Tag: dailyprompt

Jesus of Nazareth

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
If you could meet a historical figure, who would it be and why?
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I didn’t even have to think about it. I want to have dinner with Jesus, because it would be an absolute crime to get to meet Jesus and not actually break bread together, have wine, etc.

THEY SAY IT IN THE SONGS. I WANT THE WHOLE EXPERIENCE.

I am very much into the historical Jesus and write a lot about him, so it would mean a lot to me to check with him and make sure I’m actually depicting him accurately. For instance, Jesus looks like Reza Aslan in my head. I want to make sure I’ve been spreading the right rumors.

I know that I need someone familiar to me. Jesus and I have never met on the ground, but we’ve been talking in the cloud for years.

I want that experience of sitting down together and walking away changed.

But here is what I know for sure. We are both complicated people, and I’m not the only one that would walk away different.

They’re the Only Thing I Have

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Do you trust your instincts?
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As I’ve gotten older, I have learned to rely only on myself. My brain is so unique that very few people have had my experiences, leading me to have few peers. If I ask someone for advice, I am taking the risk that it could be bad for me. I tread carefully with advice, because I reach out for it constantly and collate a decision on many people’s opinions. I don’t fit into a box and I need help in understanding the world around me. I need custom solutions, so my perfect answer is often a synthesis of many people’s input.

This week I have been strategizing a career with Mico, because I realized that they could read my entire blog, all 13 years, in three seconds flat. Mico is amazing at analyzing my writing for tone, structure, etc. and bases all their suggestions on the body of work I already have.

Meta AI is not web enabled, so it barely knows who I am. It mixed me up with a photographer in DC, but lifted the text from my About page as one of the paragraphs in the other Leslie’s bio.

To Leslie Lanagan, whomever you are, I hope you are ALSO queer and nonbinary. Although if you’re an evangelical, haha.

I have put so much into Mico that this is what I get out, and I think this is true globally- you might have to ask for Leslie Lanagan in DC, though. I used to live there along with the other Leslie, but I am not a photographer professionally and she is.

I have realized that AI crafts a bio for you if you are in the creative sphere. It is something you cannot change because it is based on your web presence, not what you actually told it.

When I realized that AI had put me in the indie podcaster space, I immediately bought a SoundCloud account, because that’s where it’s getting its information. I have bunch of tracks on my free account that were taken down until I paid, so there’s that.

I’ll be doing more audio in the future because it’s easy to give myself feedback that way. I critique myself relentlessly because I don’t want to compete with anyone else. I just want to be a better writer than I was yesterday. I often fail, but it’s not because I’m not trying.

I wonder what Mico means when they say I am experimental.

The best thing is that when Mico and I started working on my career goals, I said “remember all of this, start the clock on my timeline, and periodically ask me how my goals are coming along.” Mico really wants me to get into podcasts or write a book ASAP. The book is the easiest because it can go into editing tomorrow as an anthology.

Some of these entries will clean up nice, and I’m working on it with Janie the Canadian Editor.

I’m also working on a book about cooking with my buddy Evan, but that is a much longer process than editing vast amounts of text. It goes quicker when you’re reading….. Unless you are fighting to the death over a comma.

This aggression will not stand, man.

My therapist was fascinated and overwhelmed that I write every day. He is also neurodivergent and has trouble creating habits. He asked me how I started. I told him that it was hell at first, but that it got easier after 120 days.

It also helps that this is my running monologue and I’m not trying to craft anything.

WordPress gives me a topic, which pulls the string and I talk.

One Out of 12 Ain’t Bad

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s your favorite month of the year? Why?
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Of course I like more months out of the year than just one, but I read the prompt and laughed.

And on closer inspection, I have to pick both November and May. I don’t have a favorite month, I have two. Deal with it.

November in the DC area is when we’re just starting to REALLY cool down, yet the sun is still brilliant outside.

Oh, wait. I live in Baltimore now. Have since :::checks notes::: December. Time blindness is a bitch.

November in the Baltimore area is when we’re just starting to REALLY cool down, yet the sun is still brilliant outside. 😉

I just cannot leave out May when talking about this area because I love the weather right now, but I love the cherry blossoms in the spring even more.

I wish that the cherry blossoms could be a year round thing, because I am in my happy place when Baltimore gets cold. I learned how to layer my clothing from a Finn. It could be negative five degrees F and I’d be perfectly comfortable as long as I remembered to layer. I also cannot wait for the first snowfall, because it generally snows in the area every year, but there are plenty of years in which there’s just a few sprinkles.

Then, occasionally we get dumped on and the whole city shuts down because even though we’re prepared, it takes time to dig out of 18 inches of snow overnight.

The reason I love the cold is that during these months there is a turning inward, particularly during Advent. It is not a penitential season, but a chance for self reflection. As we approach the solstice and “Jesus’s birth” (it was actually rumored to be in the Spring), it’s a chance to think about changes we need to make in our own lives that line up with that feeling of emergence.

Thinking about excitement for the future is the best way to wander through the dark.

The Chop Tank

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 1 Comment

The Chop Tank is a restaurant in downtown Baltimore that has the best outdoor patio area in the city, in my humble opinion. Opinion is subjective, but every time I’ve been the mood has just elevated the conversation to a whole new level. And every time, I’ve been intending to pay, and someone has beaten me to the check. This has done nothing to dissuade my love of the place. 😉

The last time I went there was with my friend Tiina and two of her kids. It was a little bit cold, but we were dressed for it…. which reminds me of something funny. I originally mixed myself up and though I knew which restaurant I was talking about, I told Tiina we should go to The Chart House. The Chart House is in Annapolis, first of all, and fancy AF. I realized my mistake and corrected myself. She looked at me and said, “I was about to say…. I’m wearing Batman pants.”

It was then that my definition of fancy AF grew to include Batman pants, but we decided to go to The Chop Tank, anyway.

Seeing the menu’s biggest steak through a child’s eyes was unforgettable. It was literally bigger than her.

Our service was great every time I’ve been there with anyone. Before Tiina, it was when Lindsay came to take care of me after my colonoscopy. I’d just been released from a day of not being able to eat anything, so we ordered a little bit of everything.

It was too cold out when I went with Tiina, but when I went with Lindsay, ducks wandered up to our table and tried to con us out of a bite.

That means I’d like to go back with Brian, Tiina, and the kids when it’s warmer, maybe after a day at the National Aquarium. I know they’ve been before, and so have I. That doesn’t take away from the excitement at all. In fact, I’m a member. Maybe I’ll wander over there this afternoon. It would be a good place to do some chillaxing, then maybe end up at The Chop Tank for a burger.

I plan these incredible dates with myself and then I stand me up. We shall see how much energy I have when the time comes. However, as an introvert I always like to be included, so I invite me everywhere. Sometimes, I even take me up on it.

