Here and accounted for, although only one other person is, and she didn’t know who I was. I decided to Uber in on the first day just to make sure I was on time. I was 20 minutes early because I’m contraflow traffic to the office. Bliss. It really only does take 20 minutes, and I was out the door by 8:15. I got here first and there was no coffee made, so I made it.

Oops.

That was the first mistake. Not knowing how much coffee to use. You could stand a spoon up straight, but with enough CoffeeMate and sugar, it’s tolerable. As an added bonus, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until Thursday.

This is so exciting. People are starting to walk in and I’m doing the classic “hi, I’m Leslie. I’m new here” patois. So far, everyone has been young and in jeans. I am in black dockers, a Smithsonian t-shirt, and my Ralph Lauren striped sweater (the go-to when I don’t know what to wear). I’m also wearing red patent leather Dansko knockoffs I got at Payless. All in all, a great outfit but doesn’t necessarily fit in.

Maybe I was born to stand out. Here’s hopin.’

Praying for myself to be calm, cool, collected- and able to pass on my excitement to others without being a total spazzbasket. Tomorrow I think I will wear jeans and Chuck Taylors. However, you only get one shot to look good in your ID picture, if they put a picture on it.

There’s a Christmas tree in the lobby, so whenever I get nervous, I look at it and start intentionally waiting for the baby… kind of like that classic therapist image of trying to quiet a candle in your mind.

Between waiting for the baby and waiting for someone to show up that knows who I am, expectation is all around.

Amen.

Time is passing by slowly as I tick down the hours until I go to work. I’m excited and I can’t wait to jump in. I’ve missed having a team, working on projects together and then maybe going for a drink afterward. I don’t know yet what kind of environment it will be, and I am hoping for the best. The owner of the business certainly impressed me with his letter, and the person who interviewed me was awesome as well. I love that in this job, they want my visionary capability instead of trying to stifle it. I am much better in a creative role than a technical one, but I can do technical when I’m needed. I’m just grateful that it’s not my only definition. Yes, I am a geek. But I am also great with ideas.

The idea of figuring out who I am has helped me the most. I am more secure in my vision for myself, in both what I do for a living and in writing, my career. I know more about what I want out of life and what I am willing to sacrifice for it. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I know the fire I am capable of creating, both the fire that tears me down and the fire that tempers me, remolding me into a new creation.

I know more about love, and what it means to me in a working definition of marriage, friendship, and family (blood and chosen). I miss the day-in, day-out of being emotionally close to Aaron, Argo, and Dana… but I have recreated family in DC that is just as precious to me as they are. At the same time, I have learned more about why I needed to move away emotionally from them (not so much with Aaron, who will always be one of my “lesbros,” but you get the picture). I couldn’t find myself without a great amount of silence, as I have right now, sitting here writing to all of you.

It’s been a hell of a year.

Today it is raining and cold, 41 degrees to be precise. I am sitting at my desk wearing lots of layers, but soon I will retire to my bed and watch TV with my electric blanket on H until I warm up enough that my fingers have blood in them again. I just started a series called “Covert Affairs” that is about the CIA. I have no idea how realistic it is, but the characters are great and it’s action-packed so that I forget everything around me and just enjoy the story. It’s a lot like Alias in execution. The characters all struggle with the dissonance between their real jobs and the amount of lying it takes to create the world they present to their families… and are as lovable as Sydney and Francie.

The weather is so dreary that I might fall asleep, but I’ve had enough coffee that I really don’t want to take a nap and will try to avoid it at all costs. If I take a nap, I will not be able to fall asleep when I’m supposed to and it will throw off my schedule (again). No one wants that. I am better-equipped when I go to bed early and get up at 5:00 or 6:00. I am a morning person, and writing as the sun comes up is one of my greatest pleasures. I don’t have to be in the office until 9:00, so that’s a solid hour of writing until I have to leave for the Metro station. I am planning to stick to that schedule as long as possible, rather than writing into the night.

I am also the jackass for whom “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” was written………………

Praying on the spaces, though. I want my inner thoughts to match my outward behavior, and am doing a better job of it than I ever have before. I am leaning into the person I want to become, rather than the person I have been in the past.

I didn’t love her.

 

I’m starting to make a list of the things I want to buy with my first paycheck, those things I’ve put off buying since I’ve moved and only sort of need but would make my life a whole lot easier here. They’re all small because I am, again, trying to live simply. It’s things like new ink cartridges for my printer so that I can print out a few photos for my room. It’s amazing how expensive ink is, but in a digital world, how often do I really need my printer? In the entire time I’ve lived in this house, I have printed one document because it was needed and one document just because I wanted to write in the margins on scripture. That’s it. That’s the grand total. And technically, it’s not that all the inkwells are empty. Just the black one. But the printer will not print, even though C, Y, and M (Cyan, Yellow, Magenta) are all full.Operating systems, man…..

I also need some new light bulbs, so I want to splurge and replace all six with CFLs so that I never have to change them again. Like I said, tiny things that will make life easier, but nothing extravagant. I’m still debating on whether I need a car or not, and that debate will continue for quite a while, for two reasons. The first is that I’m not that great a driver (that fucker came out of NOWHERE). The second is that I don’t want to pay for or maintain a car. I don’t want to have to finance a car and I don’t want to have to empty out my savings if something goes wrong with a used one. If Volfe were here, I’d have no problem with plunking down a couple of thousand (literally, not figuratively) for a car, because I’d have someone to spend my Saturdays with fixing it up and/or doing maintenance). The last time Volfe and I worked on a car, it was me assisting him as he installed power steering in Dana’s car on our driveway in Houston. And while I said that I assisted, mostly what I did was make him laugh and hold things.

In Portland, we both had little Nissan pickups (his is named Moriko and mine was named Shirley) that we loved beyond all measure. The funniest thing that happened with Shirley is that Volfe freehanded some graphics on one side of my truck and ran out of spray paint, so the truck had splash graphics on one side the entire time I owned it.

