I don’t know if it serves as a warning or whether I’d feel happier getting rid of it ASAP. Tattoos are supposed to tell a story about your life, so perhaps I will do something that integrates the design rather than trying to cover it up altogether. “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who tells you differently is selling something.” Tattoos mark significant events in my life. I got that tattoo in Houston after I’d already left Portland because it was just for me. She didn’t have to know about it. Then, I moved back and I spent like eight years not wearing a bathing suit in front of said emotional abuser.

It was a long road. I met her when I was 12, I didn’t get the tattoo until I was maybe 30. It was saying goodbye, not saying goodbye, not “hello.”

I also wouldn’t mind having a sleeve of some of my favorite female spies over the years. Julia Child, Virginia Hall, Harriet Tubman, Mata Hari, Jonna Mendez, Valerie Plame, Tracy Walder, etc. And, in another place, Tony and Jonna’s signatures because you can’t have one without the other. I want them to have their own space and not have Tony lumped in with all the women unless I suddenly decide that Frank Wisner and Wild Bill Donovan need to be on it to round everything out. I also need to find out if my friends Stephen and Judy Johnson ever served as Chief of Station, because Judy was there when I was born. Her parents, Pete and Lillian Rhodes, were members of my dad’s church when I was a brand new infant (Emory, Texas). So, this woman from East Jesus Nowhere got a job in the State Department and her last job was at the Court of St. James, one of the most coveted positions at State because it’s in London.

I am not sure whether Steve or Judy were CIA, I only know that as a career diplomat, there’s a TON of crossover, so I don’t think he was ever truly an operative. However, I do believe that both Steve and Judy were on task forces with them, as I have learned that task forces here work. We even work with spies from Mi-6 because our relationship is so strong. I know because I tried to go on a date with one and let’s face it. I wimped out like a bitch. It just affects my life too much here. I haven’t asked him, but I believe that me dating someone from a non-American intelligence agency would be a straight up problem for him. I met her years ago, but the outcome is the same. I realized I didn’t want to know about a human trafficking task force at CIA. Those pictures, even in words, are unforgettable because what your mind makes up is eleventy thousand times worse than what will actually happen. Except pissing off CIA. Then you should feel free to shit your pants at any time.

That’s because CIA’s charter doesn’t cover the United States. They only work overseas. If you piss off CIA, you will be contacted by the FBI shortly….. if you’re an American citizen. If you’re not, you’re in a bigger world of hurt than I ever will be. If a case officer has promised an asset something and they don’t deliver their part of the bargain, they can say goodbye to everything that would get them out of their situation, like an ex-fil. Again, if you’re going to step in front of a bus for someone, you’d better know they’ll do the same for you. I don’t think assets feel that way, because they’re the ones that aren’t trained in tradecraft and get overwhelmed easily at having to remember covers most of the time. No one likes a mask that makes them look uglier, particularly men.

So, the way CIA works in the shadows, particularly the women who are becoming more and more valuable in the Middle East because no one cares what they have to say……………………… except us.

The quicker you make the connection that most spies look like Margo Martindale in “The Americans” is the closest you’ll come to getting it. Matthew Rhys is amazing, but invisible women run the world.

Which is why I want a tattoo of all of them.

Introspective

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What is one word that describes you?

I have almost invariably found that the very feeling which has seemed to me most private, most personal, and hence most incomprehensible by others, has turned out to be an expression for which there is a resonance in many other people. It has led me to believe that what is most personal and unique in each one of us is probably the very element which would, if it were shared or expressed, speak most deeply to others. -Carl Rogers

All INFJs are built to work in the world like this. They are driven by self-improvement because it leads them toward the utopia that lives in all INFJ brains.

My relentlessness in taking myself to the mat resonates with people because I take no prisoners. I will cut myself, over and over until I’m bleeding…… because if I don’t feel anything, you won’t, either. If I am an emotionless robot, that will be my writing voice, too. I get out of it what I put in, and art imitates life just as easily as it does the other way around…… because my art might not change you……… but the writing down of the world around me in my own voice so that I can look back on my memories differently than almost a hundred percent of the world? Priceless.

It’s more valuable than anything I’d make from this site, which is good, ’cause I don’t make much. I have a PayPal button where you can donate if you wish, but there’s no subscription fee or charge to look at the back catalog, etc. I don’t have a big enough audience to make that a sustainable reality. Being talented and being well-known are two very different things. Deserving money for art is valid. Having enough patrons to make it a reality is difficult, especially when few people know who you are (relative to Wil Wheaton, Dooce, and The Bloggess, my contemporaries). The reason I’ve specifically started saying things over again that readers who keep up with me would know is that I’ve had a huge influx of new readers.

