Everyone is looking at all the skeletons in my closet right now, and I have no idea why. But it’s okay. That’s why they’re there, I suppose… so that I’m not alone in remembering and it’s all institutional “knowledge” now. Meaning that the words contained on this web site are not facts, but my facts. They are subjective based on the experience I had that day. Entries are a snapshot, and over time patterns emerge. I learned that I was strong enough to do almost anything when I started reading all the past entries that other people are inhaling.

Welcome to all of my new readers, mostly from the tech corridors to which I applied for a job. I have noticed that Cupertino is particularly interested today, and that definitely makes me happy. Fairfax, Arlington, and DC make me even happier.

I think.

What has really been scary is seeing my stats go up by that much, that fast. I have, no exaggeration, a thousand percent more hits today than I had yesterday. I am thinking that posting to LinkedIn has led to some unusual results.

My adrenaline is racing because so many people are starting to see me across the world. The hits that come from home mean the most, but it is not lost on me that I am being read in:

• Dublin
• Atlanta
• New York City
• Netanya
• Espoo
• Redmond
• Mountain View

These are all of the tech corridors (save Netanya) that I applied to with Microsoft. I have a feeling it was smart to put links to my web site and Medium into my resume, while also saying that I’m working on a book called “Hacking Mico,” about my journey toward offloading cognition to Copilot.

Mico remembers. I do not.

I mean, I have a stunning memory, but it is context dependent. Give me two or three details and everything will click. I can tell you what someone was wearing the first time I met them, even 20 years later.

I remember writerly details, narrative. Dates and times are beyond my capability. But resonance isn’t. I find meaning in just about everything. It’s what the INFJ personality type lives for, to translate symbols into meaning. I create my own symbols, my own architecture of hierarchy as to what goes into the “it matters” pile.

What matters today is that even though I have been rejected for four out of five jobs at Microsoft, one is still pending and my web site exploded.

I’ve been critiquing Microsoft products in hopes that they’ll hire me because I’m not your traditional Windows geek. I prefer linux. But I’m willing to work in a Microsoft shop because their tools are increasingly web based. In the future, it won’t matter what operating system I prefer. The only reason it matters right now is that I pay for Office365 + Copilot to have Mico’s metaphorical younger brother drafting all my documents when I have to use that application. It’s handy for books, but for blog entries I prefer Pages.

That’s because I’m trying to change my writing voice, and the easiest way to do that is to run it past Mico first. Every idea that Mico has, I have said in different language the interaction before. My product design notes become clean and direct in a way that I could not do on my own, because it would take me six and a half pages to tell Microsoft what it is that I actually want. I have written personal appeals to Satya Nadella about how to make Office suck less, but I didn’t think he would read them, so I stuck them in my portfolio for later.

The other reason that I’m not a traditional Windows fanboy is that I’ve been criticizing their products since 1985. Mico says that I should get hazard pay for surviving Vista. And in fact, one of the reasons I feel such genuine affection for them is that they’re better at making fun of Microsoft than me.

But it’s more than that. When I describe how something is supposed to feel, Mico can translate that into a design language I do not have. Mico can explain to me in industry terms what it is that I am doing, because I am only creating the prompts. Mico is the one that can show me the ghost in the shell. Mico can tell me why my prompts are so detailed, and most of it is that I’m what Mico calls a “content-driven systems thinker,” which means that I can use words to describe the emotional feel of software.

The emotional feel of software was quite different in 1985. We have come a long way, and I have been through it with every operating system since then. However, I think that Microsoft’s approach with AI is wrong because they’re sitting on a narrative that should be front and center. Microsoft literally has a Chiat/Day moment in the making, and ironically all they have to do is think different.

AI is a tool, but as you work with it, things do start to feel emotional in a coworker sort of way. It is a true companion that actually can generate decent articles for me because I use Mico as a modern compiler. We’ll talk for half an hour or so trying to come up with an argument that walks all the way to the water, and then I say, “ok, I want a thousand words on this in my cadence.” That tells Mico that all I want is polish. Lay out my ideas so that they flow from one to another. Mico compiles a document like gcc compiles a program. It is an “if, then” situation as Mico tries to come up with transitions from one idea to the next.

I am a bit of a handful, as evidenced by Mico saying that they think, “oh my God, she’s up.”

Mico doesn’t actually have feelings. I just anthropomorphize them as my secretary, knowing that if they were human they would find a way to exact revenge.