The alternative side is that I am a total gearhead and I LOVE CARS. Love them. It doesn’t matter what kind, although I am partial to old Mercedes Benz, because when I lived here before, I had a 1988 190 E that I literally drove into the ground. I didn’t wreck it, it’s just the the repairs became  worth twice the value of the car. The hardest part was being sentimental enough to want to pay it, but not foolish.

It would also be nice to have a transportation mode in the winter without having to wait for the bus. But I’m not stupid. The cost of riding the bus and the Metro is infinitely cheaper and wiser for me, because I do the same thing on the Metro that I do while I’m driving- listen to podcasts the whole way. They’re free and brain-engaging, way more so than music. I put an MP3 player on my Christmas wish list because my phone is running out of space with all my apps to hold podcasts and music, plus I can’t stream music and podcasts on the Metro. I want something small on which I can install Rockbox and an expansion card when I need it. In other words, nothing that’s tied to the iTunes store in any way. Plus, MP3 players are so cheap now. It’s what happens when you want a gift from the ’90s… although the exception is old iPods. Those are expensive because they come with up to 160 GB of storage, but the main reason I don’t want an old iPod is that most other MP3 players come with a radio and an expansion slot. Beat that with a stick. NPR, holla! DC pleasure- listening to NPR while walking by NPR. In the beginning, when I first got an MP3 player, the radio was why I chose the Zune over the iPod. I have never regretted that decision, because even though the Zune was less popular, I listened to NPR more than I listened to anything else, and it came with 32 GB of space, while for more money, iPods only held eight. iPods held nothing for me.

iPods and the iTunes store were created in a moment of undeniable humanness when Steve Jobs didn’t include an optical drive on the iMac. It was a garbage dump of a situation, paraphrasing Jobs’ biographer, Walter Isaacson, because people didn’t have a way to rip their own CDs onto their computers, which to me, created a different problem- namely, having to buy the album again in a different format (guess I’ll have to buy The White album again…), but consumers didn’t seem to mind, so that’s none of my business.

Sometimes, people are dumb. Even me. I’ve seen me do it.

 

 

 

This year the Gospel for Advent starts with a bang. Before we begin, I want to present the whole thing.

Luke 21:25-36

Jesus said, “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”

I am giving you the entire text because there is a troubling paradox to explore. How does this picture of The Son of Man coming in a cloud of power and glory fit in with the image of the Nativity? Aren’t we supposed to be waiting for a baby? In this scripture, as in life, justice and joy are inextricably interrelated.

Jesus was preaching to a people that had been systematically broken down long before he was born. The last time that the Jews felt they’d had a good leader was King David, and they were waiting for someone like him. While waiting, they were violently wrested from their homeland by the Babylonians and in despair that Israel would ever be great again… and then a prophet appeared with words of hope:

Jeremiah 33:14-16

The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The LORD is our righteousness.”

These are words that Jesus surely would have read, because he quotes Jeremiah almost verbatim in his parable of the fig tree. He uses the imagery of knowing summer is near by talking about “sprouting leaves.”

In so many ways, we are in that place, waiting for hope. Bombings are happening all over the world. Police brutality comes to light seemingly every day. Women’s health is threatened by lawmakers and yesterday, a gunman who shot a police officer and two hostages in a Colorado Planned Parenthood. There were fights in many malls across the U.S. as people shopped for, of all things, Christmas gifts. Transsexual people are being killed in what seems like brutal sport. Some members of Congress say that the minimum wage is high enough, and yet nowhere in the entire country is a two-bedroom apartment affordable for someone who makes it. Anonymous has threatened to release over a thousand names of a still-active Ku Klux Klan around the anniversary of the Ferguson shooting. We are bombarded with local news of robberies, murders, and anything else that falls under the “if it bleeds, it leads” mentality.

In this way, we are also a systematically broken-down people, waiting for signs that things will get better, just like the Jews hundreds of years ago. We can identify because we can see it… hear it… smell it. Violence touches all the senses for the people directly involved. The rest of us feel helpless as we watch.

In beginning Advent, we are called to look for our own shoots of green, sprouting in the midst of tremendous conflict, and Jesus is asking us to be on alert for them. He doesn’t explicitly state it, but to me the underlying message is that the more people there are alert for signs of hope, the more chance that peace has to reign.

Pregnant women are the best at it.

Signs of hope stir within their own bodies at an alarming rate as they don’t just look for hope… they feel it. As the baby moves and grows and flutters and kicks little videos of what their new person might be like take over their thoughts in both dreams and wakefulness. Watching and talking to pregnant women imbues conversation with possibility. We give baby showers to share in their gift to the world.

As their partners and friends, we give gifts to honor a new life and the new hope it brings. We are lifted from our own despair, if only for an hour or two.

The timing of the coming of The Son of Man is not for us to know, but being alert for the good things that life has to offer is. I believe that Jesus talks about not letting your attention get pulled away by “dissipation and drunkenness” not necessarily as a judgment, but advice. You know the ways in which you check out of life and let the good things pass you by. So does he. In that time and place, there were just as many ways to check out as there are now. They were just different in that they didn’t have Candy Crush Saga. The fact that we are content in life to go to work, come home, have a drink, lather rinse repeat has not changed at all.

We, as Christians, are tasked not to wait for hope, but to create it.

We need the consolation that Jeremiah gives in not saying that God might come, but that God will. But we cannot hang our hats on that one precious day. We create our own futures, and whether that is one of darkness or light depends on the decisions we make for ourselves.

There is no message of hope more explicit than a brand new baby, but we are asked to look for all we can find.