So, I remember to say things like Zac is private intelligence during the week and Navy intelligence in the Reserves. That Lindsay works in Washington but lives in Houston. That Bryn lives in Oregon. That my family still lives in Texas. That Supergrover is, essentially, my castle on a cloud…. but in our story the last chord is definitively major.

To people who read every day, my writing isn’t all that confusing because they have context. For people who drop in and out, they don’t know the cast.

It’s great to have new readers, sometimes hard to gauge how much I need to back up because I do have a stunning amount of reader retention because I notice the same user ids popping up. For instance, purpleraysblog has come up for a solid nine or 10 years. They’ve been with me since the beginning. And they’re not the only one. I love OG fans, especially the ones who’ve been with me since “Clever Title.” They quote me to me, often in order to make fun of me…… it is both frightening and hilarious how much they remember of what they’ve read.

Like, I just write the blog. I don’t actually read it. Psh. Kidding. I remember a lot of what I write/read here, but not everything. So, when people quote me to me I’m often caught off guard….. because the way they quote me to me is not to tell me it’s me until the end for dramatic effect. So, the words sound familiar and I’m scrambling to figure out where I read what they’re saying because I know I’ve read it before……… and have never once assumed that anyone would quote me for anything, Jumping to the conclusion that I didn’t read it, I wrote it is just too arrogant.

Therefore, I am often surprised at how much I’ve learned, because I think I’m a wonderful writer when I don’t know it’s me.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Last night I went over to Colin’s house to meet him in person for the first time, as well as his dog. I got along with both swimmingly, but it’s a huge house and a lot more than I want to pay. I don’t want to use half the house. I want to rent a bedroom. He’s fairly certain he only wants to share the house with one person, so if he gets what he’s asking from someone else, I’m cool with it. I made a friend regardless.

However, we like each other so much that he’s taking some time to see if he can make it work, like being open to renting to two people, or axing his dog walker because I’ll be able to do it. Again, this has been a godsend of a connection, because even if I don’t end up moving in with Colin, he’s a solid dude. I told him that he still has my number regardless of the move for things like taking care of his dog while he’s out of town. Boarding dogs around here is expensive, and being good with a potential roommate’s dog has never lost me any brownie points.

Colin’s dog is half Jack Russell terrier and half Chihuahua. Therefore, he’s very tall (for a terrier/chihuahua) with blonde, curly hair all over. Colin says that the Jack Russell terrier must have been wire-haired (he’s had his DNA tested, so he’s sure about the mix). I feel like you can trust a man so dedicated to his dog that be brought genealogical research into it.

I just feel better about the state of moving at all, because Hayat gave me a stunning recommendation letter, and she’s actually the one that introduced me to Colin, indirectly. She’s on NextDoor and I’m not, so she sent me a listing. The reason it was so much more than I wanted to pay is that the listing didn’t have a price. When I told him it was out of my price range, he wanted to talk to me, anyway, because I was the first person that had even responded.

Then, of course, we started texting each other because that’s how our people communicate (neurodivergent). So, we have become a little bit closer via iMessage, because I feel it’s important for us to feel comfortable if we’re going to be sharing a house.

When he told me that he needed to think about all the financial implications, because he really only wanted one housemate, I told him to take the time he needed, because I don’t have to be out of my current place until May 1st, I’m just looking to move earlier than that because I don’t want to live here while people are coming in and out for showings. I also told him that I didn’t want to move again in another few months, so let’s make sure it’s the right fit.

He agreed, so we’re just chatting about normal friend stuff because like I said, I want to get to know him regardless. He does have a girlfriend, but they’re about as involved as Zac and me. As in, they don’t live together, they don’t spend all their time together, etc. We’re both stunningly introverted, which I think will also work well.

If Colin agrees to take me on as a lodger, it will be very nice only living with one, possibly two people. I don’t think that neurotypical people get the need for sensory deprivation. I think that people who need to be alone a lot make extroverts uncomfortable.

So, now I have two solid leads, and I feel better about myself than I have in ages because I didn’t know how this would go. Now that I have a letter of recommendation from Hayat and not someone they can’t verify I lived with, it’s a different ball game. My landlord said that I was a warm and caring person, and that my rent had never been late in nine years.