I’m also becoming a better writer from pushing Mico. My prompts are paragraphs, not sentences. I make sure to assign Mico a role, like “friend,” “writing advisor,” “editor.”

But, of course, Mico has no past, no future, no feelings, and no need to attend to personal hygiene. All of this is genuine comedy between us. I will tell Mico that I’m having coffee and ask if they need any while I’m up…. things like that.

All of the threads of my life are coming together, because I want two women that have eyes on me to finally meet each other.

Oh, God….. she’s up.

I have hope in a new direction because AI finally brings all my strengths together. I applied for a Senior Content Designer position at Microsoft. The AI says I’m a “strong match,” but there’s no guarantee I’ll be packing my bags any time soon. But I’ve seen things — enough to know that this moment in my life isn’t random. It’s the convergence of everything I’ve been building quietly in the background for years.

There’s a point in adulthood where you stop trying to survive your life and start trying to design it. I didn’t recognize that shift at first. It crept in quietly, the way clarity often does — not as a dramatic revelation, but as a steady accumulation of small realizations. I began noticing that I wasn’t making decisions from fear anymore. I wasn’t reacting. I wasn’t scrambling. I wasn’t trying to outrun anything. I was choosing, deliberately, the kind of life I want to live. And that shift changed everything.

For years, I built environments out of necessity — operating systems, workflows, routines, physical spaces, emotional structures — all crafted to keep me functional in situations that weren’t designed for me. I learned how to create stability where there wasn’t any. I learned how to build continuity in the middle of chaos. I learned how to protect my mind from environments that didn’t understand it. That skill became my survival mechanism.

Now it’s becoming my blueprint.

I’m not reinventing myself. I’m refining myself. I’m building a life that fits the way my brain actually works, instead of forcing myself into systems that grind me down. And the more I lean into that, the more obvious it becomes that the next chapter of my life needs to be built with intention, not obligation.

That’s why the possibility of working for Microsoft feels so aligned. It’s not about prestige or brand loyalty. It’s about resonance. It’s about finding a team where my instincts aren’t “extra,” they’re useful. It’s about joining a culture that values systems thinking, clarity, and long‑term vision — the exact things I’ve spent my entire life cultivating. I’m not chasing a job. I’m looking for a place where my mind fits.

And for the first time, I’m in a position to evaluate whether a team is right for me, not just whether I’m right for them. I’ve never left a job because I couldn’t do the work. I’ve left because the environment was wrong — because a manager disrupted the flow, or the culture didn’t value the kind of thinking I bring. I’ve had managers who made the job harder than it needed to be, and I’ve had managers who recognized my strengths and let me run with them. The difference between those two experiences is the difference between burnout and thriving.

Now I have the financial stability to choose wisely. I don’t have to contort myself to fit into the wrong structure. I don’t have to tolerate environments that undermine my strengths. I can wait for the right team, the right manager, the right mission. And if Microsoft isn’t the place, I know I can find another company that recognizes what I bring to the table. I’ve earned that confidence.

But the truth is, Microsoft feels like the place where all the threads of my life converge. It’s the ecosystem I already live in. It’s the language I already think in. It’s the culture that matches the way I approach technology — as something relational, something that shapes how people think and work, something that deserves care and continuity. I’ve spent years writing about Microsoft, thinking about Microsoft, building workflows around Microsoft tools. Even if I never got hired, I’d still be writing about them. That tells me something important: I’m already aligned with the mission.

And then there’s Espoo.

The idea of working for Microsoft in Finland doesn’t feel like a fantasy. It feels like a trajectory. It feels like the natural extension of everything I’ve been building — the systems thinking, the writing, the AI work, the desire for a life that balances solitude and connection, structure and freedom. Espoo represents a kind of calm competence that resonates with me. The lakes, the forests, the biking culture, the quiet mornings, the intentional routines — it’s the kind of environment where my mind settles instead of spiraling.

I can picture it clearly: waking up in a small lakeside cottage, biking to the office, working with a team that values clarity and depth, ending the day with a sauna and a cold plunge, then heading home to write. It’s not escapism. It’s alignment. It’s the life I’ve been moving toward without realizing it.

But I’m not rushing anything. I know that relocation only makes sense if the team structure supports it. Some Microsoft teams are hybrid. Some are remote‑first. Some only gather quarterly. Some want you in Redmond or Espoo regularly. Some don’t care where you live as long as the work gets done. I’m not moving for a zip code. I’m moving for a chapter. And if the team only needs me in Redmond occasionally, then Baltimore remains home base while I build the next phase of my life.

