You get some great, amazingly fantastic news. What’s the first thing you do?
I have problems with transitions, and even if something is good, it takes me a while to adjust. I seem like that’s not true, like getting a while hair to move to DC. I hated leaving DC from the moment I left. It was not a bad move to come back, it just took me about three years to really settle down and feel like I had roots.
Living here has been a lot longer than I ever lived anywhere as a preacher’s kid. In the Methodist church, they’re “rated.” You don’t get more money from the same church, you move on to a different one that pays more….. which generally means bigger problems, but that’s neither here nor there. I could write an entire blog entry on the way I’ve seen parishioners behave with all religious piety- the letter of the law and not the spirit.
So, I could see those things on a small scale until we got to Houston and Sugar Land. It got bigger. More people to minister to, too many people who weren’t sure about us because we were new and the last pastor, no matter what, walks on water. Because of this, we all got the hell out of Dodge the moment it was time to move, because you never wanted to seem like a threat to the pastor that took over for you in what’s called “move day.” I only remember the exact date for Houston, because it was the day before I met my emotional abuser (we moved on a Saturday).
In order for their to be continuity across churches in the conference, everyone moves at the same time. There are exceptions to this, like when my dad received an emergency appointment because of the previous pastor’s death. But on the whole, it’s in the summer when things aren’t as busy, anyway, and it’s amazing how efficient the system is. I never had a parsonage that was full of things that were left behind.
They’re furnished because with parsonages, you really only carry your personal effects when you move. It’s a huge cost savings, especially for very small churches who can’t afford to pay their pastor much. Not everything has been my style or color because generally people furnish it with their old stuff, the “Dear Aunt Sally” collection at Goodwill. Naples was the first house that was perfect from the beginning, and Sugar Land made it perfect because they asked me what I wanted.
I wonder if the walls are still pale yellow (I accented everything with sunflower paintings, pillows, etc. I was inspired by the Elizabeth Arden perfume bottle. Of course I was in 1994).
I was lucky in that my father took me along for many meetings, visiting “the sick, the friendless, and the needy,” and consoling people whose relatives had died. I wasn’t around for this one, but I only remember one instance where we lost a child. It is felt by the whole community, particularly an empath.
She wasn’t even a member of our congregation, but in small towns, you’re everybody’s pastor when they’re talking to you. One person who talked to my dad a lot was the principal of the elementary school. They liked each other, I wasn’t a “problem child” all the time. In fact, the worst time I ever had in school was when a boy tried to kiss me and I punched him in the face.
That same principle walked through the reception area saying, “Leslie, I don’t condone fighting and this is not acceptable.” I’m sweating bullets as he closes the door. Then, he says, “I keep pencils in my desk for people I think have shown courage…. and they are some very special pencils.” He was bluffing, and also he knew what was up. Of course you hit a guy that tries to kiss you without your consent. It is the way they receive information the fastest because since men are angry that’s what they do. The principal knew that, which is why the loss of “our child” was so devastating for the entire area, not just the people that were closest to him.
Melanie Allen was a fifth grade student who was invited on a class trip to the principal’s house. He lived on a lake, and had a barge. Everything was going perfectly until Melanie realized that swimming looked so easy everyone could do it, and jumped off the barge. She started struggling quickly. The principal jumped into the water to save her, and had to let her go when he realized that unless he changed tacks, they were both going to drown. I don’t know what happened, but what I do know is that the principal survived and Melanie didn’t. The principal was absolutely blameless, because I’ve heard lifeguards on This American Life that not every one is a good save.
I can’t imagine the grief that comes with surviving something like that, but he learned to deal with his demons and was very good about boundaries so that we were as protected as we could be.
I tell that story because to me it illustrates how much pain I’ve taken in since I was a child that didn’t belong to me, and now I’m trying to shed it to be my own person….. and I feel more me than I’ve ever been because Zac and I are stable, Lindsay’s dropping in a lot of the time now, and my house situation is going to get resolved one way or the other because today I cleaned up hair dye. If I’d gotten a chance to talk to Bryn, that’s what I would have told her. Maybe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel because I am finally getting someone to notice that I’m doing all the work when it comes to taking care of common spaces.
I had to finally get tired of not being heard, and finding people who will listen is the thing that makes me the happiest. I do not need people to agree. I just need them to hear me out. I will always hear you out, because hearing and listening are sometimes very separate things. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder…….. what if I know that this amazing, wonderful thing will only be good for me and not my partners/friends/family/etc? I want the shiny thing, but I’ll brood for hours over any benefit to only me because I don’t want to come across as demanding or undeserving of anything.
I am way too hard on myself, but that’s probably because I know that there’s got to be a combination of words that will unlock my mind. I will find the secret to life, the universe, and everything. Because I’m neurodivergent, I’ve had a lot of emotional moments where I thought I was saying something new and exciting, but the way I said it made it seem like a bad thing…… when in reality, that’s my own social anxiety talking and unfortunately I am passing the savings onto you.
I have so many stories that have sad elements to them, because everyone is fighting a battle you don’t know anything about. I just tend to hear a lot of them, often, because I have that vibe that says, “tell me anything.” And people do. Sometimes it turns out great. Sometimes not so much.
Part of it is me; I am not always the same person in terms of where I am in terms of depressed or manic, meltdown or burnout, etc. I have so few moments of feeling well that here’s the good part about seeing pain on other people’s faces. I am grateful for what I have, and those I love….. and even when I don’t have two nickels to rub together, I have people who love me. Even when I’m not of sound mind and body, I still have people who love me.
It doesn’t make me feel better about transitions, though. I need time, and then you’ll know that I’m truly content. For instance, of course I want to go to San Diego with you, but I’d like some notice. If I got the news that I was going to San Diego, that would be one of those things where I’d call Bryn, the thing I do when I get the most excited about something.
The flip side of being able to deal with so much hurt is being able to take in joy as well. I will try not to panic in the moment, but I have a different perspective than I did when I was young. The first is that given enough time and space, I can make it through anything. That includes things that are supposed to blow my mind and make me happy- I will be, just give me a chance to take it all in.
