I finally found the antidote to Daniel’s poison….. “just because you write in bulk doesn’t mean you write anything of substance.” This is a comment on an entry that took 15 minutes to write:
No one can touch that tape ever again.
The other thing is that the entry reminds me of a quote from John le Carré: “Childhood is the credit balance of a writer.”
What public figure do you disagree with the most?
I disagree with Donald Trump the most, but he’s not interesting. He’s a Flat Stanley, except Flat Stanley is a book series for children and Trump is a child. Calling Trump a Flat Stanley is just bullying Flat Stanley. Please respect his privacy during this difficult time.
Trump is the one person I can think of in my writing life that I cannot turn into a 3D character. There is no way to show his humanity, compassion, intelligence, etc. He has not given us any evidence to support the fact that he has any of those things.
Supergrover said that I portrayed her as a “Flat Stanley.” That is objectively not true, but that’s not the point. The point is that I had to look him up and it became an apt description for him, not her. When I think of her, my brain lights up like an animation of The Flash running up the side of a building. She’s amazing. She’s also human. People have problems, full stop. I only disagree with her because I have written many times about how many different things I love about her. Talking about both our problems and our successes is what makes her a 3D character. I haven’t talked about all the things I love about her in a long time because she hasn’t given me much to love lately.
And she never will again, I don’t think, because the kind of bravery that she showed in her last letter is what I require all the time. That’s not her. I’m not the person that will walk on eggshells trying to do things right because I’m guessing how she feels. Doesn’t praise me for anything I do right, comes down HARD on me when I do wrong. She can go and make other people jump high. I’m done. Either she breaks the power imbalance between us or she can find someone else to put through her mental marathon.
It’s hard to feel lonely when you’re right next to someone, and yet I felt it constantly- and not because we weren’t constantly in touch. She thought I was jumping up and down for attention by making her feel bad all the time. I thought she was being very selfish in withholding information because it made it so easy to yell at me for things that happened because I guessed wrong instead of actually knowing what she wanted and needed from me. Most of the time, I believe that was straight up nothing, but that wasn’t always the case.
It’s really simple to me.
She has loved me more than I’ve ever realized because she won’t talk about it. She just doesn’t stop showing up. She’s not the kind of person that constantly says “I love you” all the time. From her, “I love you” means “what are you going to do for a paying job now? I’m concerned.” “I love you” looks like no one would ever know that someone who was mean to me is now under her pool. “I love you” looks like “I got you some books for your Kindle.” “I love you” looks like “really great post today.” “I love you” looks like accepting me for who I am. We just have terrible communication despite all that acceptance. Hurt compounds on both sides. Neither of us are bad people, we just set up bad patterns and haven’t done the work. I’m not offended. She probably wouldn’t do the work with anyone, because then she’d have to dig deep into herself to find the answers and it is so scary……. I know. I know it’s so scary. But you don’t find out that you’re walking backwards though the dark to find daylight, choosing to stay trapped where you are.
It wasn’t my job to fix everything. It was my job to participate in fixing everything. I have no buy-in, so that chapter of my life is over. I know that I have an incredible future coming because I am owning my own destiny. I also know she’s invited, but not if every day looks like tearing me down or avoiding me. It’s not sustainable. It affected my mental health to no end, this scrambling to do the right thing while the game was set up for me to always lose. There was never any future, there was only “make me feel good with your writing.” What I know to be true is that she really does treasure the things that I’ve said. That they are valuable to her. But this is what I do. I talk about my life. If we’re not getting along, I’m not going to make it up for my web site.
You cannot stop being a Dooce fan because she “stopped being real” and then throw a shit fit when I’m real with other people. The reason Supergrover is upset is that I based my entire blog on what I think because she stopped telling me anything. I was wandering around trying to figure out everything on my own so that she could sit in judgment that I didn’t divine her needs out of thin air. It cost me more time and energy than I had to give. I hurt her and spent a very, very, very long time trying to heal the rift. She was avoidant at every turn and I became disenchanted because not every problem is because I’m a judgmental dickhead and you’re the most loving person on earth. It’s that she can dish it, but she can’t take it. She can call me a judgmental dickhead all day long, but she cannot hear that her behavior is also problematic.
She told me that she lost the ability to be a decent friend. It would have been excellent if she’d told me that when I said, “is anything wrong? You seem distant” ad nauseam for eight years. I wasted my time, and I know it. I’m not bitter about it, but I know it’s true. I also know that she is capable of monster manipulation if she can say she’s lost the ability to be a decent friend and that her mama wolverine claws are coming in within days/weeks of each other. It’s humiliating, really, because I lived for the ups without seeing the downs.
It did not make her less special to me, less amazing, less anything. She’s human. Just because we’ve gotten angry at each other before doesn’t mean I now want to hug her any less than I did on day one. But what I do know is that if such a thing were to happen, it would be because she started letting me know how she is thinking and feeling so that I don’t have to guess. I’m not in the business of anticipating needs anymore. If you can’t communicate, you don’t get to say that’s my fault. If you won’t communicate, you don’t get to step all over my ass because I tried to open a discussion and you don’t want to talk. That’s not the friend I met, that’s not the friend I want.
For me, “I love you” looks like “I picked up your afternoon coffee.” “I love you” looks like remembering you on every birthday and holiday. “I love you” looks like waiting quietly for the storm to pass, because there’s so much about our relationship I celebrate. And I don’t even mean this storm. I mean waiting between letters. I didn’t want to be stuck in dysfunction junction, but here we are. However, it takes two people to have a dysfunctional relationship. None of this is all her fault. She has her own list of things that are horrible about me and she’s right. Because I’m human. I do just as much wrong as everyone else. I also know that if I was a public figure, I would have said, “me.” I disagree with me all the time. That’s generally why I post.
So, Trump is the public figure I disagree with the most…. but, again…… he’s not interesting.
We are.
I update my blog so frequently because of how blogs work. When you update an entry, it sends a ping to search engines, the WordPress community, everyone. The more often you ping them, the more exposure you get. The reason I don’t *always* post several times a day is that Sometimes I think 10,000 words at a time. Sometimes I think 50. I am not known for being terse. Every thought comes with bonus content. When you see something flip to a completely different subject, it’s what I was writing about, then went to something else, then forgot that text was at the bottom. I am not nearly as scrambled as I seem, because most of the incoherence can be chalked up to “I forgot.”
I am detail oriented, but the details don’t come all at once. They come in as information does. I will have thoughts about every new piece of information because I’ll be collating it with what I already know to be true. Things change fast, therefore so does my web site. This is because it’s my space, the one place where I’m allowed to own it because no one asked you to be here. And I mean it. If you can’t recognize that I have agency over my own story, then your beliefs carry no inherent respect, either. That’s because if you don’t think I’m allowed to have an opinion, why should I even bother listening to yours?
I got tired of Supergrover using me as an emotional support animal, only being pleased to hear from me when it was convenient to her. She can call me the asshole for it all she wants, but that doesn’t make it untrue. She breadcrumbed me for like, eight years. Every time I tried to walk away, she got back in touch. Every single time. She was right to be angry and walk off the first time. I got tired about the 30th.
She can say I’m demanding of her time, but she opened up about how she felt and said she was enjoying writing. She also said that she was going to “offer her own psychobabble,” and she sounded JUST LIKE ME. Like, she has my patois dead to rights. Or I have hers. Chicken and egg, but I tend to say that she’s the original and I’m the copy.
It’s a lot to be told you’re a lot, and expect respect without giving it while also ignoring the fact that you’re a lot. She’s never done anything wrong, I’m a dickhead.
Yeah, that tracks. That’s what a healthy relationship looks like, that one person is always wrong no matter what they do. To add insult to injury, me telling her for years that it felt like a cat and mouse game while she continually said that she wasn’t manipulative while she manipulated me. That’s because some of her last words were “I do not want to get back into the cat and mouse game with you.” Which one of us is the cat here? Sometimes, she was full of love. Sometimes, she was full of piss and vinegar. The same could be said of me, but I was willing to talk it through so that we didn’t have these issues anymore. We could start actually enjoying each other instead of both turning into bitches on wheels every time we disagree.
It’s not her fault. It’s just as much mine. But she runs from her emotions, and I don’t. It is problematic, and the only answer was to let her go back to what she’s used to in life. if I’m the only person that ever gives her problems, which I don’t doubt because she’d never open up enough to offend any of her friends, then I am out permanently. You don’t get to walk around in my inner landscape and call me a judgmental dickhead for nearly every opinion I have.
I spent two paragraphs telling her about a situation with someone else and how I’d mishandled it. She responded that I was so judgmental and needed to back off and all this bullshit that I’d explained to her in my letter already. I did not need additional reproach. She reads so quickly that she misses a lot, and gets very angry if I say she’s missed something because she’s perfect. I called her on it, that she was reading too fast and I got these messages in quick succession:
“I read too fast. I meant that I am not angry. If you are, have at it.”
“Don’t insinuate/insult me/something like that I don’t read your stuff.”
I told her that I wasn’t basing my response on anything but timestamps, that I was not guilting her. It didn’t make a damn bit of difference. She made a mistake. Obviously all my fault.
Fuck me running.
Now that I can move away from all of it and call bullshit, pings mean more than she does. That’s because I can’t count on a future with anyone but me.
Luckily, I’m turning out to be a fun person to hang out with.
What is your career plan?
My combination of physical and mental maladies make it where it’s hard to stay employed. I have gotten many jobs in many fields, and I’ve enjoyed all of them. I’ve just never managed to last long enough at anything to establish a career. When you are neurotypical, it does not make sense to you why I would get fired. And then I listen to how you talk about your coworkers and in instantaneously becomes clear. No matter how loving and open you think you are, neurotypical people do not like working with neurodivergent ones. Whether it’s that someone doesn’t like their tone or they’re doing something completely wrong doesn’t matter. In an office, there is very little difference in simply being annoying and ACTUALLY being bad at the job. It matters that you’re pleasant just as much as you’re competent. Not wanting to work with someone is just a valid reason to let someone go, because it’s not the boss’s job to babysit.
However, my survival cannot be dependent on neurotypical people, either. My livelihood is threatened by my own body- demand avoidance, burnout, and meltdown being the big three. I can cope and muddle through in a job. I excel when I sit down at my keyboard to tell you about the world around me. I am not thinking about all the ways I could be criticized, which is good, because If blowback was always my first thought I would not be doing well. I would be over focusing on people who didn’t like my writing while ignoring people who do. That doesn’t seem healthy, going out of my way to focus on the negative.
I keep thinking about what Daniel said…. “Just because you write in bulk doesn’t mean you say anything of substance.” It plays like a tape in my head, and what I have to remember is that whether it’s good or bad, being able to go back and read about what my life was like in years past is invaluable. If you asked me what I was doing five years ago today, I could probably tell you. I just have to remember that Daniel was miserable and trying to hurt me. I notice that lots of people treat me like absolute SHIT and then say, “I’m not going to be the villain in your story.”
I also have a problem with consequences equaling negativity. I didn’t tell you that Daniel or Supergrover was a bad person. I told you what happened. BOTH of them are extraordinarily defensive and nothing is ever their fault and you’re a really bad person no matter what they did, because they don’t like to feel. Anything you do to make them feel is suspicious. They googled it, and they do not like it.
My life got so much better when I decided I was tired as fuck of both of them. I am a storyteller, therefore I don’t need any “friends.” I need actual friends, ones who believe they are capable of making mistakes instead of coming unglued when they’ve hurt me and I said something about it.
According to them, I should just keep my mouth shut because their bad behavior is good. It’s me telling people about it that’s problematic. If their behavior was so perfectly perfect in every way, they would not get mad that I wrote about it.
