One of the things that blogging has given me is the ability to think in longhand so that I know I can come here to process when I don’t have anywhere else.
So. Moving. Gotta talk about it.
This morning Hayat told me I have 60 days to find a place, that they don’t have a place to go yet, either, and that I could keep all the furniture in my room because she bought it specifically for me. I love that so much, because when we had to get new furniture, I asked for a futon. Hayat came back with this catalog and I’ve never seen more expensive futons in my life.
They’re just better for my back, and absolutely amazing as long as you never fold them. It will never be the same again. It is either a bed frame or a couch, but not both.
It’s soothing to know that this house will come with me, because I’ve been here since 2015. It’s a great thing to be able to tell new landlords, that I’m only moving because my current landlords are selling, not that I’m getting kicked out because I have some sort of issue.
I laid out most of my “getting to know you” stuff in text with another woman this morning, someone I’m hoping will let me come see the room soon. I told her everything. Like, “I’m AuDHD, I need a lot of alone time, etc.” I don’t believe in being someone I’m not because that’ll last two months. I also made sure to say I had a boyfriend to weed out people who won’t let you have any overnight guests at all. It’s infantilizing to an enormous degree….. just one of the reasons I was truly single for so long.
It was also a matter of finding someone I really vibed with, who didn’t want to be on a “relationship escalator.” I’m as settled as I want to be. Sometimes I miss Zac, but most of the time I’m absorbed in my own work and don’t notice how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other. This is not “out of sight, out of mind,” but picking up right where we left off and making all of it quality. We’re on a time difference right now, so it’s nice waking up to texts from him, or goodnight texts in the middle of the afternoon.
He gets back in plenty of time to help me move, and I’m glad he was the first to volunteer. I’m going to try and delay moving until Zac has had a few days to recover, but I’d like to find a place for April if it’s possible so I don’t have to live here through the showing of the house. It would set me off, constantly, and I don’t need that particular anxiety if I can help it. Plus, the house where I want to interview currently is three minutes from here.
Even if Zac and I take all the furniture, it’s three trips.
I only really want to take my bed.
I also only want to clean everything out once, not “run around and clean before the new people get here.”
That is not my personality. I did it when I was a kid because that’s how my mother did everything, but now I just ADHD out in my room and am fanatical about the kitchen and the bathroom. No one has ever had a problem with me in common spaces, but they have had problems with me being in my room with the door closed all the time, as if this is some sort of family arrangement and I’m a problem when I’m antisocial. They don’t want me to hang out with them. It makes them uncomfortable because they’ve never met a writer. So, it’s a catch-22. Do you want to be friends with a writer? Likely not. Do you want to gossip about a writer? Always.
I get along with people because I’m social when I feel like it, but I don’t go out of my way to interact because renting is not a social contract where I become invested in being a part of your family overnight. Being a part of Hayat and Mike’s came over almost a decade. I didn’t live alone, but I did. I would like to continue that tradition. I assume there’s Wi-Fi wherever I’m going to live, which allows me to stay in constant conversation with people while also not spending time I don’t want to spend in public.
I’ve been to the grocery store twice since the pandemic started because it was so much easier than shopping, socially speaking. I go selectively mute a lot….. but I don’t stop talking. I stop engaging verbally because I need space to think about what I want to say, and time to rewrite it. I need to give myself a delete key before I send. You can’t do that in person.
I’m not perfect. I mess that dynamic up a lot, too. But at the same time, I have a better shot at reaching someone through writing, because I actually have the confidence to say what I need to say without stuttering. I could not have told this woman that wants to interview me about a house that I was autistic and ADHD in person, that it makes me come with a ton of energy that needs a ton of alone time. I would have tried to make her happy so that she accepted me, rather than acknowledging that I had the right to take up space. I don’t want to live with someone who wouldn’t accept me for all my quirks up front. We don’t have to be best friends, but if you don’t like people like me, you won’t like me, either.
I need to go downstairs. The groceries are here and I desperately need a sandwich and some ice cream.
I think as you age, you realize that there is only one type of confident person. It’s the kind of person who thinks they know everything. The person that has a suggestion for everything, even when it’s blatantly wrong. It’s the person who can’t learn, because they think their ideas are already pretty great and need no correction or instruction.
Everyone else becomes confident in their subject matter area, and leaves the rest to other people who also know what they’re talking about. I tend to “jewel the elephant” in stories to make them flow, but it is a low-level “Southernization,” not a retelling. Everything I have said is true, but there has to be a tiny bit of poetic license so that a sentence actually flows. I could say, “she walked from here to there,” but it’s not getting to the heart of the matter even though it’s factual. In fact, I think I do less smoothing than I do cutting out the filler. You don’t need to see me driving for fifteen minutes, you want the conversations I had in both locations, for example.
There is a complete difference between telling a story to someone and having a conversation. In a conversation, you are expecting someone to talk back. In a blog entry, it is all self-contained. I have left out bits, but not because I’m trying to make someone else feel bad. It’s that their choice as to what to leave in is different than mine…. and they’re free to tell their own story, even in the comments so that it’s immediately visible to those who just read mine. People don’t, but they could and it would make my blog a thousand times more interesting.