In the 1850s, Europe was hit with what is now called The Great French Wine Blight, so named because France’s vineyards were hit particularly hard, with estimates that up to 40% of their grapevines were infested with phylloxera. It nearly destroyed the French wine industry until a Texan named Thomas Volney Munson provided Mustang grape rootstock for grafting to the city of Cognac, making ancient grape varietals that had been used in France for hundreds of years resistant to phylloxera as well. For his work, Munson was given The Order of Agricultural Merit (Ordre du Mérite Agricole), an award second only to the Legion of Honor (Ordre national de la Légion d’honneur).

Thomas Munson literally caused new shoots of hope to spring in France, and to this day, Cognac is a sister city to Denison, Texas, where Munson’s work is housed.

The grape that Munson used is called Mustang, and it grows in the wild… just like hope.

Hope is found in the wild, but as Christians we are called to cultivate it, graft it onto our pain so that new shoots are allowed to grow. If there is any judgment from Jesus in this passage, it is that our decisions matter. Are we bringing light into the world, or are we living in darkness by choice?

As our literal darkness grows longer until the solstice, we are given a chance to turn inward and evaluate the choices we’ve made with our lives and whether we are waiting for hope or bringing it.

I’m buying a TARDIS onesie. What about you?

Amen.

Facebook has this cute little thing it does where it gives you your memories as soon as you log in, and the Advents of years past are almost enough to make me cry. First it was a status update about adding Advent information to Bridgeport’s web site, and both Susan and Diane leaving comments about how good it looked. Then, it was pictures of Dana and me several years in a row putting up our Christmas tree. And last but not least, this friggin’ hysterical story from last year:

Dana and I are putting up the Christmas tree. So far, there have been two times where I just could not even. The first was Dana struggling with the angel on the top of the tree. “Light up, BITCH!” Then, she dropped the light on the inside of the angel and said, “Son of a whorefucker!” Her dad was a Marine. I know you can’t tell. Actually, there were three times that doubled us over. The last was me saying, “yes, Mom. She really did say that.” Then Dana looked over at me and without even blinking did the Allyn “DANA!!!!!!!!!” Did I mention I could not even?

Christmas has always been important to Dana and me, jointly and severally. We’d both come from childhoods in which faith was very important. She’d been Episcopalian until she moved to Portland (and is now Episcopalian again). I’d jumped around several protestant denominations, but while Dana and I were together, we only attended three churches. In Portland, we divided our time between Bridgeport UCC and Trinity Episcopal Cathedral. In Houston, we found Epiphany because we’d passed it several times and knew it was in our neighborhood, but didn’t go in until my old trumpet teacher, Theresa, said she went there. After that, I didn’t want to go anywhere else.

We both loved it, but I jumped ship quickly when I realized it was Dana’s place to fall, not mine, but that isn’t the point of this story. The point is that…

Well, I’m not sure what the point is. Maybe that I am so angry, sad, depressed, and grieving that we don’t get to do Advent this year. We don’t get to do our “botionals” (my sister’s childhood word for “devotional”), and open one present the night before and all that stuff you do with your family… and by that, I mean Dana and me. Long before we moved to Houston, we had our own traditions.

One year, I got window crayons for Christmas, and so the next Advent, instead of buying a tree we just drew one on the sliding glass door to our patio and taped candy canes to it.

Other years, we went to Bob’z U-Cut and Dana gallantly cut us a spruce (or something, I don’t know my trees). Eventually, though, I realized that the allergies weren’t worth it, so the saying became “we don’t go to Bob’z U-Cut because we don’t want to live in Leslie’z U-Sneeze.”

There are so many things I would have done differently last Christmas if I’d known it was going to be our last one together. I would have spent less time in my office, and the memories of being shut up in there haunt me because I was so sad and lonely. I got out my horn and started playing Christmas carols, coming up with an obligato for this one. Dana was at handbells or something, and it was the first time in years that I actually felt my emotions coming through my horn. I’d forgotten how to do that in the years since I’d become a singer. I’m no Miles Davis or anything, but at times, my horn is a better extension of my mind than anything else.

So I’m sitting there, putting these emotions into music, not thinking of anything else. I should have been doing something, anything to change my frame of mind. Maybe putting on some gangsta rap and and getting it handled. I could have made myself happier.

I just didn’t.

Everything was drawing to a close, because by February, the marriage was really, really over. That Christmas, I was so lost in my own mind that I cut myself off from the rest of the world. Maybe sitting in my office playing Christmas carols was my way of letting things go. Who knows? In retrospect it seems like it could be true. But I also have the advantage of some distance from it now.

I just felt like even though there were people around me, I’d never felt so empty. Good writing came out of it, though. Last year, instead of doing a devotional by someone else, I wrote one for each Sunday:

• Week I
• Week II
• Week III
• Week IV
• Christmas Eve

And perhaps the blessing of this year is this- I am single, and yet, have never felt so surrounded by love.

Lit up, bitch!

 

The sun set long ago, and I am ending my day with the satisfaction of finishing all of my Christmas shopping. I did it all on Amazon, so I didn’t even have to put on pants. I’m wearing pants, but that’s not the point. The point is that I did all of my Christmas shopping in a situation where pants are not even necessary. That is #winning in my book.

Earlier, I went to the bank to get a temporary debit card, but apparently a printout of my driver’s license was not enough. I was able to get cash, interestingly enough, but no debit card. Bank of America has long mystified me, and I wouldn’t even have created an account if I didn’t need a national bank. The good news is that now I’ll have a direct deposit, making my account free. There’s nothing like coming home to a negative balance when I haven’t remembered to leave enough for that $10.00 charge… actually, it’s probably more, but I’m too lazy to look it up. The take-home message is that by next month, my money issues will look a lot different, in that I will have some.