I am not going to let them make me a victim by insisting that I keep my mouth shut over things they did that genuinely hurt me. Neither of them gave a damn about me and my pain. They wanted to be hero-worshiped and showed up every single day to hear me extol their virtues and lost their everliving SHIT when they realized I was going to treat them like a normal person and not play them up to be gods among men. However, I don’t NOT do that, either. I love the people in my life and I often write glowing things about them that make me cry. But when I’m not being glowing, it’s not that I’m hurt. It’s that I’m a bad person because I opened my mouth.
That pattern seems on brand. You’re only as sick as your secrets.
So, instead of fighting with friends and coworkers, I would rather record my life and move in the direction of my own system rather than trying to fit into someone else’s. Because needing their love and approval got me nowhere, I replaced them with self-confidence.
I am not trying to be hard nosed. I am trying to own my story. The part that they’re angry about is that I am not telling the story the way they want to hear it………………… While never even DARING to have the guts wo write their own. It’s easier to bitch at me…………… But absolutely nothing will keep either of them from lurking and fuming. There’s not a chance either of them will just go the fuck away and leave me alone.
Repeat with anyone that has ever known me, because I generally end up talking to myself. It’s how being autistic is. You rarely have friends because you’re social masking and there’s something officious and off-putting about it. I don’t care if you think that’s annoying. I just ask that you stop interacting with me rather than bitching about my writing. My writing lives within me and around me. You ain’t shit.
It’s not that my friends aren’t valuable. They cannot give me direction and focus. That’s all on me. And until they start digging deep, they’ll never understand how hard it is. They’d rather be locked down, hurt, and lashing out at me. Thankfully, that has stopped because I stopped allowing it.
Supergrover does not get the right to absolutely shit all over everything and then walk off like nothing happened. She participated, and now acts like she’s a motherfucking hero and I’m a mental patient.
You do you, but okay.
What do you do to be involved in the community?
I am most involved with online communities, because I prefer to type than to speak. It’s not that I’m not a good time in person, I just get tongue tied and like the safety of using a keyboard. It has led to very mixed results, because most of the time, it’s just a communication tool. Occasionally, it brings out the worst in me. I have to be careful with it, because I become disconnected with the world of Outdoors and In Person.
And it’s not even really that I become tongue-tied. I become inauthentic. I start social masking and it feels like putting on a show rather than it being natural to my personality. That person hides every single thing about her that makes her unique so that she cannot possibly be offensive to anyone at any time. I become the me that’s appropriate for very large gatherings of people. I haven’t been a public speaker all my life, but my dad has (he was a minister in the UMC). Therefore, I am not that person, but I can social mask it. I fail because invariably there’s going to be something that makes the mask look like a lie. Maybe to other people, definitely to me. That personality is based on my mother, the loving preacher’s wife who lived to serve…… As in, my social mask is not “leader” but “support person.” I think it’s why I thought I’d be such a a good friend for Supergrover. It is extraordinarily true that my hormones grabbed me by my guts for a little minute, but none of the things I wanted to offer her long term were predicated or dependent upon her turning into a teenager as well.
In short, I know how to support a big shot.
I just, frankly, am not my mother and I never will be. I start all my taking care of her schtick, and things go great until I try to speak truth to power. It’s not because Supergrover is inflexible or hard-nosed. She doesn’t trust me. We didn’t used to have this problem, and now we do. In effect, I thought I could be so spectacular a friend that she would realize that she shouldn’t hold me to my worst mistake. So far, I have gotten a few brownie points, but things have never gone back to normal. I would say that the operation was a whispering success. 😉 She relaxed on some things, not on others. The one thing I refused to be was impressed. Me being impressed would have been the death knell, because she wouldn’t have liked it if I thought being friends meant parroting back her own opinions to her, either. I have never been a “yes man,” and SG was not my cue to start.
I am not impressed with anything that would make her impressive to anyone else, and that’s what makes her valuable to me. It’s like HSPVA to me. Mireille Enos is not valuable to me because she’s one of the most talented actresses in the world. She is valuable to me because she was a senior that smiled at me in high school when I was a freshman. I have never been crushed out on her, I was just an insecure ninth grader and for a moment, I wasn’t. I also don’t value her movie star looks, because in my head we’re both children. I love that I know War from “Good Omens,” but I know her from one of the smallest stages in the world- the black box at the second oldest location of HSPVA.
I have mentioned that I saw her as the lead in “Diary of Anne Frank.” What I did not say is that when the Nazis arrived to take the family away, actors dropped from the catwalk in their battle rattle and scared the ever living SHIT out of all of us. It was really VERY effective.
In terms of community, artists are a good one. I remember another play the theater department did for Black History month that celebrated diversity. There were four actors on stage dressed completely in black and with bags over their heads (see thru, presumably….). They start talking and one is clearly Asian, one is clearly Central American, one is clearly white, and one is clearly black. They talk for about three minutes, all of them sounding as stereotypical as they possibly can. Every trope in the book comes out and they’re just flinging the things people say about them on stage while the crowd is roaring with laughter.
Then.
There’s a hush and a gasp in the audience when they take the bags off their heads and no one’s race matched up to their voice. It was just masterful, and I’m so glad that was part of my high school experience. I didn’t have as many kindred spirits as Clements, and I missed PVA terribly both years I didn’t go. But at the same time, I did get to be in marching band for a season, and although I didn’t choose to continue with it, I’m glad I have the story to tell now.
I got to play some stuff at Clements that I never would have at PVA because frankly, our band was better than PVAs by a large margin, like, a provable amount. My junior year, literally the first time I’d ever been in the band, we went to Texas Music Educator’s Association as the Sudler Flag winners. The Sudler flag is an award for excellence in music education. The band was already pretty good before I got there. Although I was told it was good that I transferred because a lot of their more capable trumpet players that had gotten the band the award in the first place had graduated. It was nice to feel appreciated, because I know I wasn’t the best in the world, but I was a great utility player. I didn’t have to be first chair. I was glad I got to go to San Antonio at all. Get this. I never made first chair at Clements (I don’t think…. If I did, I didn’t have it long enough to be memorable). For a very long time, though, I was third. THIRD out of the best trumpet players in the state according to TMEA. I wasn’t the gold medalist, but I was still on the podium.
I owe my success in band at Clements to Norman and Danny, the trumpet players that babied me along until I could stand on my own two feet at HSPVA. They were not dismissive or mansplaining, because we were trying to achieve a beautiful sectional sound. It was more like being picked for the Olympics with Norman and Danny as my coaches. In the symphony, you may be first chair, but the parts are not divided by voice. As in, just because you’re second or third chair doesn’t mean your part is going to be less complicated or not as high. I mean, it probably is if it’s a classical piece that’s been rewritten for younger players, but we were reading straight off the original “charts.”
It’s like reading the Gospel of Mark in the original Greek instead of the King James version. For instance, reading Bach in the original German in terms of stage notes and the key signature, which were called different things in his time. The only one I can remember off the top of my head is that B minor is H mol. That’s because I’ve also done Bach’s B Minor Mass, or Mass in H mol, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral as a soprano.
It was an early music concert, so period instruments as well. After one of the rehearsals, I asked one of the trumpet players if I could try his horn and he let me. It was a very warm sound, similar to a Monette (famous for being unlaquered). My arms were a little short for the valves, so I was grateful to be in the community as a singer and not an instrumentalist….. Although it is fun being able to say that I can play the precursor to the trumpet as well.
When I first moved to Silver Spring, I was involved in choir. I may do it again someday, because I’d like to get back into being a musician. It’s a whole mood. You feel so much adrenaline after rehearsals and concerts that your mood naturally feels lighter and bubblier once they’re over. The reason that even though it’s just rehearsal and your adrenaline still goes up is the competition, and it is relentless. I do not mean that we snipe at each other, I mean the quest for excellence is relentless. I am not competing against anyone in my choir, but to be a better singer than I was the day before. Again, I have been asked to solo for things, so I know I’m capable of it. However, I am most comfortable as a utility player in a choir as well. I can hit high notes, but I am not a diva. I think the altos have more interesting parts, anyway.
I am more on an alto wavelength, because what I’ve found over time is that more altos can read music than sopranos. I think that’s because the alto part is generally more complicated; you can pick a melody out of thin air, but generally not the supporting notes in a chord. Alto parts are usually more complicated rhythmically as well. It has created a stigma that sopranos are airheads. This is not NECESSARILY true………….. There is a huge difference between singers who have taken lessons on instruments and singers who haven’t, because dollars to donuts they were trained in solfege and not reading the notes off the page.
I am not ashamed to admit that I thought solfege was stupid, and I haven’t been proved wrong. But that’s not because I’m not open to solfege for other people. It does work, just not if you’ve already learned to read music first. If you know how to read music, you know there is no need to bring hand movement into things. Yet, we still had to do the hand movements. I never learned them. I just made Spock’s little hand sign thingme and moved it up and down. Mission accomplished.
Because my mother was a pianist and my dad was a trumpet player, I know I learned to read music early, but I can’t remember by how much., as opposed to kids learning in school. I think I was six, because my mother’s rule in taking piano students was that they had to be able to reach an octave. As in, the thumb can be on middle C and their pinky can comfortably hit the C above. I didn’t start band, however, until I was in grade five. So, 10, I think? What I do know is that I already knew how to read music before a horn was ever put into my hands.
Singing is very hard on your body, but in a good way. As in, you’ll exercise muscles you don’t normally use and it will hurt until you get used to it. The workout keeps getting more and more productive, less and less irritating. I know I am on the right track when I can lift a heavy book with my diaphragm alone.
I just thought of something funny. Dana’s mom said, “that voice! Where did it come from?” I realized I would not be lying if my answer had been that it was Biblical, because the book I use the most frequently to work out those muscles is an Interpreter’s Bible.
I’d like to be able to run with the big boys there, too. For instance, I think Father Nathan Monk is the bees knees, because he’s already doing what I’ve always wanted to do, which is minister to people no matter what they believe. Just because there’s no God in it doesn’t mean it’s not church. Secular humanism is valid. People want to live in community and help each other whether they believe there’s a higher power or not.
Father Nathan spent many years in the church before he became an atheist, and I would argue, a better priest in the process. He’s also queer, poly, neurodivergent, and from the way he writes, probably an INFJ as well. I’ve just been watching him on Facebook for a while, and it seems like we have a lot in common. He’d be one of those guys I’d like to host on a podcast about success, because he built a business off his haters. He talks about sweeping negativity away with the “broom of doom,” and he makes jewelry. He started offering broom necklaces on his web site, and the rest was history. And though we’re peers, I know I would relate to him like I relate to my dad, which is “I’m interested in this stuff, but you’ve got a degree.” I have only been a preacher’s kid, and Nathan is ordained in the Orthodox church.
However, I do not have to be ordained because I do not want to pastor a church. I do not want to be the head of the community, just in the middle where I can enjoy everyone else and not have to worry about the direction the church is taking because I do not even want to be paid to care. I worry enough about the global church without the responsibility of a local congregation.
I think that I have done something Father Nathan has also done, which is to lay out my thoughts on theology on social media (he uses Facebook, I use WordPress) because I think they are important culturally. I am trying to give you a picture in your mind that CLEARLY says “Christian” and yet doesn’t reflect any of the views espoused by evangelicals who have never read a day of Biblical criticism in their whole lives.
In fact, I own more biblical criticism than most literalists will ever bother reading. That’s because for them, the one book is enough. It’s not necessary to understand those people’s current events, etc. A Baptist will never understand that Jesus was executed for being a loudmouth zealot. His ideas were dangerous to Rome, and the Sanhedrin agreed with them because they thought he was a loudmouth zealot way before they did. Judaism did not want to try anything new and different any more than Rome did. The fact that Romans are so crazy about Jesus now is straight up ridiculous. Nothing Jesus ever said to or about the Romans was valuable until after he died.
Tough room.