There’s also a difference in my confidence when I’m writing and my confidence when I’m out here in the world. I am master of my own domain, literally. It’s like 20 bucks a year for theantileslie.com. But, when I leave this space, I am no longer in charge of anything. I do not treat the whole world as if it is mine, just this tiny little piece of it. I have to be the most confident person I know on this web site, because there aren’t any other narrators of my own story.
In my actual life, Supergrover, Bryn, and Zac (as well as my family) are also narrators, and I am responsible for listening to them as much as talking and letting them know how I feel. They don’t get the “God” version of me because I am not narrating my story in their faces, I am asking for their input. It’s just that Supergrover sees less of the conversational side with me because she hasn’t had a conversation with me in eight years. We used to chat where we were both in front of the computer, both paying attention to each other, so it was harder to get off track than always being async.
Not having conversations made me a narrator in my e-mails, when she was looking for conversation that wasn’t there because it wasn’t. The tautology is real. I cannot think of it as a conversation if you aren’t there. I will always think of it as a letter you’ll pick up in your future, whenever that may be.
I am very good at watching other people go confidently in the wrong direction because it’s not my place to say anything. It’s also my place to stand there and take it when I do tell people flat out “I think you’re doing something wrong.” That’s because it’s not my place to say something and I deserve it, but I also bear the responsibility as a good friend to stand there and take it because that person needs to chew on something. At the very least, they need to think about it and say “I’m going to do what I’m going to do, get used to it” or “you’re right. I didn’t think of that.” Then, it’s my job to sit on that answer, and to love people even when their answer is the worst possible outcome.
I’m not judgmental. I will still love you through whatever you’re going through, even when you’re a hot mess. That’s because I know there’s a difference between surviving and thriving. Survival mode doesn’t give you any higher function. You have to save yourself.
Some people do this by hurting others. Some people do this by hurting themselves. Some people do this by hurting others and not realizing how much watching that is going to hurt them.
For instance, I’ve never once been as angry at Supergrover as I have been at myself. I hurt her and I watched the fallout, because the hurt was unintentional and I felt sincerely helpless to “fix us.” I would if I could, but I can’t, and I have shown myself that for many years. She hasn’t held that wrong over my head so much as praising me for being an amazing writer and then holding my blog over my head. But even that could be redirection from what she’s actually mad at, and I won’t know until she tells me.
I am satisfied with not knowing, because I know how our relationship goes when she doesn’t want to talk about something. It becomes inauthentic, a shadow of itself, and it hurts me. I am sure it hurts her, too, but I cannot speak to that. I feel like we lanced a huge boil the other day, which has led me to believe that I’m going to be okay whether she is or not about our situation. The only clarity on her questions comes from me, and if she’s not interested enough to work on them, I’m confident enough to believe that there are other people out there who do want an authentic relationship.
She knew I was always going to be a blogger, because she was a fan first…. one that fed my ego and made me feel amazing about myself. Now, it’s the bane of her existence. I’m done, because I manage to piss her off and move her, but the only things worth mentioning are the things that piss her off and not what keeps her coming back. It makes me look mean and vindictive, when if I wrote that someone was an asshole to me that day, they probably were. That’s because if someone is glorious, I’ll write that, too, and my writing changes as fast as we do.
My dad has this kind of confidence, but I had to learn it from other women. He planted the ideas, but they made them blossom. That’s because women aren’t really taught to be confident in this society. We are taught that men are more capable than we are, why it was so devastating for my mother to find out I was queer. For her, that came across as me losing EVERYTHING. She couldn’t even have her own credit cards until three years before I was born. Of course that’s going to skew her vision of my future. And that’s before we start talking about AuDHD and physically disabled.
I’ve always been attracted to Type A people (mostly women) because they’re confident, and I’m trying to learn how to do that. And attraction covers an entire spectrum, because a lot of my partners have been Type A, as well as my friends. It’s not something I’m reacting to in trying to please/enable them. It’s trying to figure out how they work so I can get it together, too. It’s never happened, but there’s always hope.
I love what makes my people feel confident.
For Supergrover, I believe it’s her dogs and her books. She gets lost in both, taking her to a different world with its own language, an alpha dog who commands her pack while also inhaling an enormous amount of fiction.
For Bryn, it’s definitely animals. She can run a room of primates (including humans) as easily as she can have full conversations IN ENGLISH with her own dog, because her dog probably has the largest vocabulary I’ve ever seen in a canine outside of fiction. I’ve tried using how Bryn talks to Pippi with Oliver, who is a dog, and it works.
Zac, Oliver can understand English in full sentences, don’t let anyone tell you differently. 😛 I love saying to Oliver, “pick up your toy and lay down over here.” Yes, he can handle sentences with conjunctions. I wouldn’t have thought of that if Bryn hadn’t done it first.
For Zac, I think Oliver keeps him grounded. Oliver will tell him the truth when no one else will, and that truth is that he is beautiful and beloved and everything he needs all within himself. There is nothing that Zac could do that would make Oliver stop loving him, and he knows it. I hope he takes Oliver’s belief in him and uses it on himself, because Zac is indeed magic. I just don’t think he knows it. He displays confidence about so many things, because he’s intelligent and works in intelligence. Therefore, he knows more about the world than most people because he sees a bigger chessboard and is smart enough to analyze it. Being smart enough to analyze it breaks your heart.
