Tag: Canada

Oh, The Places I Would Go…

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 4 Comments

What cities do you want to visit?

I don’t have one top favorite, so I’ll give a few of them. I’m not a huge traveler, so I would rather get an AirBnB for several weeks than try to flip body clocks twice in three or four days. Just not my style anymore. “I’m older and I have more insurance.” But if money were no object, I would love to see:

  • Paris
    • I have been to Paris once, but only for a few days. I definitely hit all the highlights with my dad, but I don’t know what it is to sit at a cafe and people watch. I don’t know what it’s like to go to Paris and do nothing, and that’s why it’s valuable. You don’t go there to find things to do. You go there to walk around in its culture and see what sticks. Then, you either commit yourself to finding out what coffee shop David Sedaris frequents- or perhaps going to Pere Lachaisse for inspiration. Oscar Wilde and I had a marvelous time. Just because I am living and he is not doesn’t mean we weren’t both entertained. I told him that Stephen Fry played him in a movie once. He said it was perfect casting.
  • New York
    • I have never spent more than 24 hours in New York, so it’s the same idea there as in Paris. I’d like to go there for a little bit and then get back out. There’s a rhythm, and it’s intimidating to me. It’s sort of like Las Vegas in that the culture is different but the level of sensory input you receive when you get there is just as heightened. In 2003, I wanted to retire in New York, and I have absolutely no idea what I meant by that. I do remember past trips there to be fun, but not in a way I’d like to live there- except maybe someone I liked wanted to live there, so I did, too. Now, I just want to find hidden treasures on out of the way side streets.
  • Ho Chi Minh City
    • I have to do a lot of research on the Vietnam War, rightfully called “The American War” there. I’m writing a novel about it, and I don’t think I could do setting justice if I just made it up. I mean, I can and I will,if I have to, but there’s a lot to be said about putting effort into understanding something fully. I have studied political science since I got to college- the news junkie in me drove me to poli sci and it hasn’t given up. With political science comes lots and lots on international relations as well. So, I know the story from the American side fairly well, but I don’t like to write from the perspective of only trumpeting American interests. The military and C/DIA had many faults and failures during this time, and since most things more recent than Vietnam are still classified, I don’t know that either organization has really wrestled with our actions in that theater in a way that processes out institutional pain. Vietnam was the first war in which it was clear that we might not lose, but we don’t have enough money or resources to outright win, either. The Vietnamese have the right to call us out on that, because American soldiers were responsible for a lot of atrocities. We have the reputation of being feared, and not in a healthy way. It’s why we’ll never win a land war in Asia……. and death is on the line.
  • Seoul
    • Before I started watching both Josh & Olly, I’d never wanted to visit Korea before. They’re responsible for making a lot of people feel that way on their YouTube channel, Jolly. Josh met Olly in college (I think- British system), then went to university in Seoul. I think. I haven’t done all the math. Anyway, when Josh and Olly were both done with uni, they decided to start making videos about what Koreans think of English people. Hilarity ensues. I’m not sure how often Josh and Olly get back to Korea, but one of the fun things they do is “red carpet” style interviews while they entice celebrities to talk using Korean food. It worked very well on Ryan Reynolds. 🙂
  • Enseñada, Mexico
    • I have been to Enseñada once. It’s a small enough city that I could picture myself living there. I don’t speak much Spanish, but I took two years in school and have spent time in both Texas and Mexico speaking Spanish. My language skills aren’t as good now as they were in high school, because I was going to Mexico regularly (Reynosa and Progreso, both on mission trips). I could not land in San Diego and drive across the border without incident, but within a month or so I’d be all right. Within three or four years, I’d be fluent. It’s amazing what you can do when you have no choice. The water is gorgeous. La Buffadora (Buffalo Snort) is magnificent, a geyser that makes me feel the power of nature unlike anything else. I’m sure Papas & Beer is still there, it’s an institution. I don’t know about Habana Banana, which used to be my favorite Mexican clothing brand. I bought a ton while I was there, and at the time, they didn’t offer online ordering or international shipping. So, part of it is to find another clothing brand I like just as much…….. the rest of it is to sit outside with a Coke (we’re in Mexico, after all) and see what nature is saying around me. I live my life like the sound track is 4’33. I think it would kick things up a notch to perform it outside. My past performances have all gone very well. No one even knew I was “conducting it all while I sleep…. to light up my yard.”
  • Vancouver
    • I didn’t live in DC very long before I went to visit Meagan in Ottawa. However, I lived in Portland for 12 years and never made it to British Columbia. I have heard I would love it, now I need to go see it for myself. I will admit, though, that there is some truth to only the Canadian provinces with her in them being interesting. It wasn’t a draw while I lived there, but now I’m just curious. I sort of know what life is like on the East Coast of Canada because Meag has lived in Alberta, Ontario, and New Brunswick….. maybe more, but I’ve slept since then. But West Coast Canada is completely different, it seems. They don’t have bagged milk there. 🙄 Now that I’ve had time to reflect, I regret not going when it was only a five hour car ride. It would be a much bigger deal now.
  • Washington, DC
    • I live in Silver Spring, Maryland. It’s a suburb that has everything I could possibly want within walking distance. As a result, I can go as long as a year without needing anything from downtown…… and most of it is that the bands I like don’t play in Silver Spring- some of them do, though. If I want to see something relatively big, it’s at The Kennedy Center, not The Fillmore. I also haven’t been to Wolf Trap in 20-odd years, mostly because it’s such a hassle that I think about going to Wolf Trap and back out. I feel about Wolf Trap the same way people feel about Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion. It’s going to be a long concert, there’s no easy way in or out, and there’s a thousand people all screaming at once. I much prefer smaller venues, and wish Indigo Girls would play The Fillmore once in a while. 😛
  • Helsinki
    • My love of Finnish Independence Day led me to believe that one day I’d make it to watch the celebrations live- I watch them every year on YouTube from here. It’s not just that, though. I’ve said before and I’ll say it again that the palate for that part of the world is completely different- they don’t even have the same flora. Learning to cook there would be a whole new experience, and Anthony Bourdain introduced them to me through the magic of television. Why yes, I do want a large reindeer pizza. I also want to fly into HEL and drive up to Kilpisjaarvi so I can sleep under the aurora borealis in a clear-top tent. I also want to dress up really warm and sleep outside, just to see if I could do it. 😛