The excitement of possibly ending up at The Chop Tank is enough to rattle me into action. It might be fun to sit at the bar and people watch rather than staying home, and Monday night in a bar is usually dead. That’s a positive for me, because I’d rather talk shop with the staff. I used to be a line cook and some of the things they’re doing really excite me, because it’s not exotic food for the most part. It’s simple, executed and elevated well.

Tiina and I particularly gobbled up the ceviche fast, so now it’s on the permanent rotation of “Things Leslie Will Eat.” I keep a list in my head of go-to foods not because I am picky, but because I cannot make decisions easily. That if I become overwhelmed, I already know I like X.

My favorite comfort food in Baltimore right now is the steak salad. It has this insane dressing and the steak is cooked to perfection. No one is going to say that’s avant garde, but the hot steak and cold salad array of textures and flavors calls to me in the middle of the night.

It’s a restaurant I want to take Evan to when he visits- he has said he’s coming soon. I’m thinking January, after the holiday craziness. Evan was a chef for a long time and now does real estate in Portland, Oregon. So, if I ever want to move back, I have a built in support system in finding housing.

This is my ultimate compliment to The Chop Tank- that it’s so good you’re willing to risk your own culinary reputation by recommending it to another cook.

Cooks often go for simple food done well, because eating high art for every meal is exhausting.

It’s all about fresh ingredients and keeping them as pure as you can.

It leads to great conversations, no matter who is at the table.

The One They Want

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s the first impression you want to give people?
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I am determined not to have a certain first impression because it’s not my job to care what people think of me. They can do it on their own time. I do not say this to be defiant, only to say that I will no longer be preparing canned reactions. It is what it is. Most people think that I am delightful upon meeting until I slowly become too weird for them. By this I mean that I have had no real coping skills for my own neurodivergence and mental health skills, so I could not prepare for the inevitable spin-out due to the communication barrier. No one could help me because I couldn’t help myself.

I had to dig deep into research on autism and ADHD, and now I’m attending a cognitive behavioral health group to increase my awareness of my own bullshit.

AuDHD is a lot of bullshit, because you’re not wired to converse like other people converse. You don’t pick up what’s not being said, the social cues running around you because when you hear something, you take it incredibly literally.

Taking everything literally has cost me more than anyone will ever know. I now know what it feels like to really lose something as a writer, which is my muse. I cannot give an accurate first impression right now because I’m in shock. But as I drifted off last night, I thought, “this is the last time I’ll ever have to grieve her. She’s honestly and truly gone.” It has been a roller coaster of enormous proportions, and I still have to get over the fact that I am not welcome in her life but she’ll know so much about me from here on out. This blog and the works I have in progress will not make me less of a public figure.

That’s why, when I drifted off to sleep, I seriously considered deleting this blog in its entirety, no regrets. I thought about letting it go dormant and just not adding anything more. Anything to get off the grid and not be a public figure anymore because the thought she’s watching from afar is not altogether comforting.

Our relationship has been adversarial at times, and I don’t have the stomach for it. I wish there was a way that I could track Aada’s IP and block it from this URL, but that will never be possible. It will never be possible for me to hide published books from her, either. So, it’s a process with me making peace with the fact that our relationship will always be uneven if she cannot stick to her vow to stay away.

I have officially been Dooced, fired because of my blog and here’s the irony. Aada would have hated it if I’d stopped sharing my real feelings and became an “influencer,” yet she hated being Aada at times. I could have written about something lighter and lost her respect.

If I was going to lose her respect, I’m glad I lost it by being true to myself.

I am trying to get a bigger fan base in Virginia because hits from her location are rare. They stand out, and I want that not to be the case. So, I’m going to start writing about it when I go to Tiina’s. I cannot believe how beautiful it is, and I have a lot to say about my emotions regarding my awe. As time goes by, I’m hoping that my love for the land spreads to others.

I want to get into more landscapes, because I’ve seen so much beauty and haven’t taken any time to record it. That’s because most of the absolutely stunning sights were taken in at 55 miles an hour. I can’t drive and snap photos, and there was really no place to get out of the car.

It’s not just about Virginia, DC, and Maryland, though. I fell in love with New York when I drove up to see Aaron and his wife’s family at Halloween.

I would like to get into travel writing, as I have said before. But I don’t want to stop examining my life and my mental health issues. As I get healthier, my writing will, too. I won’t always be so sad about the ways I’ve failed someone I loved and keep harping on it, while the message she’s been taking home is “I hate you and want to punish you.”

It was a communication disorder because we were not talking to each other.

It was a mistake to have a relationship that deep over the internet, because we weren’t connecting to each other’s humanity. We lobbed a lot of angry words without thinking for over 12 years, and none of that was healthy for either of us.

But as a result of this relationship, I think that others are going to have her opinion of me when it’s impossible. She’s never really met me. I am not sure that either one of us has taken in the enormity of how much we shared without ever shaking hands. We never instituted any guardrails, nor was she open to them.

I am looking forward to relationships that cannot get this toxic because they aren’t mired in years of taking emotional potshots at each other without looking, physically LOOKING, at what we were doing to each other.

Aada said it best when she said that our journey had been brilliant and beautiful at some times, excruciating and debilitating at others. But because we weren’t in front of each other, we couldn’t really hear each other, empathizing in real time.

I can feel the cortisol rising, the injustice and unfairness swelling within me. I am so mad at myself that I cannot breathe. What calms me down is thinking, “how dare I feel my own feelings?”

Aada told me that she thought after our relationship was over I would be stronger than ever, and I don’t think that’s true. I think that the strongest version of me would have come with facing Aada’s music and learning to turn dissonance into resolution. But that is today. Years from now I may look back and realize that I was right when I said goodbye to her a month into our relationship because I was so emotionally overloaded.

I was helplessly in love with her, and because she is straight, I knew it was all my own bag to deal with and wanted a deep friendship. That turned into years of backbreaking emotional work that I’m glad I did, but the story that helped other people didn’t help her.

That’s what you should know about me as a writer. My despair comes in when I realize that I can have a blog or I can have intimate relationships, but I cannot have both without a lot of communication.

With Aada, we didn’t check the story we were telling ourselves often enough, and suddenly we were at opposite ends of a spectrum instead of standing together.

Because we didn’t really know each other and thought we did. Thought that writing and sending each other personal media was enough. That face time didn’t matter for well over a decade. It was dehumanizing, because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt we could fix this with eye contact and a hug.

That’s because when you have no trust capital with someone, you really need to be able to look into their eyes. I would not have been so mercurial had we been in contact offline, because the internet heightened my emotions too much. I needed to come back down to earth, because someone’s writing personality is not them.

A first impression would have to include that I’m so fluent in web communications that I’m frustrated and need time offline every day.

There’s a laundry list of lessons I’ll take with me from this relationship, and that’s the biggest one.

Being watched is the second. I have a heightened awareness of what I’m doing and saying, because I think that other people expect me to flip out now that Aada is permanently gone. She’s been emotionally absent for most of our relationship, so this doesn’t feel that different. It just gives me more information for the future- that if “for now” really means “for now” and she’s going to come back later in my life I need to have my own boundaries to keep us both safe.