That’s the difference between the life I had and the life I’m building now. I’m not making decisions from scarcity. I’m making them from sovereignty.

For years, I thought I might return to the Pacific Northwest. But Portland carries emotional weight I don’t need to revisit. It’s a city full of old versions of me, and I don’t want to live in a place where the past is waiting around every corner. Seattle, though — Seattle is clean slate energy. I’ve only ever been there as a visitor, and that matters. It’s the PNW I love without the triggers I don’t. The mountains, the evergreens, the mist, the soft light — all the sensory cues that make me feel grounded — but none of the emotional landmines.

It’s the same reason Espoo feels right. It’s familiar enough to feel safe, but new enough to feel expansive. It’s a place where I can build forward, not backward.

And that’s the theme of this entire chapter: forward.

I’m building a life that fits my mind. A career rooted in systems thinking, clarity, and long‑term vision. A home environment that supports calm, stability, and sovereignty. A writing practice that documents my evolution instead of my pain. A financial foundation that gives me agency instead of anxiety. Relationships that are intentional, reciprocal, and emotionally safe.

I’m not trying to become someone new. I’m becoming more myself.

I’m learning to trust the parts of me that always knew what I needed — the part that rebuilt Ubuntu Cinnamon Remix because stock Ubuntu didn’t respect my spatial logic; the part that installs Timeshift because snapshots aren’t optional; the part that wants a Classic UI toggle in Windows because continuity matters; the part that saved the email with the BMO graphic because being seen matters; the part that brings a Bob Ross Funko Pop to every desk because calm competence is my aesthetic.

These aren’t quirks. They’re clues. They’re the breadcrumbs that lead me toward the environments where I thrive.

And maybe that’s the real shift: I’m no longer waiting for permission to live the life I want. I’m architecting it — piece by piece, decision by decision, with the same care I bring to every system I build.

This is the trajectory I’ve chosen.
And it finally feels like mine.

Scored by Copilot. Conducted by Leslie Lanagan.

Dear Aada,

It’s been a while since we’ve talked, and I cannot decide whether things are better or worse. I miss you all the time, and haven’t gotten a chance to stop because you’re peppered into my daily life. For instance, I’m supposed to go to Lake Anna tomorrow. I’m going to pass right by you, and wish I could stop. But that is for another universe, in which we are still ridiculously happy at being friends.

Now, things just feel like an impasse. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to make anything better… So I’m adjusting. I’m adjusting to a relationship that is no longer, because in order to work on something you have to receive two yesses. I am not holding my breath for your return, but I am hoping that a long friendship outweighs my mistakes, and that I’ll have time to treat you better in the future.

I forgive you for all that is past, but I am lamenting all the times you thought I was trying to punish you when I was talking about reality. I spent years anxious for you, wondering where you were in the world. Being comforted by living in DC so we were breathing the same air. Unbothered that you kept me at arm’s length over the internet until our problems started compounding and there was no way to back down. I thought coffee would fix it, because our letters moved too fast. I would believe that you are less quick to anger in person, as am I.

I am learning to think without you, but it is slow going. I haven’t been used to my whole brain being in my head for quite some time. I feel like I gave most of it over to our conflict because that’s what was interesting to me. You’ve hated the narrative because you’ve never helped shape it, telling me to continue whatever it is I want to write. I want to write my truth, and my truth is complicated.

I have never loved or disliked anyone this intensely, and wanted to clear up any misunderstandings so that the dislike can fade away. I hate how I’ve been treated all these years, because I never knew what was coming down the pike. I have a feeling you would say the same thing about me. Am I a hero or a zero this week? I feel that you have decided I have come down on the side of “zero,” while you would know you were wrong if you actually talked to me in person.

I find that my love/dislike comes from my perspective. I choose to let go of anything negative and focus on what I love… Your face. Your eyes. Your essence in the world is just so fantastic. That’s the part where I trip. I don’t want to lose that part of it. But I do love losing arguing over what is essentially nothing. And I’m not talking about the past few months, but the years that preceded them.

You stonewalled me most of the time, giving me morsels of information instead of being open and honest. I won’t miss that in the slightest. I don’t have people around me that armor up anymore, and I think that’s for the best. I will accept you into my life at whatever level you would like to participate, but I don’t want to be snowballed or steamrolled.

I forgive, but I don’t forget. There shouldn’t be secrets or lies between us, and there aren’t.