I do not live for the bad moments, I live for the good. I try to find it, but my stories don’t always go down the road where there’s gold at the end. Happiness always writes white, as if the ink isn’t dark enough to make an impression. I have a tendency to delve into the dark so I can get a lantern in there. I also need to be reminded to look up, because my mind is a very busy place.
Going to see Charlotte Cardin was a great experience and I loved it. However, a live concert would not be my first choice to go out because of the noise, lights, etc. Therefore, it was wonderful news we were going, I was excited for weeks, then wanted to back out because of social anxiety until I put on my “honey badger don’t care” face and got my happy ass to the train. Sometimes I have to straight up say out loud, “you’re being ridiculous.”
It was Lindsay. It was my city. It was my kind of music. Charlotte is Canadian and it was her first American concert ever.
Still almost missed it because I didn’t have enough spoons. Luckily, I generally get a second wind. But if I get home, I do not have enough energy to go back out because generally, again, transition time.
The hardest part of this growing up is that my mother had a very specific idea about the way I should look and it took time in the morning. My dad would be like, “I have a wedding/funeral/visitation to do this afternoon. Want to come?” Of course I did. Free food. “What time are you leaving?” “Oh, I think we’ve got about 15 minutes.”
15 minutes to do my hair, pick out a dress, and hope I left with the shoes on the right feet. I wanted to go to the wedding (or whatever, this happened at least two or three times a month), but not having any transition time made my anxiety go through the roof. But then I’d get to where we were going and be okay again……. after I’d had some time to get used to my new environment.
The second thing I do is pour myself a drink. I need to relax, because we are celebrating. I don’t think I’ve ever done a toast with Sugar Free Tang before, but that’s what I’ve got.
Tomorrow is an exciting day- Air & Space with Lindsay and then it’s date night for Zac and me. There’s also a possibility that I’ll get to see her more than once because she’s staying in the NoMA area (which I always pronounce with a HUGE Boston accent like when Garciaparra played for the Red Sox).
And the first thing I did was tell you, so maybe that’s the real lesson in all this. What’s the first thing I do when I get good news? Share it with the community who has come to love me and my weird little life over the years.
But again, transition time. I haven’t had a boyfriend all that long. It’s taken a year for me to even get used to the idea that this is a real thing. He’s so unfailingly kind that I know he has my back, and I feel the same way about him.
Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
When I was a child, I had eight Cabbage Patch dolls, a “Kid Sister,” and an ALF plush (that was probably the worst thing I’ve ever given away). I didn’t like playing with dolls, but I liked having them around me as comfort objects. For instance, I did not make up elaborate stories about them. I enjoyed that they took up space in the bed. The last doll I loved was SpongeBob, probably the second biggest thing I’ve regretted giving it away because it wasn’t really a doll. It was more like a structured pillow, and I shouldn’t have cared that pillow was yellow and absorbent.
The last time I remember holding it clearly, I was in the hospital at Inova Fairfax, where I was being evaluated for appendicitis. There were too many people in the ER, so I got put out in the hallway and given something for the pain. It was very scary, because they got pretty close to prepping me for surgery (or it seemed to me, because they kept waffling). Then, they realized that I have a birth defect in my intestines (or something, I can’t remember…..) where there’s a hole that can get infected. It presents like appendicitis.
I don’t know why I stopped loving dolls as comfort items. Probably because I didn’t want anyone to look down on me and I feel everyone’s eyes everywhere… and I did.
I would be remiss to mention that Dana went to Build-a-Bear and built me a stuffed cat in her clothes with a voice recording in the paws and it still took me two years to figure out I should marry her. God, I’m such an idiot….. or at least, slow on the uptake.
But that was when I was older, maybe 27? At that point, it became a display piece to keep on my shelf, and it was a very cool one. I think I would have been happier using it as a comfort item, but “I was too old for that.”
I gave up dolls as comfort items until I moved to DC. My dad sent me a stuffed “Postman Pat” that I got in London when I was nine. It’s the only thing I own that I kept after the fire. I do not know what got him clean, only that he could use a little more stuffing but otherwise he’s perfect. Now, when I’m anxious, I do have something to self-soothe and I’m not denying myself anything. That Postman Pat doll is so rare that I’ll never find anything like it. It’s not a plush, it’s a fully knitted postman. I could not afford it in 2024.
But other than Postman Pat, I have given up the need to surround myself with comfort items when I sleep….. unless you count my tablet and phone.
I used to love science as a kid, watching Mr. Wizard on Nickelodeon. Then, science became too complicated when they added math. It sucked all the joy out of learning, which I have re-found with documentaries, professional and on YouTube. It is fun to learn facts about science. It is not so fun to sweat over a chemistry exam. Therefore, my interest in science tapped out at about 8th grade, and I didn’t think it would return.
I think that’s why so many people are interested in podcasts like “Science Friday” and “Hidden Brain.” They both unlock science in the way that a layperson could take it in, and the TED and TEDx stages are very good at this as well.
Speaking of which, the first time I learned of “TED” was during Kathy Griffin’s “Life on the D List,” where she pressured Steve Wozniak in to taking her. Dating the Wizard of Woz was planned for TV, and I think Woz already had a girlfriend, he was just willing to play along. I love how she was surprised that Woz’s favorite restaurant is “Bob’s Big Boy.” Apple fame didn’t turn him into a completely different person. I bet he still plays with technology in his garage.
As would I, if I had a garage. I’m great at fixing desktops and laptops (and could learn to take apart phones, I’m just scared of both the glass and the glue currently). I’d also like to learn how to bend acrylic to install water cooling in a PC. I don’t advise it, I just want to do it because it looks cool.
I know this is getting off-topic (but what’s new?), but I don’t advise water cooling your PC unless you are dedicated to maintaining it like an aquarium. The distilled water/liquid coolant needs to be serviced, as well as making sure the seals keeping your PC water tight are still intact while the loop is empty. I air cool because I don’t want a pet.