Special K -and- O Canada

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

From October of 2003.

I got an e-mail from someone who works at ExxonMobil the other day, interested because I mentioned being an out lesbian and working there in the same weblog.

So I talked a little about my experiences in Fairfax, both the good and the bad. I started with Kathleen and I walking in Dupont Circle and picking up a copy of The Washington Blade, then nearly dropping our ice cream on the pavement as we read a quote from senior media advisor, Tom Cirigliano. I’ll paraphrase it here: “ExxonMobil does not support domestic partner benefits, but in countries that allow LEGALLY BINDING gay marriage…” We started planning our trip to Vermont that afternoon.

But the real fun began after we came home.When Kathleen presented our certificate to Human Resources, they acted like they had never heard of civil unions, and to be fair, they probably hadn’t. We were assigned a caseworker and given a possible date at which we might be given more information. That date came and went. We finally called back. We were given another date at which we might possibly be given information. We went to church. We prayed. We crossed fingers.

Another month went by, and the date at which they said they’d call us back came and went, and we were assigned another date at which they might possibly give us more information. It was a nightmare of bureacratic red tape. What we didn’t know is that the senior media advior had spoken without any clear definition of what he was talking about. They were literally having to write a proposal for how they were going to include us from the moment we presented them with our certificate. No advance planning had gone into it, presumably because they thought no one would take them up on it.

Another few months went by, and I was hired by ExxonMobil Research & Engineering, which alleviated our concerns about joint health coverage. Now that I had my own, we weren’t concerned about my getting ill- but it was still a justice issue in that each of us wanted to be listed as the other’s spouse in case of a true emergency.

Another two or three months went by, and we finally sent a letter that was very kind but firm- something to the effect of “if the next time we meet we are only given another date at which we might possibly be given more information, we would like to seek legal counsel.” It was worded more diplomatically than that, but our intentions were clear nonetheless. I sent copies of every e-mail and every transcription of every voice mail to the ACLU, the National Center for Lesbian Rights, and sincerely thought about the Washington Post. In retrospect, I would have had a lot of compassion for the people in HR if they had just e-mailed us and said, “we didn’t really think anybody was going to use this, so be patient with us while we write this thing from the ground up.” Wading through months and months with no inkling that any information would ever be forthcoming was the hardest part.