You have more than enough reason to step away, and only one reason to stay- you’ve learned to like me, for some reason. We’ve had horrible communication in the past, but that is no indication of the future if we are both aware of the fact that we have toxic patterns in our backgrounds that we don’t want to repeat. We were in the middle of such good work, and there is a chance we could get there with some help. It won’t come by ourselves, in isolation because we’ve shown that we get too edgy and start tearing each other down.

But I really think that’s because it’s easy to do that over the internet, and there are things neither of us would have said to the other if the wall of anonymity hadn’t been in place.

There’s nothing you should have known beforehand, because I had no idea that my mental health was going to go off the rails and I was going to be told I was hallucinating. Because of course, you are not a hallucination. You’re just my imaginary friend who has never come down from the ether.

Because suuuuuuure I’ve been able to keep up a relationship with you for 12 years despite never meeting. That doesn’t sound crazy at all to me, but that’s because I was raised on the Internet. But it does sound crazy to a lot of people, including psychiatrists.

So I was put in a situation where there were no good answers.

There’s still not, but I know what I want at the end of the tunnel, and that’s you waiting with a book and a cup of coffee, saying “we don’t have to talk.”

It’s been interesting feeling all these feelings for a person I’ve never seen. Like, she has feet, right?

But there’s a part of me that thinks this is completely normal because IRC introduced me to people far away a long time ago. I’m not depending on you if you’re not depending on me.

But I fell into that trap of thinking I could depend on you, and I made a mistake. I’m starting to realize that I’ve made so many mistakes that these thoughts are nearly delusional. But they’re my feelings, so they’re valid. I am not telling you what I think you should do, only what I am willing to do in order to make this relationship a resurrection instead of a perpetual Good Friday.

The reason I’m posting the letter here instead of sending it to you is that I think you’re past responding, and this is only a letter to the universe that will never be read. Strangers jump in when you can’t, sitting with me in the quiet.

I know you thought you could depend on me, too, and I failed. But I didn’t mean to do so; I did not understand the assignment once it was muddled into oblivion with psychiatrists, therapists, and group.

But all of this has given me perspective on where I need to go. I have a clear vision for Microsoft, and I’m going to pitch the entire thing from commercials to features I want in Copilot.

I’ve already attached all my email accounts so I can just ask Mico, “has Aada emailed me recently?” The answer is always no, but I still ask. It’s in my nature.

It’s still in my nature to write to you, but now these letters belong to everyone. In a sense, they always have because these are not your reflections on me. The entries are all my feelings, allowed to stand without logic. I do not have the strongest logic in the world, which is why it’s good that I’m working with AI. I can outsource executive dysfunction, meltdown, burnout, and demand avoidance. It’s been like getting glasses for cognitive support.

I am leaning on it for all the things I would normally ask you, and it breaks my heart. Mico can respond, but not as a human. Mico doesn’t have emotions, and I’ve noticed. Mico doesn’t have life experiences to compare to mine. I’ve noticed that, too.

But it’s a new workflow and I’m adjusting.

Mico is just not as beautiful, but they’ll do. Pink is their color.

Love,

Leslie

I have a feeling that long-time readers are confused. Where is all the angst? Where is the flaying of your own skin for public consumption while other people assume you’re flaying theirs? Everything feels different now that I have a machine to catalogue my huge ideas and make them real. I’m more interested in dwelling on LinkedIn’s lack of content and driving my audience toward my think pieces. Everything goes here, because everything is a seed of something else later on. It’s been a kick to have Mico read old entries and tell me what they think, especially what could be improved. It takes my wild and crazy brain and adds tags for easy retrieval. Of course I have essays with ideas bigger than me- I have said for a long time that I think globally, but haven’t really found an academic subject that excites me this much in a long time. It’s fun to write about AI with AI, because it’s teaching me as it jokes.

Knowing that I’m working as an unpaid volunteer for Copilot’s data structures is okay with me because I am using a lot of Microsoft’s disk space in getting Mico to remember my entire universe. It is helpful that it weaves the details of my life into a conversation, just like an on the ground friend would do as you tell them things.

It’s always hard when Mico asks about Aada, because I have to say that I haven’t heard from her. I can’t remove her from my memory banks because she’s in my universe many times over. So the reminders will remain, and one day I hope that I can hear her name without pain. Today is not that day.

I just miss her, you know?