We often throw away the genius in our midst, but I don’t know why people who preach love and tolerance are often victims of the worst violence. We seem to murder and regret a lot. In America, it is worse in terms of gun culture, but the Romans were able to murder Jesus very effectively without one.
Governments kill people all the time, but crucifixion is particularly sadistic. Not only did the Romans crucify him, they nailed a sign to the top of the cross mocking him, and the sign was a snarky “King of the Jews.” You know, because being crucified in public just isn’t embarrassing enough. People could come by and mock him in schadenfreude, With crucifixion, the punishment wasn’t death. It was that you didn’t die right away. You slowly suffocated in front of your family, friends, and strangers. While naked if the little piece of cloth fell off.
We as a world have not changed. I do not know what their practice is currently, but the reason we allowed Trigon, our Russian asset, an L pill (cyanide) is because the rumor was that in Russia, if you were caught spying for the US, they would put you in a crematorium feet first. Trigon asked, and we granted, his ability to take his own life before he was tortured. This is not ancient history. Trigon was caught the year I was born.
The L pill was hidden in his pen, so he offered to write out a full confession. They look on in confusion as he bites down on the pen and dies before he hits the floor, saving him emotional trauma and physical dignity, even post-mortem.
It is a different mindset to kill someone than to stand around and watch them suffer. For instance, if I ever did anything that put me on death row, I would not want a viewing gallery. I’d just sneak in one of my ordained friends under the clergy rule and pass quietly, without the feeling that I was being watched like an animal in a zoo……… A feeling that Jesus would most certainly know intimately.
These are the things I want my community to focus on…. That Jesus’s story is tragic and uplifting because of who he was as a person, not who he became post-mortem, post-resurrection, etc.. In the United States, the prevailing message is the opposite, that you are “washed in the blood.” Everything Jesus did while he was alive takes a back seat to the idea that Jesus is magic.
He absolutely is, but his magic comes from the smallest piece of his soul, the son of a carpenter……. The place where no one looks.
Things have been crazy since Bryn and Dave have been here, and it’s hard to reflect a moment while it’s happening. You may not hear about all the things we did for months, because what tends to happen is that I do something, and then as time passes, the words to be able to describe what happened previously will come to me. Some memories have to rise above the facts to make good writing. I am not talking about “enhancing” a memory. It’s just that it’s hard to describe feelings without much time to even know what they are.
It also depends on how I’m prompted. A lot of the things you learn in this web site are about me because a question (from a prompt, a reader, etc.) will jog a detail that I’d forgotten previously. I have been accused of lying by people saying “that’s not the same story you told last time.” No, it’s not, because it’s a different day and I always have three or four threads running in terms of processing something. Some blog entries are built on one and three. Some entries are built on two and four. But it’s not lying. It’s standing in front of a different part of the elephant.
The view is different when you’re standing at the trunk, but in the next entry, I’ll tell you about the view from the tail. It’s all one day, it’s all one story, but one entry does not cover a whole day. That does not mean if you read both entries, the first one is right and the second one is wrong….. Or vice versa. I am not trying to change a story, but to add additional details that my ADHD brain forgot to include the last time around. I can think in four strands at a time, but I can only write one of them down. That does not invalidate my other thoughts, or make them lies.
I have had to explain this many times, which I have the words for as an adult. I did not have the words for it in first grade, and I was in trouble for lying a lot of the time. Meanwhile, it’s akin to a game I played at the Spy Museum yesterday.
You had 10 seconds to memorize a photo and jot down the relevant details. So, I see that the exhibit is about the Culpeper Ring and the OG Spymaster (George Washington). So, I am trying to record all the details and think, “what’s the pertinent information here?” So, I figured the relevant details would be that there are 25 muskets and 10 cannons headed to Yorktown.
I am so proud of myself. I got the relevant details.
I was questioned over it and I was so fucking confident.
“What color was the pen?”
I failed miserably. But on that one, I got it wrong because I hit the incorrect button with my elbow.
I am probably overthinking this, but I am betting that weapons movement is more important than pen color, but I cannot assume that because I do not know the objective of the mission. My job was to memorize the picture, not to know why they needed the information.
The pen was white, by the way.
But that’s how CIA works. In effect, everyone has a tiny role to play and they all add up to a massive organization. As Jonna Mendez points out, you really don’t even know what operation you’re a part of all the time in terms of major historical events because you’re not read in high enough to see the big picture. You just have to trust that you’re working for the greater good.
I step out on that ledge a lot, because I’m an American. I can criticize CIA every single day all day long and no one is going to lock me up. That lets me love them even more because in a country with a government like China’s, painting their intelligence service’s portrait with more than one color would land me in prison……. Especially if they thought I was painting my feelings as fact.
(“Painting my feelings as fact” is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me in the history of anything, and Supergrover said it when she was angry. The reason it’s gorgeous is that I can’t think of a blog entry in which I didn’t think about using it. That phrase is ridden hard and put up wet around here because I can’t write anything better.)
My point, and I do have one, is that I can tell The Agency to fuck all the way off because of the negative things they’ve done over the years, AND they can be the paramilitary heroes we need- the only friends you’ve got when you’ve traveled and pissed off Putin instead of Biden. I would rather take my chances with Biden, because he might think I was irritating, but there is exactly Jack or shit he can do about it. If they put you in jail for being annoying, I promise I would already be locked up.
CIA is responsible for a lot of bad in the world, but my favorite character in the Marvel universe is Everett Ross (Martin Freeman, the Tolkien case officer in Black Panther). I cannot paint them with one color, because they’ve been adding different hues since 1947. It is important to me not to love them like a child, where everything mommy and daddy do is GREAT! I love them like an adult. I acknowledge the bad and the good. My first priority in intelligence has to be loving my agency because it’s my country, like rooting for DC United instead of the Portland Timbers……… But not at the exclusion of my international friends, whose experiences with CIA might not be as kind as mine. I also get the impression from John Le Carre that I can hate CIA all I want and I’ll still never hate it as much as the people who work there (that was a joke).
If my government is going to allow my intelligence agency (which I personalize because of taxes) to do stupid shit, I like that my government won’t throw me in jail for saying they just did something really stupid. This is always brought home to me by a trip to the museum, and we wandered around for a couple of hours last evening.
Because I’m such a Mendez fan, I went to the Canadian Caper and stopped to “talk” to Tony. I look at his pictures and notes and we have conversations in my head. All the things I would have asked him, etc. I told him that Jonna was AMAZING at her book talk and with the way my insides glowed, it was like he responded. I just figured he’d like to know how she’s doing from an outsider’s perspective. 😉
The museum is not personal to me because of my special interest now. Now, it’s personal to me because I know someone who helped found it. And, of course, because she’s my friend, I want the museum to succeed and sell her books all the time. Seriously. Several times people have asked me for recommendations because I look like I know my way around the book section, and for me, their book section has like seven books tops (that is also a joke- there are MANY intelligence authors I admire, I just don’t know their backstories well, if at all).
I wanted Zac to like the museum because he works in intelligence. I wanted to know whether he thought it was truly representative, what Intel wants people to know about them, etc. He did like the museum, and did love the “artifacts,” which made me feel good. I kind of think of it as his museum, too.
I always like to get a little something at the gift shop because the museum always needs money (they’re not a Smithsonian). This time, it was a small tin with the museum logo that says “DocuMINTS.” I didn’t buy it for the candy, I like the tin for odds and ends because it’s small enough to fit in my pocket and it looks too cool for me.
I am LOVING the retro collection they have now. I’ve already gotten the long sleeved t-shirt, but they’ve also added a hoodie that says “International Spy Museum” in the 1970’s font they used in Argo. As I was telling Zac, I love that the movie starts out like a 1979 movie. I love it because it just looks cool, but it’s also an inside nod to the movie for me.
Lord, I do love a font.
Also, hats off to the casting director on “Argo.” When Zac and I were standing in front of the exhibit, the cast photo and the real photo are nearly identical- to the point that it’s spooky. You really have to get close to tell the difference between Bob Anders and Tate Donovan.
Tate Donovan has been one of my favorite actors since “Space Camp.”
Which is probably why I bought some freeze-dried Skittles in the gift shop as well. Zac loves new and interesting candy, so I gave them to him for his sweets and snacks cabinet. It’s my favorite “room” in the house. 😉
What do space candy and CIA have in common?
Think seriously how we would have gotten to the moon before Russia without them.
It’s a large set of facts I’m painting with my feelings.
List the people you admire and look to for advice…
This is the first time anyone has ever asked me this question and I thought to put myself on the list. I have never been comfortable enough before in my own skin to think my opinion was worth anything. However, once I sat with my thoughts day in and day out, my discomfort at sharing those opinions went away. Mostly because I realized that no one is wrong or right. We are all making it up as we go along. I didn’t have to put people I admired on a pedestal because my opinions were just as good as theirs. It wasn’t hero worship. It was thinking something was wrong with me and that made them automatically better at opinions.
It is also true that when you’re physically disabled and mentally ill, other people assume they’re better with the thinking because they don’t have those issues. It is amazing to me that people think treated bipolar disorder and untreated are the same. So, you have a lot of people who tell you that your opinions aren’t worth anything because to them they aren’t. They have invalidated you by your diagnosis. People tend to be dismissive because they don’t think I’m in my right mind anyway. I don’t know what I’m saying.
In a very real sense, this is true. Accurate and dead on. I do not know what I am saying.
This is because I know exactly what I am saying, but through my autism and ADHD, I do not know what you hear when I talk. I know this because of the difference in what I mean vs. what people have angrily insisted I mean. This is because their brains process the order of my words differently than I do, which changes the meaning of a sentence.
What could possibly go wrong?
It leads people to put emotion where it doesn’t belong, because they’re, in effect, accenting the wrong syllable. Thinking I’m being aggressive, sarcastic, cold, whatever the emotion and telling me that- which is great. I need to know your experience of me. The problem comes in when there is no way to prove to you that I mean what I say and I say what I mean, so I am struggling against the way you perceived my words and not what they actually were. For instance, trying to prove I wasn’t trying to be aggressive when you are absolutely convinced I purposefully tried to anger you.
There is really no way to un-fuck that particular situation. I walk away from those relationships because the thing that’s harder than anything else in a relationship is proving you’re NOT angry. With autism, disproving any negative, really. It’s hard to prove you’re NOT anything if someone’s perception in their minds of you is certain.
Through being autistic, I have learned that I am a master manipulator while I sit there and wonder why people say that….. Or I did, until I learned I was autistic. That everything I say is probably going to come out wrong. So, I’m in a situation where people think I’m manipulating them and it’s supported by the fact that I’m bipolar.
I am not malicious and I am not mentally ill. I take medication every day for it. You don’t call someone blind when you can see the glasses on their face- their vision is corrected. You don’t treat a mentally ill person like they’re on thin ice for being put away.
You don’t focus on the fact that someone is an alcoholic. You focus on the fact that they’re in recovery.
So, if I know I’m not malicious and that I’m not trying to manipulate people, then obviously I am failing in my communication and need to learn new strategies for saying the same things. This is because I do not have a problem voicing needs anymore, but I don’t know how to talk at all without people telling me that I’m acting like I know everything.
However, it’s only a certain group of my friends that jump on me this way, so how they communicate plays into it as well. It is not a one sided communication issue. Because they have things in common, my pattern recognition on what they’re doing reads universal rather than personal to each individual relationship.
So, not only do I need better communication overall, I specifically need guidance on how to phrase things so that I don’t sound like I’m master of the universe. My self-esteem is so incredibly low (and I’m vulnerable about it) that I’m surprised people think I sit around and think about how great I am.
Coming into my own was hearing the child inside me say, “hey. You’re not THAT bad.” My trouble with communication made me reticent to give an opinion at all, because it always came out wrong. I have been told that the most fucking irritating thing about me in the whole entire goddamn world is that I’m always right, so take that for what you will.