I plan to keep living the way I do now so that I can just sock away money for undergrad and grad school. I’m single, I don’t have a car payment, I don’t have kids, and my salary is what I was making in Houston, where my rent was almost double what it is now. They say that DC is an expensive city, and it is, but not when you find a room on Craig’s List and eat a lot of peanut butter sandwiches and hot dogs. I really only splurge for three things. I love Ezekiel Bread, Daiya cheese, and diet grape soda. I’m not vegan or vegetarian, I just like Daiya better, especially on pizza. In fact, my favorite pizza in the world is Daiya and “Sorta Sausage,” which to most people is weird for someone who also loves bacon. Groceries are truly a love in my life, because cooking at home is so much more satisfying than going to a restaurant. When you marry a chef, people assume you cannot boil water. In my case, Dana was the boss at work, and I got to be the boss at home. Although for the first few years this was not the case. I was primarily in charge of grating cheese. I had to earn Dana’s trust with the All-Clad. 🙂 If I still lived in Houston, I’m pretty sure I would ask for visitation rights. I doubt she would give them to me, but all she could say is no, and she’d definitely say no if I didn’t ask. That’s been a life lesson for me, that “all they can say is no, so what do I have to lose by asking?” At this point in my life, there is very little that I want, and I am grateful for the chance to be able to provide.

I will not want for anything, and that is something for which to be extraordinarily grateful. Thanksgiving was exactly that for me this year. I prayed over all of the abundance I have achieved by paring down to the bare essentials. It’s funny that living on nothing gives you everything.

I’ve found that all I really want out of life is a great pot of tea and a warm heart to share it with. The last time Prianka and I got together, it was at Teaism Dupont, where we had Darjeeling and the chord that runs between us aglow with the friendship that has sustained us in both small and large ways over the years.

This has been a wonderful chapter in my life, this learning who I am (and who I’m not). And in getting this job, I’m hoping to start the climax and denouement; the climax being my ordination and the denouement spending my days preaching, teaching, writing, and most of all, learning.

It is a lifetime pursuit, this learning how to be in the world. One of the characters in “The Man in the High Castle” says something profound, and I will share it here… that being a good man is difficult, and as you get older, it is harder and harder to decide what being a good man means.

There was a while where I didn’t think I was a very good person. When I was in it, I realized that what I thought of myself was true, and made changes to that effect. It’s hard to be a good person when you give up your rules. I was anchorless because I relied on others to provide that North Star.

Having everything was creating my own.

---

This is not the first time I have used a West Wing episode as an entry title. Here’s the first, so named because Argo was the help line of enormous proportion that got me through the moments when my emotions exploded all over the place. It was the beginning of trying to figure out who I truly was, wanted to be, with lots of stumbles along the way. I want to be the idealist version of myself that does funnel light to others, but I couldn’t in the middle of the mess. In order to get right, I had to want it.

And I do.

I think this is the title of every Thanksgiving blog post ever, but it’s true. I have eaten my weight in dolmas, hummus, turkey, you name it. Lebanese Thanksgiving is just like regular Thanksgiving except there are two completely different tables of food. One has all the traditional stuff, and the other is everything you order when you go out to a Middle Eastern restaurant except it tastes better.

Hayat told the story of coming home from vacation and finding out that they had sixteen hamsters instead of just two. The store had assured them that the hamsters were both female.

Guess.

So, Hayat calls the store and the store says to bring them back, they’ll sell them. When she gets there, the manager tells her “well, you didn’t call today!” Hayat says, “you have two choices. Either I hand you this box of hamsters or I set them loose in the store.” Everyone was in tears, and I said, “that story is not funny because of the hamsters. That story is funny because I know just how much you meant it.” A year or two later, they started the remodel on the house to make it multi-family, and a small Samantha says, “oh… hey… there’s Sunshine.”

It feels funny not doing any cooking this year. I miss it, but not that much. It was nice to be provided for in this little cocoon I have made, this family that loves me so much that when I told Mike I’d gotten a job, he yelled, “HAYAT! TIME TO GO UP ON THE RENT!”

See?

I hope your Thanksgiving was as good as mine. It probably won’t be, though. 😛

I’ve lost my wallet and I am literally going crazy trying to find it. I haven’t been shopping since Wednesday, so I didn’t realize I didn’t have it until yesterday. I’ve gone through my pants pockets, my trash, under my bed, everything. My room is a lot cleaner, but I am no closer to finding my wallet than I was yesterday. If Dana was here, I wouldn’t have lost it in the first place. Of this, I am sure. However, Dana is not here, and my wallet’s location has not been injected into the Danabase. So, in short, I am screwed until I find it.

I even called the church to see if I’d left it at choir or something. So far, I got nothin.’ And, of course, it’s the absolute worst time to lose my wallet because I’m going to need my driver’s license when I fill out my W-2. My only saving grace is that I have a scan of my passport somewhere, so if I get really desperate, I can use that.

I lose things all the time because I am crap about creating location memories. It drives me crazy on a daily basis. Dear little baby Jesus does it drive me crazy. I should create habits in terms of putting things in the same place every day, but they just don’t stick… unless it’s someone else’s stuff. I can always come up with that. Just not mine. Weird and true.

The reason I have a scan of my passport and not the actual thing is that I put it in the pocket of a pair of shorts that Dana donated to Goodwill. It was just an accident, but I am sure that it’s on a clearance table somewhere. I am lucky that my identity has not been stolen, although I know for certain that I do not have private information anymore. None of us do. We just have information now.

I think I’m going to crawl under my bed with a flashlight to see if that makes any difference.

You haven’t seen it, have you?

Today I accepted an offer letter from Decision Software, a small company located in Landover that handles customer outreach for our clients. My official title is Marketing Specialist, which is the type of job I’ve wanted for a very long time. In 2001, my then-boss made us take professional personality tests, and my result was “plant.” That’s the person that takes all the information in meetings and synthesizes them into great ideas. It’s right up my alley, and it’s not like I won’t be doing technical work when it needs to be done. The company is so small that I might be pulled in many different directions, and no, I don’t mind cleaning the bathroom.

It’s things like this that constantly remind me things will get better, and continue to get better as I integrate all these new things I’m doing to become a better me. It will be great to have something to look forward to every day, hours so busy that I cannot possibly think about grief or depression or anything else except what’s right in front of me. I knew that I would reach this point, the one where it gets exciting.