Although I assume that if I had the money to buy such a gaming rig, I’d have enough to pay someone else to do it.
Besides, the air is always chilly in the house because either it’s already cold outside or we’ve got the air conditioner cranked down to Santa’s Workshop. My PC is mostly passively cooled. You can hear the whoosh when it boots up, but most of the time it doesn’t run because the air it takes in is already chilled. It’s why server rooms are kept so cold.
Computers are an interest I’ve never given up, and not because I can get down into the details about how they work in terms of capacitors on the motherboard, or how to program anything. I like figuring out problems, especially other people’s. It’s an ego stroke to walk into a room, spend a few minutes talking, and at the end the other person thinks you’re a genius. I’ve done that at many jobs, and that’s the fun part.
The not so fun part is that sometimes the problem is that the computer is not on, and someone ends up driving because they access the server remotely. They have been assured that the computer is fine, nothing’s wrong with it, of course they’ve checked to see if it’s on. How dare we not think of something so simple? You’ll just have to figure it out on your own. If you walk into that situation, the magic of seeing you hit one button is the same, it just doesn’t match up to the agony of driving for sometimes hours without really being given adequate compensation or a real thank you, because a lot of the time shit rolls downhill when they realize what idiots uninformed users they are. It’s not fair, but it is what it is.
It’s the same on a college campus, particularly miserable when it’s in Houston because nine times out of 10 when you arrive at a building after walking between a half and two miles, you’re dripping with sweat at the walk, the heat, and the 99% humidity. I’ve been in a bad mood over a printer that wasn’t on and getting a huge sunburn for my effort.
But sometimes, people are really grateful and if I didn’t love that part of it, I wouldn’t have stayed in IT so long. Over time, it just became draining when cooking gave me energy. I began to put more and more energy toward it because I actually loved it and I didn’t care that I only made pennies. It was worth it to be able to live Anthony Bourdain’s life for a while. I’d never understand him to the level that I do if I hadn’t worked in several kitchens where the lingo is all the same.
I left behind the professional part, but still enjoy impressing my friends. I don’t do much in the way of impressing myself because I prefer to keep my sensory issues down. However, I am definitely making myself a pesto and tomato pizza later. I took my Adderrall yesterday and the appetite suppression hasn’t worn off yet.
I’ve lost interest in food, and that love is so big it took over my whole life, and I do not regret it now. Maybe one day I’ll write a non-fiction piece that will revolutionize the culinary world. Well, “revolutionize” might be a step too far, because that depends on whether it resonates with the public and not just the service industry. But Bourdain has proven to me how he crafted his narrative, and how mine crosses over in a big way.
In “Road Runner,” I realized that we lived the same life. Wake up at noon or one, then prepare for the day and get to the restaurant early because “the mise” sucks when you’re under pressure to get it done. Then, you are balls to the wall until almost midnight, and then it’s time to go home and write. “Kitchen Confidential” was originally a short piece in The New Yorker. He was writing detective and spy novels then, most of them becoming actual books on the shelf. The adrenaline of writing all night is unparalleled, like Mike McD in “Rounders.” You buy in at 8:30 PM and all of the sudden it’s morning.
I showed up to work dragging ass a lot of the time because I was in a moment that I know I’d lose if I went to bed right at that moment. ADHD doesn’t lend itself to remembering an idea.
It’s a lot easier to write about the kitchen in retrospect than it was in the moment, because I was already exhausted. Exhaustion is why it takes my chef friends to jog my memory.
I didn’t so much stop loving it as I stopped participating. I genuinely wasn’t strong or fast enough. When I was cooking alone, it was the most hell I’ve ever experienced. I can do it because I’ve had to do it; it’s not my favorite.
Now, I do the thing that I’ve loved since I had a computer in my room since I was nine. I figure things out. I write text files. I play games, they’ve just gotten more complicated over the years….. so much so that I only understand two of them (Fallout 3 and Skyrim, respectively). Now, I’ve played them both so many times that I’m tired of it and wanted to install Ubuntu as a dual boot. I crashed my system because for some reason it crashes a lot of systems like my mini-PC. I don’t know how to fix it, because for some reason, my NVME is not set as “Drive 0.” That belongs to my SSD. So, if I want to install Windows on my NVME, it installs system files on my SSD so I can’t use it for anything. When you add a Linux partition, it will screw up both your Windows and Linux boot.
And that’s what I’m dealing with right now as I pull out my hair. The cable I bought for my 6 TB mechanical drive is not working, even though the hub is powered from the wall. Linux can see the drive, Windows can’t.
It’s so maddening. I’m going to go drink flavored water about it.
Because I’ve given up many interests due to lack of it feeding me. Computers are the one thing that make me feel powerful.
I like the pack of Twizzlers that comes in “rainbow” because I like the lemon ones best……. and who doesn’t like calling them “homosexual Twizzlers?”
I can’t make a whole journal entry out of liking lemon Twizzlers best, but I can tell you some of my other favorites.
I like to mix a pack of Tropical Mike and Ike’s with a box of Good and Plenty because tropical fruit and licorice is a good flavor combination. I sent a picture of this to, I believe, The War Daniel, and he said, “WHAT ARE YOU ON?!” My bad, maybe the pic was too close. It did look like a pile of uppers and downers, just to be fair.
I like chocolate covered pretzels, both alone or chopped up in ice cream. I like the ones from the bakery at the grocery store better than anything premade, because these have to be five times the size of the pretzels you get in a bag of Flipp’d. If Safeway is out of pretzels in the bakery, I’ll get a tub of them at Whole Foods. They’re smaller, but also come in yogurt, my other favorite. Best buy two tubs because you have to mix them together………….. and now I’ve just spent $20 on pretzels.
I make responsible decisions because I’m an adult and I use my money wisely.