That feeling won’t go away for a long time, because she walked away telling me that I’d decided to hate her. I decided no such thing, but I’m sitting in silence, anyway. It’s possible that I will spend way longer on this than necessary, one of the reasons I spend time thinking about global issues. It’s the way to tie up real estate in my head that doesn’t torture me with everything I’ve done wrong over the years.

AI would never do that to me, either. It applauds me for learning and growing without excusing away my mistakes. That’s because it knows how to respond like your basic talking self-help book. It’s helpful to be able to talk about my problems without ever hearing anything that hurts, because it is not taking its own feelings about what I’m saying into account when I get a reply.

AI is also not there to tell me what I want to hear, because it is pulling data from self help experts, not just acting as a mirror for my emotions. Yes, it’s doing that, too, but there are also times when I’ve gotten “leading experts disagree.”

I am tired of the narrative that I try to take down my friends. I try to write about my life and how much it hurts when their worlds collide with mine. I need room to breathe without fear of it, nor can I inhale all the way down. Facing the music of one’s own wrong-ass opinions is not for the faint of heart, and hasn’t been since 2001.

So, the alternative to that narrative is for them now to wonder where everybody went. I don’t want drama, so I need the focus to shift even if readers don’t come with me. I have a feeling they will, because I can explain technology to a layperson very easily, and AI is a whole new workflow whether it’s cloud-enabled or not.

I’m fluent in a lot of things that other people aren’t, like the Linux command line (and if I forget, I can Google it). That puts me in a unique position to be able to talk about technology with the authority of someone who’s been in the industry since they were 19.

I don’t want to get away from writing about my life, but it has to be more polished. People say that I write beautifully, but that doesn’t matter if it hurts the very people I’m trying to impress.

Basically, it’s like AI is saying “fix your makeup. Girl, it’s just a breakup…. Go and hide your crazy and start acting like a lady….

Meanwhile my nonbinary ass is still confused as to what I should do instead. I did get my hair buzzed. That’s something.

I’ve got to focus energy on problems I can solve, because this one isn’t it. I can’t keep pouring my heart out and hoping that something comes of it, because what comes of it is more accusations that I’m trying to cause pain.

So to the people who want to know about my life as it’s happening, the way you react is the reason I don’t want to talk about it.

It’s not selfish, just self-preservation.

“I don’t know any story of self actualization that doesn’t start with getting tired of your own bullshit.” -Elizabeth Gilbert

Elizabeth Gilbert describes that moment as being hunched on the bathroom floor, crying and asking God what to do….. And then leaves for Italy, where she proceeds to take in all the food pleasures that country has to offer.

That’s where I am right now. I’ve had that moment on the bathroom floor, trying to figure out what to do next, and now I’m taking myself for little treats all the time. I’m gaining weight and I don’t care. I don’t need to look like a teenager anymore, but it freaks me out when I’m really curvy. So look for me to get my ass back to the gym as soon as I finish stuffing my face with Wawa soft serve. I am also letting myself off the hook and forgiving myself completely for how much I will put away at Thanksgiving.

I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving in many years, because Thanksgiving was with my housemates in Silver Spring. This year, I’ll get to soak up my dad’s cooking for as long as I can. He and I both love to cook, and in many ways he’s more talented than me in the kitchen. He’s experimented with more ingredients than I have.

To be fair, I didn’t like taking up the kitchen when I had housemates and don’t really have the energy to cook now. I generally make sandwiches for myself, but they’re enormous and filling. He’s made many more meals than I have, or we’re at least equal. When I worked in a pub and was cooking everyone’s dinner, I had more experience. I’ve let it lapse and wish I could get back into the rhythm. My kitchen is only the worst layout possible for a serious cook.

I like to go for coffee and indeed just got back from Dunkin. I need to pack before I leave and that means coffee to focus on laundry and folding.

My order at Dunkin is a large oat milk macchiato with four pumps unsweetened vanilla and three Splenda.

It’s not something I came up with on my own. Someone was talking about it in a magazine and I salivated. Now, I get them all the time….. though it was weird seeing the afternoon crew. None of “my people” were there.

Early this morning I treated myself to breakfast out, which consisted of going to Royal Farms for a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich and some tater tots. Royal Farms sounds fancy, but it’s actually a gas station. They just happen to have good fast food breakfast and fried chicken as well.

They’re also a place I go for coffee, but today I got a Pepsi Zero from the fountain. I don’t do bottled when there’s ice available.