This morning as I sat down to write I didn’t particularly feel like writing about anything. But people who work on the assumption that you only write when you feel like writing don’t get book deals. So with that in mind, I went to Yahoo! and searched for “writing prompts.” The first site that came up was a writing resources page for people who teach junior high. Most of them were pretty inane, but this one just cracked me up: “What does Canada mean to you?”

I’m assuming that this prompt was meant for Canadian teachers wanting to bring out a small bit of patriotism in their students. But in the interest of having a good laugh, I’m going to attempt it anyway. So here it is, for your viewing pleasure:

What Canada Means to Me
by Leslie Lanagan

I am pretty sure that if Canada weren’t around, it would have taken the world a lot longer to realize just how ignorant and egocentric Americans can be. For instance, when I was in high school, I dated a girl from Fort St. John. Her accent was so thick you could cut it with a knife, so when we would go out together, people would instantly start in on this conversation in various forms:

Random person: Hey, that’s a great accent. Where are you from?

Girl I Dated: I’m from Canada.

RP: Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from there. Do you guys have Christmas on the same day?

GID: (flustered) Of course.

RP: Say out and about. Come on, please!

GID: Ok, let’s just get this out of the way: Out, about, house, mouse, boot, shoe, sorry. Is there any other word in the English language that you’d like to hear me pronounce before we move on?

RP: End a sentence with “eh.” Come on, you know you want to.

GID: (turning to me) That guy is a total fucking hoser, eh?

As an American citizen, Canada also means easy access to good Cuban cigars and cheap European imports. Hey, let’s not forget that even though I am sympathetic to the fact that Canadians have little to no identity outside their own country, I am also one of the egocentric bastards they do their best to avoid.

The end.

Access

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 5 Comments

What do you love about where you live?

There is a very underrated quality about Washington that I’ve found to be true not only in the last eight years, but also 2001-2. Washington attracts a “type,” and they’re generally misfits in other places. That type is writer/news junkie. We come in all shapes, sizes, and professions. A lot of us are lawyers. Some of us work for the government. Some of us work at the newspaper. Some of us sit on the floor at the Spy Museum bookshop and don’t buy anything. 😉

Washington is the only city in the world I’ve found where being knowledgeable regarding American politics, intelligence, the military, and world news is seen as an asset and not a liability. The American people want “folksy” most of the time, but they’re only meeting the candidate and not the 200 people that work for them. They are not the same. We’ve got veterans who’ve been strategizing since they were in diapers, they wanted to get here so bad. In this day and age, do not ever underestimate how “The West Wing” affected this town. If you were in college when you met CJ, Sam, Toby, and Josh, then you are probably some version of one of them now. That’s not a bad thing. They all came here thinking that we were as idealistic as that show. We weren’t, but they “made it so.” With the influence of Trump, that’s changed a bit because we weren’t dealing in two different realities back then. Yes, there were Republicans, but they were more like Arnold Vinick and Ainsley Hayes than Glen Beck and Donald T****.

That’s because staffers have more in common than they don’t. According to President Clinton, it’s criminal the way candidates work interns (except he used the word “shitbox” and I thought that was particularly hilarious despite the soul-tearing irony of Bill Clinton making the right kind of sense about interns at all.

People have no idea how government works in the rest of the country (overall) and vote against their best interests all the time. The reality is that we do not have the infrastructure for any third parties. This is because ever time a third party emerges, one party splits and the other one wins. I took an entire class on political parties in college and this information stands up. We haven’t managed a third party since 1856. In Congress, voters don’t know anything about committee assignments and will screw over their state by electing a freshman over someone who’s had enough clout to move up in the system. This has had disastrous effects in recent memory as Congress has been overrun with extremists, because their rhetoric is so fascist that even though they’re the minority, there’s too many.

But this doesn’t take away anything from the beauty of the Mid-Atlantic. In terms of what people know about Washington, they see the federal government and don’t know it’s a great place to hike, bike, kayak, fish, etc. If you’re into skiing, there are easy road trips to the slopes. If you like the beach, there are plenty. I was in a sailing race in Annapolis once with my sister. She was working with a local lobbyist who took us out and didn’t tell us until we were already underway that we were in the middle of a regatta. We lost, but it was fun. The point stands, though. Both the Chesapeake and the Atlantic are extraordinarily fun.