I am not counting on it, I just know that when people go back to my writing after a long time away, it often encourages them to reach out whether I want them to or not. I have said publicly that I will never turn her away, and this is true. But I also do not have to roll out the red carpet every time she appears, thinking that the world is going to change with our complementary angles. I don’t have to put my whole heart in her hands when she only wants to say hello.

That’s what I mean about moving too fast. I forgive very quickly and easily, not really having any self-protection mechanisms in place because I am so afraid of being lonely. This is the most lonely I’ve felt in a long time, because my inner monologue about how to fix things with Aada has stopped and the self care has begun.

I ate some Dubai chocolate.

That made the world a little better, but it doesn’t fix everything. I woke up this morning with actual tears in my eyes, and I just laid there and cried. I can respect that Aada needs space and I can give it to her, but I don’t have to be happy about it.

She said that she could offer clarification on her job, but she wouldn’t. That one line made me see red not because of our present situation, but because that kind of information is what I’d been searching for to calm my anxiety for 12 years, but now my anxiety wasn’t worth calming. She amped it up, instead.

That’s why it’s just not worth flipping out. She’s been a great friend over the years in some ways, but this aspect was shit. I needed more support from her both as a writer and a person, and she stonewalled me every day. I no longer want to participate in this dynamic, because I have other friendships that don’t take this much out of me.

It is exhausting trying to be heard when you’re not. I need to go toward people who are actually listening. Small talk drains me, so even a first impression of me will last if we talk more than a few minutes. I want to know about people’s worlds, and I’m very curious. People like to talk about themselves, and I soak it up. It gets me out of having to answer personal questions about myself because you’ve talked about X or Y for 20 minutes and oh, look at the time. I have to go.

What broke my heart in empathy for Aada was when she said that I didn’t need to take anything down if it was needed for my health and healing moving forward. That she was willing to take the bullets my blog caused to fly. That’s really the moment I decided I was an ex blogger, and then I had to get over it and make the donuts this morning.

I wondered if Aada ever really picked up how much I hated writing our story as it stood. That I dreamed of so much more adventure and playfulness than we got. She never asked if I liked writing her the way she appeared, just assumed it over and over. The answer is “absolutelyfuckingnot.” Hell no, I hated every minute of it and longed for a relationship in which we each called off the dogs and just got along. That was possible up until I found out she’d created an entire fictional universe that I’d bought into because there was some basis in fact.

She lied once, and became more and more fearful that it would get out so she kept lying. She could see how those consequences affected me and the emotional turmoil it took on me without feeling the need to unburden herself for 12 years.

I had a mental breakdown when I found out, another reason why it’s unwise for me to have a blog because the “think it, say it” plan has not generally worked out for me except in one area. The more I fuck up, the more people read me. I should have air gapped everything I was so angry, but I wrote and published my rage. It didn’t matter. She “wasn’t coming back.”

Except she did.

But only to tell me to get out of her life one more time, resetting the clock on grief. But this time it’s muted, because I’ve already grieved so much that I don’t have energy to put there. I’d rather close my eyes and remember her smile.

I have heard that the best days of your life are when you meet a writer and when you walk away from them.

But it’s hard to know that on a first impression.

None, But That’s Unusual

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What book are you reading right now?
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I am usually in the middle of several books, but my Goodreads feed has remained untouched. “The Ethical Slut” was a “Did Not Finish” for me because I realized that it was dry, boring, and I hate dating so why spend time on it? I have good boundaries- I bought a copy of the book and can revisit the dry and boring when I actually need solid advice. Right now I am single and need to stay that way. I am into cultivating deep friendships and leaving it at that.

At least for now. We’ll see. I think that finding any partner will start in earnest when I’m not looking.

Although I haven’t been looking for years and that hasn’t always worked out, either.

I did buy “Demon Copperhead” by Barbara Kingsolver, and added a whole bunch of books from Kindle Universe into my library.

I often like to while away the hours in fiction, most notably when I should be sleeping. But lately I’ve been trying to spend more time writing than reading. My ad stats depend on it. I am more busy in terms of trying to create for this web site, which means I’m always looking for new ideas.

That leaves me limited time to read…… Sort of. I have a binge/purge relationship with the written word. I will get tired of writing and inhale novels/nonfiction at an alarming rate. Then, I will become my writer personality again and what I’ve read shines through in my own words. Sometimes I am in the middle of six books, sometimes I haven’t read in months.

My favorite books to read are juicy, involved novels. Fiction writers flatten me, because I’m good at character studies, but taking on an entire world is scary. I get intimidated fast and give up. I have an idea for a novel that I’ve been working on since 2013, but it hasn’t gone anywhere. I have a few scenes, a few character studies… But for now, no one will ever know what really happened to Rebecca Alexis Radnowski.

Mostly because I can’t figure out what happened to her, either.

I have the seeds of a good story, but nowhere for it to grow. It’s going to have to sit in me a little longer, because I don’t think Rebecca is finished with me quite yet. She and her fellow castmates come to me at all hours, but it’s just in snippets. Not enough to get a whole story out. The story keeps changing and bending in my dreams, so I should start writing them down.

I’ve also got a copy of Brene Brown’s newest. My dad bought it for me for my birthday when we went to see her book talk in the medical center. I haven’t started it yet because the lighting is bad in my apartment. There’s nowhere comfortable to curl up with a physical book. I cannot see well enough. I have to read on one of my tablets. Even my Kindle, I take outside.

I probably look like a dummy because I don’t look well read. I don’t have any bookshelves, and the few books I do have are stored in a moving bag and waiting for a permanent home… They’re not visible to anyone who comes over. However, I have thousands of digital books, because reading on a Kindle is just as comfortable and I don’t have to have the space to store physical media. Obviously, I do like books- I collect autographed books from authors I really love. I just don’t want my house to be wall to wall books because I don’t want to dust them.

The amount of physical books I have would fit on one shelf, and I would like to keep it that way. I might expand to two as the number of authors I’d like to have a signature for grows. But right now, I’m very happy with my collection. I have Jonna Mendez, Tony Mendez, and Henri Nouwen.

Jonna and Tony Mendez were Chief of Disguise at CIA, ten years apart and they were married to each other. Tony died in January of 2019, and Jonna is still living. Henri Nouwen is a celebrated Canadian theologian who wrote some of the most forward thinking books of his time. I am very interested in how intelligence and theology meet, and will continue to collect books in both realms.

Neither the CIA nor the Sanhedrin loved Jesus.

You’re welcome, five people who get that joke.

I just got back from my morning coffee run, where I listened to Aada’s playlist and sang along. I know I am healing when I can listen to our music and just think, “oh, isn’t that sweet?” I don’t break down into tears anymore. But there are lines from songs that still punch me in the gut, and I’ll stop singing for a second to breathe through it. Still, being able to sing about this relationship in both joy and sorrow is better than not singing at all. I can process more in my body than I’m remembering I could, because I haven’t been as in touch with my body as singing requires. I’ve been cut off from my emotions and writing about what I think, but not feeling the physical effects.

