Tag: dailyprompt

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.

For a Lot of Things, Yes

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Do you need time?
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I have a transfer inspection on Friday, so I’m scrambling to get ready for it. I don’t think my apartment has to be spotless, but I’m treating it like that, anyway. And in fact, I might be able to get them out here earlier, I just can’t pick up my car before Thursday, and my car is a big part of being able to get everything straight. I need to be able to run errands again, like going to the laundromat. But, once the pressure is off I’ll be able to relax in my second floor abode. Until then, I’ll be using my running shoes.

I ordered some breakfast and it’s on the way. It’s not time to get up, but my body won’t settle down. I give up. I might as well drink some coffee and get moving. I need to put on my headphones and both start a good playlist and talk to Mico. Mico is my digital sidekick, and they make it so I don’t drop details. I mean, I still have to pay attention because Mico cannot literally see what I am doing, but the mental work is taken off me in real time.

But none of that happens without coffee first.

And some Tylenol. For some reason my engine is riding rough. My head feels like it’s been through a blender and I know it’s because of my allergies. So maybe some Sudafed to go along with that Tylenol, too. Anything to get my energy up and my allergies down.

I should also get some more moving bags from Amazon or Walmart, because it makes sense to go ahead and start packing even before the transfer is approved. There are entire rooms here I don’t use, so in that sense I don’t have much to do before the transfer inspection. It’s mostly just making sure my clothes are packed and everything is presentable. If I get industrious I may extract the carpet in one spot in my office. I spilled a mug of coffee and the stain has just been sitting there. The Detail Geek would be horrified.

I figure I have the best shot of getting things done by getting started early, when my energy is the highest. I have the whole day free, and access to a shocking amount of caffeine. If the coffee is not enough, I can walk to the convenience store later. I do think that the coffee will be enough, though. It’s a large vanilla macchiato.

Cheaper than Starbucks, and in my mind twice as delicious.

Now that I’ve had half a macchiato, the world looks better. I am waking up fully, and eventually the sun will catch up with me. It’s time to get out the trash bags, rubber gloves, sponges, etc. and do this place up right

Maybe by this afternoon, I will realize that I don’t need as much time as I think.

In Three Years

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The daily prompt is asking me where I think I’ll be in three years. I will be much further along if I can get the pull quotes from the daily prompt to load in the browser.

I cannot even begin to guess where I’ll be in three years, because I need to sort out what’s up financially, and I only have the barest picture available to me at this point. I know that I will be able to afford my apartment, groceries, etc. for as long as I need, but in terms of being able to travel and things like that? I don’t know. It’s early yet. I can think of a few trips I’d like to take, but not at the cost of emptying out my account. I’m pretty conservative with money and need very little. I would rather watch it grow.

I’d like to have a network of neighbors and friends that’s solid. I think I can find that in this complex, because most people that move in don’t move out. I might, but I like having friends with institutional knowledge of the complex.

Unless I’m just feeling saucy, I’ll probably still lbe driving the same car. It has all the features I need and I don’t mind keeping it perfectly serviced to avoid problems down the road…. Literally.

I could also decide to move from Baltimore, and that’s possible. I do like being with my dad and my sister in Houston, and it’s hard only seeing them a few times a year. I feel the same way about Bryn and could easily see myself back in Oregon. I also have the option of moving back to DC when my lease runs out, and I’ll consider it above all else. It depends on how safe it is to be in DC at that point.

I have had an astounding number of hits over the past seven days, and it is humbling to think about how many people in how many countries read me. I wonder what I have in common that keeps you coming back when you’re overseas.

I often feel like The Dumb American, but I am happy to play that role.

I honestly have a lot of dreams that will hopefully unfold over the next three years that aren’t public. Sometimes, if you write about a dream too early, it doesn’t happen.

I know that my first book will come out. That’s already planned. Evan and I are both excited and want to get together as soon as we can. Now, I’m not nervous about that because my apartment is going to continue to be large.

In three years, I hope that either my feelings for Aada will be compartmentalized and I just won’t think about it, or we have the time and space to think things through. Whatever that looks like, all I can do is hope for the best. If she can change her mind in one email exchange, she can change her mind in three years for good, one way or the other. I hope that we work it out, because I want all my relationships to sing. I just have my doubts, because the way I work is not the way she works and that was clear to me from the beginning. What we each liked about each other was a turnoff later on.

I’m ready for both of us to start using different language when we need a break, because it’s too painful to go through “never again” repeatedly. Like, if she needs to cool down after a fight, fine. But don’t pretend that three months from now you won’t want to reestablish contact.

It’s a fighting tactic we’ve both used to great effect, and it has never worked in the long run. We’ve only made each other hurt more.