The similarities between DC and Portland, Oregon (where I lived for 12 years) are striking. First of all, a river runs through it. The Potomac and the Willamette both run south to north, making the southern boundary for The District. However, the layout is exactly the same in terms of neighborhoods. The places that will remind you of southeast Portland and The Hawthorn are on the DC side. The places that will remind you of The Pearl District complete with Trendy Third St. are in Arlington and Alexandria. There is just as much beauty to Great Falls, VA as there is to the Columbia River Gorge.

Virginia really is God’s country when I think about the Blue Ridge mountains. I have driven through them once and it was one of the most moving experiences of my life. I felt a presence, the one we all do when presented with the absolute miracle of nature.

I haven’t explored Maryland as much as I’ve wanted to, simply because I don’t have a car. It’s not that I can’t get there, it’s that it seems like a lot of hassle. I’ve ridden the train to Baltimore a few times, and it’s great. Seriously. It’s just takes about an hour and a half each way (it’s further north than BWI). I love it when I travel sporadically. I’m not so sure I would want it as my morning commute. I would deal, though, because getting on the MARC is available in Silver Spring and I don’t have to go to Union Station first, which shaves a lot of time……. but it’s still three hours guilt free that I should be doing something else. I can read, write, listen to music, or watch TV. If you’ve ever been stuck on 95 N in rush hour trying to get to an Orioles game, you’ll know why the train is far superior.

I think of myself as having a driver. 😉

Baltimore is one of the cities I considered when moving to Washington, because to use another Pacific Northwest reference, Seattle is the Washington and Baltimore is the Portland. Not the same industries, but the same vibe. With John Waters and Divine, there could be a show every bit as outrageous as “Portlandia,” if not more so. The other thing about Baltimore is that it’s more affordable than DC. A great apartment relatively close in can be had for under $2,000 a month…….

People move away from here to the middle of the country because it’s less expensive and then figure out they have to live there. It costs real money to live on the coasts, but to me it’s worth it because I’ve gone out of my way to find the cheapest deal available and my rent hasn’t gone up in eight years. That’s because I don’t pay a rental company. I literally live with my landlords and they’ve adopted me as one of their own. It will be a huge deal when I move, so I’m not going to unless circumstances absolutely require it.

That’s because downtown Silver Spring is cool AF. We have an outdoor living room and streets that have been blocked off downtown so that you can walk around and take everything in. Lots of festivals happen in the summer, and in the winter the outdoor living room becomes a skating rink. Everything is frozen over from Thanksgiving to New Year’s.

I am a huge soccer fan, and Houston didn’t have an MLS team. I’ve been rooting for DC United since my girlfriend introduce me to them in high school. I have had a DC United piece of clothing in some shape or form since 1996. My favorite player was named Raul Diaz Arce, who was young and energetic. He played like a dancer. I was in love with his movements as much as I was with Meag’s. I honestly think that my love for soccer absolutely stems from the fact that she was one of the great loves of my life. We aren’t in touch, but she’s still with me and will be for the rest of my life thanks to this passion.

Speaking of Meag, I figured out why I’ve struggled with making her accent authentic (to her. I’ve always fooled Americans joking around). It’s because words like boot and boat don’t actually sound anything like either of them. The vowels are a dipthong as big as the country. As in, they’re right in the middle and if you weren’t born there you’re always going to swing right or left. As an American, I think I’ve at least grown enough to be convincing on a recording to people who haven’t been in love with me and wouldn’t give it to me for anything in the world because it’s going to be a thing between us until you die mad or not.

I feel as if I have just performed a Canadian Public Service Announcement. You’re welcome.

It’s not just soccer. The first time I came to DC, I was eight years old. I wondered until my junior year of college what it would be like to live here. That’s when my first wife got the offer from ExxonMobil and given the choice for her to start in Houston or Fairfax, Virginia. That’s how we ended up in Alexandria for 9/11. I am so glad we did it. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that institutional memory for anything in the world. It’s just one of the things that makes me feel that DC is every bit as much a part of me as Houston.

DC is the place where, three times now, it has made me feel the entire spectrum of human emotion. I am steeped in everything it has taken to keep our country together and how it’s falling apart. We are in a crisis where we are going to have to rebuild culture from the ground up. There is no such thing as alternate facts, and people’s attitudes are just getting worse. What gives anyone that doesn’t work there the right to disagree with people paid to do what they do? Not for little things. For opinions that take years to develop. Years to become seasoned and ripened. Years of technological and scientific analysis. We are here to shape that future for the government, which locally leans liberal. People think of DC as full of conservatives, but remember the Congress just works here. Locals are truly progressive and I promise it’s as weird as the clash between places like Columbia Heights and Shaw vs. Arlington and Silver Spring.