I’ve mentioned before that I like Zero candy bars. Most of this is because that was my mother’s favorite. I like Three Musketeers because it was her father’s favorite. I still like all the weird Brach’s flavors- spice drops, maple creams, etc.- because my father’s grandmother fed them to me when I was a little girl.
And though it is not a candy, my maternal grandfather is entirely responsible for my love of Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew. When I was a child, he hadn’t retired yet. My grandmother kept these 8oz glass bottles of each in the refrigerator for his lunch, and would give me one if she had extra.
Now, it’s Dr Pepper Zero, but that’s because of my mother. She raised Lindsay and me on diet soda, so now regular just tastes too syrupy and feels like it’s clinging to my teeth. Probably because it is.
In terms of candy I’ve had overseas, I think my favorite is the Aero bar. I did like the whipped texture, and some of the flavors. Ultimately, I’m a purist…. especially since by the third or fourth mint Aero I thought they tasted like toothpaste (not in a row).
I learned disappointment in candy early. When I went to England at eight years old, I found jawbreakers I liked called “cola balls.” Apparently, the silver they put on the outside of them was found to be food-unsafe and they were discontinued shortly after I got home. Therefore, my relatives couldn’t mail me any, either. I am not sure I will ever find a replacement, because cola does not seem to be a popular flavor for things….. even though it’s divine. Ginger, orange, lemon, spices….. what’s not to like?
For instance, I would be so happy if they made cola bottle hard candy like they make root beer barrels. It would be better if they came in sugar free, though, because I’d eat more. I like Coke Zero better. 😛
They have incredible ginger candy at both Trader Joe’s and Costco that Zac buys in bulk. He doesn’t do it for me, but it helps because my medication makes me so nauseous. They work instantaneously…. and the only reason I thought of them is that I was already thinking about cola, for which I believe ginger makes an ultimate life sacrifice. Will they end up in a craft home brew or in Atlanta? May the odds be ever in their favor.
If we are talking strictly about candy you can make at home, I love marshmallows. I’ve never tried flavoring them with anything but vanilla, but both vegan and not are incredible. The texture is just enough you can tell it’s different, but it’s not bothersome to me. It’s also not quite as firm, so vegan marshmallow fluff you can use on sandwiches is a much more realistic expectation…….
Zac’s roommate made marshmallows flavored with raspberry, and they were delicious. So I know it is possible for me to make my favorite candy at home and now I’m hoping I do not go the way of “Marshmallow Girl,” the way my housemates noticed I made pancakes several times a week.
I am sure that I would make marshmallows constantly and then my ADHD brain would move onto something else.
And when we’re together, my favorite candy is whatever you’re having, because I like knowing those things about my friends. Simple things I store away so that later on, you say, “how did you remember?”
I like feeling other people’s feelings if I’m close to them. When I’m in the grocery store or a crowd, it’s too much. I tend to put on my “doctor hat” in public because it allows me to act as if I have clinical separation because no one actually wants to know when you’re upset. If you have my URL, you know when I’ve been upset. But again, I don’t talk about this stuff anywhere else, because the things I talk about would just be bombs in the middle of a conversation, and I have found that people don’t like it when I’m speaking to them directly.
Sometimes I’m in so much pain that I don’t phrase things correctly and it comes off as if I feel worse than I actually do (by being snappish, etc.); I don’t have the time to craft a sentence in person that would convey it. I don’t do as well with conversation and get flustered. I’m overwhelmed, up to my eyeballs, and I’m always sorry when I cannot remain calm and sugar coat my way through everything.
But that’s with my friends. That’s where I need to dig deep and try to remain calm because those relationships are very important to me (whether they believe it for not). I am trying to develop coping mechanisms for having hard conversations so that I don’t get rattled. Most of the time, I feel meek and mild-mannered. Then, I’ll get angry about something and not know how to handle it. That’s when my fuse gets lit like a firecracker- this confusion- and I cannot even think straight. I am lost to the rest of the world until I can regulate my emotions again. I have talked while I was in that state. It doesn’t end well.
Which is typical of an autistic meltdown and I’ve had too many in front of other people that ended in disaster; they didn’t know I was autistic and neither did I. However, if they did know I was autistic, that’s still not an excuse for my words being uncontrolled. It’s just context.
It’s a way to bridge the communication gap so that I might be able to give someone empathy, not to try and excuse away my behavior. No one should stay with anyone no matter how bad it gets. I explain what was going on and that might give the other person empathy. It will help us both move on from this problem and solve the next of the same kind from ever beginning. But that is dependent on whether the other person sees me as making excuses. I know a lot of other people do, but it’s the kind of information I’d want from them in order to move forward. I’d want to know why they did what they did. Without that context, I will not be able to see why you’re struggling in the future. I will not know what to notice.
But because people don’t think like me, they think of me as justifying something when it can’t be justified. Not everything I do makes sense, both from a processing disorder and a mental illness standpoint. Therefore, they’re missing what I’m saying and I’m not getting what I need. When I don’t know what you’re thinking and what you expect from me, I will spin out trying to find it. I also spin out trying to find out how people’s brains work in general, because if I know how they take in information, I will give it to them that way. However, people rarely give me the information I give them because they think of it as making excuses…….. when the context heals the situation. God is in the details for me, that my light bulb moment is realizing why you did what you did and having empathy for it. Most people cannot open themselves up to me the way I can with them. They do not want to dwell on their own details, food for thought as we sit together and try to work out a conflict.
But until I learned I was autistic, I couldn’t put my finger on why I was so angry that this miscommunication happened all the time. Why did people think I bugged them for details because I was trying to hurt them? I found out later that this is pretty typical of autistic kids, and in retrospect, I definitely was one.
I couldn’t explain why I felt the way I felt. I didn’t have words for things like “demand avoidance.” I didn’t have words for things like “meltdown” and “burnout.” I didn’t have coping mechanisms to remain calm and be nice through all of that happening in my body when someone was frustrated with me because I was either asking them a ton of questions they didn’t want to answer or giving them so many details it was overwhelming.