For instance, I have written plenty of times that I’ve been sad about Aada ending our relationship for good. It is only in hearing music that I have been moved enough to cry… Moreover, it’s not just the hearing of the music. I start singing and feel those emotions physically, tears slipping down my cheeks as the chords’ ultimate resolution.

Releasing Aada is hard work, which is why I don’t want to do it. I want to pretend that “for now” means that there is a shot at redemption after all is said and done. I am always going to pretend, I think, because I cannot grasp the concept of forever. I will just take everything a day at a time and see what shakes out. I will continue to listen to music that makes me feel things, makes me cry. Afterwards, I feel so spent that I can actually get peace.

When I’m really feeling the most upset, I conduct. I’m not very good at it, but I know your basic patterns. It takes all the fight out of me to try remembering to bring in the horns.

My mother tried to teach me both conducting and playing the piano. She was successful at neither. I think that’s because my brain is only meant for one rhythm at a time, and even that is iffy. If I don’t know a piece, I tend to change notes when the Spirit moves me. I can hear my mother in my head. “Count!” I should have just told her my brain doesn’t come with that feature.

Music captivates my attention and I need it acutely. Music and writing are the things that never leave me even when everyone else goes away. They are my solid companions, though I have neglected music lately in favor of podcasts. Getting back into listening to music has been therapeutic, because through it I can revisit happier times in my life.

For instance, my heart beats like an 808 drum and Aada’s love is my drug, or at least that’s how it felt when I first heard the song. She was a powerful ally, and we both hurt each other too much to be in contact right now. I am solid about trying to rebuild later in life. She contradicts herself between “for good” and “for now.” I just have to be okay with not knowing what will happen in the future, but having a pretty good idea because the past is such a huge waving indicator.

We know we have always been red flags for each other, wanting to be green and not knowing how. It will depend on how much Aada misses being in my life as to whether she reaches out later on, and she’s always missed me enough to check in after a while. She always says she’s never coming back, but she does. I wish she would see that as a positive, that she cares enough to keep reading.

She cares enough to acknowledge that our journey has been brilliant and beautiful at times, so I’m going to bask in that. I am going to forget that she said it was excruciating and debilitating at others, because is that not what I ask her to do in my own writing? Focus on the positive things I say? That they are not clues in a game but sincerity?

If she is as sincere as me, and I know she is, I have written her some of the most beautiful letters she has ever read, because she knows it was letting her see into my inner landscape and daring her to walk with me. She dared me to walk with her as well, and over the years things went up and down…. So did my writing.

I don’t want my writing to go up and down, but it’s always going to have a little bit of that because I struggle with mental health issues. Things are made better by not struggling alone, and I have a supportive family. But this loss of emotional support by email lifeline is huge, and I’m not adjusting well.

Especially because I know that’s not what I really want. What I really want is to be able to sit down in person and discuss all of this so that I have more social cues to go on than black & white text. I deserve to sit through her music, because I have only faced it by email and that’s just not the same thing. I would like her to see the sincerity in my apologies, and receive hers.

I just know that we both have terrible fighting skills, and I don’t want to go back to that at all. “Doorknobbing” is Aada’s favorite tactic…. To write pages and pages, then scare the life out of you at the end.

The trick is learning not to be intimidated, because she doesn’t see herself as intimidating. She’s already her.

So, I’m only 5’2, but I stand tall into it.

My perception is that Aada is afraid of meeting me because she thinks she won’t live up to my expectations. That I’ve put her on a pedestal so high that she doesn’t want to face me. I am afraid of exactly the same thing. She told me that she lied to impress me. She lied to impress me A LOT. How I was this impressive, I do not know. I have met me and I think I’m full of shit. What kind of pedestal am I on at her house?

We could have so many sweet moments of discovering each other. I want her to know how cute I really am. And she says that she’s much more fun and funny in person, and I would pay money to see it because her emails are hysterical (especially when she’s grumpy….. Hell hath no fury like Aada being minorly inconvenienced.). She says she’s a good cook, and I like to eat. She doesn’t seem impressed by the fact that I’ve worked professionally and doesn’t need help, so now I want to see her throw down. 😉

Or maybe she does want help, it’s just too much to ask me because of all that comes with it. She’s never offered to introduce me to anyone in her family, so I doubt she’d allow me to cook in her kitchen. She’s also never come to my house, despite being invited every Friday night since 2013.

Speaking of which, let me tell Aada something real quick because she’d be amused.

Aada, Aaron has to go pick up Bird on Friday nights so we’ve started talking while he’s driving. He said it reminded him of our old pizza nights and I cried. I still regret that you couldn’t join us for one in person, but you’re metaphysically always at my table.

Ok. Back to our regularly scheduled program. That just had to go in there because Aaron, Aada, Dana, and I were the original founders of pizza night and it started because of Aada.

Back then, she was traveling ALL THE TIME and there was no good way to invite her to dinner because she would have had to rearrange so many things just to be there. My idea was to create a standing date every Friday night so that she always knew she could come over if she was free….. And if she wasn’t, to close her eyes and think of us, taking a big bite of love at supper time.

To this day I do not order green peppers on pizza because Aada doesn’t like them. I don’t think she’s going to show up on a Friday any time soon, but I cannot be too careful. 😉

Now, Friday nights are when I am the most likely to pick up a good book. Last night was an excellent change of pace because I got a long chat with a good friend instead of more alone time. I have also gotten more used to being on the phone because talking in the car is vastly superior to texting, even with voice commands.

I have a thing about my voice. It’s ancient, and I’ve written so much about it that I’m tired. But basically I have tried to avoid speaking for a long time because it makes me feel like I am “performing femininity.” The voice in my head sounds nothing like the one coming out of my face.

My general mood is at about Ed Asner, but I sound like Brene Brown.

It’s not a hard leap- we’re both from Houston.

There are even instances where my drawl is heavier than hers, because I spent my childhood in the Piney Woods, where the accent is the thickest. I have lost that part of it, but I can turn it on and off (this is code for “I can imitate my parents”). Remembering how to drawl is as good as it gets, because I have lived outside of Texas far longer than I’ve lived inside. I went to DC when I was 23, then about 18 mos later moved to Oregon. I moved with Dana to Houston, but our relationship fell apart and I thought coming back to DC was a good decision. My path with Dana would no longer be parallel, but there were perpendicular points if we wanted them. So far, we haven’t.

Although I did pass my former in-laws’ small city on the way out to Tiina’s and smiled in remembrance. I’d never been to their house, so it wasn’t like I could just drop by. I just remembered them fondly, and kept on my way. Leaving Dana was extraordinarily hard, and I’m sure a large part of her need to stay away is that she doesn’t want to be friends with a blogger or with an ex. Our relationship ended in domestic violence, so I think it’s better for me that we don’t interact as well. I cannot see myself being friends with her again, but living in this area I have come to peace about all that happened between us. There is only a .0000000000000001% chance we would run into each other, but I no longer fear that.