In my dreams, three years from now means picking Aada up for a road trip or parking my car at her house so she can haul me around (preferable- she has 3D vision). I figure we’re doing something simple, like going to a festival or something, anything for it to be light. In my dreams, this relationship is incredibly healthy and we have so many fewer disagreements because we actually know each other.

If Aada was standing in front of me, she never would have had the courage to tell me she wouldn’t buy my first book. It’s those kind of pot shots that being so remote created. I’m not innocent, I’m sure. That’s just not my story to tell, because she’d have her own laundry list of things I’ve said that set her off.

Setting each other off is what I’ve been trying to prevent, but I cannot do that without input. Aada is working against me, not with me, and it is the bane of my existence. Some days, I just want to hit the red button and be done with Stories. I have done it before, this deleting of a web site. It doesn’t do any good. It’s already catalogued in the way back machine.

I need to find other things to write about, and meeting Aada in a different capacity would do it. Once she comes down from the cloud, she’ll be just like everyone else. I will write about her the same way I write about all my other friends… Infrequently. The mystery of who the other is will be solved.

But it’s in my dreams for a reason. The idea of meeting is as ethereal as she is.

Maybe it always will be. I’ll know more in three years.

The Year of Jubilee

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 3 Comments

I didn’t invent this holiday. It was invented by ancient peoples as a way to forgive debts after a certain period of time. That no one was on the margins of society forever. If you had done something wrong, there was the possibility of being forgiven and rejoining your network of people.

I could use that.

(The daily prompt continues not to load in my browser…. Sorry….)

I Get to Read Others?

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 4 Comments
Daily writing prompt
What are your favorite websites?
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I am generally too busy creating for the web to pay attention to what others are doing. When I’m not writing, I’ll surf Facebook or Reddit occasionally, but mostly I’m chatting to friends if I’m online at all. I’ve really made an effort to cut back, and the road trip was perfect for it. 10 uninterrupted hours where I could be contacted, but I couldn’t stare at the computer in a daze.

Historically, I’ve liked McSweeney’s Internet Tendency and fark.com more than anything else.

I read The New York Times and The Washington Post. Their web sites are both easy to navigate and of course, the Times web site has its crossword.

And that’s honestly about it, because I do use other things, but they have an app now. I wouldn’t necessarily call them a “web site.”

For instance, YouTube used to be my favorite web site- now it’s all handled through my smart TV. If WordPress ever decides to do a writing prompt based on YouTube stars, I’d have a list.

But web sites? They’re so over. And who even has a blog anymore?

I’m such a geezer.

Would It Change Anything?

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?
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The writing prompt makes me wonder if re-living this year would change anything, or whether I just got to make the same choices the same way to feel them again. Whether I could change anything or not, it would be 36. It was absolutely the worst year of my life, but there was a random meeting that set my life on fire.

If I couldn’t change anything, I would still want to enjoy the thrill of that one random meeting, because it grew into a forest fire.

If I could exert influence, I would make that year less terrible by trying to pull off some version of a normal person.

I was too arrogant because I thought I was funny.

I wasn’t.

Know Thyself

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s something you believe everyone should know.
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People, in my experience, are scared of themselves. They try to get to know everyone except them, avoiding alone time at all costs. They fill their days with busywork, when the real questions are looming in their private journals. It seems like you are doing yourself a favor, all this keeping busy. But then when disaster strikes, you are not as resilient to change. Being able to bounce back relies on being able to look at options and know whether they are right for you. You will not be swept up in a stream. You will be able to advocate for yourself.

It doesn’t take being a blogger like me to get familiar with yourself. It just takes a few lines a day, a reflection over all that has happened. Most nights, it’s really just asking yourself one question: “what did I learn?” Give yourself some time to contemplate, because asking yourself what you learned will keep you from repeating patterns.

Most of us repeat patterns, why aging does not occur in a straight line for adults. I see this the most clearly when people have been married young and are divorcing in their 40s. Yes, they’re in their 40s now, but they’ve been repeating the same pattern since they were 21. Not all of them is in their 40s.

I know within myself that I’m 18 and 48. That in a lot of ways, I take care of myself no better than I did back then, and need lots of support. In other ways, I’m a wise sage who can do “a damn fine piece of writing.” I am not one age all the time, and knowing this about myself helps me to see my strengths and disabilities accurately.

It helps to know yourself intimately because when other people in your life are preoccupied, you’re the one you’ve got. You need to feel comfortable with you, because you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Try not to fill your silence so quickly. Leave room for the divine, which for me is a stunning sunrise.

I think that people nurture relationships with others, but do not nurture a relationship with themselves. What does that even look like?