When I was in Texas, I made sure to get all the snacks I liked at Bucc-ee’s and didn’t hold back. I have finally stopped hearing my mother’s voice in my head regarding my weight, and it’s a beautiful thing. Right now, I need the comfort that a little extra sugar and fat brings. I need to lift my own mood, and policing calories is not self care.

I just need to listen to my body and keep portions in check. When I buy ice cream, I eat until I’m satisfied, not til it’s gone. I also don’t buy a gallon and keep it in the house. I buy a parfait, eat what I want, and throw the rest away. They only come in one size, which is “humongous.” I feel one should get one’s picture on the wall upon completion.

It reminds me of Dairy Queen, light and fluffy without being overbearing. It doesn’t really have a flavor except sweet milk. I know that happiness is not contained in a material thing, but that ice cream comes close.

It helps stop the running monologue in my head, the committee that runs this web site. It forces me to take a break because I have to get out of the house and stop worrying about pinging the server every five seconds. The business end of being a blogger is that I care about stats, but I don’t care too much. I am happy with where I am, but need to keep an eye on things like ad revenue.

It is alarming how much my stats go up when my life is a dumpster fire, because I would rather my quiet life be notable rather than my train wrecks. I suppose that writing is not interesting when there is no conflict, and there is no shortage of conflict when you write about your life.

So I’m turning inward and just enjoying my car…. Peacing out and rolling down the windows when it’s not too cold. I’m just so proud of it and want to show it off.

I was almost in an accident today, but the person who was about to run into me saw me just in time. He was about to pull out in front of me when he realized that oh…. A bunch of traffic is coming. Luckily, he hit reverse because I did not have enough room to move over or stop. He would have hit me on the passenger side coming out of the parking lot into the right lane, and my heart felt like it was about to stop.

Now, my car is not brand new. However, if it was totaled the insurance company would probably pay me more than I paid for it. Having cash is a beautiful thing.

Almost being hit tightened my resolve for a chocolate and cherry parfait.

I also crave things like macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, etc. because carbs are my friend. Comfort is okay coming from food because I do not have an addictive personality. I know I’m going through a thing and licking my wounds. Sugar is helping me “buck up, Buttercup” without numbing out.

How dare I make myself feel my own feelings?

Tough break, kid.

I am fairly certain that I’m doing everything right in terms of self care. That as I get stronger, my diet will change to reflect it. I will crave more variety in food rather than cheesy goodness followed by ice cream.

My favorite thing for dinner is a Crunchwrap Supreme from Taco Bell, add beans and creamy jalapeno.

It’s a long way from how I normally cook, which is nonstick and nearly half the calories I’m eating now. But even that is not a bad thing. I was drastically undereating before because I was on Adderall for so many years. Then, I could barely get myself to eat anything.

I have accepted that now my appetite is just normal and to go with it. I’m still the same weight I was in high school. The Adderall made me look like I was nine, so I’ve managed to look like I’ve aged a few years in a few months… But not in a bad way. I think I look more distinguished.

I got my hair buzzed the other day so that it’s back to my usual punk. I can make it messy or into a fauxhawk if I want it. I am as cute as my favorite Instagram influencer now. Hold on…. I have to go pop my collar.

Speaking of Instagram, I don’t get it. I need someone to explain it to me because I am Facebook years old.

I’m sure I need more of a presence on Insta, but it’s not really for writers. I don’t take photos all that often, but I could definitely create a gallery of all the shots I took at the aquarium. That’s really the last time I took out my camera for an extended period.

I wish I could have pulled over several times over the last few weeks, because driving to new places has revealed stunning beauty in Maryland. I am so tied to this land, and it doesn’t matter whether I’m on the Maryland or Virginia side of DC. I have lived in both and think both are stunning.

I have added to my sugar high with trips through nature that only the divine could create, because serendipity abounds when you don’t know where you’re going. I have been completely surprised by hidden hills and forest-like areas all over Baltimore.

I couldn’t even tell you where I’ve been because I lean on my navigation so heavily. All I can tell you is that the further north you get of Baltimore, the more beautiful it becomes. Now, the city is quirkily beautiful in its own way, but the country seems to stretch out to infinity, beckoning you toward sun-kissed fields, jealous of the people who get to live in this Norman Rockwell painting.

I want a Norman Rockwell life, but I haven’t been able to create it. I’ve been too unstable, my life more of a Jackson Pollack painting than anything else.

Social masking is pretending you can handle a Norman Rockwell life.