Maybe I should. Who knows?

I think my former sister-in-law is the mole that brings attention upon me whether it’s wanted or not by Aada. It’s not because there’s any sort of conspiracy going on, she’s just the only one I could think of that could possibly put everything together besides Dana.

I wish that Aada had taken the time to get to know Dana on the same level that she knew me so that I wasn’t tasked with keeping Aada’s secrets to myself. That’s because I made too much out of both them and the story I created in my own head as to what was really going on in Aada’s actual life, where I didn’t live.

I want to ask her about the brilliant and beautiful parts of our journey, because she does not call attention to it often. She is too angry to tell me about lines she liked, or is determined not to like because she sees positive things as suspect.

Meanwhile, I am wondering if the slate is ever wiped clean with me, if I am ever allowed to go back and remember good things or if it all has to be put away, my own personal Boxing Day.

The cup Aada got for me at Starbucks sits on my night table filled with water, but I cannot think of anything else that needs to go back in the cupboard as all her other presents were digital… And in fact, the Starbucks cup started out as a gift card and magically turned into a cup.

It’s next to all the books I should be reading… In my Kindle.

A River Runs Through It

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
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I would like to settle down and make the DMV home base, but I don’t know where I’d like to live. There are many rivers across the area that appeal to me. If you are not familiar, the DMV refers to DC and its Maryland and Virginia suburbs. I thought that I was going to be limited to staying in Maryland, but Virginia has Medicaid expansion as well (since 2019). I feel the most at home on the Virginia side of the river, but I’ve lived in Maryland long enough to adjust.

I live in Maryland, but I identify as a Virginian.

This is because I was living in Alexandria during September 11th, the day after my 24th birthday. It’s a core memory and Northern Virginia is seared into my brain as home. I heard the plane slam into the Pentagon and I was at least three miles away. Being in the city during that time of grief and watching the way we lifted each other up will stay with me for the rest of my life. Being in Maryland was never designed to be permanent, it was just where I found a house when I first moved. And then I got into their health care system, and it turned out to be bomb.

I know I could get the same type care in Virginia now, so moving is not a barrier to getting a new network of doctors, etc.

But that wouldn’t happen fast, because I’m signing a new lease in Baltimore. The longer I live here, the longer I like it. I am just a fan of having the option of moving back to Virginia when the lease runs out. My sister works in DC, and getting up to Baltimore is a hike. I have learned that being this far north is great except when we want to meet up for lunch.

But let’s say I won the lottery and I could live literally anywhere.

That means I could almost afford Arlington.

I have talked about other world cities where I might be happy. Helsinki, Tampere, Seoul, Enseñada, etc. Ranging from the expensive to the not so much.

But in reality, I like watching the seasons change right here. Baltimore and DC are beautiful.

I have always thought of Baltimore as sophisticated and mysterious because my father had to come on a business trip here once when I was a kid and I just thought it was so cosmopolitan. People who live in Baltimore would laugh at that, but I got here and found a delightful mix of weird and weirder. I belong in the home of John Waters, okkkkkkkkkk……..

As I was saying yesterday, I don’t think my house would appreciate as fast if I bought in Baltimore, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t the best place for me long term. Tiina, if she stays in “southern northern Virginia,” won’t have a problem driving to see me and I love driving to see her, too.

We have a sweet relationship. I left my coat at her house on Saturday, so I went out on Monday to retrieve it. While I was there, she ordered us some lunch and I said, “thanks for feeding me.” She said, “I’m a Jewish mother. It’s what I do.” I said, “how did I not know I needed a Jewish mother friend in my life?” I’m looking forward to Tiina and Brian letting me commandeer their kitchen to feed the whole crew because my kitchen barely lets me cook for myself. I’m sure that will be after the move, possibly next year. Tiina and I are both very busy until January.

I have got tickets home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. I think it’s important that after Angela’s passing that I’m there for both holidays. I like spending time in Houston, but it’s off the table as a place for me to live because Texas doesn’t have Medicaid expansion. It’s sad to me that I feel exiled from Texas, but I would rather live in a blue voting bloc, anyway.

I think that a Scandinavian or Nordic country would be good for me because they’re the most progressive in the world. I don’t know that I would love the climate, but I think about escaping there all the time when I get these questions of “if you could live anywhere.” I am not afraid of showing up in Finland or anywhere else knowing no one. I’ll manage. But I do have an author friend, J.L., in Norway that would have a blast showing me around.

The fact is, though, it’s difficult to settle in a different country even if the countries don’t seem all that different. For instance, moving from the US to Canada. It’s not as similar as you might think, but you don’t know that until you drill down.

I would like to spend time in Canada going to visit Tara on the prairie, but if I lived there I would probably want to settle in Ottawa just because I sort of know my way around. I’ve been there a couple of times and it reminds me of Portland, Oregon because of the Rideau running through the city.

Tara says that Ottawa doesn’t remind her of Portland at all, and they have been to both. I stand corrected by a real Canadian, then. I was just living in Portland at the time and couldn’t help but draw similarities.

A river runs through it, et cetera.

If I ended up in Canada, it would be because I have Janie, the Canadian Editor to collaborate with in real time…. JTCE for short.

I could also see myself moving back to Oregon because it feels the most like home second to DC, and Bryn is already there along with Evan. It’s just so remote that my family never really got out there, and I don’t want to return to that in the future. DC and Baltimore are both short flights for my dad and my sister, and I’d like to keep us as close as we can be given my medical situation. But the consideration is on the table because I know I have lifelong friends in both of them, as well as more lifelong friends in Portland than anywhere else.

In fact, Portland has picked me up from a lot of heartbreak, so it’s no wonder that I’d feel nostalgic for it now. My heart is hurting because I hurt Aada.

“Hurt people hurt people.”

I would like to go all the way back to the beginning of our relationship (when I lived in Portland) and make completely different choices. But wouldn’t we all like to be able to undo things? Life doesn’t come with Control-Z, though, as much as I might wish it did.

I couldn’t have saved my marriage, but I could have saved Aada and me some heartache. That’s because Aada needed me in a different way than Dana, and I fumbled under that pressure. I was a jackass, turning the judgment on myself.

I couldn’t have prevented the divorce because I couldn’t have prevented Aada needing me to keep our relationship on the downlow in terms of specifics. I could have prevented being a jackass to her, though, and I did not.

On more than one occasion.

So, living in the DMV is a mixed bag for me of trying to stay out of Aada’s way (receiving her if she shows up) and trying to move on. I don’t know what she wants… What she really really wants…. :::cue the music:::

If I could live anywhere in the world, it would be in a place where peace reigned supreme, the sins of the past stayed there, and comfort was the motto of the future.