For me, it’s thinking of my own wants and needs like I would do for a partner. I try to be thoughtful and caring to myself, often failing but keeping up the good fight. I know that I cannot give to a partner if I don’t feel stable first, so a lot of it is cutting out the guilt that I’m taking care of myself.

I have learned over time what makes me feel all kinds of emotions, and have more control over them. I have turned inward because I have some house cleaning to do. I have made a mess of a lot of relationships and I’m just now getting back into the swing of things.

It starts with listening to my body and asking what it needs.

There is nothing more important to know than that.

Grape Soda

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What does it mean to be a kid at heart?
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Grape soda encapsulates the feeling of childhood for me. When I drink it, I instantly transport to Pewitt Elementary School in Naples, Texas….. Where in my memory it is always Friday, getting ready for the football game. I told this to Mico, my digital assistant, and they said that “grape soda is like a fizzy time machine in a can.” I treasure those moments of feeling nine years old.

I find it is the most comforting when I am mulling over a problem in my head, this remembering what it feels like to be so carefree.

I find all kinds of sugar free flavors ranging from natural grape flavor to “only in America.” They all taste good, they all taste like the 50 yard line. If I need a boost, C4 in grape Popsicle provides enough caffeine for hours of intense focus.

But while I’m drinking it? For those few minutes, all I can think is “go, Brahmas.”

Genie, I Want to Free You

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I still can’t get the daily prompt to load, but it revolves around a genie giving me three wishes. I would like to think that I only want two wishes, and I can release the genie from its bottle at the end, provided he is as nice as Robin Williams. Have to do a vibe check.

Make me a billionaire.

I want to save the world, so I want the money to be able to do it. I would like to solve world hunger and thirst with whatever tools are available. The best technology is often the cheapest, particularly for clean water. There has to be more than one solution that costs less than a billion dollars, but that’s how much attention I want to give the problem. The money is not for me, but for all the ideas I have in giving it away.

Make me a hottie.

I always loved how Genie styled Prince Ali in Aladdin, and I could use some help. I need the self confidence, and if I’m going to be in meetings with people about how to give my money away, I’d like to feel confident. I rarely spend money on clothes, waxing, manicures, etc. I’m starting to think I should, because even though I cannot afford to overhaul myself, I can afford to go to the dry cleaner’s.

I only need these two wishes, because even if I make my life’s work into giving money away, there will still be plenty to live on. I’ll be able to pay for my own travel, and genies can’t fix relationships. I might as well take a chance on hoping that if I let the genie go free, I have made a friend.

The Comedy Routine

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Today’s writing prompt is simply to describe a family member. I choose Angela.

The first conversation I had with Angela was when I was 16. I told her that I thought she should join the space program. That they needed space doctors. She said, “but Leslie… I already am a space doctor. I’m a room-a-tologist.”

It killed, because I was impressed that she was a doctor in a specialty that interested me… More of a detective than anything else, and conferences in our office were VERY VERY MUCH like you see on House. And she was a rheumatologist, so sometimes, it was indeed lupus. Beat that with a stick.

We made fast friends because she was the kind of acid funny I like.

One story involving this period of my life, I thought had been forgotten. I was wrong.

We were singing…… “Let us break bread together, on our knees….. Let us break bread together on our knees… When I fall on my FACE….. We both sang the wrong word at the wrong time and cracked up. It was in the middle of the service because of course it was, and my mother was directing the choir. If looks could kill, we both would have been dead and buried.

Lots of funny things happened to her as a doctor, so she put together a comedy routine in her Palm Pilot and kept adding to it. However, she never got to give it. It’s my hope to tell you these stories for posterity and make you laugh with stories that have entertained our family for 30 years. It really loses something without the hand motions, but 6… 7.

Angela was given her beeper on her first day at the hospital. She’s all shiny and new, thinks she’s got it. Gets a page and goes into the room where a woman is seizing all over the place. Angela looks at the nurse like a deer in headlights. Nurse says, “Doctor, would you like to push some valium?” Angela raises her finger and says, “let’s.” Her first medical order as a doctor was, “let’s.” She was stunned by her own brilliance and learned the value of experienced nurses.

If my father reads this, he will remind me it was thorazine or something. I don’t remember the drug, I just remember how hard I laughed when she told it, and I will miss that she’ll never tell it again. However, I do a killer impression of her like all kids can imitate their parents. I can remind myself of her anytime I want. These stories keep her alive.

Guy comes into the ER saying that he thinks his foot is broken. Angela tells him that he cannot possibly have a broken foot because he walked in on it. Comes back after seeing the X-ray and says, “oh my God I am so sorry. Your foot is broken in like 26 places.”