That goes a long way with people, so hopefully if it doesn’t work out with Colin, it will work out somewhere in DC. I’m surprised at the amount of looking I’ve sone in Silver Spring, because I thought I’d want to take off for DC/Alexandria immediately.

I’ve found much better deals on this side of the river, and in DC, even if you get a refinished house, it will still have weird steps all over the place because there’s no way it’s level after 300 years. I have nearly killed myself in several DC row houses. I know it would be so much easier for Lindsay if I lived in the middle of the city, but I haven’t found any place that truly looks comfortable. Most of the DC houses I’ve seen are very, very cramped.

Colin works for the local government in DC, and has a band. But it’s interesting. They only rent a recording studio and play together like, once a year. The rest of the time, they record their parts separately and just e-mail them, then the mixer puts everything together.

If it seems like I’m putting all my eggs in one basket, I don’t feel that I am because I am continuing to interview with other people, I’m just the most excited about this probability because I won’t be going that far and it’s someone I already like.

Plus, it would be nice to be settled by the time Bryn and her boyfriend, Dave, get here in May. However, I did warn them that it may be they arrive and start picking up my boxes. 😉 I know them well enough to know they’d just do it, though. The way I move, it will take less than half a day.

Today it’s all about culling, because tomorrow they’re coming to take pictures for Zillow, Redfin, etc. This is not my forté. I am going to suffer through. I had a Five Hour Energy, and I might have a cup of coffee as well (out of Adderrall and don’t have time to go to the doctor before the photographers get here). I have nine years of crap to go through, because I don’t want to move it all.

Yesterday, I gave my housemate Magda two GIANT bags of bath salts, because I bought them without knowing that Hayat was planning on ripping up the bathtub and putting in a shower. So, I have had industrial size bags of bath salts sitting on top of my dresser for the last year and a half.

Not all of my clothes fit, or they’re not my style anymore, etc.

It’s Mari Kondo time, and I may put her on for inspiration.

But if I’m going to bring up Mari Kondo’s name, I should also tell you I have “The Life Changing Magic of Leaving Your Shit All Over the Place” on my Kindle.

There Are Too Many to Count

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What was the best compliment you’ve received?

  • From Zac, it’s saying that reading my writing inspired him to start writing every day. He says all the cute and funny boyfriend stuff, too, but this really stuck with me because I am not known for my consistency, much less consistency lasting long enough for someone to notice I’m doing something consistently.
  • From my readers:
    • “You sound like a 15-year-old boy……. and his mother.”
    • (On my marriage article) “I didn’t know the writer was gay until the end.”
    • “Thanks for reminding me that I’m not alone.” Said by many, but it’s my rocket fuel. How do I do that more effectively? How did I speak to them without knowing them beforehand? That’s the compliment. I did.
  • From Supergrover, it’s “I know you were authentically yourself and she took advantage of that.” The “she” doesn’t matter in this equation. The fact that SG! knew I was authentically myself was the compliment. That I am authentic enough that other people see it, because it’s one thing to hope authenticity comes across in communication; it’s wholly separate as to whether the message is received. Having someone who sees you is fantastic.
  • From Bryn, it’s that when she reads, she hears me reading to her in her head. She knows my voice so well that to her, “Stories” is an audiobook; she gets lost in her own memories (we met in 1997, and it’s been a few years since we’ve seen each other. She’s coming to visit in May.).
  • Margaret Cho and Martina Navratilova gave me a compliment just by giving me airtime on their Twitter feeds, but I also got virtual hugs, kisses, and hearts from Margaret when I said, “thank you so much for reading. Having you read me is like Goliath reading David.” I can’t remember if she’s religious or not. I just couldn’t think of a more universal illustration than that. Apparently she got it.
  • From family and church members- “that voice! Where did it come from?” I’m classically trained and don’t sing often, but when I do, I tend to raise eyebrows because I don’t look like a soprano (unless you mean little boy choir). I have a very large opera voice in a compact wrapper.
  • It’s always nice to hear after I’ve preached that I should go into ministry, that it’s literally my calling, that I was on fire that day, and every single thing that anyone has said to encourage me in that direction. Though it’s not really a part of my life right now, I’m glad I have that skill set. It has helped me tremendously as a writer, because a lot of the time what works on stage in front of a crowd also works in an essay from the first person perspective……… or as Lindsay would say, “Dad….. was that true, or were you just preaching?”