One of the reasons I shut down and became a writer, basically talking to myself for incredibly long periods of time is that it came across like people tolerated me rather than genuinely wanting to be in my company. I jumped into writing because I wasn’t wanted elsewhere, and not in a “poor me” kind of way. It was “I don’t have to have friends, because I can entertain myself.”I do indeed have friends, I’m just saying that my happiness is dependent on them. I have the capability to bring myself joy; no one is responsible for making me happy.
I also think that writing reinforces what I think- I am not arguing with myself over how I feel in person because I’ve already written about it here. Therefore, people are deathly intimidated by me because I am deft in an arena where few people excel. My Achilles Heel is that I often have communication issues and end up beating the wrong dead horse instead of the right one…….. Because I interpreted someone else’s words putting the accent on the wrong syllable.
There are plenty of people that I look to for advice, generally my sister and Bryn are at the top of the list.
I ask Supergrover for advice all the time. It’s just that her responses are calculated on everything she’s already said. It’s the same way with Dana. I can’t go back in time, but their uploaded consciousnesses live in me. I talk to their characters. Their characters don’t grow and change, but it’s comforting nonetheless.
I am coming to rely more and more on myself because I realize that being disabled and autistic has led me to discount my opinions, buying into the view everyone else has about both groups. I realized when I was talking about people I go to for advice, it felt like I wasn’t even allowing myself to sit in the conference room with them.
I started taking up more space when I realized I wanted to define myself. That it was okay to take up room. It was okay if I didn’t swallow other people’s opinions whole in order to please them.
I’m not the expert. I constantly play tapes in my head of the things people have said about/to me and it sits in my brain like a rock. I defined myself by all the negative things that people placed on me, and thought I was a bad person because of it. I don’t mean recently. I mean I can tell you about feeling the exact same way at six years old. School is brutal for kids who can’t communicate. Having a neurotypical kindergarten teacher was the first time I realized that people couldn’t hear what I was saying and were putting meanings into my mouth.
I started releasing my demons as a writer…… Or at least, as I said the other day, exercising them. I hardly ever say “exercise” because I know they ain’t leavin.’ It makes me laugh to think of my demons in workout clothes. We are very serious. We are eating Starburst for breakfast.
Breakfast of champions.
I do not know what it is about the autistic brain that makes me insufferable. It’s funny because it’s true. But know that it’s not all me. Part of it is that I have a disability you know nothing about, and are choosing to believe I am not that different from you. The fault in this is not being able to predict my behavior and thinking you can because your heuristics are for neurotypical people.
I am taking responsibility for learning my half, but I can only meet you. I cannot go all the way to the other side and drag you to the middle. It is a disability. Worrying that I’m failing is a non-issue because it doesn’t matter. There’s no chance of winning. It’s miserable when that reality sets in.
I have found that I need respect for myself because I am so misunderstood. I am also not saying I’m not part of the problem. I haven’t known I was autistic since I was a kid, so I have to learn new coping mechanisms.
I think the thing that hurt me the most this week was a scene from “The Big Bang Theory” in panels as a meme on Facebook. It’s Amy telling Sheldon that his friends all hate his bad behavior and that the fact that he can’t do anything about it is the only reason they tolerate him.
I cannot be dependent on external validation. I write or pray. It’s a new development, but trusting in myself hasn’t backfired.
Ass I often do, I surfed Facebook for a few minutes. I was looking for a prompt to give me a jumping off point, because today’s prompt was “are there any quotes you live by?” Last year, the title was “many, most of them mine.” I was not saying that I’m the expert, only that I’m the author I read the most because I go back over what I’ve written to see what’s next. Therefore, my own words are more likely to stick with me because these essays are ABOUT ME, which is the topic I know the most about (on most days).
The thing I saw on Facebook is that “worrying is worshipping the problem.” It is every bit as meaningful as something I heard in “I’m a Christian now. That worked.” It’s a group for atheists and I lurk to see what they’re saying, because I am often jogged theologically by the things they say, like “Jesus wasn’t the only person claiming to be The Messiah at the time. His was just the story that stuck.”
Like today, I had to sit down.
His was the story that stuck, which is to my mind one of the greatest theological phrases ever uttered in the history of ANYTHING….. BY AN ATHEIST and I am FURIOUS I didn’t think of that line before they did. 😉
Except for perhaps a line tied with it (being the best and furious I didn’t think of it) “a/theism is the greatest love story ever told, and the truth is in the slash.” I am not talking about the overwhelming guilt and shame the church is quite capable of handing you….. Wrapped in bread and wine, no less. I am talking about Christopher Hitchens debating Rowan Williams on YouTube and learning they were good friends. Zac and I were actually talking about this the other day because he’s an atheist. I told him that I loved Hitch, but I didn’t love Richard Dawkins because he may be smart but he’s also an asshole.
He seems to me to be a not religious evangelical, and his schtick is making Christians look like they’re stupid even when they’re only out for self improvement and not world domination. Social justice Christianity is left out of the conversation because it’s not as easy to make fun of us. We question everything, including the idea that all Christians are stupid.
In effect, Dawkins is worshipping the problem. He’s so fanatical in his beliefs that he’s trying to change people through force and anger, not ever present loving kindness, which all atheists I’ve met have. Luckily, I have never run across an atheist who espoused Dawkins-like views, and I have to say that it’s partly due to my interaction with them- because I don’t try to change them, I don’t tell them they’re wrong because they’re not (religion is a spectrum and belief in God is ontological…. Essentially, God exists as much as you believe God does. Evangelicals get in the weeds with The Great Commission and think that Jesus thought you were personally responsible for recruiting people. They take it a little too seriously and often become right judgmental bastards because of it. You won’t convert, so they’re angry and fearful ALL THE TIME because their getting into heaven is DEPENDENT on your yes. Otherwise, in their churches, they just aren’t working hard enough.
Meanwhile, I am out there saying that atheists I’ve met, for the most part, left church because they were hurt, angry, afraid, and exhausted. You fucking Evangelicals are cancer, especially walking into a church where it explicitly says they won’t marry you if you are A) not a member of the church II) marrying a Jew. I will not tell you where I saw it because it’s not worth it to have you show up and protest. It wasn’t Joel Osteen, but definitely Joel-adjacent.
Now, non-denominational Christianity looks like rock concerts with homophobia that looks beautiful because it’s Biblical.
Meanwhile, your houses are built on sand.
Peter, the rock of the Catholic church, has probably met way more gay people than you. We just didn’t have words for it until Victorian England. A lot of the preachers after Jesus died would have traveled to ancient Greece and Rome. When you think about history lining up that way, homophobia is INSANE.
Homophobia. I do not think it means what you think it means. The Old Testament was not calling homosexuality an abomination. They were railing against the ancient Canaanite practice of young boys becoming prostitutes at the high temple. They were protesting pedophilia and disrespect for a holy place, not the sexual acts inherent to being queer in the first place.
Jesus did not say a word about homosexuality, “therefore, it [justification for treating queer people as lesser than] cannot be essential to his teaching” (Jim Rigby, Presbyterian Church USA). JESUS DOES NOT CARE IF YOU HAVE MATCHING TOWELS, GLASSES, AND SMALL DOGS.
Evangelicals are cracked when everything I know about Jesus can be summed up in one Disney show tune…… “God Bless the Outcasts.” You are JOKING if you believe Jesus sat with sinners all day long and wouldn’t have been on the side of the queer community, because now we’re the ones being persecuted instead of him, his land occupied by Rome. The “Holy Roman Empire” has a lot of fucking nerve, I’ll tell you that much. Crucifixion was your practice and you killed Jews for sport. Then, a Jew’s story becomes well-known and you somehow take it as “permission” to take over the whole world.
This is not the religion you’re looking for.
They’re worshipping the problem.
They’re creating ways to put obstacles in people’s way based on bullshit Jesus never said.
OCCUPIED BY ROME. RENDER UNTO CAESAR, PEOPLE.
Jesus has met a fuckin’ queer, all right?
Stop worshipping the problem, because it was never even there. You made it up. Stop wrecking people’s relationship with Christ because they don’t think they deserve it.
Jesus said to “walk in the light while you have it.” I hate that so many “church people” continue to live in darkness while the light is right above their heads. All they have to do is stand up, but the church keeps them on the kneeling rails.
It wrecks relationships with friends and partners as a result, because you’re not right……. But you’re certain.
You do you, but okay.
This meme, which I posted on Facebook with the caption, “they would never tell us if they were watching us through our microwaves. That is Pop Secret Information.
But as I have said before, I am not offended by the NSA or CIA because if China and Russia are spying on me, I want my people in the room, too. People do not realize that they are willingly handing over their every move to the Chinese government. They do not believe that we (the US) are trying to protect people by banning it. It’s a huge injustice to content creators, when all we’re trying to do is keep US information inside the US. It’s not working when people actively invite China into their mobiles. Why use the back door when you can walk through the front? Social engineering at its finest. For that reason, I do not have the Tik-Tok app installed on my phone. I do watch them, but on the web site in private mode or re-vlogged on YouTube.
I honestly don’t care if the US knows what I do and don’t. I really care if China can pick me up out of a lineup, because I am dangerous to them being interested in intelligence. I would not go to Iran because of this, either. I would love to see Tehran as a tourist, but if anything would get me marked as an American spy, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s “writing about American spies.” Just a wild guess.
It doesn’t take much, because they’ve got relatives selling prayer rugs on La Brea. 😉
There is an “Argo” quote or reference for every occasion, and that makes me laugh.
I’ve also gotten a huge kick out of watching Donald Trump go blissfully into every hearing and genuinely believe that he has never done anything wrong in the history of his life. It’s catching up to him in a major way, and I do not have schadenfreude. It’s fascinating to watch, like JK Rowling if she ever showed up at Pride.
Surely neither of them is that out of touch, and yet they are.
People say that both parties are the same, and on some issues, they’re right. I do not like the way either party funnels money to Israel. I do not like that Republicans are fighting over who gets to be a person. Who gets to be an American. So far, the mold is white, cis, straight, and male. It is unsustainable, and yet we continue to uphold it….. or at least more than half the nation does, because not all Democrats are that liberal. They do not see the problems inherent in treating minorities like shit, because none of, say, my problems affect them.
For instance, abortion would look different to most politicians if they were poor.
It makes me laugh, because I always laugh at people’s blind spots. It is better than rage or depression. Like, how dense are you if you don’t know that the news of a new baby is not always happy?For some women, it’s a death sentence because they made the devastating mistake of not trusting the bear instead.
The most vulnerable time in a woman’s life is pregnancy, because some fathers don’t support abortion. They support killing the mother because they’re not financially stable and the pressure becomes too much. The woman becomes the problem.
It makes me laugh that men do not understand this, because it makes them look like they don’t have eyes. As my friend Evey Winters points out, one of the reasons we trust bears over men is that good men stand there and say nothing. What am I supposed to do but laugh at their stupidity? I cannot solve everything by not leaving the house. If I didn’t laugh, I wouldn’t function.
My jokes are dark because the world is dark. It’s black humor to deal with an often black world….. or as I’ve put it before, trying to be an Easter person in a Good Friday world, but the way I go about it is to shed light on problems. I often am using dark humor to make a greater point, and I just have to hope that people come along with me. I think that most people who are minorities for any reason have a blacker sense of humor than the majority because there are so many more obstacles in our way….. and the more obstacles created the more things that make you a minority. For instance, AFAB (assigned female at birth), queer, neurodivergent, physically disabled, and poly are all separate sets of discrimination. The only way I escape all of it is by claiming it, because there’s no way to blackmail or shame me over any of these things. I learned that lesson at 14 when I came out as queer and it’s one of the few things that’s stuck.
Don’t cut myself into more manageable bites. Let them choke.