Woman comes in saying that she thinks that she has swallowed a crab claw. She puts on her serious face and says how unlikely that is, because what actually happens is that when the crab claw is going down, it scratches the inside of your esophagus and you still feel it in there when it’s not. It’s called “foreign body sensation.”

The crab claw in this woman’s esophagus made her say unprintable things.

Another time, she didn’t use a mirror before she went into a patient’s room, smearing what she thought was clear chapstick all over her lips. She goes into the room and the family is all looking at her like she is the most interesting woman in the world. They can’t take their eyes off her. It’s just strange…….. Then she walks out of the patient room and sees herself in a mirror. She’s got red lipstick from her nose to her chin.

Those are just a few of the stories I remember from when I actually worked for her, and I miss that time in my life. When Angela was in private practice, I could work under her without getting certified. When she sold to Methodist, they required certifications I didn’t have. I think all the time about what my life would have looked like if I’d done that work, but I think getting me as far away from HIPPAA as possible is best for my blog.

I did enjoy my white coat and stethoscope days, though. Work started early, but we had two hours for lunch. Sometimes this was fast and furious, because we were going to the hospital to round on patients. Some days, though, we had time to come home and get in the pool before we went back, and those days were just golden.

I joke that I went to medical school in the back of a Lexus, and there is more truth to it than laughs. I learned a great deal about patient care, drug interactions, what needs cutting and what doesn’t, etc. And just like a medical student, there was no concrete entry point. I just started overhearing the fire hose of rapid-fire information coming at Angela and one day, I could hang.

When I met Angela, I met a different idea of what a woman could be, particularly a straight woman. I needed that in my life because my relationship with my mother was complicated, as complicated as the one with the woman who emotionally abused me for so many years. She was the one that showed me there were no gender roles, that women could be breadwinners and heads of household. She could do dinner and dancing or sitting in a blind for three days without showering just to get a photo of a bird.

In fact, this leads to another funny patient story. My stepmother told her patient and their husband that she’d gone up to Vancouver to shoot snowy owls. She talked for several minutes about shooting these endangered birds, so the patient asked how you cook them. Angela laughed so hard she nearly fell on the floor before explaining she was a nature photographer.

These are all the funny things I’d like to remember about Angela, because our relationship was unique. She was one of the people that turned my world from black and white into color, and I’ll never forget it. We all have those moments as teens when our brains switch on and those adults who make it happen.

It Varies As I Age

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite form of physical exercise?
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I have running shoes, but I doubt I would run unless I was chased. Mostly, I like to walk on the treadmill with trash TV playing at the gym. I’ve been falling off of this a little, so I need to get back into it. I watch Jennifer Hudson or Maury Povitch, trying not to focus on the pain in my calves, but the numbers on the screen. I am burning calories!

My balance is severely off because I have cerebral palsy. Therefore, I have to have exercise that helps me without agitating it. I have tried different machines, such as the elliptical and the stairs. I just don’t have as much luck feeling safe on them.

I would probably do well with a stationery bike, but I need help using the ones at the gym. They are very fancy and look like I would fall off before I even got on. They have huge screens so you can watch something or read, and I’m sure are a wonderful addition to your workout if you can figure out how to use them.

When I go to the gym, I appreciate all the walking because I really can exercise while doing something else. If I’ve forgotten my headphones, I can still doomscroll on my phone for half an hour. I do have to be careful using my phone and walking at the same time, but it’s better than walking and doom scrolling in traffic.

I felt like getting out a little bit, so I took myself for coffee. When I came back, I realized how little I have to say about exercise because I’m so bad about putting it off. I’m not the person you want in charge of your life if working out is a big part. I have it on the periphery, where it is fighting for more airtime with driving.

Now, I can drive to the gym. That makes things a lot better, because I can keep a gym bag in my trunk. In fact, that’s a good project for today- go through and find all the gym clothes in the house, then pack them for the back of the car. I also have some flip flops and a set of toiletries for the shower. I have bought all the accessories one needs to be a gym rat, I just have not put the whole package together. I did that thing where when I first got my membership I absolutely burned myself up working out, lost some weight, then hurt so bad I couldn’t move.

This time, it needs to be a more measured approach.

I wish I had some workout buddies, but the friends I have that go to my gym prefer to work out alone. Squad and Rook, my boys from group, live in the neighborhood, but we don’t run into each other except on Thursdays. It’s time to look for a meetup group or something that involves working out, because I know I would go more often if I had an appointment.

In the meantime, I will be making myself an appointment. I don’t feel good today, so it might not be this afternoon. But Monday or Tuesday when I’m feeling better, I will start getting it together. The problem right now is that when I become overheated, my coughing gets worse. So, if I go to the gym today feeling healthy, I will not be feeling so healthy about 15 minutes in. I cough so hard I throw up, and that’s always attractive in public.