In a lot of cases, they were just campaigns to convince someone of my worth, and it took learning that to go on this journey of self-acceptance. Once I started talking to autistic people and reading their stories, I realized that I wasn’t actually an alien. My sensory issue is other people’s emotions. It overloads my brain and I am constantly trying to give the people I love the room I want to give them because I feel the same amount of emotion bleed out in the mall as I do being alone with Zac.
I don’t need a break from feeling open and vulnerable to him, and people who are just as close to me. It’s the having to defend myself from being everyone’s fixer/pleaser because the ills of the world bother me just as much as the problems I have at home.
If you’ve ever had a fight with your partner in public and I saw it, I took it in. Probably tried to fix it until I checked out. If the store isn’t busy, I’ll ask the worker how their day is going and really listen to their answer. I can tell when they’re bullshitting me. It all matters.
It all contributes to the amount of spoons I have for going out. I really do have to make sure I sleep deeply, because my body cannot repair itself from that kind of psychological toll without it.
It is also my job to learn to handle my relationships with care, but because I didn’t know I was autistic before, I know that I have to do it differently than most people. I have to learn to regulate my emotions better than I have in the past, and that has to come through my own therapy/writing. However, I also have to learn how to translate better to people who aren’t like me. That I am not asking invasive questions because I mean them to be invasive. I am analyzing what you said because I was really listening to you and took it in.
I’m sure that eventually, I’ll learn to handle it all.
I was born in 1977. That means computers were everywhere, you just couldn’t see them. Most computers were taller than you were and twice or three times as wide. If you had to have a computer at your desk, it was a “dumb terminal.” That’s a monitor, keyboard, and mouse that seemed independent on your end, but were actually mirroring the server…. and even that came later. At first, you had to physically be at the machine to use it, because there was no networking.
The 80s were a true cultural revolution, because IBM and Apple both sold millions of units that were as powerful as the computers that took up an entire room, but could fit on your desk. I just don’t think that people thought of getting a computer as a “cultural revolution.”
We went from it being a big deal to get a computer at all to everyone being connected to the Internet in about 40 years.
We have gained and lost much in those adjustments, but it is not an understatement to say that the personal computer changed the world.
I didn’t choose the geek life. The geek life chose me.
Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end.
I woke up this morning, took a shower, and got to the doctor. Turns out, I was within the range to refill my medication, and I freaked out for nothing. I was worried because my insurance doesn’t cover my meds if I try to refill them before a certain time. I do not know how or why, but my count was off by a few days and I was panicking…. until I saw my doctor.
She’s so great. I think she’s actually a PA, but I wouldn’t see an MD as an upgrade. She really listens to me. What’s really funny is that I always call her “Doc,” because she’s a PA. The MD’s name is on everything. She never says her name when she comes into the room. Therefore, I have an excellent doctor, but I couldn’t tell you her name if my life depended on it…. Now I’m laughing to myself, the greatest part of an ideal day.
I’m getting a full work-up because when I came in last month, my UA was off; I was on my cycle (I hadn’t realized it yet, but the test did). Then, I remembered several years ago that I’d done a UA for rheumatoid arthritis years ago, and that had been off for the same reason. So, not only am I getting my hands x-rayed, I’m getting my theumatoid factor checked- which I would not have known to do if I hadn’t been a rheumatology MA for a number of years.
I remembered today because my knuckles are particularly sensitive/swollen today and my doctor agreed with me that we should rule it out. I realize that osteoarthritis is just as painful, but if I have an autoimmune disease, I want to catch it early.
It’s funny that if the test comes back positive, I’ll be using all the same lingo for myself that I’ve learned for everyone else. That being said, again, osteo is no joke and I’ve been taking ibuprofen a lot lately. I am also of the opinion that we’re just ruling it out, because I’ve had osteo in my back and knees for years. Cooking is not for the faint of heart.
My spine is just as weird as I am. It objects to that.
I also got neurology and psychology referrals so that I can do the thing with both those specialties. I need the neurology workup because I haven’t had one since I was 18 months old and I’m still just as physically weak as I was then.
You’ll also be delighted to know that since I’ve moved to Washington and left Portland behind, I’ve made impressive strides in my quest for a higher Vitamin D level. The last time I had it checked, it was 6 (it’s been a long time). After all these years, I am proud to say that I have worked my way up to 6.4.
Progress.
I said, “Doc, I have a funny story about that. When my stepmom read my lab report the last time I got my Vitamin D level checked, she called and congratulated me for having the lowest Vitamin D level in the history of her 30 year practice.” She said, “I’ve seen ‘4,’ but you’re top two.” We both laughed that that one. But to my stepmom, I was living in Portland and visiting, so I said, “I’d like to thank ‘location, location, location.'” Now I know that’s not true.
Perspective.
What I didn’t know is that there’s a once a week medication for that, and I’m on it now. The regular Vitamin D pills do not work for me. They never have (obviously). A normal level begins at 30, and I hope that this medication works. Vitamin D affects your mood and behavior so much, and I think I’ll be grateful to feel so much better in a few months.
I just had a Dooce moment. She once joked about writing like a Southerner and she said “I AM SPARING YOU THE DETAILS OF EARL’S ANGINA.” This is absolutely hilarious to me because basically, I’m not. I’m a Southerner who loves medicine, so I’m going to blog about it.
I have so many stories about the hospital/office living vicariously through my dad and stepmom. I wasn’t in the patient rooms, but definitely in the lobby when we were there for a consult. I wasn’t really joking when I said I went to medical school in the back seat of a Lexus. I overhear a lot. I pay attention to a lot.
I can still tell you about the patient whose son hit her in the head with a frying pan (she didn’t die, but she was never the same). I can still tell you who my favorite patient was to mimic, because her voice was so damn funny. Absolutely not a slam, I just love the way people speak and I pick it up over time.
I’ve picked up “valid” from Zac. It’s a great answer to everything.