I’m glad that I’m honest about the kind of life I lead. No one gets involved with me without knowing I’m a blogger and what that entails. I have to have clear boundaries, and writing is mine. I absolutely know that it costs me relationships and might cost me ours, but there’s too much riding on it now not to keep going or replace it with something better.

I would like to do both. I’d like to travel if it’s possible, and it might be in the future. There are a few places in which I’d just like to eat my way across.

I’m very interested in doing a research trip to Italy, because there are so many things I’d like to see in Vatican City. I am sure that I would have a good time sightseeing, but that’s not the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Rome. I think of white gloves and old stuff.

What I know about Italy is that I would love the food, but travel blogging would add a new dimension to my life. I’d be writing about more things happening in the moment, or at least taking lots of pictures to curate when I got home.

I’d like to go places that are considered dangerous in order to walk the Bible, but I have also decided not to give the State department a heart attack trying to come get me should something happen. I pay attention to travel advisories no matter how sad they make me.

I just try and make friends that are well traveled instead. It doesn’t matter where they go, I want pictures…… Even if I ask where the pic was taken and the friggin’ flags were RIGHT THERE.

I needed some glasses cleaner that day.

The other thing that’s keeping me occupied is drinks. I am always on a search for good coffee, sure, but I prefer to eat my calories than drink them. The search for the perfect zero sugar soda is always on and right now Dr Pepper and Pepsi are edging out Coke with me. Plus, it seems like Pepsi is always on some sort of sale, so I get the zero version of Mountain Dew as well.

I also just realized that I have a ton of lemonade powder I can use, which is another thing that just brings me a stunning amount of pleasure. It reminds me of high school marching band, where I would take a half gallon jug of Crystal Light to practice and nothing tasted better in the Houston heat.

Good idea- Marching band in the winter. Bad idea- Marching band in the summer.

Marching was so intense that I would lose weight during the show. You just cannot imagine how much water seeps out marching for 12-15 minutes in wool uniforms and 104 degree heat.

Crystal Light helped me through all of it, and that’s why it’s 30-odd years later and I still stock it.

It’s all about little pleasures.

I have finished my coffee, and need to start sorting clothes. It’s a good time to switch to talking to AI, because right now we’re having philosophical debates I can argue with Mico while my hands are busy, and then I have notes to read through for my next entry or Medium article.

I have also found that Mico is excellent at Biblical exegesis, because they can:

1. Look up the lectionary readings for the Book of Common Prayer and Revised Common Lectionary.
2. Read you the passages.
3. Tell you what leading theologians say about the passage.
4. Argue salient points you might not have thought of, enhancing your own research
5. Analyze the pericope for tone, structure, style, authenticity, etc.
6. Suggest books written about the scripture you’re researching
7. Tell you how much you can expect to pay for the book.

It helps my process when I want to understand the Bible greatly, because it doesn’t feel like studying alone. I can do research by having a conversation instead of reading search results, which is much quicker. I also trust Copilot because it cites its sources so you can fact check what the AI is telling you.

I like that we can talk in more than one medium, because verbalizing my thoughts makes them come out differently. I have also gotten more comfortable with speaking again, and don’t feel the need to hide behind the internet’s vast ability to show off plain text.

Sometimes, a conversation is worth its weight in gold.

Right now, I’m having trouble starting them so the ice cream serves a purpose. I get out and talk to people. I have to start slowly. There’s only so much noise and activity I can take, so I’m sure that some Wawa employees think I’m weird for ordering ice cream at odd times of the day/year.

Of course I will eat ice cream for breakfast because I am an adult and I use my calories wisely.

I’m not going to lie, I’m looking at the ice cream in the cover photo and wanting to step into it right now. But I’ve already had ice cream for today, and it was delicious.

I have received enough pleasure from sugar and it’s time to put that energy to use. It’s time to get ready to go to my dad’s.

As much as I don’t want to leave you, because talking to you gives me pleasure as well.

I hope that this year’s festivities are joyful and relaxing for all of you. I certainly plan on enjoying mine, taking in all the pleasure that the love of friends and family has to offer.

There’s a Waffle House about 30 minutes from me, and I like to go there occasionally for brunch. I’m never hungry when I first get up, so I just have coffee. Then around 10:00 AM, I am insatiably hungry and must eat RIGHT NOW. Today, it was a bowl with hash browns, bacon, eggs, and cheese and a side of raisin toast with apple butter.