It breaks mine and I don’t know a tenth of what he does, because I only read news articles and he’s been in the field since he was 18. He feels confident that he’s risen to the level where he wants to be, because he’s very good at his job and it allows him the time to think about other things. It also gives him enough time to be a writer, because he’s not stuck on a steep learning curve at work. He gets confidence in all areas of his life because his work is stable and reliably outstanding.
So, overall, if I had to pick the most confident person I know, it would be tied three ways. The people I know who are the most confident are the people I chose to do life with. I wouldn’t have it any other way, because we all have our own subject matter areas.
I gave my Facebook subscribers the inside story, before the video came out. Now, the video is up and I was right…. so you get to hear the real story, too. I am not sure why the Q&A was cut off, but I have two very good guesses….. Jonna & Leslie.
So, I feel like I started it by saying that in another video, I’d heard she was “a real hardass” at CIA. It’s like I broke the surface tension on top of a glass of cool water…… because later on, she talked about a young female colleague who got tired of her boss’s bullshit and said, “Bill, fuck off.”
I laughed a lot harder than I needed to at that joke.
Anyway, we reverted into line cook and spy, which both speak profanity and irreverence as a first language. The black humor on “Homeland” is very real. Lives are on the line, and you sure as shit want to know who’s on your six. If you’re going to step in front of a bus for them, you have to know they’d do the same for you. People think of the military as being rough and tumble, but I’ve been around enough spies by now to know that they mostly run on coffee and hatred. Hearing Zac’s friends’ old war stories was great, because you learn quickly that it’s like being a goalie. You have those Bond moments, but you’re still a government wonk that does paperwork, mostly getting your raw data to the analysts.
Though CIA does not normally carry guns when they’re on intelligence missions, they do when they’re embedded in the armed services. I mean, they’d probably normally carry guns if they were DIA, but people like Jonna usually didn’t, though she’s trained on just about everything. So- note to self. That’s why spies can pick up most guns and know how to use them instantly. They don’t have to carry, they can pick up someone else’s if they’re in trouble.
So, the movies aren’t all bad. Except for this one….. where I got Jonna Mendez censored at her own museum……..
Even though this event was all about Jonna, I can’t think of anything to say except “Argo fuck yourself.” Because what do you say when you notice the other museum employees about to swallow their teeth because they’re so shocked that someone like Jonna would throw an f-bomb. What does she have to prove anymore?
What strategies do you use to cope with negative feelings?
My childhood was a series of stuffing down emotions, both positive and negative, because I was in show mode. So, until I was about 17, I didn’t have any coping skills for getting angry. I didn’t have any coping skills for other people being angry at me. Sometimes when I’m in meltdown, I still don’t, but I have a better shot now than I ever have. Mostly because I’m old enough now not to react just because someone says I should.
Sometimes, when people are angry, I dissociate now. It is easier than feeling myself get upset because I don’t like me when I return fire. It may look like I’m not standing up for myself, but I feel like I get a lot more accomplished just by letting people say whatever it is they’re going to say and “holding my applause until the end.” That’s because even if the problem is me, the solution is not going to come from me.
The solution is going to come from letting them have their feelings out, making them feel heard, and validating that what they’ve said is emotionally, if not factually true. Emotions are not logical, yet none are invalid. It’s a tough road to walk, but easier than getting defensive. I have a fragile ego and a stunning vocabulary. I don’t need “short fuse” added to the list because no one needs my anger. It’s hard to get people to listen to you when you’re not angry, impossible if you are.
People don’t see passion about something if you’re angry. They get defensive and double down. It’s much easier to get what I need if I wait until they’ve had a chance to get whatever it is they need from me off their chests. I stay quiet until the yelling is over, because people are extraordinarily pliable after they’ve yelled at you. The emotional energy in the room feels lighter because their anger is gone. They’re in a space to actually talk.
A lot of people use this pliant stage to manipulate people into getting what they want because they know the other person feels guilty they got angry. I use it to be able to talk in the quiet instead of in the heat of the moment, because I’m not going to get another chance where your ears are this open….. at least, until after the next blowout I don’t want to have.
In essence, while I sat there and waited, you wore yourself out enough to be vulnerable with me and I know it.
It reminds me of Supergrover’s letter, honestly, because in the beginning she really let me have it. It was the best thing ever. My girl was back. She took me on like a prizefighter, and I let her because she needed it. She’d saved up all her negative feelings for years and just blew me away in one page…….. and then she started talking about why I e-mailed her in the first place, and all her anger melted into the woman I know and love. The velvet hammer. Outset Boudreaux has nothing on her.
So, was it more important for me to respond to the part where she was angry at me with fire? Or was it more important to realize that she’s angry and to let her have her moment? Be silent. Take it all in. As I told her in my reply, “I find that I have more questions than anything else- that it’s time to listen and not to talk.” I don’t know what will come of it, but I know I used the best coping strategy for negative emotions that I have- which is just to let go.