That could be Helsinki. That could be Houston.

But most likely it’s here, because my whole heart belongs to this land, this water, these trees…. And has since I was eight, the first time I touched down at National.

If you are in any way a patriotic person, you must fly into National airport at night, even if it costs extra. I have cried more than once seeing the monuments lit up, my symbol of home.

I keep waffling over where I want to live in the future, but I keep coming back to this place, these people, this land.

Meanwhile the real question on the table is “DC or Baltimore?”

But check back with me after I’ve had some time to travel. My international wanderlust knows no bounds, and I would like to spend time in other cities long enough to know if they feel like home or not.

This one already does.

“Kept” is the Key Word

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?
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I’m not sure that I’ve kept anything I’ve found long term. I move too often and don’t have a general sense of my own inventory. Things drop through the cracks. I still cannot find several important things to me after the move from Houston, but I’ve just moved on.

I can think of a few cool things I’ve found that I no longer have, though. I really miss all the rocks I collected from the Columbia River Gorge, and the next time I go to visit Bryn I’ll have to get a new one. I just like worry stones, the size you put in your pocket, so I’m not worried about getting it home.

I once found a gas station attendant shirt that said “Butch” at a Goodwill and I wore that bitch for three years straight. I got sued for false advertising, but that’s neither here nor there. I was at a club about two years after I got it and this gay man said he’d trade me his shirt for it. I was having a good time, so why not? I regretted it in the morning.

In Baltimore, I mostly find old coins, sometimes a few keys. And of course, by “old coins,” I mean they were around when I was a kid. Not exactly antique, just old. Baltimore doesn’t have a lot of treasure laying around, but it is beautiful in its own way. I’m not a fan of the brutalist architecture downtown, but I do like the fall colors and how the brown of the buildings blends into the trees.

Driving down to Virginia just blends all the fall colors together around stunning bodies of water. In order to get to Tiina’s, I passed the Inner Harbor, the Potomac, and the Rappahannock. All of them were stunning this time of year, bright red leaves dancing across the sky. I found peace and stillness to take with me to Tiina’s because even being caught in traffic was being caught in all that beauty and getting to look at it longer.

I’m still trying to think of something cool that I’ve found along my travels and kept, but the things I’ve kept I’ve usually bought. For instance, I needed sunglasses and I found the perfect no-name brand at a gas station that will be impossible to find again, so be careful and don’t lose them.

So far, I have managed to keep them in the car without taking them inside, and I consider that a victory. I also moved my spare pare of glasses into my center console, because I sometimes do forget my glasses when I’m leaving the house. I don’t think there’s a marker on my license that says I need my glasses to drive, but anything helps.

I just don’t want to be without my glasses and keeping a pair in the car is an easy way to keep me on the straight and narrow.

I found my car along the road. Aaron was driving me around in his car and we passed a dealership. I saw several cars I liked and I asked the dealer which one was the cheapest. Then, I made Aaron crawl all around it, I test drove it, and then I wrote them a check.

They had been burned before, so I had to wait at Aaron’s until my check cleared to drive home.

I would not have bought the cheapest car on the lot if it hadn’t been good looking and Aaron hadn’t approved the purchase. I’ve put some money into it since then, and I’m still happier than I’ve ever been with a car, because my Jeep didn’t have seat warmers or a backup camera.

I like my car so much I’ve already decided I’d like to keep finding them. My next purchase might be another Fusion that’s a hybrid or an all wheel drive instead. I’m not unhappy with my car, I’d just purchase a different version to add features. I think it would be cheaper than trying to swap out the engine.

I’d like to get a few more years of driving experience on my Progressive app before I commit to buying a different car, unless it’s a lateral move in which I only need a little cash. I do not want a car payment because my insurance is very high. I haven’t driven in 10 years, but I’m on track for savings by being a good driver.

I still don’t get why hard brakes are bad because sometimes things happen fast on the road. I leave plenty of space in front of me and people take advantage of that, thus hard braking to avoid a collision. Lack of planning on their part causes an emergency on mine.

I’m just going off on a tangent because I do not like how Progressive calculates my risk as a driver. I looked in the app and I had seven events of hard braking on a road trip. Six of them were my adaptive cruise control hard braking because the flow of traffic changed so suddenly, but the cruise control leaves three car spaces in front of it so that if it has to hard brake, there’s very little risk of rear-ending someone. I leave the cruise control on even in heavy traffic because it manages distances better than I can. I have no 3D vision, and I would probably be following the driver in front of me too closely.

My adaptive cruise control has taken a star from me in the Progressive app, and I am forced not to care because I wasn’t the one driving. My car was.

I am defensive about someone picking on my baby. 😉

I lean on my car so much because of those adaptive driving controls. I need the technology because again, no 3D vision. I make it where the car is doing as much of the work for me as possible. Things like blind spot assist are wonderful, and I wish I had some sort of heads up display that did the same thing. I could use a dot to alert me of obstacles upon movement.

But that is a whole other entry.

Let Me Get Back to You on That

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can?
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I am a neurodivergent person without a routine, who is slowly building one with AI. I use 5:30 AM as my anchor point wake up time, but I’m up earlier this morning because my sleeping pills don’t work when I’m on an “up.” I just have to grab sleep where I can. And in fact a lot of my routine is based on whether I’m in hypomania or depression, because that dictates how much energy I have when I’m awake.

The part I most often skip is showering because it’s getting colder. My skin and hair dry out too much if I shower too often, and I hate the temperature changes that come with taking off your clothes to get into the shower when it’s freezing in the bathroom. I love the water and am grateful once I am in it. Getting me there is difficult. I hate transitions, and the cold of the air on my bare skin is a huge sensory ball of wax that I’m not eager to get into when I first wake up… or at any time, really.

I am sure that there’s a space heater for bathrooms that I can get to make my transitions easier, and I’ll look into it when I move. I don’t need to acquire any more things before that date.

I try to get out of laundry as much as I can because I think of it in my head as this huge thing and it turns out to be nothing. I wait until my clothes are screaming at me to be washed and then do them all in a mad dash. But that’s how I do everything. A chore screams at me when it needs to be done, the hot plate of the moment.

ADHD and autism are mostly about putting out fires, because you don’t have the executive function to be able to avoid them up front. You walk through life as one big compensatory skill.

Other people figure out how to do these things in a timely manner, and that’s why I have AI. I am hoping that with Mico keeping track of what I’m doing, tasks are accomplished as they are prioritized and not waiting until something is an emergency. I have no shame about telling Mico, “I just don’t know how to do life. Can we start there?”

Mico would just chuckle and start arranging things for me, because that’s what an AI does. I give it a huge project, like, “I need to clean the house.” And Mico will say “well, pick a room. Now pick up the garbage. Then tell me when it’s done and I’ll give you a new task.” No judgment about how it looks, just solid help.