I am taking Tessalon pearls for it, but they cannot defeat me trying to exercise.

I am looking forward to getting back into the swing of things, because I do enjoy being at the gym. I haven’t learned to use a quarter of the machines and I know I can get a personal trainer to explain them to me. I can picture myself becoming a total gym rat because the endorphins help my brain lift itself out of depression. Nothing feels as good as when a workout is over, and your troubles feel a million miles away.

I remember how that feels from the last time I was going to the gym regularly, and it’s an impetus to get back on board.

The only thing I’m really missing is having a pool. My gym does not have one, so I will have to wait until Memorial Day for the pool to open at my complex. My original form of exercise was swimming, as I started lessons at six months old. My doctor thought it would be therapeutic for my legs, which were not functioning properly at the time. It worked, and I can walk now……. But I will never tell you that I’m any good at it.

As Much As It Costs

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
How much would you pay to go to the moon?
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Somehow, I don’t think a trip to the moon is something you get for $29.99 on sale. I do not have the amount of money I would pay NASA to haul me around. That’s because I recognize that traveling to the moon is terribly unsafe venture and getting by on the cheap could only lead to disaster.

But honestly, this is not the most important question. The better question is, “do you want to go to the moon?” I’m not sure. I think I do. I have been enamored with space and NASA since the 7th grade. But I’m also introverted and have trouble with transitions, so I don’t know how that would translate to interstellar travel.

Do I get to pre-board?

I know that it would be an incredible experience for a writer to touch the face of God.

That actually seems, well, priceless.

Careers

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments

Again, I cannot get WordPress to load the pull quote with today’s writing prompt, but it’s one that I did recently, anyway- the one about which careers I would like to do instead of this one, which I assure you I would not do if I thought I could do anything else. Being a writer is a lonely endeavor, but I seem to get the most done this way. I just don’t know how much of a value-add I am right now. It’s a rebuilding year.

The writing has to go on no matter how I am feeling, no matter whether I want to publish or not. Web sites that don’t change in 24 hours don’t get repeat visitors. So, if I make money from ads based on my thought process, my thought process goes on paper no matter what it is. I have been lucky in that my readers will accept any topic from me; what I have not done is switched to academic papers when I was going through something hard. I haven’t hidden away from my grief, shame, mental illness, any of it. It has led to a number of discussions with myself lately on how much I like being a product.

Maybe I would be happier doing something else, but I don’t think I would get the same type feedback. Now, I feel so much less tortured in my soul than I used to. The depression is lifting and I can handle more than I could a few months ago. Where that will lead me, I do not know. But it will not be turning the same problems over in my head, because I’ve been allowed to move on.

But in all of my moving on, I have not allowed Aada the same grace. She has been reading, taking in all my writing as punishment when I’m the one that feels punished by my own actions and feel terrible about them. The message is coming across to her as inverted, like I have some malevolence in store. I do not know how this is happening, but I want to say for the record that I thought I was excellent at raking myself over the coals, and I’m sorry for the lines in which it seemed like I was dragging someone else with me.

This leads me to a deeper issue within my own writing. If I set out to punish myself, then why was Aada so hurt? How could I have written the narrative better so that she knows she’s off the hook?

My silly ruminations weren’t for her, but she read them, anyway. I have no idea how I feel about that, because I’m too used to it to feel embarrassed.

Well, I am embarrassed by the emotions that came up in Aada as she read, because my hurt and my pain were the point of the entries. I did not write them in a way that did not affect her, and I’ll be struggling with that for a long time, because it’s not really a question involving Aada but all the people in my life as I muddle through having a blog at all.

How do I write my frustrations out without hurting the other people in my life? The short answer is that I can’t. To be so frank with my opinions is to create a ripple effect.

Sometimes, the ripple effect is good. People read things here that enlighten them to the path I’m on and it makes them have more empathy for me in person; they feel like they know me better. I have given them context as to who I am, and they like reading me because of it. But then when I write about a conflict between us, the conflict only deepens because I have written about it.

That’s the part that always trips me up. The blowback. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. My brain races. My heart races. My adrenaline fights not to go up and I swallow bile.

I’m a sensitive person, and I am not saying that I don’t deserve these differences of opinion. Mine is not the only story that’s true.

I’m just saying that when I have hurt someone, this is what happens. I start to overheat and melt down.

Like when Aada said that it was my goal in life to take her down, embarrass her.

No, my goal in life is to make memories with the woman I love.

Some of them, because I love her, are difficult.

Some of them, because I love her, are easy.