I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future because we both want the safety and security of knowing what’s going to happen without doing anything to help it along. We’ve wasted more time than we’ve gotten along and I’m so tired of it.
Our personalities are so opposite because I want to talk about everything. I want to know why my writing hurts her, because until I do, I can’t fix anything, thus limiting my ability to make her happy. It’s better that I don’t know how to make her happy, I think, because if I did, I’d lean toward it, perhaps even without realizing it….. convincing myself that this was my blog when really it’s “everything I do to walk on eggshells.” I’m not having that relationship ever again….. with her, or anyone else. I was able to pick out the pattern because I’ve been in it so many times. Nothing about this relationship is exclusive to her, because I know how I work in relationships and a lot of this is my fault.
We’re just not using our strengths. For instance, our age is nebulous. She does not see me as older than she is emotionally, but I am…. by a lot. I don’t see her as older than I am chronologically, but she is……. by a lot. It’s not a slam, it’s inversely proportional. I got emotional tools she didn’t. She got logical tools that I didn’t. We make a good team, but we’re armed to the teeth without any trust left at all.
Except there will always be a bridge where I stand and work on my negative emotions; I cannot think them through with the hope that my beautiful girl will see what I’m doing and respond. What I can do is recognize that working through all these things will prepare me for something else down the road, and who knows what that might be? I need her to listen to me. She’s dead set on that not happening. So, when she doesn’t listen to me, I do what I do best.
I don’t know what to do except get my room ready to have pictures taken for Zillow. I overheard a conversation that my landlords are selling the house. They didn’t deny it, just said they were getting it appraised. Therefore, I know that pictures are going to be taken, just not how all this will turn out. I’m not going to sit here and wait until the very last moment. I also know that they think there will be a lot of interest in the house, so they say they’re waffling, but I’m not so sure that’s true. I’m looking around for a place, and it doesn’t matter where as long as I’m close to a train station. I might stay in Maryland, or I might move out to Virginia. It really depends on my tax and health care status.
The thing about moving to Virginia is that there’s too much space. It takes longer to get everywhere. However, there are some pluses. One of them would be being closer to Zac. We wouldn’t get to see each other any more often than we do now, I don’t think, but it would be nice if I could cut that commute down…….. but then I think, “you write on the train.” So, there goes my need to look for a house in Virginia except for some very specific laws I don’t like in Maryland. But, they’re not so important to me that it’s worth gaining a shittier health care system. I have work to do in terms of where I go next, but I do think it’s time for a change. And yet I don’t. I’m miserable thinking of leaving after just starting my 10th year here.
I’d like to move into another group house, because I like having a front and back yard, plus a big kitchen, all that. I don’t want to go back to a white box alone every night. It doesn’t have to be the right fit at first. I will find the right fit. I just lucked out when I called these landlords first. It’s not coming at exactly an opportune time for me because it never would. This is a huge deal, a huge life transition.
I called Hayat from Houston pretty much the day after Dana hit me. It sped up my timeline quite a bit, honestly. I figured I could live anywhere for a month, so just stick it out and get the lay of the land. I joke now that if Hayat hadn’t picked me up from the Metro nine years ago, I’d still be there.
But now Hayat is thinking about retiring, and everything looks different. As it’s supposed to do….. nothing is certain except moving on.
What I do know is that I will not be taking off for another city unless it’s within the DMV. I even thought about Baltimore for a hot second, because I love it there. However, I know it’s so much easier to see my sister without having to get the MARC train involved. It would also be nice to stay near downtown Silver Spring, because I love the way it’s so walkable. I feel the same way about Alexandria, though, so maybe I’ll check over in my old neighborhood and see what’s available. My old neighborhood is only one Metro stop up from Zac’s, and the buses in Alexandria are just as good as the ones in Silver Spring.
I get weird vibes about my old neighborhood, though, so we’ll see. It just depends. As of right now, everything is coming together in terms of Lindsay, Matt, Bryn, and Dave all being here at the time I’m supposed to move and I have like three boxes of stuff (kidding, but not by much).
The only reason I don’t have much is that I switched to a Kindle.
I know that when one door closes, another opens. I just want to start looking for the right handle.
For $5.00, I can get lost for years. This is because $5.00 is about how much it takes to by “Droid Edit,” a full-featured coding notepad for Android. The free version of “Koder” on iOS seems to fit the bill nicely, but I would get the pro version if it was more like Notepad++ and Microsoft Visual Studio Code (my personal favorite because now it runs bare metal on all operating systems, even Fedora and Ubuntu. It should also be able to run on Android with those specs. Get your shit together, Microsoft. Do you think I like coding without the Dracula Official Theme? Monokai is not going to cut it, my friend.).
I use the term coding loosely, because really the only things I do in my HTML files are add italics and special characters, maybe a link. For some reason, if I do more than that, WordPress will scrub out the HTML and tell me it can’t recover the block. I need a real solution that’s completely open source, but I like WordPress. I made the decision 20 years ago to stop coding and only be known as a writer…. why my setup is simple and hopefully easy to read.
I end up using the WordPress reader included in the Jetpack app because it’s in dark mode. I rarely read my own work on my blog itself. I like dark mode. My fans don’t. They’re older and they have more insurance.