I’ve picked up the occasional Canadian “eh” from Meagan, but I use it infrequently because there are certain times when a Canadian would say it and when they wouldn’t. I can tell where it would fit into a sentence just by the lilt of Meag’s accent, and when I know I want to use an “eh,” she reads the sentence back to me in my head so I can double check.
I can pick out a million things that have shaped me from all my friends, but those are my biggest examples. The current and the first. 😉
I decided to stop talking about medicine because when Franklin and I lived together, no one wanted to sit with us because we’d go off into the way doctors talk when they’re amongst themselves and no one could even enter the conversation because there was no concrete way to jump in. If I didn’t understand something, he’d explain it because he knew I was perfectly capable of picking up what he was putting down. As a result, part of my ideal day is spending time with doctors, because I can relate and am genuinely interested.
I think I would have been a good doctor in terms of patient care, but I would have struggled mightily before I got to that point. I didn’t even make it to calculus in high school.
I never saw anyone do calculus, you just have to make it through it…. plus organic chemistry, a different kind of math. However, most of what I’ve learned in a medical practice vs. a hospital is that there’s time. You pick up so much more through social engineering than you pick up through facts. That’s because you have to prescribe for them and hope to God they’re telling the truth about what they’re really on.
A great example would be not telling an anesthesiologist you’re high. The gas man doesn’t need as much, and has to hope they don’t kill you by putting you so far down.
A great example would be not telling your GP that you’re taking Sudafed and Adderrall at the same time.
A great example would be telling your doctor that you’re depressed, but neglecting to tell them that you’ve been taking St. John’s wort for months. Most SSRI’s react poorly to it.
This is basically a public service announcement to tell your doctors everything. They’re not going to judge you, they’re not going to call the police because you do drugs (unless you threaten to hurt someone else, yourself, or you’ve hurt your child). They’re not going to try and get you deported. They’re the ones you tell. Always.
I have now had my X-rays, and I took off a ring I’ve been wearing since 2005. It was very, very hard- again, swollen knuckles. I should stop wearing it, but it’s such a part of me. But eventually, it’ll get harder to remove it for X-rays. I just like having a silver ring on my thumb, and have since I stole it from Katharine. She knew I did. I doubt she’d know I still wear it. But, that’s how it came to be on my thumb. Her hands were bigger. 😉 It’s basically a fidget spinner, and I use it to stim. There was no way I was ever going to let go of it.
Then, I finally had enough to drink that I could do the UA, because of course the moment Doc wants it I’d just been to the bathroom. I went down and got my pills, then shotgunned a bottle of water and a Diet Pepsi. I was worried that my teeth would be floating by the time I got back to the doctor’s office, but no. I just hope I don’t have to do this again next month because it was too watered down to see anything.
But, as Matthew McConaughey says about beer, “I like to dehydrate while I rehydrate.” I know I couldn’t drink him under the table unless it was Dr Pepper, and even then I have my doubts.
But I’m constantly rehydrating like a Graves Disease patient, but there’s apparently nothing wrong with my liver and kidneys. Seriously, I can think of very few times in my day when I don’t have something to drink in my hand. I prefer cold cans and bottles so it’s not watered down. Unless it’s Coke from McDonald’s. Let’s not get stupid.
It’s good to know that my weight is under control and I haven’t dropped too much with the re-addition of the Adderall.
I have more in common with my Skyrim character than anything else, because I also look like an elf at this point.
However, I am getting to be a better elf.
This is the perfect day. I had such a significant increase in my Vitamin D level that it really boggles the mind.
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
As a blogger, I have a perspective on life that is more accurate than most, because I cannot tell myself in the moment how something happened 10 years ago unchecked. I will go back and look. I do not have any moral superiority, because I can only go back to what I was thinking at the time, not another person’s thoughts. Therefore, it’s not “I’m right on the principle.” It’s “I’m right in that this is what I told you, and this is what you said at the time.” People confuse the two, because it’s “throwing things back in their faces.” To me, it is Brené Brown 101. I am checking the story you are telling yourself, because my blog made me check the one I was telling me.”
People think that I am pointing out that they’re lying. No, it’s “now you’ve told me two different stories and I need you to explain why your thinking has evolved.” I don’t care why there are two stories. I’m autistic and I want to know how everything works in your mind. I do not need judgment and I haven’t given any. I am asking for information, and people do not like that (as a general rule).
I complain about bosses who say “explain to me how this happened,” and then when I proceed to explain an autistic amount (which is, granted, neurotypically exhausting), they’ll reply, “I don’t need your fucking excuses.” I complain because I do not understand asking for information and refusing it. In short, I do need your fucking excuses. I just don’t call it that because I’m not going to judge you on your answers. I just want the whole story when you think I should pick it up on my own. That’s because there are social expectations everywhere that I cannot pick up, and you are setting me up for failure by “knowing” what I’m going to do next because of them.
My perspective also changes because I take in information through reading and writing, so I retain a lot of what I write, and what I go back and read here later…. which I often do because nothing spurs something I’m going to say like taking an old thing I said and turning it upside down and backwards because new shit has come to light.
If I didn’t, I would sit in anger and bitterness all the time. In short, this blog is my “Let It Go.” I’m not going to do it in a moment, but you’ll see the process as I make my peace. There’s very little that’s truly important in life, and you’ll begin to see what I think is and isn’t. And mostly that I am vulnerable enough to admit when I’m wrong, both when I see it in myself and when I yield to another person.
But I will never appreciate the phrase “throwing it back in my face,” because that’s an autistic trait, to see pattern recognition in everything, including behavior. When I am pointing out pattern recognition in relationships, I am actually trying to make us stronger by saying, “this problem has come up six times now- why does it always come up in the same way? It always hurts me. How can we make it stop?” The other person always makes it about them, because me noticing pattern recognition is more offensive to them than fixing the problem. The “how dare you” aspect is strong in a lot of my friends.
I notice my own patterns of behavior accurately and I love it when other people can do it for me. You also have to be strong enough to deal with criticism because I know what I will tolerate and what I won’t; it’s not because I’m trying to hurt you. I know me. What will make me feel better and what won’t. If you cannot hear me on those things, I do not want a relationship with you.