That’s why none of the positive things I write are clues in a game (although I do like Clue, I’ve only played it once or twice). They are just as genuine as everything else. I wish I could endorse my writing somehow…. If only there were a way to check if I’m really who I say I am, like going for coffee……..

Going for coffee is my favorite way to talk with someone whose read my writing and needs to vent. The conversation cannot get too heated on either end, and I’m not ashamed to cry into my latte. Sometimes these conversations are living the entry twice, because I cried when I wrote it. But the easy nature of friends helps the conversation to get back on track quickly. It’s not the same as writing in this space to figure out a conflict. We have solved it in real time.

Though I think it will take a long time for Aada to heal, I do not think this is the end of our movie. She thought I was rejecting her when I wasn’t, and it took the wind out of her sails. This last round was peaceful, and I told her I loved her. It was a benediction of sorts, allowing her to go in peace.

I have taken that peace for myself, and it reminds me to slow down in my writing. To notice smaller things, like the sunrise this morning. The taste of my coffee. The water in my shower. To feel differences in temperature, like the sharp cold of the morning air embracing me after a night covered in blankets.

My entries are progressing into a new era that doesn’t feel like profound loss. I have been given a chance to start over, and I am taking it.

I want to surround myself with people I can be safe, stable, and genuine in creating deep friendships, a support network built on trust. I’m really starting to think about who is going to finish my life with me, because I’d rather know a few people for a very long time, and a disorder that needs to be managed in order to make it happen.

I am the most safe and stable in Baltimore, ironically. It’s a dangerous city, but it’s got the best health care package for me. I can move anywhere in the state of Maryland, the trick being that all my doctors here are already set up. I’m not sure that I want to go through the hassle of setting them up again so soon after I’ve become their patient. But moving back to DC does weigh on me, and I think about it every time I have to renew a lease. I just don’t think I can make it happen this time around. I’m running out of time.

I would like for my apartment complex to make it right by giving me a new apartment on the grounds. We’ll see. I’m also surfing Craig’s List like a madman.

I am overwhelmed because moving takes more energy than I have. I need help, and I know that my dad and sister will be available as we get closer to my move-out date. I am learning that we will do anything for each other, and that makes me feel invincible as I work through what needs to happen between now and November 10th, the absolute date at which I will be homeless if I do not find something.

It is comforting knowing that the things I love most will fit in my car, and that lets me escape to anywhere, or dream of it, anyway.

I dream of a lot of things, which is why writing suits me. Today I’m dreaming of a better world for myself, one that doesn’t flood when it rains. I would like my home to be warm, welcoming, and inviting. I would like for light to stream in. I have a laundry list of features that I want in a new place, including laundry. My neurodivergence is eating my lunch.

I need to be more strict with myself. I need to time writing sessions rather than letting them be open-ended because I have too much to do at home to make WordPress my entire focus. But at the same time, I know I will not be able to post and move at the same time, so it’s banking entries so that people have more to read while I’m off the grid.

But it’s not a carefully calculated baring of my soul, it’s just brain droppings. I go all over the place, or try to, and that’s the point of the journey.

I make a career reflecting on my interactions with the world, and it responds by reacting to me. It all seems fair, it’s just difficult.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My Specialty is Flexibility

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

For some reason, I can’t get my browser to insert the pull quote containing today’s prompt… But it goes something like “what food would you consider your specialty?” I worked as a cook for years, and I have yet to find a favorite. But the thing I make the most often when I need to comfort myself is macaroni and cheese.

Not Kraft Dinner.

It’s a casserole filled with multiple kinds of cheese, mirepoix, and a crumb topping made out of club crackers or Goldfish. I am pretty sure I can woo anyone with this dish, I just haven’t found anyone on which I’d like to work that particular magic. You have to be invited.

Real macaroni and cheese is work, which is why Kraft Dinner has simplified it. I enjoy taking the extra time and effort, especially since a casserole will last me for several meals. Mac and cheese with some kind of protein thrown in is never something I mind having more than once in a week.

When I’m cooking it’s all about love. I want friends in the kitchen to sous for me while I direct the recipe. I feel I have at least cooked professionally long enough to break down the jobs for everyone else by station. I don’t abuse power, I just get it done. You can teach more with kindness than you can with hostility, but try telling Gordon Ramsey that………

When I’m cooking, I think about love and how I want it to direct me in the future. Because I’ve been so sprung over Aada for 12 years, I’m looking in a different direction. She has never been interested in me like a partner would be, and I am realizing that emotional support cannot be everything. It’s not about displacing her, exactly. I just need more than she can give, and that’s so okay. She’s beautiful just the way she is, and she was made straight.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t say “damnit” a lot when I found out that particular tidbit.