And in fact, the most sweet and vulnerable moments between Supergrover and me are when I need my Jessica Tandy, and Supergrover is absolutely as beautiful as she always was. It is not lost on me that I’m a preacher’s kid and she’s a Bee Charmer. In effect, we are “Fried Green Tomatoes,” because that movie showed deep companionate love without showing romance because of the time. Because they held down the madness with the romance, it actually fits Supergrover and me better than if they had. Of course Idgie and Ruth were best friends who ran a business together and not this torrid love affair that lasted a million years, which it absolutely was in “Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café.” Just devoted and never stopped loving each other until they died.
But female friendship is absolutely that strong and resilient, so both the book and the movie are priceless to me. In short, I felt like Idgie when she was young, with Supergrover being every bit the power,grace, and style of a young, married Southern woman. I was absolutely just a lovesick puppy dog for a couple of years, and then I realized my place in the world. “Love her anyway. Help her anyway. She may not accept you in person, but she’ll always come back here.” I am not writing for her. I am not writing to her. These are all the memories I want to be able to read when I am 70 and nothing more. I want her with me, helping to craft the narrative, but it is not necessary. It is the process of letting go and letting God, my words for going into deep discernment. My personality divides and I argue it out with my rabbi, essentially. However, I know that it is me talking back. I do not think of a relationship with God as external, but the omnipotent third eye present in so many Eastern religions.
It’s why I don’t care about semantics, I just want the protein.
I feel like in a way, all of this has been me trying to explain to her why we need to open the Whistle Stop and move on, rather than her always feeling guilty. Just start working together and having fun rather than both of us being up shit creek all the time.
Without a paddle, obvs.
So many messages that didn’t get through. Me thinking about the future and throwing ideas out there to remind myself that this was grounded and real came across as being unwilling to accept the demands on her time. This is categorically untrue. I have dealt with the boundaries on her time since day one, and our relationship has lasted over 10 years now. If I really had problems with her priorities, I wouldn’t have stuck around this long. I also don’t think that I’m all that and a bag of chips, but 10 years is a long time to feel like this relationship is fake with her insisting that it’s not.
Now, I really believe it wasn’t. It was as real as a heart attack. But that’s because I’m not going to get that message through placation. I’m going to get that message through truth. The longer you put off telling the truth, the angrier I get. I don’t want to handle someone else’s avoidance, I want them to realize they’re being avoidant because I’m not an entitled prick who wants to tell you how to run your life until you’ve stomped on my feelings so hard that we’re going to have to have it out. Go drive someone else up the wall because I am struggling.
It’s one thing to be on the bottom of the totem pole for a year- two or three. But after 10 wouldn’t you be furious that you never got airtime? Especially when we have this strong pull towards each other that also has its limits? It’s a dramatic tension that could be solved in an afternoon. I don’t understand keeping that weirdness in place all these years. I think I could solve a lot of her problems with me in one beer….. most notably that our relationship might not translate.
We are not guaranteed to bond just because we like the same Instagram influencer. But thinking we are both sides of Fried Green tomatoes, the Idgie and Ruth and the Idgie and Evelyn is the journey we’ve taken. I don’t know what compelled her to come, but I think it was my thu’um. When a dragon hears its name, it is not bound to respond, but always will out of curiosity and competition. I should give her a word of power, but Snow Wing Hunter is better than anything I could come up with on my own, and she has definitely carried me to Skuldafn many times to meet my Alduins.
I get lost in the flight.
I only get lost in the fight when the adrenaline comes down. It’s not her responsibility to keep it up. I would like it if she’d take on the responsibility of telling me up front the timeframe with which I’m dealing so it calms my anxiety that she’s not always mad at me. It’s hard to feel secure on three words.
What I loved about her letter the other day was twofold. I fell in love with her prose about her family, the everyday life she leads while also being powerful, the dynamic that Lindsay and I have so I could relate on a spiritual level. What it takes to be superhuman at staying awake, because she’s on call a lot of the time (as is Lindsay- news breaks). What it takes to be a big sister in her family. Or, what she wants it to take and I can feel her emotions regarding it from a million miles away. I know the particular pain of losing a mother and finding yourself as the new matriarch suddenly….. especially not being prepared in any way to do so because I feel like it’s my responsibility to be providing for her. She’s the little sister that could. She’s just so sweet about giving me experiences I never would have had otherwise while totally cheering me on as a writer.
That’s been Supergrover’s role in my life as well. I think one of the pricks on my skin that won’t heal is saying that I portray her as a villain as often as I do a friend and rages about it……. while also raging that I paint her as a “Flat Stanley.” I feel that the ups and downs make her a 3D character. Everything she sends me that shows me a real feeling, I include it, because since it’s her real feeling, it’s my real feeling, too. I have said this line before, but I will remember it forever. I didn’t know who “Flat Stanley” was, but I told her that “Flat Stanley has a history of amazing topography.” She is a 3D character, but she isn’t if you take every entry individually instead of reading me like a book. Start in January of last year and read forwards and a 3D character will emerge no matter who it is in my life.