This is the standard by which we should all run our relationships. “How do I feel when I am with you?” If I constantly feel invalidated, I am not going to stay. You cannot hear me, and when my problems fall on deaf ears and yours never do, then I’m out. For instance, if you are vulnerable with me and tell me about a problem going on in your life, I will listen until you are ready to stop talking. Just vent for hours if you need it. I expect the same of my friends, because I do not want to be someone’s emotional dumping ground when they’re upset and too busy to take my calls.
I get that I’m a lot. What I don’t get is how many people refuse to acknowledge that they’re the same. All people are a lot. To love someone is huge, because you have to accept a whole lot of good and bad behavior without blinking. That’s why I do not believe in love at first sight. Infatuation and sexual attraction? Surely.
I don’t think you can say you love someone until you’ve wanted to smother them in their sleep with a pillow AND ALSO would give them an organ AND ALSO take care of them if they were sick, travel with them, and smile through family functions even if you didn’t want to go because even if they don’t, you feel like half of them hate your guts. You don’t love someone until you’re willing to clean up their vomit….. because you partied too hard OR you’re going through chemo.
If you don’t know how I learned that, you don’t know my writing. I cannot be in love with Supergrover because she is not capable of loving me that way. I cannot love Supergrover because she won’t let me. And by that I mean that she will listen to my problems about other people all day long, she’ll read my adoration and love with that intensity, but she will not address problems in our relationship.
It makes me feel like she’s here for the dopamine and not for the long haul. That can’t be me anymore. I want reciprocity, and I was tired of not getting it in the slightest. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her, that I would do all of these things as a yellow string and not a red, that who she is as a person was never dependent on her ability to switch hit. That I could have been a support person for both her and her husband, because I’m interested in keeping them together, not being a wedge.
I am not a jealous ex. If you’ve read “Outlander,” I’m Lord John Grey. John could learn not to want Jamie sexually, but he could not learn how to let go and not love him anymore.
We have a lot in common, me and Grey.
It took me six or seven tries to get into “Outlander,” because I wanted to read it. I always read my favorite people’s books, the ones that shaped them. However, I couldn’t get past the rape scene in the first few chapters. I had to read it, get distance, and try again. Once I made it over that hump, I inhaled the whole series up to that point in like, 11 or 12 days. I held all my calls and “Buy Next” is dangerous if you’ve ever been to the Kindle Store.
That’s because representation matters. If you want to read my two recommendations in stories for understanding who I am, they are, it’s “The Giver” by Lois Lowry, first of all. Great series, but you only need to read the first one for representation of me. There is no more important character to me in the world than that because I think both The Giver and The Receiver are INFJ. The way that The Giver explains information is very much the way an INFJ would, and the way The Receiver takes in information is very much an INFJ on the flip side. I use their titles and not their names because I think that tradition has continued in the world of Same for a hundred or two hundred years. They are The Keepers of the Memories.
The only ones in their community who are allowed to feel.
The only ones in their community whose brains work differently than everyone else’s because of it.
Not understanding anyone else when they can’t feel, can’t explain how they feel.
When they do feel, their emotions run as deep as the scene where The Giver gives The Receiver the concept of war.
You cannot imagine what happened in my heart and brain when The War Daniel had his hands on my back. Honesty about war is too much for everyone who hasn’t been there and is hearing what it is like for the first time. Daniel had a particularly rough emotional time of it because he had an experience where he won a piece of fruit salad that most people win posthumously, coming through unscathed, but a near miss by a fraction of a second. Daniel was in the Navy, a medic embedded in a team of Marines. The Marines’ mission, and therefore Daniel’s as well, was to make sure there was no violence at an event where they were giving out vaccinations. About a hundred people were gathered that day (in my memory- it might have been a little more or less).
A terrorist had rigged up a five year old child with explosives and had a remote detonator so he could throw the child in the middle of the crowd and blow it up. Daniel caught it out of the corner of his eye and shot the terrorist before the child exploded, saving the entire crowd. If the child was already wired and no one had caught it already, it was a near miss by seconds. Daniel also, presumably, was not the one in charge of watching for terrorists, just had his eye out because he did have responsibility. Yet he was a medic, one of the people who was giving vaccinations at the time. I think that makes his actions even more amazing, because there’s two things at work. Being able to notice both the people he was vaccinating and his complete environment, and being able to react before anyone else in both directions.
It was a memory that cost me a lot of spoons, but with perspective it helped me grow more than anything in the last, I don’t know, decade? It deepened my love for all people who have been to war, down to a Starbucks clerk I noticed was a Navy Corpsman. It’s the reason Daniel was embedded with the Marines in the first place. They don’t do medicine or travel. It’s amazing how much crossover there is, and rivalry because of it. People think the Marines are the toughest, and they do absolutely nothing to dispel this.
I had to bring in a little humor to the situation, because I realized that as I was getting deep into the combat aspect of my story (not being in it but feeling my partner’s emotions about it so viscerally), that when I tell The War Daniel’s story it doesn’t lose power. It feels like he’s touching my back every time I hear it in my head. The War Daniel was (is?) one of the loves of my life. The timing was just off. That being said, I have no idea how he feels about me now having broken off our engagement, but he hasn’t cut off contact. We’ve e-mailed each other once, but unfortunately I didn’t get it until a month after he’d sent it. I think it led him to believe I was uninterested in him. But, if he hasn’t been reading, he wouldn’t know that. I prefer it that way, to be honest. That if he doesn’t want to know how I feel, then I have my answer because in order to know me, you have to know my writing as well. I am a range of people depending on our experience.
Being online friends and in real life friends is totally different, because I understand things differently in person than I do in writing , and therefore present myself differently because of it. I am just not going to waste time on a man who doesn’t care how I feel……… because I’m not shut down. And neither was he, in the beginning, when it was all the rush of having known each other as children and him saying “I’ve been in love with you for 36 years.” I do believe that he meant it. I really do.