The short answer is that the thing I love about where I live is me. It is part of my identity now. I am the Kennedy Center. I am the Lincoln Memorial. I am the reflecting pool. I am also Ben’s Chili Bowl, Madam’s Organ, SE Waterfront, Howard University. I am gogo music and mumbo sauce. I am Frederick Douglass’s house.

I am able to be it all, because I write it down. And that’s what I love about where I live.

Roots

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What Olympic sports do you enjoy watching the most?

Link to audio.

This is another story that goes all the way back to my very first girlfriend ever. Her name is Meagan (I called her Nutmeag.), and she’s so Canadian there’s probably a moose in her driveway right now. The way we met is mildly interesting. My 11th grade best friend was friends with her, but I didn’t know Meag at all. I just knew of her.

My senior year of high school, she ended up in my English class. Her desk was diagonal to mine, and I cannot tell you how many hours I spent staring at the back of her head, wondering if she liked me.

I had to wonder because Dr. Hudel Steed, our English teacher, laid down the law. This class is going to be hard as shit, get someone’s number. I had an opening on the first day of school to meet her, so I knocked over three desks to get to her. Why wouldn’t I? My best friend had vouched for her character. She was already in.

I also didn’t know what kind of gift I was opening when I walked through my front door and the phone was already ringing that afternoon. She was desperate to ask a pointed question that she thought was veiled, and I knew it even then. She wanted to know if it was safe to come out to me, and the question was “why do you wear pride rings?” I could sense where she was going and said, “I’m gay. Do you have a problem with that?” She said, “no, I’m a Melissa Etheridge fan.” From that day forward, my life was never the same in too many ways to enumerate. Our first kiss rendered me absolutely helpless, the way a first kiss is supposed to feel. It was Princess Diaries all up in that shit.

Therefore, I love Canadian everything…. Including Roots, a clothing brand that offered to make the kit. One of the pieces was a pork pie hat, which Roots sold separately to customers. I bought it, and brought it with me on a cruise to Mexico years and years later.

The hat was for cold weather, but it was Spring Break in Enseñada. The Pacific Ocean is cold even when temperatures are three digits. I was standing on the deck looking down at the pool when a woman came up to me and pointed at some swimmers. She said, “see all those people down there? We’ve been wondering what kind of athlete you are for 20 minutes.”

So, of course I turned around and yelled “I’m a SKIIER!”

I also learned that while Meagan might not think my impression of her is dead on, no one noticed I wasn’t actually Canadian. I could have spoken in my own accent, but I didn’t. I played that character for all it was worth and oh my God that’s why Tony and Jonna Mendez are my favorite authors…. It’s all coming together now. THAT’s why I love the Argo script so much…. “Canadians don’t pronounce the second t.” “No one will know that.” “If you are caught, they will find someone who knows that.” OMFG. I wanted to know if my cover as Meag would hold up when when my constructive criticism thus far had been “it’s good you’re still trying.” For the record, it’s “Turrono,” frequently spoken so fast it sounds like “Tron-o.”

I just learned things that were deeper than mere mimicry, like when Canadians tend to say “eh” and when they don’t. It’s not just being able to imitate someone, but to understand the things that have informed why they do them. To understand how to say “house” and “mouse” like I was born in Alberta while also understanding that it is annoying as fuck when people ask if “y’all have Christmas on the same day.”

But what do I know? I’m just a dumb athlete. 😛

The Year of Acceptance

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I went to the pub earlier and stuffed myself with brunch. I got everyone sitting at the bar addicted to Crosswords With Friends™ as I gobbled up banana custard French toast, eggs, Irish bacon, coffee, and orange juice. I was pleased with myself because I just showed up and sat down, and by the end I was specifically invited back every weekend by “the brunch club.”

The way I got into the conversation is that they were having an argument over something and I asked the woman next to me what it was all about. They were arguing over the capital of Canada…. whether it was Montreal or Toronto (pregnant sigh). I said, “it’s Ottawa.” The woman next to me said, “I like how you said that without missing a beat.” I told her that I was 100% certain I was right unless they’d moved it in the last few years.

I had my Slumdog Millionaire moment of hearing the question and video of Meagan and me  in the beer store buying a two four of Alexander Keith’s popping up because who can paint a living room without beer?