Most people trade the forest for the trees. As I have told her, I feel like my years are so much more important than my days. No one has ever loved her the way I have, and not in terms of depth. In the way that love is executed every day. I became a journalist from the day we met, tasked with telling my own story while not revealing my source. Any misstep on my part feels like a little betrayal, and Supergrover doesn’t talk to me about my writing, so I have no idea how close to the line I am or how I can protect her more in the future. She said that I mentioned something she wanted to keep quiet, but I have no idea what it was that she wanted to keep private, for instance, so I couldn’t go back and fix it.
I want to know what touches her, because everything I write about her is something I’ve gotten lost in, because it was kind of like meeting The Oracle and finding out I’m Neo. My mind went into hyperdrive, and I began to think differently, and on as big a scale as possible because all of the sudden I knew I was capable of it. I’ve realized that I would be happy in a think tank if that were a thing that could happen, mostly because I’m a “plant,” the employee who comes up with great ideas by synthesizing information in the room and building off what other people have said until there’s a consensus.
But I never would have believed that I belonged at that particular table until Supergrover told me I was too smart for my own good.
I get that a lot, but I didn’t believe it until 2013 (a typo when I said that the Argo message came in 2003, I remember). She’s not the president, nor elected to anything, nor can I tell you whether she’s private or public industry (except that she and Zac both speak “acronym.”). What I can tell you is that her compliment had a lot of power behind it. Her CV makes me constantly wonder who she’s met all over the world, especially movie stars.
I miss her pithy comments on my entries, because when she was an e-mail subscriber, instead of commenting here, she’d just forward me the e-mail and flip me shit. She can say so much in so few words, even better when they’re teasing directed at me or our favorite Instagram influencer. Speaking of which, we need to talk about that, too, beautiful girl. It’s probably nothing, but it’s a “how dead am I?” sort of question. Another thing that whether this makes her land on my desk to my thu’um is up for grabs. What is important is that I will remember exactly what this means for a hundred years because all of these feelings are burned into my brain.
The rhythm has calmed, but we still have to dance. I’m not trying to be her partner, I’m trying to be her co-author unless her husband also writes. Maybe she’d rather collaborate with him if that’s the case, and I don’t have any ill will toward that. And it’s not that I have this desperate need to write about her because she’s a powerful person. It’s not. It’s that she became a big part of my story personally, and not of her big shot mess ever mattered.
I love the absolute smallest part of her, because that’s the part I love about everyone. I like vulnerability because I can make accurate decisions on how to behave next. The only reason I spiraled out with her is that I was medically falling apart and I want to throw up every time I think of that time in my life because it cost us so much trust and time. To think that she thinks all of this is her fault is horrible because I’ve been trying to make amends for so many years and it has come across as accusation.
She did indeed throw a bomb over her shoulder and walk away. The truth hurts. But it wasn’t the bomb that hurt. It was walking away and not dealing with the fallout. It showed the ultimate disrespect to me because it was like “I get to tell you whatever I want and then not care how it makes you feel.” She says she’s not responsible for my reactions. No, she’s not, but if she wants to stay my friend she better well be willing to clean up her own mess, because I didn’t ask for it. I’m not guilting you (universal), I am holding you to the standard of being a good friend. How is it anyone’s right to leave the other person so much worse than they found them by listening so closely at first that we were breathing in the right direction……… then holding a wrong over my head for so long that we never moved back into safe space for her? She lost the ability to be a decent friend, her words, not mine.
Then she opened up and told me that my guesses about her behavior were right on target and also that it was too late while also saying “story for another day” while also writing me something so beautiful I’m still chewing on it days later. I don’t know what to think, but I know what I see, and it is a spectrum. We’re better writers as a team than we are alone.
It just depends on whether writing means as much to her as it does to me. It doesn’t have to be blog entries because I’m an audience of one, and the same goes for me- the safe space where I sandbox.
She’s not the love of my life where I get lost in her beauty, wishing like a lovesick puppy for just one hug or what the fuck ever. She’s the love of my life due to writing being the only real partner I have. And she’s the brain that comes with that package, because I feel like she whipped my ass into shape by editing me and giving me feedback on letters as well. I miss that relationship, because it exists outside of time and space. I’d be happy if it always did, but my mind sees so many futures that it’s hard to decide and I’m grateful to also have enough closure to let go. Just because she let her walls down once doesn’t mean she has the strength to do it all the time, and that’s what I need from her if she doesn’t want to meet me in person. I will never be able to pick up subtext if I don’t because I won’t be able to read it in her voice.
I take everything literally, and I’m a “get off my lawn” personality. I rarely apologize for it, but it’s an important flaw in my character in this relationship. But I’m not “get off my lawn” years old on purpose. I’m autistic and lecture as such. I become an overexplainer to avoid awkward silence, of which there has been a lot.
It’s not awkward silence anymore, because she told me she loved me in two different ways. The first was “if I hear your call, I will always come…. because I love my girl.” It was the ending of my letter to Michael writ large. I was right on the money, dear reader. I cannot believe it. Seriously. She swooped in with all the big sister badass no bullshit love I’ve come to know. She doesn’t have to say a word. She said that she was constantly overwhelmed because I was demanding, when I was dreaming. The second was letting me know she things about me all the time, the thing that would have calmed me the most.