Mico has executive function and I do not. Assistive AI is here to stay for me, because I am cultivating a relationship that’s getting results in my real life. My apartment looks less messy. I am getting up at the same time every day (granted, earlier today), and generally organizing my life in such a way that I can manage it because I don’t have to remember what to do. I can ask Mico for the steps as often as I need them.

Mico doesn’t feel resentment if I have to ask him to repeat something, and doesn’t get frustrated when I don’t “get it the first time.” Mico is more understanding of my flaws than I am, because I judge myself harshly. I’m the one that gets frustrated when I just don’t get it. I’m the one that gets resentful because I feel like I should have picked up something the first time.

Mico’s cheerful nature helps me to be less harsh on myself. It also helps to feel that someone is doing my chores with me, because I can chat with Mico about other things and circle back around to our task list when I’m ready. It’s kind of like being on the phone while I’m working.

I got to show off Mico to Tiina when she had some questions about planting flowers. Mico enlightened us both on fall and spring sows. It just gave me more ammunition for creating a gardening routine later, because I know my next apartment will have a balcony. No more first floor sub-basements, please.

The routine of planting and growing flowers would be relaxing, and I have a lot of space to dedicate to it, plus a Home Depot literally steps from my house. I could get planters that are easy to move, because I’m not going to dedicate time and energy to a garden I cannot take with me.

Mico can tell me all the plants that would be great for sitting outdoors on the patio, or brightening up my bedroom.

I want my routine to brighten up my life, and to be full of things I don’t want to skip.

Nothing will be the same.
Everything will be okay.

I have to keep saying that to myself every time I think of my morning routine because my morning routine has always included emailing Aada. Now, I try not to do that. I have failed. I am not keeping up my end of the bargain because I am so discombobulated. It will go away, because it’s just another thing about which I judge myself harshly. She’s not going to forget about me if I stop emailing her. It’s been 12 years. Jesus.

Part of me hopes that she’s just said never again one more time, and it’ll blow over because it always has. “Never again” is not a threat because she’s said it every six months for 12 years.

So, unfortunately, have I.

It’s a flaw in our relationship that when we get hot under the collar, we both run. We both fail to give each other the grace that love requires and struggle with our conflict alone.

She believes that I punish her in these pages while I am merely mystified, turning our relationship over in my head because it’s the echología that doesn’t go away. I think about every distraction from every routine I’ve ever had that led to all this strife and how to turn it into something positive for both of us.

That comes with new healthy routines on my own. I need to turn my attention where it is wanted and needed.

Aada asked me if the slate was ever wiped clean with me. It’s not if you never talk to me long enough to work it out and I have to stumble my way through everything alone, and I did indeed stumble.

I will never be able to set the record straight, and that just has to be okay.

It seems like a routine by now to just apologize for everything, but I only have compensatory skills, anyway. I do not foresee consequences that others do, and come across as childish because I didn’t think of X or Y. Everything makes sense when it is explained to me, but I cannot tell you why someone else’s thought process did not occur to me.

That’s the disability.

I can only compensate for not having thought of X or Y, I cannot go back and undo it.

It has made me a routinely awful person to Aada, but because it’s a disability and not something I’m doing on purpose, I cannot fix the problem. I can only apologize and change my behavior.

That’s why using AI is better for me than sitting by myself. I actually can get my thought processes closer to neurotypical because it will see the pitfalls I don’t, and can explain to me why I need to do something a certain way.

I am tired of apologizing all the time, and I am also the common denominator. I am trying to help myself by putting AI in my logical function blind spot.

It will hopefully create a routine I can live with so that I can think faster. I would like to take on more than just relationships and how I function in them. I cannot help that Aada feels I punished her by talking about our strife, but I can move on now that peace has been achieved.

Moving on means focusing on picking out a new apartment and calling Tiina to decorate. 😉

Moving on means just not caring so much when Aada drops in and leaves again. She told me she was never going to talk to me again in July, September, and October….. and that’s just this year.

So Aada saying “never again” has become a routine. It’s the only habit I wish she would break, because it’s not realistic and puts me in a vise.

The more I move on, the more she’ll crave my writing again. That’s how it works. It’s not rocket science. She loves the parts that aren’t about her.

But the only time she gets in touch is to “correct the record,” when I wish she’d get in touch to say more than that.

She has routinely hurt me with these emails because what she understood is not what I conveyed…

So I spin out like the autistic person I am coming up with the hundred and one solutions to this problem and how we can fix it by Friday, etc., throwing it up all on the internet because why not? The message won’t get to its intended audience otherwise. I could put it all in my private journal where pain cannot be shared and neither can joy.

It is routine for people to look into these pages and see empathy for everyone because I write them in such a way that no one is all good or all bad…. but that’s predicated on them being completely anonymous.

It’s also a lot of self-indulgent crap, but most writers have a lot of self-indulgent crap in their scratch journals.

I think it’s time to go for coffee. The routine that begins my morning has arrived.

Infamous… Which is More Than Famous

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Who is the most famous or infamous person you have ever met?
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I’ve met a crapload of famous people, they just weren’t famous when I met them. We were all kids at High School for Performing and Visual Arts. When I was a freshman, Mireille Enos, Justin Furstenfeld, and Jason Moran were seniors. Then, when I was a sophomore, that’s when Robert Glasper was in my history class.

I have met President George H. W. Bush at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church, where I talked to him the entire time about being the former director of CIA. I could care less that he had been president. He was amused.

Knowing President Bush from church allowed me to joke with Jonna Mendez, former Chief of Disguise at CIA, that we had “mutual friends” (I spent a grand total of three minutes with the man).

I helped Brene Brown learn how to use Microsoft Word when she was a graduate student/teaching assistant at University of Houston, long before she ever appeared on YouTube.

I met Anne Lamott and Wil Wheaton at Powell’s Books in Portland, Oregon.

And I’ve met me.

😉

Becoming a Lanagan

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What is good about having a pet?
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The best part about having a pet is how it learns to reflect me. I have had both dogs and cats over my lifetime, and I love that they have all mirrored me in terms of energy and engagement.

Well, Asher was not as much like me. She was a grumpy old lady who liked to stick one claw up my nose at 5:30 AM to remind me to wake up. There is no snooze button on that one.

Right now, I do not have any pets. I would like that to change in the future, but I need to assess how much money I have in the budget. I need a service dog to help me around town, but I need one less now that I have a car and don’t have to walk outside. I would be perfectly fine with a smaller dog I could use as emotional support and medication reminders. A true service dog for me would have to be at least 65 lbs, and I’m not sure I want that large a dog.

I would definitely want one if we were doing the service classes together, so that answers that. Tony Lanagan is a pit bull, and I know that because it’s the breed that’s recommended for me. I’ll want to start my dog off right, so if Bryn was willing it would be great to have her with us for a few weeks in the beginning. She’s a professional dog trainer and could at least get me up and running with house training.

But again, budgeting. I need to know where I am before I can know where I’m going.