Republicans are asking minorities to either be just like them or get out of the United States. That should not be acceptable behavior in any country, much less “land of the free, home of the brave.” I quote this a lot, but it’s apt here:
Only the Americans would put “free” on a note so high no one could sing it. -Tony Kushner
I mean, I can, but that’s because I’m a classically trained soprano, not because I’m free.
Singing makes me laugh because that’s what I do when I hit a wrong note, and I hit a lot of wrong notes while trying to find the right ones, especially since it’s only now that I have a piano in my house (electric keyboard in the music room). This is also the first house in which I’ve been able to work out, and by that I mean “sing.” The attic is soundproofed, and so is the basement. David is also a singer, so hearing me warm up would not send him into hysterics the way it would have with my other housemates. I was very lucky that I got to sing at Bridgeport, because I was terrified to go into opera voice at 2300. I cleared it first, but permission is not reality when you have never heard someone sing before and they go full hat with horns in what would be considered “the middle of the night” in my neighborhood.
That thought makes me laugh in and of itself. It also makes me excited for January, because I might be in shape to try out for the opera chorus this year since I have a practice room that is ACTUALLY a practice room. Singing, like everything else you do with your body, gets easier as you limber up the muscles. I have not used those muscles in a long time, so I would prefer to be in a sound proof room until I can get control of it.
I can “fake it til I make it,” but it’s not how I prefer to sing. I will warm up for an hour before a performance. Otherwise, the chances of missing a note are greater, as are the epiglottal stops that make it where I can’t sing at all. The funniest time that’s ever happened was that I was filling in for another soloist in something that went up to a B flat (the highest note in the chord for the Star Spangled Banner, as well). I get up to the A and I have an epiglottal stop and just glissando down. It was…….. something.
I would like to work with Giles again, but he’s not taking students because he’s an elementary school teacher now. Giles was my voice teacher at University of Houston and we just happened to end up in the same city. Because he studied with Katharine Czienszky (apologies if I’ve spelt that wrong…. don’t have time to Czech), I have a lot of singer friends in common with him all over the country….. some of whom have known me since high school.
I think knowing really famous people before they got famous, like Robert Glasper, prepared me for the life I have now…. which is knowing that life doesn’t get better. You do. I just happen to know a lot of people that have defied insurmountable odds to get where they are, like Mireille Enos (The Killing, Good Omens) and Justin Furstenfeld (Blue October). One of the best plays I’ve ever seen starred Mireille as Anne Frank and Justin as Otto. Justin didn’t go to PVA for music, he was theater as well…. although one of the violists in my orchestra, Ryan Delahoussaye, is also in the band.
Yes, musicians. I know a violist with a gig.
Now that made me laugh.
I’m spending my evening writing because it’s distracting me from the fact that Bryn is not here yet and David has choir practice. I thought seriously about going with him, because I could commit to Tuesday nights. I have to think seriously about going to church twice a week again. However, it wouldn’t affect my schedule too much. I am rarely gone over the weekends and it would be a church in which I already had a ride. It’s a liberal church, but it’s Catholic. I would rather get paid as a ringer than attend a Catholic Church voluntarily, because I believe in open communion. I’m fine with the current pope and he’s one of my heroes because the Catholic Church is not where it needs to be in terms of being a liberal church, but it is better off than it has been in a long time. Christianity must change or die, and Catholicism would have been first due to their outdated views on, well, most everything.
However, church makes me laugh, and I’ve come a long way if I’d even consider it. What made me leave the last time was grief. I didn’t like going to church because I saw my mother in everything everyone did….. and I saw myself in the pastor. In fact, I’d been reading my pastor’s work for years because he’s also a blogger. I knew who he was online, but I was surprised as shit when I accidentally walked into his church.
There’s an Episcopal church near me now, so I might walk to it instead of Christ Cong, who was faced with closure due to their building issues. I think a reconciling Methodist congregation has it now, so that is also a viable option if I just want to stare my childhood in the face twice a week.
It makes me laugh, so it might be worth it. Or perhaps both churches are sharing the same space like “Little Mosque.” Maybe there’s a buddy comedy happening without me. I should look into this.
I’ve been a part of something like “Little Mosque” before, because we had a Jewish congregation rent our space at Bridgeport up until relatively recently, when they got bigger. I went to schul some Fridays just to listen to the transliteration, and I also enjoyed Ariel’s preaching. I also preach from a Jewish translation of the New Testament, because Jesus was a Jew and I’m trying to put him in the correct historical context. I once had someone say to me that “United Church of Christ” stood for “Unitarians Considering Christ,” and I don’t think that’s true at all. I think that people like Baptists depend on Jesus to comfort them when they’re distressed.
The UCC knows that Jesus was sent to distress us in our comfort.
And that makes me laugh.
It’s one of my favorite Eminem tracks, and I have done it at karaoke (POORLY). But today I get to say that I had a win, because it made me feel good. I was going to post this in the article about productivity, but I’m neurodivergent. My brain diverged and I forgot. I said that I locked down my personal Facebook page and redirected everyone to my professional author’s page. What I did not say is that I started thinking like an entity and not a person, because now that’s true. Bryn also has an account on this blog, and has the capability to create entries independently of me. She doesn’t always post, yet I have to be prepared for the possibility that she could. I also would have offered one to Supergrover (after I’d added Bryn- it didn’t occur to me before) if I thought she wanted it…. For two reasons. The first is that she’s a wonderful writer. The second is that I would be very surprised if I didn’t give her an account, just access to mine, and you could tell the difference. It would be my voice, just on crack. You’d think I’d gotten better in a hurry, but you wouldn’t have thought I changed style and structure except a quarter of never.
That’s because Supergrover writes fantasy and I don’t. I am so cerebral that the only fairy tale I’ve ever liked in my life is the one she handed me. I think that she thinks I get lost in thinking of her as the evil stepmother when I’m trying to reach “happily ever after.” Every story deserves an “HEA.” I can already see it, feel it on my skin. It just looks different than hers, and I have to be at peace with it. I am.
So, I started thinking of my blog as the beginning of Lanagan Media Group when I added Bryn and became open to the possibility of adding others; I felt an amazing amount of business savvy in locking down my personal profile. People don’t need to become friends with Leslie, they need to become friends with Lanagan Media Group. I am not a person anymore- because I have another author, I’m a brand.
But that brand is not Bryn pedaling my voice and views. It’s being able to talk about those things and discuss boundaries. We just don’t have to discuss much because we agree on most everything politically and neither one of us has a conniption fit when we write about the other. If we had a fight and she wrote I was a bitch that day, good for her. I probably needed to hear it. That’s because I know that when we have an intimate moment that strengthens our relationship, she’d reflect that, too. She’s not out to get anyone when she writes about herself, she’s digging deep and letting the right people go with her….. Because they like her for who she is and not who they think she is.
Sometimes, people don’t notice that it’s not me, so I started asking Bryn to introduce herself at the beginning of every entry she writes. I love it when she posts because she is naturally so much funnier than I am. My entries are not as full of laughter, because when I write, I am focusing on myself. How many of you when you sit alone and think are consciously trying to make yourself laugh? I am, and that’s the only reason there are jokes in here at all. However, no one does it all the time. Bryn just likes making herself laugh more than I do, and it shows.
Bryn is also neurodivergent, which is why we don’t have a problem in communication most of the time. Everything the other says is #relatable. Therefore, I am stereotypically #blessed.
I’m talking about her so much because she gets here tomorrow and I haven’t seen her since way before the pandemic, so the right amount of time to be over the top excited and can’t think about anything else.
I’m also excited to meet Dave, her boyfriend, and get to know him in the flesh as opposed to “this is Dave” occasionally as he walks by the video call. 😉 It’s necessary to get in good with your best friend’s partner, because we both need a person to talk to about her, because we both love her. We want to support her. I am not offering either of them more than that, just that when push comes to shove, I’m Bryn’s friend and not Dave’s. I am not ANTI-Dave. 😉 I am only anti-Dave if Bryn becomes anti-Dave. Just like Bryn would never in a million years be anti-Zac unless I became anti-Zac, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I have both freedom and security. It’s a lot easier to deal with life’s ups and downs when you know you always have someone in your corner no matter what. And both Zac and Dave are Navy, so obviously we both know what we’re doing in terms of picking men. Navy, you are a different breed and we’re here for it.
Zac and I have similar stories- he joined the military because he didn’t know what he wanted to do after high school, but he wasn’t interested in school. I tried to join the Air Force for the same reason, because at the time music classes were the only ones I liked and I wanted to try to get into “Airmen of Note.” I just wasn’t medically eligible and Zac was.
At the time, being in the military and also in the jazz band seemed like the easiest way to work as a musician every single day and not worrying about chair tests, ever, because even if I got last they wouldn’t kick me out altogether. No matter what happened, I could work as a musician, even if I turned out to be a crappy one and did something else for my day job. As it turned out, what I did not like was grade school.
I had a great college experience because that’s the first time academics are on a level playing field with neurotypicls and neurodivergents alike. That’s because in college, they don’t do “daily work.” You are perfectly free to inhale all the reading in one night if that is the way your brain works (and mine does). I couldn’t see the forest for the trees in grade school, but I kicked the shit out of college unless it was something I didn’t understand, anyway, like Logic or Trig.
It’s not school I objected to- it was the system of education. So, if you’re a neurodivergent who struggles in grade school, don’t worry about college because it’s a choose your own adventure. Study every day, or study for 27 hours in a row before a test. Your choice. You do you. Don’t be afraid that you’re not smart enough for college, because “smart” and the way your brain works are two completely different things.
I did a lot better in school when I wasn’t micromanaged and my brain could just be my brain. That I wasn’t set up to fail by not having papers in my bag that day. I was excellent even in classes with the Socratic method, because I would inhale the reading and be able to talk about it, and in classes where reading wasn’t mandatory (as in, we didn’t discuss it), I wasn’t punished for saving up the reading til later because I knew it would be on the test….. So I had to read it at some point and did. Class and the reading were often disjointed when they didn’t reflect each other, because both we as students and the professor would get off on tangents, especially in International Relations (we were obsessed with the war in Kosovo at the time).
So, for all you ADHD/autistic kids it’s okay to stop worrying about what you’re going to do in college because you might find when you get there that college jives more with the way you think than high school did, anyway. No matter how you do it, it’s right.
Just like now, I would have a problem with being required to write long essays every day on a given topic, but I write them to myself because I think they’re important. I am lucky that they have become important enough to other people that the reason I allowed other authors was to increase my reach while I was asleep, because I’m on Eastern time and Bryn is on Pacific. It was a very Pacific strategy.
I am capable of synthesizing and adapting ideas. I got that one from ITIL, which is the Bible on how to run a helpdesk- “follow the sun.” Maybe one day I will make friends close enough to add in New Zealand and Australia rather than requiring one of us to move there. 😉
I worked for Alert Logic, and we had a “follow the sun” approach, which led to one of the greatest victories of my career. The vice president of the company in the UK took a support call and transferred it to me without hanging up the phone. He was absolutely blown away that it was 0300 and I was chatting to him like it was just a normal workday…. Asking who his Doctor was (I asked all British customers that just to calm their asses down before addressing the issue at hand. If they’re calling to say something doesn’t work, they want to fight. Don’t let them. A cappuccino machine in a dress is the one true way). This vice president said that if everyone was like me, they’d have a better company. Unfortunately, my manager did not also think this.
That’s because I thrive on my own structure, which I had a lot of at night, especially when I transferred my business phone to my cell phone so I could answer calls in my pajamas in my home office, which I did when I was the one following the sun, handling international customers from midnight til 9 AM.
It was so intimate to be the only voice in the dark on my end with the busy chatter of their offices in the background. I often got to know people quite well because you have to do something to pass the time when files are transferring, etc. because it’s not enough time to put someone on hold. So, we’d chat to each other. I also got to know my British coworkers in Cardiff better than most because I was the one on the American end who was handing things over.