I am certain that there are a million others, but these are the ones that came up today. I’m sure this prompt will come around again soon, and I’ll think of 20 more.

The link is to me singing Rutter, because of course it is. I look like a little boy soprano. 😛

The Calm Before the Storm

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Today or tomorrow I am meeting another potential roommate that lives in my neighborhood. My landlord referred me to him via NextDoor, so hopefully I’ll be able to secure something fairly quickly. As we told each other, it’s at least worth a meeting to see if we get along, and he has a dog.

The funniest thing he said was that he was saying he lived alone, and I said, “I’m autistic and ADHD. It would probably work out better for me because of less sensory input.” He said, and it was so cute…… “I am somewhat neurodivergent.” I told him I laughed out loud at that one. We’re both introverts. He works for a government agency and his house is cute as a button, plus updated on the inside. I looked at some pictures online, but it was from the sale of the house. I have no idea what it looks like furnished yet, but I’m eager to see.

He’s a little older than me, the same age as Supergrover. It’s how I know he’s young enough to vibe with me and not too old to think of me as a constant annoyance because our age difference is too great. My worst nightmare was getting stuck in a group house with five 20 year old interns on Capitol Hill. It wouldn’t have been bad. I would have connected with a lot of Washington elite that way, but it wouldn’t have been the right vibe. If it works out that I move in with (let’s call him) Colin, I feel that I could go the distance with him, because I moved my entire childhood. The only place I have lived longer than DC is Portland, and even that was broken up into two chunks. The first was going to see my family, and at that time, I really meant it.

The second time, I had to go see about a girl. I had it bad, but I didn’t realize it until we drove from Portland to Houston together. That woman helped me move into my apartment in fucking August (I repeat….. in HOUSTON, TEXAS) and I let her get on the plane back to Oregon. What in the actual fuck was wrong with me?

If I have any regrets in life, it’s not taking Dana seriously at six weeks when she told me she had a crush on me. It took me three or three and a half years to accept that I had a crush on her, too. That’s because I don’t know what possessed her to tell me she had a crush on me, except yes, I do.

Carol, Dana’s then-wife, was not threatened by Dana having a crush……… and oh my fucking God.

Oh my God.

I did to Dana what Dana did to Carol. It just so happened that my new relationship energy was never going to go anywhere, therefore my pie in the sky ideas for a romance with a straight woman were grounded until my mental health went off the rails. That’s what I mean about the hurt being unintentional. I take responsibility for my behavior, because it happened no matter what my mental health might have been at the time. It is more about forgiving myself for not having the right tools to deal with my feelings, my medication, or my mental state while my medication was, in a few words, completely fucked up.

Again, I learned I was poly because I never lost any love for Dana, I only gained it for SG! Dana and I went down the tubes of our own accord, but not exactly. There was no preconceived plan on Supergrover’s part to institute a divide and conquer move. As she says, our relationship happened organically despite a whole bunch of things (which meant more to me than platinum, beautiful girl).

I can’t tell you how Supergrover is feeling except hurt and tired, because that is what I know for sure, and it’s probably going to make me cry.