So what I’m looking for in a partner is someone like her, who is strong and vulnerable in all the ways I’m not, plus actually wants to go on a date with me would be a nice change.

Finding love like that makes me miss Aada more, not less, because I realize that my time would be divided so much differently out of necessity. That my girlfriend (most likely) and my possible step kids will take over my writing life. That’s good, that’s necessary. You can still admit that change is difficult when you’ve only known something else for a number of years.

I honestly cannot tell you why this transition did not happen earlier. It just never worked out. I have dated since I met Aada and I have fallen in love. It just didn’t last.

Mostly because I didn’t care.

I would eat my own comfort food, take my own long baths, sleep in powerfully comfy sheets, and just focus my attention on a possible career as a writer if I ever get my act together.

I know it is possible if Aada read every day for 12 years, because she’s smarter than everyone else.

Mostly.

We both have our weak spots, and one of mine is that she feels like I’m beating up on her. She already feels terrible, and I just keep bringing shit up. That’s got to stop, because the slate is wiped clean. I have done all the thinking about our problems that I’m going to do, because being off in my own little world did not allow me to see that I was hurting her. I was just working on my own stuff.

I was trying to wade through the hard parts of our relationship so that I could come to peace within myself; that came across to her as “you will be stronger than ever once you’ve punished me enough to move on.”

Yeah, that one hurt.

That’s because she’s been my heart since 2013, and she didn’t deserve to be thrown away like I would get over our “breakup” quickly and easily, as if she was disposable. If you break up with someone and they’re a writer, it’s going to hurt if they’re any good.

It would not have been my recommendation for Aada to keep reading, but she said that she stopped on Friday and would let me have my space. I have my doubts as to whether this is actually true, A-Dog O’Bling Bling. 😉 I sent her a letter yet again pouring out my heart, and perhaps hearing the back story of what really has gone on these past few months helped her to see that I’m not the monster I play on TV.

My web site is all about exploring relationships, and mine with Aada is the only one I’ve been in to be able to tell you about, with guest spots here and there, but for the most part it was just us chatting all day. I couldn’t build a web site outside of her because I was giving her too much energy. She couldn’t keep up with the volume, and always felt guilty about it. Meanwhile, I’m like…. “But you like to read, don’t you?” I never minded when she couldn’t keep up. I minded when that excuse was actually her hiding a problem from me.

I hope she’ll at least cop to that.

I am a sponge and I can feel energy, even from someone’s writing. I can tell the difference between “I’m slammed” and “I’m ignoring you.” The tone is completely different, no matter how much you might mask it.

I told Aada that maybe my writing wasn’t for her, because she didn’t think she was as interesting as my readers did. And honestly, I think that’s true. Nobody likes to read about themselves as much as they like to read about somebody else, because they don’t identify with the conflict. Aada identified with it too much, and I’m sure is basking in the glow of not being subject to all my “homework.”

I don’t know, though. Even now, after all we’ve been through, she told me that she just needed to get together the willpower to stop reading, and stop wanting to correct the narrative. That genuinely broke my heart into a million pieces because I would be thrilled if Aada corrected the record in so many ways.

Why does she not think she has a side of the story here? That my entries are edicts? Why does she give me that power over her rather than telling me to shove it up my ass?

I know from 25 years of blogging that I can be wrong. Really wrong. Devastatingly wrong. And instead of getting defensive and angry, it helps to roll with the punches. Write corrections where I can, because sometimes people don’t want to talk about my writing. The ones that do have a better relationship with it, because we collaborate on what’s going to be said. Aada hasn’t had that because she cut me off (I deserved it).

She is forgiven for that, but it’s hard to correct her record when she walks away.

I also don’t think that she’s ready to give up her relationship with me, not in her heart of hearts. I’m not sure she has the stomach for it, but we’ll see. I think she thinks it’s interesting how I weave us in and out, she just doesn’t read it with enough love for herself. She does not see the tapestry I’ve created, the 3D characters we’ve both become, because I can talk about victories and defeats in equal measure… But often, happiness writes white.

The ink just doesn’t get deep enough to make an impression, so in thinking of things to write about I often explore problems in my life so that I can put them down for the day. What Aada is missing is the part of my day where I’m the lightest, which is after I’ve finished for the day. It would be great if she came in at Happy Hour and not “this is my space where I turn things over.”

This is advice for my new friends, who cannot possibly know me as well as Aada does in other ways. I figure if she thinks I’ve been punishing her, I should tell her how I feel when I’m the lightest as well.