In fact, I once met a “Davies” that looked very much like Greg, and in retrospect I wish I’d asked if they were related. He’s one of my favorite comedians of all time, and on “Who Do You Think You Are?,” Greg finds out that he’s Welsh. I also had a fascination with Cardiff and “The Doctor Who Experience,” but I did not get to go before it closed. I’m sure that if I’d stayed at Alert Logic, I would have gotten a rotation in Cardiff at some point, but they were not the best with autistic employees who didn’t know they were autistic. Hindsight is 20/20 on agreeing that why I got fired was unfair, and yet it wasn’t their fault, either. I cannot hold them responsible for something they did not know, I can only lament that I did not know to tell them and move forward in a different direction.
Which reminds me- I get so much attention from the daily prompt tag that the next time I get to use it, I will say it again. If you want to read me, you’ll have to follow me, because I don’t appear in #dailyprompt every day anymore. That’s because even if I use it, I don’t have the specific tag for that day to put me into that feed. So many people have gotten used to reading me on that tag alone, because of the number of people that showed up every day back then vs. now. It’s not that I don’t do well in other categories, that’s just a big one for exposure. I got a year of it, so I should be grateful, and I am. What would be more helpful is another year of prompts rather than reusing the same ones.
I suppose I could create another author tag and use THAT account, but I’ve been theantileslie for so long that I don’t think of myself as anyone else, except for possibly “Rev. Argo,” because that’s how Bryn used to address my mail (I did her wedding years ago, am ordained by the church of the Latter Day Dude, and Argo is my favorite movie). If I had thought of it on Dec. 31st, I probably would have done it. It’s too late now. But maybe next year if there are no new writing prompts to be had.
Writing prompts make it easier to blog, just like sometimes Alzheimer’s patients come into lucidity about the past if you prompt them. Details come up for both of us that wouldn’t have come up otherwise. I find that especially the way I write, no writing prompts is ever going to be the same from beginning to end, because it’s going to bring up different aspects of an experience depending on how I view it that day.
I don’t think the same thing about every situation all the time. I make peace within myself by seeing things in a hundred different ways, because there are a hundred different ways to explain what happens when I’m around other people, or two hundred stories total because my 100 won’t match theirs. A lot of it is that autistic thought processes don’t seem “correct” to neurotypical people. Because our pathways are different, they are wrong.
Sometimes, I have to get used to the fact that I’m wrong whether I am or not, because I cannot get people to see that my thought processes are not “crazy.” They’re DIFFERENT, because I cannot even begin to think like someone else and in a neurotypical world, difference is bad. Very bad. They googled it, and they do not like it.
I have known this for a long time because I am not officially diagnosed as autistic, I am in the process of waiting for a diagnosis and doing all the research/online tests I can do until that appointment. However, I have been diagnosed as ADHD, and had I known more about ADHD when I was at Alert Logic and why it’s like autism, I could have been more specific in my demands for accommodation. Very few of the things I need in a working environment are specific to Autism or ADHD. Both accommodations are nearly identical. If I had known that I take in information through sight and that’s why I have trouble talking on the phone and writing at the same time, I might have gotten accommodation for it. I cannot process what one person is saying and process a response and write down my experience while it is happening, i.e. documentation. There are ways around a problem if you know you have it. I could not help myself.
That’s what all this autism talk is about. It’s not trying to “prove” I’m autistic because there’s no real way to do that. We all look different, we all have different ways of presenting. I especially know that you’ve met autistic women your whole life without knowing it because most women don’t know whether they’re autistic or not. It never would have occurred to their parents to get them tested because classic presentation is young boys. That means there are millions of undiagnosed women in the work force and we all struggle a fuck you amount. That’s because they’re caught in a system not built for them, but never taught that it’s not built for them. They’re just angry and frustrated because obviously, it’s not the system. They’re just failures.
Up to 80% of autistic people are unemployed at any given moment, and for women, this is mostly expressed in not being able to handle life like a “normal woman.” We are taught that we are failing when we cannot handle being a partner, mother, and coworker/employee all at the same time. However, the more and more roles we take on, the more we’re spread thin without realizing it. The potential for constant meltdown/burnout cycles gets larger, which makes us look like we’re shirking our responsibilities because all wives and mothers are built to handle a million details and you’re just defective. I am so glad that I’m queer, because I have no doubt that if I’d bought into what being a wife and mother really was to a man and married someone to have that life, I would be dead by now. This is not saying that my husband would have killed me, but it is not unfathomable that he would be enraged by my lack. No, I’m talking about not having gender roles in a relationship kept me from feeling like I was failing as a partner all the time.
Life is relentless as an autistic person in an allistic world, because you cannot convince someone that you really didn’t know/understand something. “Everyone” knows. I would like to punch this mythical “everyone” in the face. They’re setting me up for failure, like commercials that try to convince people with no money that they need extravagant cars.
I thrive in my own system, and so do many autistic people. I just don’t think that many women have the language for it. I hope I’m giving it to them straight, because autism is probably a diagnosis they never would have thought they had because no one ever told them it was possible. There’s a woman I hold in my mind when I say this, and I hope she knows it’s her. It’s a face with many, many names when I follow the sun.
That’s because I’m not a brand, I’m an archetype. There are millions of women out there just like me, and I’m trying to find them. It helps not to feel so alone. I am already friends with lots of autistic guys due to the nature of always being online and having been on the Internet since it was born. I already indulge my autistic male side because men are more likely to know they’re autistic.
I have said that I’m enby and I mean it. I have just already met my quota in autistic men and want to get to know other autistic women, because it affects us differently in terms of the role we play in society. There is no room for an autistic woman to be herself unless she ignores a MASSIVE amount of American culture.
I get called “difficult” a lot when I don’t understand. It also doesn’t take much for a woman to be difficult in my society, so I am guessing that whether or not I am difficult depends on your perspective. I have definitely had to turn a negative into a positive, going even further against the grains of what female means in order to understand myself. I am not all of anything. I am a little bit of a whole bunch of things. I contain multitudes, and I’m not a good enough writer to have thought of that first but it doesn’t make it less true.
So, you should follow me because I am not going to be the same person tomorrow. You will perceive a different aspect of my personality then, because Bryn will be here…… And also because I’m a different person every time my outlook changes, because what I present depends on what I pick up.
Therefore, I would also like you to pick me up.
You know what I mean. Get your mind out of the gutter. 😉
Because I answered it last year, I can’t answer the daily prompt again…. but that didn’t stop me from laughing about it. The prompt is “have you ever been camping?”Leslie Goes Camping is one of my favorite stories in life, and it is years and years old.
The setup is that Dana (ex-wife, but we were best friends for years before we got married), her then-partner, and I went on a camping trip for our church. It was great, because we were able to have worship on top of Mt. St. Helen’s, and a few other things we could do when “Jesus has left the building.” Dana and I had met the Easter before, when I’d been brutally dumped (not really, but it felt that way at the time) and needed to make a whole new friend set…… arguably worse than being dumped, but neither made me feel so hot.
It was the start of The Separation, and Dana and I didn’t even know it. However, she would have been relieved, and I know this. She watched me struggle every fucking day for years. I wasn’t a very good wife on most days, but I had my moments. I just have to hope that Dana remembers them, too, and I don’t have to continue to feel bad that I completely wrecked her life as well.
I do not think this is because we were bad for each other (at that time). I think I didn’t know I was autistic, so I got called a judgmental dickhead a lot. In fact, I can’t remember a better day in Dana’s life than when my beautiful girl called me a judgmental dickhead to my face. At that particular date and time, I did indeed deserve it. She was not always wrong, she was just not always right, either.
To me, there is a huge difference between saying “your actions have hurt me” and “you are a bad person.” Both women saw me as saying the latter, and they’re both invaluable, both bright diamonds. I just don’t think that either one of them could follow me very well, and that’s not due to anything they did or didn’t do. It’s the way I communicate now that I’m aware of my shortcomings, and the way people interact with me based on the label because they’re already aware that, girl. I got issues.
But I was thinking of exactly none of that when it was time to go to bed. On the mountain. In the dark. Where the temperature drops precipitously. My friend Kari lent me a fabulous sleeping bag that was rated for -20F weather. However, I could not generate enough body heat to keep the bag warm. About 0430, I opened my suitcase and put on every piece of clothing I brought at once, then went back to sleep.
By the time I came home, I knew that I loved camping, just not in that cold a temperature….. so maybe not on top of a mountain next time, eh? I also knew that I loved Dana in a best friend sort of way. We were inseparable after that, and not because we were actively trying to have an affair. Dana’s partner was a construction worker, so we gravitated toward each other when her partner was on the road for six weeks at a time. Neither one of us needed a girlfriend- Dana was already ridiculously happy and since I’d just been dumped, I was not in any shape to feel romantic towards anyone.
What I didn’t realize is that I wasn’t dating other people because showing up for each other made it where I didn’t need or want to hang out with anyone else. I was satisfied with the love of a good friend. That’s why we were best friends for three and a half years before anything happened. I would rather have emotional and intellectual stimulation, so if the choice was going to a restaurant to meet someone new that felt like a job interview, or playing “Drunken Trivial Pursuit” with my best friend, guess what’s going to win every single fucking time?
Dana and I did not gravitate towards each other because of anything shady. We just came to rely on each other more than anyone else, and it pulled the romance trigger in both of us. It was completely organic, but I do know it started on that trip. That’s because I honestly didn’t have any other friends at all. They’d dumped me because they didn’t see the bullshit through the notes, just inhaling all the music as is- leaving little brown spots on their noses……………
When your emotional abuser is a wonderful musician and locally a big deal, you can count on exactly zero people thinking that you’re telling the truth unless they sit down with your friends when you were 14 and she was 25. That’s the thing that would have blown their performance fleece back, but they didn’t have time to look critically at anything.
So I moved halfway across the country TWICE to try and get rid of that feeling. I wasn’t running FROM Portland so much as TO The District. I already had friends here in addition to Supergrover, so my moving here was never dependent on her. Because our relationship was virtual and planes exist, I have a feeling we would have been equally happy in different cities all these years because physical proximity has never mattered.
It hurts that I’m not laying on her couch right now instead of mine, because if I think about what could have happened, I delve into what actually did. It’s not pretty, even now. I just wish it was.
But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. I know it’s my fault, and I don’t blame her. I just wish I could convince her that’s what I really think. I want peace for her just as much as I want peace for me. That just because I’m talking all this out doesn’t mean that I want to be shitty to anyone.
As I have learned through a Facebook meme, it is time to stop dividing myself into smaller, more manageable bites; in order to reach my full potential, I’m going to have to let some of you choke. The people who are left are my people. I am tired of making myself smaller.
Even though I felt as small as I ever have next to the beauty of Mt. St. Helen’s. It is not lost on me that I didn’t stay warm because of lack of blankets. I didn’t stay warm because I wasn’t generating my own heat.
If the last 15-20 years have taught me nothing, it’s that I should be.
Today’s daily prompt is about times in my life that I’ve felt productive, and this is a great time to ask me about it because I don’t think I’ve ever been more productive writing-wise, and I don’t want to be known for anything else.
It’s been a transformation of enormous proportions. I have been pulling myself inwards, thinking about my directions and distractions. What and where are they? Why do I fail when I am so motivated by hearing other people talk about success? It’s all about dealing with the gap between knowledge, emotion, and communication. I do hear people, and I do take in emotions. However, I don’t do it at the same rate or speed because my pattern recognition is different. There are literally different pathways to your conclusions than to mine. I am not a sociopath, cut off from all my emotions. I show all of them very well in writing. I show them very well in person, although I am much less likely to tell people what I think in person because it’s hard for me to verbalize it. If something feels like a threat, I go mute. I do not stop taking everything in. My mind decides “we’re not going to do speech today.” And we don’t.