I’m glad it’s here.

I may have to go back to University of Houston depending on how many classes Howard offers online. I haven’t been able to check that out yet- it’s only been a few hours since I got the news I am now employed. And if work doesn’t go with my school schedule, I’ll go to a seminary with an online cohort as well. Just because Howard has my $50 for the application fee doesn’t make me obligated to enroll for classes there. With distance education, all things are possible. I’m the one that’s supposed to be coming up with great ideas. Figuring out how to get school accomplished while I’m working is one of them. I know more about digital education than most people, because one of my first jobs involved running a computer lab specifically designed to teach professors how to turn classroom content into suitable web curriculum when it first debuted. When I was working at Marylhurst University, I attended a workshop on digital pedagogy and was blown away by how much it has progressed.

My aim is to live simply, just putting one foot in front of the other… walking away from the old Leslie to make room for an iteration that makes me proud to be me. I’m on my way, of course. Lots of people and things have helped me on my journey. But there is nothing so satisfying as having those good feelings remain; it’s when they sit on the couch and take their shoes off that you know you’re doing life right. Instead of being driven by the negative thoughts that dog your mind, you are constantly evolving into a person where the chaos reigns around you, just not inside you. You’re the eye of the hurricane, and not a part of it.

But peace takes shoe leather, one foot in front of the other.

Apparently, the Wounded Warrior Project isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I got schooled by a reader who’d seen this viral post, and suggested several other organizations that would be a better use of my money. I’m not here to say that one person’s experience speaks for the organization as a whole, but when profits go to the people that run the organization and merchandise like stickers and hats, I’m pulling my support. We’re done. The sticker is coming off as soon as I can get some Goo Gone.

Just wanted to let you know that I was wrong about them, and so are a bunch of other people. Check out this web site to locate charities who really put their money where it needs to go.

I feel bad that I was suckered in by a free sticker and a Facebook post. It pays to do some research, but the best thing you can do is give money to local charities, anyway. Might I suggest Hope Restored? It’s right here in Silver Spring and run by a friend, Jeffrey Thames.

Those responsible for the error have been sacked.

Rev. Susannah tasked the youth group to come up with 100 things for which they are grateful at worship this morning. Here are mine.