I was not invited to Ottawa just to paint Meagan’s living room. I was invited for Thanksgiving, and like the wingnut I am, didn’t look up the date for Canadian Thanksgiving because I thought I knew it.

I didn’t.

CDN Thanksgiving revolves. Who knew?

It ended up being a better trip that way, though, because I got Meag, her then-wife Deah, and her daughter to myself instead of having to share them with all their other friends and relatives.

When Meag and I were actually together, I thought seriously for a few months about immigrating to Canada, but I didn’t really get the concept of what an enormous change it would be until over a decade after we broke up, because believe it or not, I never made it there while we were dating…. and not because we only knew each other online. We were high school sweethearts and when Meagan graduated from high school, she went back to her home country while her parents stayed in Texas.

Seeing Canada for real was learning how European it is compared to the United States, and while I picked up the English dialect quickly having heard Meagan use Canadian slang “my whole life,” there was still a feeling of dissonance.

After a few days, though, I could totally see myself living there. Ottawa felt strikingly similar to DC and Portland, Oregon…. or rather, if the two cities got together and had a baby.

When I was looking for a change of scenery in 2015, Ottawa would have been a good choice for me if it hadn’t meant immigration and losing my US Citizenship (I would have wanted to be able to vote). Ultimately, I made the right choice. I’ve been in love with DC since I was eight. I feel the magic of Washington like most people feel the romance of Paris- it vibrates inside me.

Things happen here that would never happen anywhere else. For instance, I got to hear Jonna Mendez, former Chief of Disguise at CIA, talk about her latest (and her husband Tony‘s last) book. That was on 31 May, and this weekend I finally found a way to send her the blog entry I wrote after I came home that night. She told me it was wonderful and Tony would have loved it as well. It was a huge moment in my life, as it is for all authors when their favorite authors pay them a compliment.

Ok, I am being tame. It was hug from Jesus level awesome and my skin is still buzzing. I feel so good about it that my energy could jump start a car battery.

If I could, I would bottle that feeling and use it as hair product.

Being so high on a compliment is tempered by my anger at unfixable situations.

On September 10, I will be 42 years old. I will always remember 41 as The Year of Acceptance™ (pregnant sigh).

Because of medical malpractice in the delivery room, I have cerebral palsy. It’s a mild case, and my parents never agreed on how much to tell me about what happened. My mother didn’t want me to know anything at all, to pretend that my mental and physical health were just like everyone else’s. My dad was always on the side of truth, but as soon as he would start talking about it, my mother would either A) disagree loudly II) change the subject.

My mother always said that my dad’s memory was wrong or that he was just making a big deal out of nothing.

My sister found the report in which I was diagnosed, and for the first time, I saw my pediatric neurologist’s impressions of me. I was a little over a year old, and presented like I was only six months. I didn’t have the physical reactions of someone my age, and my muscles couldn’t support me. I have never caught up to my peers.

So basically I’ve just been living life thinking that I was perfectly able-bodied, to not so great results. I’ve done a lot of research, and CP doesn’t get worse as you age. It is what it is. However, its implications are bigger. For instance, I don’t fall more than I did when I was younger, but I do fall harder. And with monocular vision, it doesn’t matter how careful I think I’m being. There’s always something I’m not going to see and either I run into it or it runs into me. I spend a lot of time accidentally apologizing to inanimate objects.

Some of my muscles are way more developed than others, so while doing one physical thing I may look completely normal, and then during a different activity, you can immediately tell I’m struggling.

This year was about accepting why as fact. I stopped beating myself up that I wasn’t faster in the kitchen. I was never built for it in the first place.

You don’t come to acceptance of something as big as CP in one moment or even in one day. It’s too big, too complicated. It took me a long time to stop beating myself up that there was no such thing as being born with floppy muscles and being miraculously cured of it while still being more of a klutz than all of my friends put together.

It’s also confusing because my symptoms are so mild, because it’s taken a long time to figure out where I excel and where I, in a word, don’t. It’s a long haul from thinking that you can do anything you want to taking your physical limitations seriously…. that they aren’t a series of unfortunate events but consecutive verses to the same song.

I’m just trying to figure out where I excel so that I stop beating myself up. It’s not that I got a bad hand, I’ve just been playing blackjack while the rest of the world plays poker.

At the very least, I know the capital of Canada.