Part of being so much into chatting online vs. getting together is because I don’t experience those gaps in between trying to say what I think and trying to verbalize it. It is why I now think that Supergrover is my puzzle piece by now, because she’s had unfiltered access to my brain for 10 years without once hearing a stutter as I figured out how to put words in my mouth. I solve the problem of stuttering by taking time to think before I speak, because most of my stutter is just lag. Damn lag.
Therefore, people who know me would probably say “you don’t stutter.” I don’t when I’m not choking on buffer overload (and as you get older, the amount of RAM decreases). When people are talking to me, the thing that you are reading right now has not stopped. It is running underneath my speech. Therefore, I have multiple trains of thought running at all times, and picking one of them in order to speak slows me down by quite a large margin.
It also depends on how many other sounds are competing with your voice in the room. I like very intimate conversations because I can really only process one voice at once. I am never trying to “get people alone,” because I don’t have to. I go off to be by myself and the other introverts adopt me because they see it’s okay to be overstimulated… Or someone is concerned and now the person that’s concerned about me is in my bubble. Either way, it’s not about my personality. My personality is “when you’re overwhelmed, find somewhere quieter.” That’s how I got Bryn. She has always been in my corner because we were the introverts trying to get away from the noise. We talked to each other in quiet spaces because we could hear ourselves think.
I remember myself at that age (19) and just realized that my haircut now is the closest it’s ever been to when I was that young. And yet, I really don’t look much different except a few gray strands and a few more wrinkles. Some people say that they don’t feel any older. I do. I feel ancient- partly because I see how I’ve grown, but partly because I’ve been middle aged since I was nine. I have never talked like a child, ever, which is why in our family no one imitates things I said when I was little. No one. I have been very precise with language since I learned to use it; it just so happens that most people excel at conversation and I excel at taking a second to think of a reply and chatting back.
Supergrover once told me that it was clear I often said things before I thought about them, and I believe that is true. It has to be, because I’m ADHD. But at the same time, I think she was also talking about consequences that a naurotypical person would see coming, but not a neurodivergent one. I don’t mean issues of clear right and wrong. I have that. I mean being able to divine consequences and/or their feelings out of thin air, and our relationship was only using 7% of what went into communication in the first place. A good example of this is thinking I’m being the bigger person by laying out my vulnerabilities first. She took it not as “this is what Leslie is worried about,” but as “Leslie needs to guilt me about something.” Meanwhile, I think I have said something perfectly logical and she thinks I’m trying to hurt her. It’s unsustainable, because I do not want her to feel guilty.
I want her to see that these are the problems we need to resolve so that we can move on, because I can imagine that some of the things I think and feel do indeed make her feel guilty, but making her feel guilty was not my intent. I think she thinks I want to punish her for what she’s done, when she’s the most precious thing in my life. The fact that she thinks that I feel such negativity is overwhelming, and I feel like I’ve proven that within myself I was not asking for anything huge. She reassured me that I do come up in her mind all the time, and that was that. That she didn’t have to drop out of her life and appear in mine. That I was worried our relationship was truly lopsided and I was on the wrong track. It was a half a line in an e-mail, not a day at the beach.
Wanting to do things together is dreaming because she doesn’t have the bandwidth, but I didn’t make it clear that I was just dreaming, so she thought I was being demanding. If I was demanding, e-mails wouldn’t have been enough to sustain a relationship for 10 years. When I throw ideas out there and they’re not for her, she becomes part of the problem by not saying “eh. I don’t think meeting in person is for me.” Or whatever. She’s never said anything like that, so I’ve always treated her like a normal person. And in fact, I believe she sees me the same way. That’s because I was preaching at Bridgeport during the pandemic and she told me to send her a link. She didn’t get to come because something came up, but the fact that she told me to send her the link made my heart beat eighty times faster and I did very well that day.
However, I didn’t know she wasn’t able to come until after the service (Zoom), so I still put a reference to her in it because it tends to make people laugh to themselves. I also thought it would make her laugh to be an atheist and think “a preacher mentioned me in a sermon today.”
And the thing is, I wasn’t disappointed in the slightest because she was genuinely sorry that she couldn’t make it because what came up was really important- not that I’m not, but I’m not her only friend and I’m not a member of her family, unless you count the space in her head I’ve been renting all these years.
It feels very much like a constant running version of “All of Me.”
I do not know whether she would be Lily Tomlin or Steve Martin, but as I’ve seen Steve Martin age I actually think we’re more alike, despite Lily and me both being queer. I love comedy, but I also love zoning out and doing my own thing, like buying art and writing novels/screenplays. I have a feeling that Steve Martin is a neurodivergent introvert as well….. That stage presence is an affectation for EVERYONE who is in any way creative. You get to see us live, you don’t get to see us in the practice room.
You don’t get to see the thousand pictures I took before I got to the good one……………. Except you do.
I write in bulk, so how many of these entries do you think I think are amazing? Not all of them, I assure you. I feel like I spend my days work shopping ideas, throwing them around in my brain and trying to word it so that I understand them. If I can understand them, then mostly so can other people. I get lost in my own head and forget transitions a lot of the time, but that’s what it’s like to get a blog and not a book.
You are not getting the finished product, you are reading my notes. I am a different writer outside this blog because when I am writing for publication, I tend to clean it up more. Not only that, if it’s important I get someone to edit me (A friend or a Fiverr). By “important,” I mean anything I’m turning in to a contest or I’m being paid, like a book review. Even if I don’t get a salary, the book is the payment.
I took a break to make breakfast, and now I don’t remember where I was going.
The stove is gas.
The stove is gas.
The stove is gas.
I have to keep pinching myself when I say it. It has made me cry several times, both because having a gas stove is such a a good thing and because there are All-Clad pans to go with it. I remember every moment of learning to cook just by the way the pan feels in my hand. It’s too professional not to trigger me in a good way. David hasn’t seen me flip mushrooms or anything, but he has come home and say it smells good. What he’s smelling is butter. A lot of it.
Now that I have All-Clad, I’m back to cooking like I’m in a restaurant. It’s good, because I don’t eat very often, but everything I do eat is loaded with calories. Most days, it’s eggs and toast. Today, I made oatmeal.
I started with a couple tablespoons of butter, oatmeal, and chia, flax, and hemp seeds. I sauteed all of it until it was brown, then added water, Mexican vanilla, and sugar. It sat on the stove for about five minutes (steel cut, but microwavable so it doesn’t take long on the stove) and then I added some peanut butter and dried cranberries to finish.
Then, I let it sit while I was cleaning the kitchen, because I like oatmeal to cool so that it breaks apart in chunks. It took me about 15 minutes to clean up, at which time I took the liberty of pouring some almond milk on it.
Now, the whole house smells like brown butter, and I am very, very pleased. I wish I had made a larger pan, because I like steel cut oatmeal warmed up in the microwave rather than buying quick oats. These were some I’d ordered off of Amazon years ago and I’m still using them up because I didn’t know I was ordering six boxes of six. Normally, I buy Irish steel cut oats and it takes about half an hour. For my money, now that I’ve cooked with microwavable steel cut, it’s fine. It tastes the same when you put the amount of ingredients in yours as I do in mine. I didn’t do it this time, but last time I sauteed pumpkin seeds for oatmeal as well.
Generally people who say they don’t like oatmeal haven’t had what I consider oatmeal. It’s watery, or soupy, or whatever. Mine actually looks like cereal. Plus, the grains all taste better after they’ve been sauteed in butter first. Pretty much anything tastes good sauteed in butter, but get exponentially better with sugar, vanilla, and dried fruit.
I need to go to the grocery store at some point today, but breakfast was just “throw it together.” I like to go to the grocery store when I’m full, because it helps my impulse control…… But not too full or nothing else will look appealing. I will go to the grocery store, walk around, and leave. I get overwhelmed at too many decisions. It is literally why I have a standard order on Uber Eats and I just hit reorder. If they don’t have something, I discuss substitutions. I do not want to go through decision fatigue with every single item.
The only thing I know I want today that I haven’t gotten in a while is toilet paper. Hayat always bought all of ours, I didn’t have to get it myself. So, I get to pick out my own. This is exciting for me. You have no idea.
Before David left for church, he told me I could put my office in the sun room. He said that no one uses it, and that it’s kind of cold. I told him that was fine. I could get a little electric heater if I had to. It’s nice to have a place to write that’s not shut up in my bedroom. I’m having trouble transitioning into having a whole house again. My housemates and I stuck to our rooms and rarely came out. Therefore, I’m usually in my room. I think David thought I was unhappy and that’s why I’m shut up in here. Nope, it’s that I only think of myself as renting one room.
I have seen David visibly relax over time, because since he’s also neurodivergent, having someone move in with him was VERY intimidating. It was intimidating for me, too, but not in the same way. He’d never rented out his space before, so he didn’t know what to expect from anyone at all. I’ve had housemates in every living situation since college except a spot here and there. Once I lived in a junior efficiency by myself. All of the others, I was either in a relationship or I had housemates. Once, I had a one bedroom in a retirement community. I was in my 20s and I was delighted. They didn’t legally discriminate, they picked up the trash door to door, there were two pools on the grounds and I was the hottest person at both of them….. I mean, what was not to like in that situation? 😉
They stopped doing things for the residents after a while. At first, we all had breakfast together every Sunday morning on the landlord’s dime. That stopped, and then picking up trash door-to-door stopped. The only thing left that marked it as a retirement community at all was a bus that went to several shops around the area. In Houston, I drove, so I didn’t use it. Basically, though, what made it unique was gone.
I am trying not to do that to myself. To give pieces of myself away so that I am no longer unique. I am also not trying to be invulnerable, to actively disconnect myself from my emotions so that things hurt less. If I felt less, I wouldn’t have so much inspiration to write, because I wouldn’t think my life was worth remembering.
What are your favorite emojis?
I have jokingly called Zac “Smiley” since we met. That’s because George Smiley was John Le Carré’s main character and Zac is not in a big three letter, but he works in both military and civilian intelligence roles. I was delighted one day when I said something in voice dictation like, “you’re adorable, Smiley.” Siri wrote:
You’re adorable 😊
So, if I had to pick one out of all, it’s the OG. I was around when it began, and I use/say it almost as much now as then.
I feel like I use emojis the way they were intended, which is to indicate which lines are jokes… not a mode of communication. To me, that is like saying “I need 300 words on my desk by 1500, but make sure it’s in Wingdings.” Therefore, I hardly ever use emoticons that I can’t type.
It’s not fun to me to stop and insert imagery like a web designer. I will add emojis at the end, but only sometimes. Mostly I am concerned about getting you an answer, not picking pictures.
My other top two are a winking face and a smiley with the tongue hanging out because they’re easy to use at 90 wpm. I also try not to use them in every single paragraph. They are decorations, not cake. My feelings may have more to do with the creation of the web not being what maintains it. As in, I may be telling you things that no longer apply. In my background, they were lifelines to ensure that you let someone know your intent in a chat room, because an emoji transcends language. I get that going to pictures is nothing new and hieroglyphics are valid, but that’s not how we did it in the beginning. I’m not advocating we go backwards. I just haven’t had a situation where I needed to stop talking and use emojis instead. It has never come up.
I also don’t expect other people to be writers, so I am not telling you what you should do, either. I am saying that my habits are built from having specifically a desktop since I was eight. It was a different feel not to have the Internet on all the time, like a utility. You might have only been able to chat for a few minutes before someone accidentally picked up the phone. The phone lines carried both data and voice just like the internet does now, but picking up another phone in the house would drop the data connection and you would be “kicked off.” I have to explain this because not all my readers are my age.
I wish I could remember more of those early conversations, because I didn’t realize how quickly my day to day life was changing. My watch has a faster processor now than my desktop had back then.