1. People that work for social justice.
2. Soldiers & Intelligence all over the world that keep us safe.
3. Music, without which I would not be whole.
4. Friends who drop everything when you need them.
5. Angels who show themselves in human faces, like the little boy who gave his piggy bank to the mosque that was attacked in Texas.
6. Cold, bright, clear weather.
7. Warm jackets, sweaters, hoodies, scarves, and gloves.
8. Cheap streaming media. Grateful for Hulu, Netflix, Amazon, et al. I never get bored when I’m cleaning my room.
9. Medicaid
10. Therapy
11. Matt Smith, the actor that played the Eleventh Doctor. He inspires me creatively, both as The Doctor, and in my current favorite movie, Christopher and His Kind.
12. My therapist, Sarah
13. My nurse practitioner, Leighton.
14. Peace with Argo.
15. Inner peace with Dana.
16. Jeffrey Thames and Hope Restored.
17. New possibilities abounding.
18. Samantha and the rest of my “host family.”
19. My mom, dad, sister, and aunt who’ve all visited me in DC this year.
20. My cousin Nathan and his wife and children being close in proximity.
21. Prianka being a part of my life in reality instead of just virtually.
22. Reconnecting with Kathryn and picking up right where we left off.
23. Meeting Stephanie and becoming her friend.
24. Finding a church that has welcomed me as much as I have welcomed them into my life.
25. Finding a choir with whom I have a ton of fun.
26. Learning more about who I am, and who I am not.
27. Virtual friends that still check in and think of me, even when I am not in physical proximity.
28. My health, which continues to improve.
29. Comfortable walking shoes, because I do a lot of it.
30. Uber when I don’t.
31. The DC public transportation system, which allows me a chauffeur so that I can think and read instead of drive.
32. Books. My love of books knows no bounds.
33. Finding clothes that fit my personality. I wear a size 16 in boys, allowing me crispy shirts where the shoulders actually fit…. and the sweaters. OH, THE SWEATERS. Also, in boys’ clothes, the sizing is always right. No matter where I shop, a 16 is a 16. Grateful that I don’t change sizes from store to store and have to figure that shit out.
34. The youth group that is slowly teaching me how to lead them.
35. Not getting the job as the youth director so that I have a mentor.
36. Rev. Matt, from whom so many blessings have flowed, from firing me up with his words to helping me be a better preacher just by listening.
37. Being brave enough to say to myself, “it’s time.” I need a Bachelor’s and an MDiv like, yesterday. Want to wear it like I “stole” it.
38. Grateful to God, but also FOR God, because in my innermost self, I’m still not alone. Just like Jack Lewis, praying flows from me ceaselessly.
39. Not having so much anxiety. Having a direction and not a distraction.
40. Airplanes. No one is very far away.
41. Anonymous joining the fight against ISIS.
42. Information at my fingertips. I may be umbilically connected to the Internet, but it has its advantages.
43. All of the bosses I’ve had who’ve encouraged me to be more than I am.
44. Growing up as a preacher’s kid and then becoming a lay preacher at Bridgeport UCC. Lessons were learned that couldn’t have been impressed upon me any other way.
45. The Episcopal Church. Just, all of it… but particularly the Episcopal Church in Texas, because they really have their work cut out for them and they’re not afraid of it, either.
46. Doc Morgan, my jazz instructor at HSPVA. I would not be half the woman I am today had we not met.
47. Aaron Sorkin and the legend he created out of a knife made by a Boston Silversmith named Paul Revere.
48. The 7-Eleven clerks that don’t know my name, but they know my coffee order and make sure the Brazillian Bold is fresh when I’m out of tea.
49. Tea itself. God’s gift to writers.
50. My own ability to tell my own story and my readers’ ability to respond to it, even when they don’t agree with me. This space has pulled me from the depths of despair, and your gifts have meant more to me than millions.
51. Meeting Ingrid in choir, who could possibly be funnier than I am, but you’ll never hear me say that again out loud.
52. Doctor Who, a show that explained God to me way better than I could explain God to myself.
53. Matt Damon, who inspires me to be a better writer every time I watch Good Will Hunting.
54. Great lines. In “The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry,” the author talks about Harold seeing his mother’s dresses strewn about his house after his mother has left him like “empty mothers.” “Empty mothers” has stayed with me as a sentence so great I could only hope to write one that good.
55. My room. My space of refuge that rises to greet me each morning.
56. The Oprah Winfrey Show, which I watched from the time I was 9 until the very last episode. It has ended, but lines in my head from it have not.
57. Craig Ferguson, who is always fearless and hilarious.
58. Getting to see the trailer for the new Star Wars movie in IMAX, because I didn’t watch it online and nearly came UNGLUED in the theater with joy.
59. All of the movies I’ve seen this year that have given me joy, particularly Annie (2014).
60. The Smithsonian Empire. I love it all. I could explore it until the day I die and not see everything.
61. My friend Judy, without whom I would see the world differently. Our long lunches have made such a big difference in my life here.
62. Taking off the mask and getting vulnerable about my disorder. It has helped to a tremendous degree, and I am grateful to myself for allowing grace to happen when I let people in instead of suffering in silence.
63. Losing the ever-present need to think about my teenage years because the puzzle is solved.
64. Getting divorced, because while I am not grateful for it, I am grateful for the self-development in which it created room.
65. Losing toxic relationships, even when I realized that I was the toxic one.
66. Having every relationship, bad or good, teach me something.
67. Soda. Grateful for every bubbly sip.
68. My glasses. When Anh, my optometrist, suggested wearing glasses with prisms, my world opened further.
69. I’ve mentioned music, but J.S. Bach in particular because he sets my brain on fire, as does Jason Moran (Currently listening to Study No. 6 from “Ten.”).
70. Having attended HSPVA and getting to know people who’ve gone on to great things professionally, and getting to say “I knew them when…..”
71. My first love, singing.
72. My second love, Ryan.
73. My third love, Meagan. She goes by Meag now. Can’t get used to it. It’s only been 20 years.
74. Having had the experience of working in restaurants, both front of house and back of house. It changes you for the better. Really.
75. The craftmanship that goes into a really great coffee/tea mug.
76. My front porch, where I do my best work when it’s not freezing cold or raining.
77. Advil, Zyrtec, and Sudafed.
78. Real Kleenex, with the aloe and everything.
79. Good memories of my entire life that float by, both in wakefulness and dreams.
80. Nadia Bolz-Weber and Jay Bakker, without whom I never would have thought there’d really be a place for me in ministry.
81. Regular Show, which can instantly change my mood from a bad to a good one (Really Real Wrestling! Really Real Wrestling!).
82. People who follow my Facebook feed as “The Hot List.”
83. People who are unimpressed with me. That’s how I know they love me, anyway.
84. Getting two tweets directed at me from Diana Gabaldon, and gaining Ben Vereen as a follower (no, I don’t know how).
85. People-watching all around DC. It never fails to impress me.
86. The Wounded Warrior Project, for which I now have a sticker on my laptop.
87. Americans who actually care what happens to veterans the day they come home.
88. Being able to preach from this web site. It’s different than getting up in front of a congregation, but not by much. The congregation on this web site is much bigger than any I’ve had in person.
89. Not having to preach every week…………. yet.
90. Learning to take care of myself without input from anyone else. I’m better at it than I thought I was.
91. People who know the distinction between listening and offering advice.
92. Getting to know my stepsister before she died, and having those memories of her with me still.
93. The ability to recognize what a good relationship entails, and healthy patterns emerging from my own brokenness and humanity.
94. My soccer fandom, and my scarf collection. It has brought me so much joy over the years. Before the Houston Dynamo was even a thing, I was a DC United fan. Raul Diaz-Arce was my first love, sports-wise.
95. Sportsmen that stand up for what they believe. I have Chris Kluwe’s Vikings jersey, and when people don’t recognize him, they ask me what position he plays. I always say, “blogger.”
96. People who came out publicly in the ’90s. It helped.
97. Pastors who stand up for gay rights, because YES! THE GOSPEL IS MEANT FOR GAY PEOPLE, TOO!
98. Every time someone has ever said, “I forgive you.”
99. Every time I’ve been vulnerable enough to say simply, “I’m sorry.”
100. You.

This morning I can’t get her off my mind. It started with thinking of her as I put a pen on the collar of my t-shirt, because without one, she feels naked. Now I have about an hour before I have to be at choir, and every good memory I’ve ever had with her is flooding my brain like dopamine on fire. It’s better than drugs. I knew I would come to this point in my grief, the one where good memories outweigh the bad. But it’s taken such a long time. There are so many bad things I had to work through that Sarah is recommending group therapy for it, those that have gone through domestic violence on both sides of the equation. There was no winner in that fight, only sadness and an aching hole in me that won’t go away, no matter how hard I try. When I wrote the entry in that link, I was more angry than I had ever been in my life, and while I can’t (and won’t) take anything back, I do have regrets. Just not about telling the story. I have a snapshot of how angry I was in the moment, and how betrayed I felt that Argo and Dana were, in some ways, making me out to be a lot crazier than I was. It got bad, but not bad enough to move across the country for someone I didn’t know, and someone who didn’t want to have anything to do with me at the time. Not moving to NoVA was just letting Argo scare me away from all of my familiar.