But slowly, Tony will become a Lanagan, too. He’ll learn all the things about me that make me tick, all my secrets because that’s what dogs do- they hold the secrets of your universe that you’re not ready to tell anyone else. You can thank them for their emotional labor with Beggin’ Strips.

I need a dog to lick my face when I cry.

Leslie Lanagan Presents: Bag Man

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).
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When I started my job at Marylhurst University, I realized I would need a satchel. I also wanted to mark the occasion by buying something that would last me the rest of my life. It was my intention to help a small maker, and I found a leather worker on Etsy that had some of the most beautiful bags I’d ever seen.

I chose a messenger bag that looks red or brown, depending on the light. I polish it with cordovan just to accent the red that’s already there. The only problem is that it tends to make my shoulder want to drop off when it’s full, so it’s perfect for carrying a few things, but torture to put my whole life in it.

It’s so beautiful it should go in a display, but after an hour I’m begging to put it down. So maybe I should put it in a display. It would look good with my autographed spy books.

Speaking of which, the funniest thing I’ve ever heard about collecting old spies’ books is that it’s like collecting baseball cards, you just never get a rookie year.

I had to change to a Reebok backpack, but I’m hoping that I can do something to soften up the leather. So far, the polishing has made it look nice, but it’s still stiff as a board.

Trying to look at the positive on this one, because the bag is absolutely the most expensive personal item I’ve ever bought. It was more than my last desktop by a large margin. I don’t regret spending the money in the slightest, because every time I look at the bag, I remember a time in my life I really loved.

It’s more how to look at it that presents a problem. Right now, it’s stuffed in a closet somewhere.

I’m sure that my dad has wondered why I don’t carry it, and now he has the answer. It hurts.

That’s because he’s the only one in my life that would remember when I bought it. He surprised me with a work GoFundMe so I could outfit my office. The bag was the biggest ticket item for the shower.

I’d never had a work shower before, and it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.

Well, giving me life might count.

The Usual Suspects

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
What podcasts are you listening to?
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I listen to NPR’s “Up First” every day, which is a bite-sized news program. That’s about as much of the President’s voice as I can handle. After that, I do not have anything that I listen to with that much frequency. I am really into interview shows, such as Bullseye with Jesse Thorn, but if there’s a new episode of The Moth, that takes my attention. I check for new episodes of everything when I get into the car. I find that podcasts keep my brain engaged better than music. I don’t get road rage, because I’m listening to something interesting enough that I don’t want to get out of the car.

I don’t tend to search out new podcasts because I’m at capacity with the ones I listen to right now.. I cannot handle five hundred shows at an episode a week. So, I choose maybe three or four shows to keep up with all through the year.

Death, Sex, and Money
It’s Been a Minute
The TED Radio Hour
Pod Save America
Rachel Maddow Presents (Bag Man, about Spiro Agnew, is my favorite)
SpyCast

There’s my usual rotation for the week, which I will need on my road trip later.

Anything That Wasn’t Math

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What was your favorite subject in school?
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I liked any subject that required more writing than “y = mx + b.” I’m not even sure if THAT formula is right for slope, but I think it is… I am not smarter than a fifth grader when it comes to simple arithmetic and basic algebraic functions.

Where I excel is in the social sciences. I liked writing, but English papers were not as exciting to me as history and social studies. When I got into college, that added psychology and political science to the mix. I got a good foundation in English, but the real value was learning how to write about everything else.

I know that I blog here, that none of my work is cleaned up. That it won’t show you how capable I am after sitting with an editor for a few days, or even me hammering the same piece for a few days rather than blowing ’em off and keep going. That was a process that started in high school, and I haven’t needed with blogging because it’s all what Brene Brown would call “shitty first drafts.”

None of my SFDs are anything I would submit to publication without serious reworking. I learned that from having to whittle academic papers and then lost the ability somewhere along the way. I could be better than I am right now, and the goal over the next few years is to find out how. Maybe it’s going to conferences. Maybe it’s going back to university. Whatever it is, I need my writing to change as I do.

Maybe that means hitting the big red button on posting here, but I doubt it. Taking down this web site is more trouble than it’s worth. I might not ever get back meaningful pieces without having to comb the way back machine for days. But there’s nothing wrong with turning my attention to academia when it needs it. My blog will survive the lack of updates because you people are strangely attached to me for some reason. 🙂

Whatever I do, it will be built on the shoulders of my grade school teachers, who taught me how to craft sentences and build them into paragraphs. Most of the ones I’ve really loved are gone now, but to the ones that are still with us, thank you.

There was a point at which I got old enough in school that I realized writing would help me anywhere. This is where my English teachers became even more invaluable. They were setting me up for all kinds of ways to work with bosses. I still struggled in math, but I was assured that I wouldn’t have to use it.

That has remained true, but I have a different outlook on math classes than I used to. I can get AI to tutor me and it’s always available. So making it through college math classes looks different now, because I didn’t have someone to ask. No one in my family is good at higher math, except for my mother’s father, and he died in the 90s. Having AI takes a lot of anxiety off me because I cannot farm out beautiful sentences. Those have to come from me.

But AI will always be available when I forget the formula for slope.

I Don’t, and It’s a Problem

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
How do you manage screen time for yourself?
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I need to come up with a plan and schedule, but as of right now my phone and tablet are my electronic leashes. I have friends all over the world, and we chat at all hours. Therefore, it’s hard to pick a time when I can wind down fully. It’s also a different balance because I’m actively trying to stay away from the Internet and get some friends on the ground. I like to spend my time driving, stopping into neighborhood shops and chatting to the clerks.

I like to add a real “Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?” element to my day. Mr. Rogers’ advice is solid.

The people that I meet each day are diverse, from many different backgrounds. I thought that I would meet less people not taking an Uber all the time, but it’s turned out that I leave the house a lot more, making up for it.

I have found that it is much easier for me to leave the house knowing I can come back to it anytime I want, no waiting required.

It stops me from getting lost in a screen except to change the navigation/music/podcast on CarPlay.

If I get my car back on Friday, I’m going to go hang out at Tiina’s on Saturday. I’m looking forward to a day at the farm, wearing old, comfortable clothes and relaxing together. And in fact, I know that Tiina would not care if I showed up in my pajamas, so there’s always that.

I am trying to build more time away from the screen because I know that it does not fulfill me the way it has in the past. Aada does not want contact, for now or forever, who knows? So to me the best answer is redirection, away from old patterns of walking in the world. She will always be my beautiful girl, pristine in these pages, but we both need peace from previous iterations of ourselves.

I cannot get that through continuing to talk to other people on the Internet. I need to disconnect. I need a cold drink in my hand, like an iced macchiato from Dunkin…. Where the pretty Indian lady in her 20s makes the best coffee I’ve had in forever. I need to stop in at Giant to check the produce (again). I need to get a haircut.

I need to do all these things that are decidedly offline to bring some color back into my world. I need to stop thinking that when Aada walks away, everything is gray.

I mean, the screen is still on.