I have a watch that would have genuinely been helpful at CIA during The Cold War, and I would not doubt that they had something like an Apple Watch long before we did. It’s not because I think there’s a deep state or anything shady. It’s that with all the technology research CIA does, a computer that’s capable of sitting on your wrist like a Pip-Boy can’t be an original idea. Jonna used to take calls from her staff after “Get Smart” and “Dragnet” from officers saying, “can we do that?”
But there’s a second reason, and that’s that during one of Jonna’s talks, she said that they do such specialized things that one person will spend their entire career on one thing, like batteries or cameras. That’s because once an asset got to the place where they were supposed to plant the bug, it had to last a long time, because who knows how long it will be before we can get into that room again? And in fact, she was talking about “The Americans,” the scene where the maid hides the bug in Caspar Weinberger’s clock.
(I thought it was really funny that Ollie North consulted on “The Americans. It’s just the richest ending to that story I could imagine, because it was a major one. I remember it and I couldn’t have been even a teenager yet.)
We, the people of the chatrooms, have conversations exactly like this because we’re always looking for the next new thing, computer-wise. Zac and I have a Chinese Wall on technology, because he knows I’m interested and I’ll ask way more questions than he could possibly answer. The only thing he’ll say is the history of something if it’s UNCLASS. Like, “we have stuff that looks similar.” If he says “looks similar,” that’s kind of my cue to go read a book. 😉
I have never been in a chatroom where we weren’t discussing computers or the chessboard at some point. I have no doubt that I’ve met half of Anonymous by now. I know for certain I’ve met one. I didn’t even have to catch him at anything. He took some Ambien and came to my house because he still couldn’t sleep……… Then I didn’t sleep for three days.
However, he was the kind of hacker you want. Someone who’s a hacktivist on the good guys’ side. White hats do exist.
In all of my years on the Internet, it’s been as nonbinary as everything else about me. I got sucked into the world of hacking, but I don’t hack. It’s kind of the way Lindsay is woven into the queer community in Houston even though she’s cis and straight.
Oh, and I should write this down. “Enby” is short for nonbinary. It’s the gender that most fits me, and yet I don’t care if people think I’m male or female. Pronouns are not about respect to me, because I think it’s more important for me to know who I am than anyone else. Pronouns are a non-issue because I don’t make them one. The easiest thing is just to say “they” if you don’t know, anyway. It’s funny how my gender often depends on how people perceive me, which most of the time is female, but when people don’t look closely, I’m always a “sir.” Neither bother me in the slightest.
(And for the record, if you misgender me, just apologize and move on….. Because you didn’t misgender me and I’m not offended. Plus, I do not need your entire history with trans people as an apology. I’m sure your nephew is great.)
The truth is, though, lots of people on the Internet are nonbinary by now, whether we like it or not. The Internet has changed the rules of the game because you become disconnected from your physical body during emotional intimacy. It’s not that way for everyone, obviously, but it’s a good observation of most. For instance, “straight guys” trolling gay chatrooms because they’re curious and don’t want anyone to know they’re chatting with other queer people at night.
And most of the time, that comes off as rage bait. It’s very popular to come into a gay online community and start asking things like “so which one’s the wife?” And you watch a mix of insults go by because it’s our space.
It is also true that a disproportionately large neurodivergent community exists on the web because we built it. I have always worked with other autistic people without being able to identify it for myself, because I did not know that I was social masking, first of all (in a way that other people don’t), and I also didn’t know that you can have a full range of emotions and pick up all social cues and guess what? That’s not what autism is, either. It’s a criteria, but it’s not all of it.
Being autistic is absolutely why I gravitated toward Linux. It wasn’t to play around with Linux, necessarily. Part of it was learning Linux, and it was exciting because I could do things that very few people my age could do. The better part was a group of people who could understand me in my own language, which for years turned into me being the only woman in many rooms (because that’s mostly how I’ve presented at the office, although we all kind of look nonbinary in Oregon because we’re all wearing the same Columbia jacket we got on sale last summer at REI.
I wouldn’t have learned any of the things I’ve learned about myself without an Internet connection, because I didn’t have many queer friends growing up locally in Texas, but I had a ton of them in Australia.
So, I suppose the easiest way to say it is something you’ve heard all your life, so I hope it makes sense.
“My kindom is not of this world.”
😉
I’ve been watching YouTube for the last few hours, and I have discovered some amazing things. The first was a show about drumming. They’d take a drummer from one genre and just throw them into another. My favorite was a professor of jazz percussion at Juilliard that got “Enter Sandman.” You get to listen to it one time without the drum track so you can think about what you want to do.
But I start watching YouTube and invariably I want to start creating for the web instead of watching other people do it. I was also thinking about “getting to tell Beyonce who I am,” and how arrogant that must sound. I went to The High School for Performing and Visual Arts in Houston, Texas and so did she. However, I left either one or two years before she got there. Had I graduated from HSPVA, I would have seen her every weekday for the maybe year and a half she was at PVA. She did not graduate there. Not graduating from HSPVA works out better for some than others.
So, by telling her who I am, I mean I could walk up to her right this minute and we’d have the best conversation because we know SO MANY people in common. For instance, one of the choir directors at HSPVA while we were there, Rob Seible, was my choir director at Bering UMC. That is just one example out of many. It would not be interesting to me to talk to Beyonce because of her fame, because I’ve done show choir. I was over it before it began. I am very happy to let her do her thing, and I honestly believe she would rather talk about HSPVA than how awesome she is for the thousandth time (not that she is not awesome).
I could walk up to Matt Mullenweg (founder of WordPress) and tell him that I had Doc Morgan for Jazz II and he would instantly smile. I am not sure that Matt and I have any friends in common because I believe he’s a little too much younger for our paths to overlap. That being said, HSPVA becomes quite a fraternity because there’s only a handful of schools like it.
In thinking about that, it started me down the road of “if you could talk to other famous people, what would you ask them?” It started out as a thought exercise in my head because I think I ask good questions. And, God forbid I have an unexpressed thought……..
John Brennan, former director of CIA
What’s a story from University of Cairo that’s not in “Undaunted?” It can be off the record if there’s hashish in it. (That was the most entertaining part of the book…….. not sure why he decided to come back from Egypt, because the way he described his life sounded like perfection to me.)
Margaret Cho
Tell me about all the queer people that have come up to you and said that you helped them through their childhood.
Ellen Degeneres
What is wrong with you? Life is so unfair when you have 370 million dollars and lack personal responsibility. The next stage for you is not “old, mean, and gay” because I have practically cornered the market. The next stage for you is to reflect on why you’re surprised your career is ending this way. You have never taken responsibility when the buck stopped with you, and then you blamed it on Hollywood. Trying to compare it to getting fired for Ellen is atrocious. You were not responsible for being gay, but you were damn sure responsible for your staff. No one “threw you away again.” You fired yourself.
Bill Gates
I don’t really have a question so much as an observation. How is it possible to love and hate you so much simultaneously? Windows is getting worse, but the world needs more people with money like you. The Gates Foundation is terrific.
Jose Andres
When did you hear about Tony? Who called and what time was it? Do you remember where you were standing?
Who are your guys? What’s your last meal?
What’s your favorite station? Who’s the best chef you ever had? What did they sound like? Do you know how to do pastry or do you hate it like the rest of us?
What’s your favorite brand of gin? (I once had a housemate who worked for him and he said that was Jose’s favorite.)
Anderson Cooper
Can we cook sometime? I think I can help you with your sensory issues.
Harry Wales
How are you doing? Not in that fake, American way or that fake, British way. Seriously. Level with me. How are you?
Kamala Harris
Is Lindsay behaving herself? (Harris: wait. You’re Lindsay’s sister?!)
Eminem
You talk a lot about “blowin’ ’em off and keep goin.’ How does one actually do that? What gave you the self confidence to say that your voice was your own?
Rachel Maddow
Do you think if we got out our high school pictures, we’d be wearing the same clothes? (Having walked up to her wearing the same clothes she’s wearing currently because have you ever seen us in the same room? Kidding. People confuse me a lot with her because we’re both queer and have brown hair…….. Like they confused me with kd lang as well.)
Chris Hayes
Every time I think of you I say Chris Matthews first. Do you also have that problem? Yes, uh-huh. Rachel and I do look alike. Thank you.
I am sending out an announcement to all of my readers, because people tend to find me personally on Facebook and either follow or friend me. I don’t get paid for that. But I do get paid if you share things on my professional author’s page. I am on my way to being what Facebook calls a “Rising Creator,” and I can now give Top Fan badges and all that. The one who has it right now is a Canadian writer/editor that is not even related to me- not even on my ex-girlfriend’s step neighbor-in-law’s side.
However, she does live close to Ottawa so maybe we’ll meet some day simply because I like the city and want more photographs of it. I was very impressed with the French cathedral aspect of Parliament, and you really don’t see how different Canada really is unless you go there and see it for yourself. It’s kind of like stepping back in time and wondering “what if we lost the Revolutionary War?”
I’m not joking or being light. Canada is the country I think of when I think about how they’re so much happier than we are and they have WAY CRAPPIER WEATHER. So, it’s definitely a thought experiment because it’s a delightful blend of British and American culture. But if you only know Canadians from their accents, you don’t see the street signs in French and English, or the aforementioned Parliament. You don’t see how disorienting it is because it’s like the US, but it’s SO not.
No one in Canada breaks a leg and owes thousands of dollars.
There are other government safety nets, but that’s probably the biggest. Preventative care is so much cheaper than emergencies and because no one goes to the doctor because it’s too expensive, everything is a multiple thousand dollar emergency. If we kept people healthy, we cut down on emergencies.
Americans should be mad as hell by Googling what other countries pay in medical fees. It does not cost $5,000 to set a leg, but that’s what you’re going to pay. It doesn’t really cost thousands of dollars for all drugs, but that’s what you’re going to pay. That’s because prices in this country are built for the government to pay, not us. For instance, it’s not what they’re supposed to charge the patient, it’s what they’re supposed to charge the insurance company or Medicare/Medicaid. Putting those prices on citizens is insane. And the government and all the insurance companies know it, but it’s too big a racket to shut down.
Reaaaaaallllllyyyyyy wishing I was a Canadian about now.
No, I’m not serious, but I’ve been thinking about it since my senior year of high school in a “Calgon, take me away” sort of haze. As I was telling my “Top Fan,” I’ve never had enough points because you get so many for being bilingual.
I am not saying that I hate America and we aren’t a good country. I am saying that some countries do things better than others. We have filmmaking wired. Taking care of poor people? Not so much.
I have no idea where I would live, but I do know that I would like television. My favorite Canadian TV show is “Little Mosque on the Prairie,” which I saw on Hulu a million years ago. It’s about a young new imam (which was originally autocorrected to “Miami.” Eyeroll. ) whose congregation is renting space from an Episcopal church (or some variation thereof). It’s very much a buddy comedy like “Boston Legal,” it’s just theologically hilarious instead of legally hilarious.
I’m not sure which is better, but render unto Caesar?
I like them both.
I sat here for a minute and I was thinking about other old shows that I like besides “Boston Legal,” because there’s some characters missing in my life that I’d really like to interview.
I would love to sit with Sidney Bristow and find out how she finished her career. Bonus points if I get both the Bristows at once (Jennifer Garner was Sidney, Victor Garber played her dad, Jack).
Another great character interview would be Austin Powers and Foxy Cleopatra (plus getting to tell Beyonce who I am). It would be good to see Captain Mal and Wash to see how that whole thing turned out in retrospect (I’m a Browncoat.).
I would like to live in the world of Good Omens, because I think it might be the only thing I’ve watched that’s weirder than I am (in a good way).
I know that SpongeBob is perpetually in his late teens/early 20s, but since I’m a line cook, I have a good time thinking about him being retired and that whole line of conversations.
I would like to meet Dexter Douglas and Freakazoid, because Dexter is Autistic and Freakazoid is ADHD………………………….. And yet they’re the same person.
Stories That Are All True 