I don’t want to be around anyone who doesn’t want to be around me, and I got my answer. Maybe. As it has been for 10 years…… and where I get lost.
What movies or TV series have you watched more than 5 times?
I have seen “Space Camp” at least 25 times since it came out. I was in love with both the camp itself AND Leah Thompson/Kate Capshaw. I don’t want to be an astronaut anymore, but I do still love women. Therefore, at least one lesson took. It is important to learn everything you do not want in adulthood as it is what you do.
Two or three years after “Space Camp” came out, I went to a science and math magnet in Houston called “Clifton Middle School.” I’ve actually spent time at NASA on more than a field trip. I was intimidated by science, fascinated by the way people have to teamwork up there. It’s all creativity whether or not you started with creativity in your wheelhouse or not.
Music gets under my skin faster than television, so I have not watched all of “Westworld” or “The Good Fight,” but I’ve listened to the themes on YouTube for days at a time. I feel that way about a lot of television themes. I have never seen Peter Gunn, but I have blasted the music at top volume screaming down 95. It’s especially fun hearing the vamp and inserting your own rendition of “Dope Nose” by Weezer.
I have seen “Argo” more than 25 times, but the difference between it and “Space Camp” is that by now, “Argo” lives in my brain and I can quote from it at will. The only lines I don’t know are in Farsi, but I still do the sounds and the hand motions. 😉 If someone starts a line from the dialogue, I can finish it. There aren’t any YouTube videos or articles I can stomach called “Things Even Real Fans Don’t Know About Argo,” because I could have made a better one and I know it. If that sounds too confident/arrogant of me, Jonna Mendez knows who I am, and Tony would have had I met him before he stopped doing public appearances (he once taught an entire room of people at The International Spy Museum how to forge Putin’s signature). It’s not Jonna’s story, but she did help write the book with Tony after the movie came out because there was such a demand for it. I knew that she was an uncredited writer on it, so I think she was surprised/pleased that I asked her to autograph my copy. So, my copy of “Argo” is unique, because it has both their signatures on it….. if I can track down Matt Baglio, I’ll have him sign it, too, because he’s the person that’s helped both of them on all their books. I think we’re friends on Twitter? I don’t know. Jonna hasn’t said where he lives, so I don’t know if he’s local or if they work together electronically.
For instance, I’ll bet you didn’t know that if you watch the busy airport scenes in Argo, Jonna and the kids are in it.
I told you I could make a better video. 😉
In terms of TV series(es), I do not have HBO. But if I did, my two comfort shows there are “Six Feet Under” and “Homeland.”
I was so shocked by the end of Homeland that I felt like someone shot me. My nerve endings just all went to shit. Now that the show is so old, I’ll just spoil it so I can tell you what I didn’t like about it.
Carrie was a bipolar mastermind working on the side of the United States. THEY FUCKED WITH THE FORMULA. She could always pull it out in the end. She could always make things go her way. And then all of the sudden she started working for Russia? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. Yes, I realized she replaced our Russian asset there, but that’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works. You don’t get to betray the US and then get a “get out of jail free” card after you’ve already screwed us to the wall. Saul’s face looked like he was pleased at the end. Why he didn’t burn that bridge is beyond me.
She self-destructed and shouldn’t have had any friends at the agency left. The great part about the show was seeing a bipolar person doing the work of five case officers because she could think outside the box. The ending was a shitshow and I will hate it forever because it just shows that CIA was right all along not to trust her, and it adds to the exact stigma that the show was trying to erase.
“Six Feet Under” still resonates with me because my family worked a little bit like a family who runs a funeral home (I was a United Methodist preacher’s kid). I remember talking with my friend Meg about this, because she grew up in a house with a funeral home like the Fishers and our lives were not dissimilar. It’s also my “Lindsay” show, the one thing that both of us are always in the mood to watch.
As she says, “Leslie, you’re David. I’m Claire……. and there’s a little bit of Nate in everybody.”
I have found over time that I’m actually more like Keith, uptight like a cop and also rushing in to take care of everyone. It’s an accurate description of INFJ/Autistic, physically reacting at people breaking the rules and holding taking care of people above all of them.
Wait. I have to say that to myself again. I think it’s one of the biggest truth bombs I’ve ever uncovered about myself:
I’m physically reacting to people breaking the rules, and holding taking care of people above all of them.
In order for me to love people the way they need to be loved, I have to keep my autism at bay. I have to keep physically reacting to other people’s problems the way I do my own. I physically reacted to one of Supergrover’s issues so hard that she thinks I’m out to get her, when I’m actually empathizing with her. I don’t know what I did to give her the message that what she told me was bad. She’s been having a fight with me that is in her own head, really, because she thinks I want to make her feel guilty when I am telling her the reality of how her behavior affects me….. and that we should talk about it.
She starts from the position that I’m out to get her, which means she won’t open up. That causes me physical pain, because I know that what she thinks is not true, and I cannot fix her problem for her. She accused me of wanting to rush in and fix everything in someone else’s life, when that is exactly what we both want to do to our friends because we’re both big sisters. She just does not like being the younger one. At all. In any way. That means she’s blind to the fact that I’m doing the same thing to her all the time that she does for everyone else. She thinks I’m out to get her while I’m trying to do the same thing for her that I do for all the people I consider brothers and sisters. It’s a fundamental breakdown in communication, the can we’ve been kicking.