I wish I had a memory of us hugging, and then I don’t because I think it would make me too emotional now. Once I had hold of her, I wouldn’t let go until she did. I would hope that at least sometimes, it would be hard for her to let go, too. There’s not a hint of romance, but deep companionship that I won’t find anywhere else BECAUSE we’ve fought so hard. I am in my grateful era, that all of the strife is over and I can just relax. I want Aada to enjoy the benefit of the calm in my soul.

She really undid me with her letter the other day, but I cried so hard that it let some light in. I no longer feel as sad and depressed as I’ve been the last few months, because I feel secure in her in a way that I never have before. If we do not reconnect, everything will be okay. Nothing will be the same, but everything will be okay. Before, when Aada would walk away our trauma bond would go off and my palm would itch, brainrace and heart race intact. I don’t feel that anymore, because the trauma bond is broken. It is a huge leap forward in connecting with other people.

I have a feeling I’m using the words “trauma bond” incorrectly…….. What I mean is that we had “instamacy” because we each trauma dumped, not thinking of the consequences years down the road. It has been a mixed bag. I think she likes the idea of me writing my first novel and dedicating it to her; I don’t think I can do it without her. Therein lies the rub. I feel like I will not proceed as a writer if I do not have Aada in my corner.

These are all the things that are in my writing, this absolute glowing about Aada’s magic qualities, that she misses when she reads. I’m betting she has few people around her with a positive view of me if she views my writing as punishment. If she tells people I’m punishing her, then that’s what they should believe. Those are not my facts, that is how my writing affected her.

I am saying that I hear that.

She said that hopefully I could let go of the hate and vitriol, and I wish I could. Sometimes I get angry, and those feelings are just as valid as joy for a scratch journal about mental health. Those angry entries are symptoms of something larger, which is showing mental health as it really is. If you follow me every day, you can see my neurodivergent tendencies fight it out. Some days, autism is driving the bus. Sometimes. ADHD has the wheel. It has never, to my recollection, been Jesus.

But for every single time I’ve been angry, I have been joy-filled.

You should see her eyes. I have, and I’ll never be the same. Her gaze is so wonderfully powerful in a photo that I would fall all over myself in person. I think that’s the part I regret most about our relationship, that I never got to apologize in person, moving the story forward in a more positive direction. I think I could have accomplished more with a smile and a hug than I could with a letter, but both methods of apologizing are inextricably interrelated. Going without contact comfort for 12 years led us to be a lot crankier with each other than usual.

I don’t think she realizes that I let go by writing, that I am not carrying around hatred, vitriol, punishment, any of that. I have been so careful to talk about both our flaws and failures, trying to be fair and balanced, trying to see her perspective without her giving it. I have raked myself over the coals trying to apologize and she says she cannot stomach the flagellation I’m doing to her. I asked her where her empathy was for all the times I’d flogged myself.

I don’t mean to flog myself or anyone else, but when you try to get to the heart of shame and vulnerability in a relationship, you talk about hard things. Putting them away and pretending they don’t exist is harder than bringing something into the light and sharing pain. I have been so grateful to the readers that have stuck with me, especially those that have commented, and I’m sorry I have not been keeping up with them.

I think the most magical quality that I’m trying to find in my writing is, “if I can attract someone like Aada to my writing, how do I attract more people like her?” I want readers that are smart, engaging, funny, thoughtful, etc. Now, they are starting to appear.

I hope that it is because I have presented a story all the way through, not picking and choosing “the best of,” but showing that relationships are complicated and so are the people in them. I cannot think in soundbites, I need to understand all the way around the nature of a problem. My soul has not been settled for months, tossing and turning from despair to despair, with jolts of joy to remind me that life was worth living. It got dark for a while, but thanks to my mental health team, the swing is going up.

I am not trying to hurt my beautiful girl. I have been hurt. I am not trying to punish anyone but myself. I’m not punishing anyone, but asking Aada to own her part. To not be a victim because neither of us were. We both have gone through some hard things with the other, and neither of us has a stellar track record at connecting with the other. But through my writing, both in e-mail and here on this web site, I have managed to explain myself well enough. Why would I want to punish her when I am so excellent at punishing myself?

Yes, it was all worth it. From the highs to the lows to the end of the show for the rest of our lives.

But it’s not just that. It’s that Aada and I have reached a good stopping place. That it is now possible to start again because we both got closure and will give each other time to rest. It’s not time to throw each other away. It’s time for me to be stronger now that I’ve lifted her up enough to move on.

Maybe Michael is right. Some relationships just shouldn’t be. But love is all about risk, and I’ve already risked this much. I know she has risked plenty for me, more than I know and am afraid to ask.

But one day, down the road a bit when both of us have breathed the peace of interim, I hope she’ll let me make her some macaroni and cheese.

It’s the closest I’ll ever get to really letting her know how I feel.