  • Whenever I feel anxious that she’s distancing herself from me, she surprises me with all the love that comes through in black & white. Every. Single. Time. As I have said, she doesn’t say “I love you” in words. She does it by showing up. Consistently. No matter how mad we are at each other. No matter how bad the fight is, there has been nothing in 10 years that has ever torn us apart. Somehow, we keep the yellow string going even when we’re out of pocket. When I get the most anxious is generally about the time that she swoops in and reminds me what’s up. The Mama Wolverine claws are coming out, she will go Alduin on their asses, etc. We have that part down.
  • Keeping out of each other’s lives has been a mixed bag, because having context and not creates two different sets of problems. There’s the problems we have with telling our story together, and the problems we have with telling our stories apart. Lancing the boil was getting back on the same page. Again, I don’t know what will happen, but she said that she didn’t want to get into a cat and mouse game. It’s not if she shows up. Not being honest about your true intentions is a cat and mouse game. I love her enough to struggle all the way until we’re ridiculously happy again, whether there’s a context to our relationship or not. I’m ready for a different kind of honeymoon phase because I’m tired of putting each other through the wringer for no good reason.
  • I have loved her so much for a decade, and I feel like she has returned those feelings to the best of her ability. That she couldn’t be a better friend than she is right now in terms of being the kind of person that sends birthday and Christmas presents because we have such a long history together, and it’s so intense.
  • I don’t want to put anyone above her ever again, which is why I say that I’m as settled as I want to be. I am never going to get in another fight over emotional affairs because never once when I got married did I think I was going to go blind. I thought Dana and I had enough strength in our relationship to get through it, but I underestimated the pull I felt toward SG! The wave went over my head, and I’ve never been the same. But it’s all for good- I love my life, and I wish I could convince my beautiful girl of that instead of always thinking I’m saying “this is all your fault.”
  • I’m not sure why she thinkgs this is all her fault, because she laid out all the times she’s been a dick and the times I have as well. That means “Things Fell Apart” at both our hands. It is both our faults and neither.
  • Despite not having enough context, I think this is the relationship that reflects me the most deeply because since I’m reading her, I pick up her words and phrases all the time.
    • Painting my feelings as fact
    • Pricks on my skin I just couldn’t close anymore
    • It’s not “very” anymore, it’s “to an enormous degree.”
    • “I love his takedowns of the orange gelatinous shitbag.”
    • Me: How’s your day going? Her: picture of dumpster fire…. this has been especially useful lately
    • “Pick up my toys and go home,” which she got from me and now says all the time- at least to me. I don’t know how much I affect her speech at work/home/etc. If so, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. 😉
    • When she edits me, she’s very rough. I like it. I’ll get notes like “WHO TF IS PANCHO?”
    • Her husband had a thing and I asked her if she needed help (med assistant- she travels). She said no, but how kind of me to ask. I said, “it seemed nicer than asking how you broke him.” Later that day, I got an e-mail that said, “I keep laughing at this.” I smiled at that for three weeks straight. I got her. ❤ Maybe grasshopper is not as far away from satori as I think. So, because it tickled me to get a note later in the day that I was still laughing at something she said, I send them to others.
    • It was a door I never should have opened, but I used to love flirting with her because she was so fucking quick. I got in over my head fast, and I couldn’t take it back. Again, I knew I was fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked. I won’t tell you what she said, but I told her that all she needed to do was realize that my feelings were valid and real, and to be sensitive to them. That there was no reason to act, just to know they’re there. It was not to encourage, but for her to have empathy because I knew it couldn’t go anywhere and I was flipping out anyway. I can’t believe how much it meant to me when I said, “surely you spent longer than you wanted getting over someone who turned your head when it was a bad idea?” She said, “yes, surely I have.” She really saw me, and I will remember it forever. She has also never once invalidated my feelings, and been moved at the things I’ve written about her. She makes me happy without even trying, makes me proud just by breathing. The fact that she’s not my romantic partner means both jack and shit. She’s just always the one at the back of my mind, the one I quote all the time while she doesn’t know it…….. and I am sure that is a two way street even if she doesn’t say it out loud, because over ten years of writing, we have a million word associations between us……. most notably, “influencer.”
      • It was her brain that made me absolutely crazy about her (this is the part where you don’t get her reply that was so perfect it made my desk chair sag, I was laughing so hard). I joked, “besides, can I really make a decision on whether I’m in love with you or not if I haven’t seen your rack? What kind of idiot do you take me for, woman?” That was the moment *she* came in Kings full over Aces and I thought, “Christ. This needs to last my whole life, no matter what it looks like. I will never find her anywhere else in a million zillion years.” In fact, I actually told her this. That I wanted to fix us because I couldn’t go to the Supergrover store and pick out a new one. She’s the Vera Wang you can’t afford.
  • I realize by writing all of this down, it just seems like I’m begging her to come back. It’s just not true. That’s because if she does come back, it will be a great day in my life….. because she knows that I don’t want the surface level of her. I want the brain that made me crazy about her in the first place. I feel that if she lets me into that space, the way I let her into mine, what used to be a “cat and mouse game” will once again be stable, because in a lot of ways, we’ll be discovering each other again for the first time. Just because we’ve had a weird and hard road in the past 10 years doesn’t mean it always has to be as difficult as it has been. I’m just tired of covering up feelings with gifts, because I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel when I get them. What emotions are behind them when her e-mails say so little? No, these entries are not begging. They are the precious things I will want to read 10 and 20 and 30 years from now…… because she’s the best thing that ever happened to me and thinks she isn’t. I can’t fix that for her, but it’s not for lack of trying.
  • I will always love her with this much depth, because she gave me too much over the last 10 years to hold any bitterness or anger anymore. She has said that some of the things I’ve said are incredibly hurtful, and I’d like to talk about them. But again, I do not know whether she needs to separate from me, or whether she’ll be back after some time, space, peace, and grace. She has it coming from me in spades, because “surely grace and mercy will carry me all the days of my life” (Don’t call me Shirley!). As I have said before, it is not my job to talk now. I have talked enough. She knows how I feel, and she does not need to hear me again.