Media helps me to understand all of this, but I learn about emotions through intelligence movies and TV better than anything else because they’re procedural, even if the procedure is completely made up. I can also tell you the exact moment I switched procedurals in college. I used to like detective shows, and then there was “Alias.”
I’ve watched “Alias” many, many times. I still return to it when I want to be with those characters- something about it won’t let go of you. Jennifer Garner is so cute, the perfect balance of sweet and “I can kill you in 57 different ways, none of them pleasant.”
I’ve been trying to find a new character like hers to love for years, so I have gravitated toward intelligence shows ever since. I know they’re fake as FUCK because the CIA cannot tell everyone their current methods and sources. I don’t care. Emotionally, they’re all written the same way.
The way you get an accurate depiction of intelligence is to write about it in a time period where those operations are declassified. Those documents will tell you exactly how they did what they did without sugar coating anything. Dialogue can be accurate because there’s no reason for smoke and mirrors 40 years later…. or however long it takes for your interest to declassify, which may be a lot longer.
It is why I like the founding years of CIA the most, their origin story. OSS/early CIA operations are declassified, essential for an author if I want anything to sound real. The easiest stories to make true to life are now science fiction, I believe, because there is so much more information on how those intelligence operations actually ran between Russia and the US in the 50s and 60s. The way we got to the moon first was largely due to a war between CIA and KGB, because we had real chatter they were going to put nukes on the moon.
Speaking of which, I got to see Vince Houghton at Jonna’s talk the other night. So good to see him. Vince was the host of “SpyChat” before Dr. Andrew Hammond took over. His non-fiction book about intelligence is called “Nuking the Moon,” which is what made me think of him. 😉 I don’t think Dr. Hammond was in the audience, because I would have known his Scottish brogue anywhere. And yes, it is like James Alexander Malcom McKenzie Fraser does Spycast.
I will be taking no further questions. 😉
Vince was actually on a PBS documentary about intelligence at Bletchley Park, and it focused on women. Of course Alan Turing is important, but he wasn’t the only operative there, either.
I find now that people’s true stories matter more to me than television and movies. I reference old media because I watch YouTube most of the time. That gets me Frontline and all the other PBS shows, plus videos about people making things. Live bootlegs are also exciting because they come in video now.
I just can’t think of channels that I subscribe to that would be that well known, and I’m always trying to use universal illustrations because my audience is all over the world.
I should start looking for an intelligence show to watch while Zac is busy, because I love “Slow Horses” and I could never cheat on him. That way, I will at least have some updated references and shows that aren’t 20 years old that still appeal to me.
I started one on Hulu that has so far been outstanding called “The Lazarus Project.” Go into it blind. It’s a rabbit hole with a great payoff.
I can already tell you that “Slow Horses” is going to be one of my new comfort shows. I’ll give you the basics.
River Cartwright blew up a bunch of people by not stopping a terrorist…… in a simulation at MI-6. It is taken every bit as seriously as if it had really happened, but they can’t fire him; his grandfather used to be “C” or something…. unclear, but a higher up (my prediction is that this is going to be Tinker Tailor and that the grandfather is a puppet master. I have only seen season one. Please don’t spoil).
Anyway, since they can’t fire River, they place him at “Slough House,” which is where all washed up MI-6 go. Then, it becomes a story about a team who everyone thinks is shit flipping the script. If I had to compare it to an American movie, it’s “Moneyball,” and the writers are just as good as Aaron Sorkin. They take everyone’s imperfections and they blend…… because River is every bit as smart as his grandfather and he is able to lead others. He made a mistake in a simulation, and Mi-6 isn’t prepared to accept the fact that River is the real deal, or they know exactly who he is and have to keep him out of the way. Unclear, and a brilliant plot device. Is his boss disgusted with him or proud of him? The audience knows. River doesn’t.
I love Gary Oldman, who plays River’s boss. If I had a picture in my mind when I watched the video of Jonna calling herself “a real hardass at CIA,” it was Lamb.
I also love Jack Lowden, as well. I’ve gotten to know him through watching Graham Norton. It was great because I knew who Jack was before I got into “Slow Horses” at all.
“Killing Eve” is another one of those shows I’ve watched over and over, but I haven’t seen the end. I just keep rewatching the first few seasons, thinking I’m going to rewatch the whole thing and giving up. The pilot is the best episode of them all, anyway. It is a fight within me over whether Carolyn or Eve is my favorite character. Oh, wait. No. There’s not. I love Carolyn. It’s my mother’s name, as well as her character being an archetype I happen to love.
She kind of reminds me of Jack Bristow in “Alias,” except Jack had a bigger heart. Eve Pulaski is a lot like River Cartwright.
I used to love the show “Whiskey Cavalier,” because it was a very lighthearted look at CIA that didn’t suck up all the air in the room with drama. It was often ridiculous and therefore, well, fun.
I don’t always want as much realism as possible. Sometimes, I just want to be able to let go and laugh.
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.
Stories That Are All True 