I cried all the way to the airport, holding tears back until I couldn’t. It made me feel safe that even though I was going to a place where I knew no one (Silver Spring, specifically- lots of friends in DC), it was still in the area I loved, my Paris. I cried because in a lot of ways, I felt like I was abandoning Dana and couldn’t be friends with her all at the same time. Once I got into therapy, I realized that I hadn’t abandoned her at all. She had a job she loved where she made friends quickly, and she was on her own path away from me, and that’s how it needed to be. We really did need to find out who we were on our own, and I hadn’t found what I needed in Houston- she had.

As I have said before, getting into therapy and getting Medicaid while I didn’t have a job (that may change by Monday or Tuesday) helped me realize that I was not running away from anything. I was running back. I never should have left Alexandria in the first place. I still miss 803 N. Van Dorn, but at the same time, Montgomery County had more resources to help mental patients like me and it is a miracle how far I’ve progressed with them.

In fact, Samantha has said that she thinks I was sent to them for a reason. It’s true. I have found an adopted family I adore, and I think Samantha and I have something special between us. That women friendship where we both get to be giants together. The model I needed before I met Argo and didn’t get.

Even Dana, my best friend of three years and some change, didn’t come without those romantic feelings. For her, it took six weeks. For me, it took all those years to see that what I wanted in a great marriage had been standing in front of me the whole time. Yes, it got bad… and it got dangerous… but that’s not all there is to the story. To everyone, even us, we were the perfect couple, even behind closed doors until we moved to Houston and Dana betrayed me within the first week. I will not and cannot say why, but it was BIG and we broke up immediately at my request. I do not know why I didn’t make it stick- probably because I thought we could get back to where we left off, but we never did. The emotional swings started getting bigger and bigger until neither of us could handle the other. But in my heart of hearts, there will never be another Dana and I’m not even going to try.

I have lots of friends in AA, and what they tell you when you first get to rehab, the professionals tell you no relationships for at least two years. I want to try and stick to that as well. There is no way that I can recover from so many years of a perfect marriage right up until it wasn’t overnight, and I refuse.

It’s been almost a year now, and I haven’t felt romantic feelings for anyone but myself. I know it sounds crazy, but I have to fall in love with myself before I can fall in love with anyone else. It has to be real. Deep and abiding. Otherwise, I will throw away my worth and become the Lanagan Search & Rescue system for which I am emotionally famous.

It’s coming along nicely, actually. I know my highs and my lows, and I love me, anyway. I try to be kind and considerate with my heart, considering how much I’ve lost. When the mood swings between Dana and me spiraled out of control, I felt thrown away, even though I was the one that ultimately called it. I just thought that Dana would see that I made that decision while I was on the floor after she hit me, and it wasn’t how I really felt about her. I popped off in anger, thinking there was redemption down the road.

The truth is that I would give a limb to have her right here, my face buried in her neck with apology, even if it was only in a buddy kind of way. But I know myself. I fall in love quickly and easily. Until we are healthy enough for each other, it would be the worst move ever.

I chose DC because I knew our paths would be perpendicular that way. Her parents are out in NoVA somewhere, the only thing I know about where they live is that it’s the closest Waffle House, and not close enough to reach by Metro. But still. Close enough.

But we aren’t, and it’s hard to live with every day. I used to call her my “Nayna.” Before we were married, I called her Bana Damberger. She called me Leslie Lanagan, and it took me far longer than it should have to realize that she was reversing the letters, too, they’re just the same (jackass).

Now I have to walk to choir, and all I hear in my ear is her whisper of “sing pretty,” what her dad used to say to her mom every Sunday as well.

Don’t worry, Nayna. I will.

 

I’m sitting in a Silver Spring Starbucks, waiting for Rev. Susannah to get here, but not really. I needed some time to decompress after my job interview, so I got here early to eat lunch and blog… because of course I did. I think in longhand.

The person who interviewed me was kind and funny, as was I. 🙂 We got along well, and he said that there were a few different positions open, and he was sure they would find a place for me whether it was DBA or not. He asked me a few technical questions, like whether I knew SELECTS and JOINS and all that, and I gave him examples of each. For those not in the know, it’s how to use text to manipulate databases instead of using a graphical interface like Microsoft Access. I’ve said this before, but am saying it again for those who are just joining us (hi!).

We also talked about social media presence and how I felt about jumping on a plane to go and meet a customer face to face. I didn’t have a problem with either, and in fact, would enjoy it very much. I love doing stuff like that, because it’s not personal. I can be in front of customers/a crowd easily because they don’t want to know about my feelings. The interactions are orange juice glass-level deep and are supposed to stay that way (although I do tend to have a jackass magnet on my forehead where people tend to go deep with me whether I want them to or not. It’s awkward at best.).

It’s nice to know that I have someone so interested in hiring me, and I should know by next Monday or Tuesday if I have a job. It’s a salaried position, but there are plenty of opportunities for bonuses when things go well.

Things are going well. I feel so much better in this life, this thing I have created where I’ve been able to focus on myself and no one else. It paid off to be selfish for a while and isolate in order to lick my wounds and get over the massive trauma that the last couple of years have dealt. I feel stronger than I ever have, because I have come into the fullness of myself. I am so much more than the credit I’ve been able to give myself in the past. I’m still bipolar, so it’s not like I’m not going to have ups and downs, but they are less extreme and highly manageable now. Having drugs on board (Neurontin & Klonopin) that are specifically designed to take away the physical responses to anger have slowed me down long enough to really make me think before I react. It’s a lot harder to rattle me, and therefore, a lot harder to say things to me that will end up with me spiraling out…. which I hope never happens again. Once was enough to last my whole life.

I am trying to create the Zen-like countenance that comes with age and experience. I have enough behind me to prepare for the future without being so afraid of everything and trying to cover it up. It’s okay to say, “I’m afraid.” It’s okay to say, “I’m angry,” as long as it doesn’t come with a rash of words behind it that are just designed to hurt. That’s the part that comes with not being vulnerable. That’s the cover up. It’s important to know the difference between those two different versions of myself, the one I want to throw away and the one I want to keep. I do not want to live my whole life as a person who hides from their emotions in order to keep people at a distance, most often by keeping them from wanting to interact with me in the first place. It worked so well with Argo that I spend a lot of time regretting the things I’ve said in the past and trying to reach peace within myself so I can stop feeling like such a douchebag.