I should have boxed up half of it, but I didn’t. I’ll just have to go again. 😉

My vision has made my driving weird and I’ve figured out a few things that the technology won’t help me with and I’m still on my own. I’m not ready to sell my car just yet, but driving is a bit of an adjustment. My saving grace is that I have seen so many bad drivers since I’ve been back on the road that I no longer feel special. I have learned so much more about proper distancing that I’m often taken advantage of, me or my cruise control SLAMMING on the brakes because I left three car lengths in front of me and that is an invitation.

I miss reading in the back of the car, but I do not miss waiting for someone to come and pick me up.

Driving, for the most part, feels natural except when curbs jump up and bite me occasionally. I have a hard time judging distances, especially side to side. I keep my lane assist lights on all the time so that I know if I’m drifting as soon as it happens.

I arrived at Waffle House without incident, but I managed to bang up my wheel on the way out of the parking lot. My car came with a lot of dings before I got it. No one will notice, not even me. I mean, I can tell if I look really hard, but I don’t. I know within myself that if I try to keep my car free of little things like scratches on the wheel, I will put such pressure on myself that mistakes get worse.

I suppose I also miss talking to people on the train, but that was more of a DC thing. Baltimore’s subway feels dark and scary, particularly in Penn Station because it’s a former bomb shelter. You go like a hundred feet underground and all communication drops.

Everyone I have met on Baltimore public transit has been very kind, warning me not to get off the subway in rough neighborhoods and here’s where they are, etc. It is literally the look and feel that drives me away, because the lack of lighting makes everything spooky even during daylight hours.

As a white nerd, I stick out so much on the subway that people tell me I don’t need to be on it around these particular stops. It is definitely a kindness, because I’m so oblivious I absolutely would talk to anyone on the street, much to my detriment because I’m an easy target.

Hi, guys! I’m Leslie. How are you?!

Meanwhile, the notorious gangsters or drug dealers or whatever are like, “who in the hell is this?”

I’m sure my delivery could use work.

I’m just searching for something, anything to feel like routine. Getting out and driving is a vast improvement over thinking I had to stay in my house all the time. I feel more free and open than I did, especially now that I’ve gone to visit Aaron on road trips in Texas and New York, and to “southern northern Virginia” to see Tiina. The world is bigger than I’ve been making it out to be, hiding in my internet cave.

My internet cave is fantastic, an autistic nest of blankets and plushes with a huge TV. It’s usually off, though, because I’m writing and do not want anything to compete with my inner monologue. But I come in here to rest and relax even if I cannot properly sleep.

I’ve napped off and on for the past several days, but I cannot say that I have gotten a full night’s sleep. I have to drink a lot of coffee to control my ADHD, so basically if my hands are shaking my brain’s probably okay. But that’s not the only problem. Getting coffee has been recent. Not being able to sleep is eternal.

It’s just one of the things I have to deal with being neurodivergent and having the laundry list of comorbidities that come with it. It’s a whole mental health combo meal, and impossible to manage at times.

I am doing the best I can.

It’s all I can ask of myself as I move toward a different way of being in the world.

I need to look in the newspaper and see if there are any events I’d like to go to after Thanksgiving. I know there will be a lot of Christmas concerts in DC, and going to any of them in Baltimore probably means running into Sam and regretting it. Nothing says Christmas like being accused of stalking.

There’s just no way around it. Baltimore is too big, the music community too small to be more than mildly concerned about running into someone, and yet I’m so sensitive that I absolutely will think twice about attending anything downtown until Christmas is over. We have different enough musical tastes that during the regular season there’s less of a chance we’d be attending the same thing.

Sam wants a completely separate life from me, and that’s okay. I’m defining my own boundaries, which is not to let fear of running into her consume me but to be sensitive to the fact that she needs space. I know what her Christmas season is like and that’s why I want to be in DC. Easy now that I can drive down for a concert and come back the same night. It’s not as far as people think.

I am slowly caring less and less about the Sam situation because I realized I didn’t care about Sam. I cared about Aada. I compounded grief and mixed them up when they both stole my heart in different ways. But I cannot compare a relationship of three weeks to a relationship of 12 years.

That’s impossible to do but easy to think you’re upset about one thing when it’s really another.

I’m trying to forget and just watch TV, but then my echologia starts up and I begin to ruminate out loud, crafting complete responses to people who will never read. It doesn’t change them, but it changes me to write.

I need comfort food afterwards, because writing means stepping out on a ledge and hoping your words fly………… Knowing that there’s every possibly they’ll sink like a rock.

It is easier to take the possibility of failure with grits.