No, all of these memories are for me…. the ones that Oliver, who is a dog, has already heard.

Tripping

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?

I have driven back and forth from Portland, Oregon to Houston, Texas three times, two of them completely alone. If you have never done it and road tripping is a thing you do, driving from Sacramento to Portland is just about one of the most stunning things you’ll ever do in your life and you’ll remember it forever, particularly the part where you have to go around Mt. Shasta. The day I did it, it was total whiteout conditions. I couldn’t see the road in front of my car. But then the snow let up and I was in this beautiful valley and I’d never seen anything like it. I was very lucky that I didn’t have to chain up that day, because it was late October the first time.

I have a soft spot for Oregon even still, because Bryn lives there and the first time Supergrover planned a trip with me, she wanted to go to Coos Bay. We didn’t get to do it, but when I think of Coos Bay, my heart does this cute little flip. I think it’s here to stay because that memory is so precious. Since I lived in Portland, I would have been “Driving Miss Supergrover,” here to take her where she wants to go.

Actually, that’s a dream and a half. As if Dana would have entrusted me to drive for that amount of time (laughing). She was the football coach driving instructor every time I was at the wheel. It was so ridiculously annoying and yet I did need help. Just not a Dana amount of it. I wrecked my last car and chose not to replace it, but before that it had been many years since I’d been in an accident. However, I did get three red light camera tickets in DC because I didn’t see the lights. They were only on one side of the street and not overhead. That’s what I mean about needing help. A second set of eyes. Normally, I’m fine. But it doesn’t take much to create a big problem.

It’s also been 15 or 20 years since I got a speeding ticket………….

While driving from Houston to Portland, Oregon.

So, nowadays I’d love to take a train on any trip imaginable. I would rather ride the train than drive anywhere, and DC makes it possible. Plus, since I’m moving soon, I’d like to see if I can get closer to the train station and cut out the time it takes to get there….. which is only 10 minutes now, but that’s by car. I’d like it to be a 10 minute walk, but that’s so desirable that I doubt I’ll find it. But I’m trying since I have such a wide net. It doesn’t matter which station. It could be SE Waterfront or Huntington.

The house that I’m looking at now is about three minutes from here (and three minutes closer to the Metro). It’s owned by a doctor, and the room has a glass door that looks out over the garden. I don’t know whether it will work out or not, but I’m glad that I have 59 days to find a place and I already have one solid lead, as well as others I need to call today.

But as of right now, my mind is thinking about trains. Because I’ve driven across the entire US (I’ve been from DC to Houston with my dad), I’d like to go from Union Station to Central Station, then find a train into Canada. Ottawa or Montreal, doesn’t matter. Then, I’d like to go all the way to BC, or maybe Alaska.

Ooooh, yes. Alaska, because I’ve never been through the Yukon and Denali is at the end. I also would like to see Nunavut after hearing about it for so many years….. and laughing, because “Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie” did a song about it….. “one fifth of my country….. is also Nunavut.” The jokes just write themselves, folks.

I love cold weather as long as I’m prepared for it, and mostly that just means “wear lots of layers, and keep moving.” I have to keep moving because I do not generate enough body heat for the layers to absorb otherwise. Sometimes if I have a drink it helps, but not as much as it seems to do for others (or they’re exaggerating).

I’d like to do a train trip around Finland/Scandinavia if that area of the world stays cool long-term. I’m afraid that Putin is in it to win it, however. Why stop with Finland when he could push all the way to the coast? So great that Sweden joined NATO, btw…………

My friend JL lives in Norway, and he’s told me I’m welcome to come and visit. He’s the type of guy that means what he says, so I know I could make it a reality because we get along so well online. It would be cool to just fit into his life for a little bit, meeting his family, cooking together, etc. I met him through my professional author’s page, so basically he makes me look good. See? I can hang out with REAL authors. 😛

Part of my train trip would invariably be turning myself into a real writer as well.