I have received the blessing of her forgiveness, but it’s not about that anymore. It’s about not being that person in the first place. The person who reacts instead of responds. Reaction is the first thing that comes to your mind, and not the reasoned, well-conceived idea you have that comes up after some thought.

It’s something that helps at work, too. What would happen if we all took a breath before responding to that e-mail? You know, the one you get where your eyebrows go over your forehead? Facebook is full of reaction instead of response. We destroy each other over stupid shit when it just isn’t necessary. Even I am guilty of it. I’m just trying to stop because I see the problem.

Some people never do.

Occasionally I watch a children’s show built on two levels so that I enjoy it very much. It’s on PBS, and it’s called WordGirl. Her superpower is that she can define any word, and she is an alien from a planet called “Lexicon.” Her parents found her (not sure at what age) and she lives a double life as “Becky Botsford,” and for some inane reason, when she “Words Up” (code for putting on her super suit) her parents still interact with her, but they do not recognize her, even though her face looks exactly the same. I think it’s a throwback joke to Lois Lane, who for some reason never recognized Superman when he took off his glasses.

Dana (my ex-partner [we broke up in February]) and I both love the show, but the funniest story is that while we were watching, I was high as a kite on some kind of medication and she was talking about WordGirl’s superpower and I said, “Dana, she can fuckin’ fly…………” She can also pick up any object, no matter how heavy it is, and hurl it without breaking a sweat.

In between episodes, there’s a game show called “May I Have a Word,” hosted by a guy named “Beau Handsome.” It’s hilarious as well, and Chris Parnell as the narrator sometimes makes me laugh so hard my drinks come out of my nose (as of this writing, I am drinking Cheerwine). I feel like this show is just built for writers, because it is so smart. If you’re a writer, I’m going to bet you’ll love it as well. My favorite character is Chuck the Evil Sandwich-Making Guy, a whiny New York Jew with a sandwich for a head voiced by Fred Stoller. I don’t think he’s the best villain, but I do think he’s the funniest character. If you get a chance, check out the episode called “Chuck E Sneeze.” It’s so funny I don’t even want to reveal the plot.

Anyway, I think my superpower is close to WordGirl’s, just in the world of geekery. I have done many different things computer-wise, so I have a very well-rounded education when it comes to using them. I have an interview with the company I mentioned in my last entry, and it’s for a beginning database analyst position. I thought I would be interviewing for a customer service job, but I would give anything not to have to say, “may I help you,” so perhaps this is a good thing. I’ve done DBA before, so I know how to read and write SQL (structured query language, pronounced “sequel” for those not in the know). It basically involves designing ways to store data by relating tables. If you’ve ever used Microsoft Access, you know what I’m talking about. You know, like having customer data in one database and being able to match it up with what they bought in another. SQL is just a way to do this with a text editor instead of dragging and dropping relationships, for which Access is famous.

If I get the job, I’ll have a lot of built-in reading time, because I’m fairly far out on the red line and the job is on the orange, changing trains at Metro Center. I’m always in the middle of at least six books, so this seems attractive.

It’s been a few hours since I started this entry- I had to take a break from writing to go to therapy. My homework for this week is “planning pleasant activities.” I thought it was a really funny title for an assignment, but I already have plenty. Tomorrow I’m having coffee with Rev. Susannah to talk about the youth group after my job interview, and then choir practice that night. It’s going to be a very busy day, and today was fairly occupied as well. I went to the church and practiced all my choir music… although I’m not sure it did much good. There was no metronome, and I am not that great with rhythms, especially without the constant ticking. To tell the absolute truth, I stopped at the church because I had to go to the bathroom, and in order to get in, I told the office I was there to practice. Peeing and singing. Two great things that go great together… or not.

I also walked to and from therapy, which made me feel amazing because it had to have been two miles altogether. When my endorphins are up, it abates the depression quickly. I’ll have to remember that. I do, and then get in the habit of walking, and then like all habits, I forget them after a couple of weeks. Today reminded me how important getting exercise is for a mental patient, because the body/mind connection is no joke. I am proud of myself, because it’s been cold lately and I was dressed for it… and then found out after I left the house that it was 78 degrees and walked anyway. I  figured it was more of a workout that way.

Speaking of pleasant things, I am invited for coffee tonight with friends, but I just can’t do it. I’m already tired and I need to be in bed early to get to the Metro on time for my DBA Analyst job interview.

Nerrrrrrrrrrrd UP!

 

 

What a great pleasure it was to wake up to this e-mail today. I haven’t had a bigger smile in weeks. It’s cool he thought I was male; there’s no picture associated in your MWEJobs profile and I don’t care what gender people think I am, anyway. He can think I’m a purple people eater if that’s what gets me the job. What surprised me the most was how thoughtful and personalized this e-mail was. Not a recruiter, not a form letter. Impressive…. Touching, even. I’ve gotten so many spam form letters on Monster.com that I really didn’t expect anything like this, even with a government web site.

I’m not usually speechless, but I’ve stared at this e-mail for the past ten minutes without saying anything.

Dear Mr. Lanagan,

I noticed your resume in the MWEJobs database. You appear to be a very versatile and articulate person with strong computer skills. We are a 20+ person Landover-based company that owns, licenses and supports an enterprise software application. We work with uber-large databases with billions of transactions. We have software developers, database administrators, and IT/Support people and we have a few openings.

I notice you seem to prefer Linux operating systems and open source software. In our case we’re primarily a Microsoft shop; not so much by preference but because of the types of clients we support.

What type of position are you looking for? Perhaps there may be a fit for you. Let me know.

Regards,

Name Redacted
Company Redacted