That’s because in the beginning, he could lay it out for me. That’s because he was on medication to control his alcoholism and drinking one beer to avoid the shakes so he could come down naturally and at home before he admitted himself to rehab. Therefore, his emotions were stable. When he started rehab, he was a different person and we started nitpicking each other. Because he was in rehab, there was no way to have an in person relationship for a while, and our engagement fell apart.
But here’s what I know. If he was serious that he’s been in love with me for 36 years, then it’s always been me and he’ll get off his ass or he won’t. But it’s not a matter of love, it’s a matter of pride.
Does he think he deserves the love of his life or not?
What he could lay out for me is that he knew he was fucked up, and therefore encouraged me to keep seeing where my relationship with Zac went, because he couldn’t be there for me in person and he needed someone “on the ground.” It helped that he found Zac charming and wouldn’t have been threatened if we wanted to stay together when he got home. That he did want the life we envisioned, which was living overseas if we were able and having our daughter, Cora, join us if she wanted. We even wanted to live in a country with protections for trans women, like Thailand, because she currently lives in northeast Texas and doesn’t know what a life without that persecution is like.
Our job was to be there for Cora, and when our relationship fell apart, we lost that ability to tag team as co-parents, which we absolutely were. Cora and I still have a relationship on our own, but I don’t tell her how I feel about Daniel because she’s not the monkey in the middle. I am happy to talk to her about cats, her fictional worlds that would be famous if she puts them out there, us both being queer and having that experience, etc. It is enough, that she can always reach out to me because I’m her “queer mom.” We are emotionally available to each other even when The War Daniel and I are not. Again, our relationship reminds me so much of The Giver, because The War Daniel was the first person to touch me with the memory of war the way Lois Lowry set up imparting all memories by The Giver putting their hands on the backs of The Receiver. However, I know that I was the right Receiver for him because I’d had the experience of listening to so many other people with complex problems that I was ready for it. And before he touched my back with war, he touched it with love.
It’s the perspective that made me believe I’d done a lot of things right in my life. The War Daniel was the first person that made me turn my attention from Supergrover, because he showed me everything I wasn’t getting from her that I needed to function in our relationship. She went too long between touching my back with good memories instead of bad. I deserved a lot of criticism and anger in the moment, but being forgiven made me think there was a future that wasn’t really there.
In my world, forgiveness meant something opposite from what it meant in hers. That loving someone meant forgiving them honestly and completely so that we can talk about our issues again, because we can both be vulnerable without fear of the other’s emotions. I feel that Supergrover was scared of my emotions because she wasn’t used to dealing with them on her own. Therefore, she could not give me what she didn’t have, and could not admit it. It was an unbreakable power imbalance, because we could not move past anything by actually resolving it. We just kicked the can down the road. There were two reasons I had to love her as a whole person, and love her husband that way as well. We all needed each other, and we all turned on each other as well (I mean, I assume that they’re a team on this one- that he probably wouldn’t want to go for beers).
It would have been a better situation all the way around if we’d sat around a table in a relaxed manner and actually talked about what was happening. That I couldn’t undo what had happened, she was it for me on multiple levels, and her husband would know why better than anyone else. That I didn’t liken it to polyamory because I thought I could weasel my way into some sort of weird unicorn hunting them. I likened it to polyamory because in the poly community, close emotional relationships matter just as much as romantic ones because we’re all talking about priority and time, not whether we’re banging during said established date. It’s not the kind of love, but the kind of attention.
I have not given her that place in my life, my first priority, because I am who I am. I have given it to her because I’m a writer and she’s a muse- in her world, problematic. I am not calling her out on being a bad person, just bad at not having realized this before. She’s not a bad person, it’s a bad situation. Therefore, what I have always been trying to get across is not “I am scolding you.” It is “this is a real problem for me and we need to talk about it. Here’s what I think.” If you don’t reply with what you think, not my problem. I’m not going to encourage relationships with people that go on the defensive every time I try to express an emotion. But because Supergrover is my muse, the one who puts me in the mood to write, not encouraging a relationship with her was never going to happen. If we didn’t submit to each other, we were fucked. I began to pontificate on how she felt, but she wouldn’t pontificate on how she felt in response. She’d blame me for telling my story when it was off from hers, but didn’t correct any of my assumptions. Our relationship became perfunctory, the way I learned in “The Giver.” My feelings were evident and hers were not. She said “you’re not the only arbiter of our relationship” and once called me a dictator. She didn’t realize that I’d be telling a different story if I knew what hers was. I wasn’t the arbiter of our relationship, I was waiting on her input………… that never came.
In Lois Lowry’s world of Same, their communities not being able to feel, down to being given shots to repress their sexualities, is mandated by the government and everyone is used to it.
In the real world, people have a choice to be locked down or not, and most people do because it’s so much goddamn easier.
And less worth it, which I think the book makes an excellent example in showing it.
I don’t think you notice those messages until you go back and read YA in adulthood. I think that’s why books like The Giver and all other science fiction stories that have Christ figures are such hits. Everyone wants to know how being able to feel changes the world, and they see that bravery in media, but not in them. They’re drawn to the media that does it because they cannot find it in themselves, yet are inspired by it. It is admirable, just not for them.
For instance, if Supergrover already had all the people in her life that she wanted to do those things for her, that was fine. I would be in her life to whatever level she would accept. Even if she never wanted to meet me in person, that was also acceptable because I can say just as much in writing as I can through other senses, if not more. But, as I told her 10 years ago, “a hug would be a nice goddamn thing.” It was great when she agreed with me, and I promise you there was a time, even if there’s not now.
It is the most important I’ve ever felt in my life.
The fact that she gave me that gift, even once, is more than I can take in. I just had to give myself The Tiffany Talk before I could be vulnerable with her again, because I needed space to get over my crush and get on board. Because I was so in love with her, I got resentful and bitter that I needed to separate myself from her for two reasons. The first is that I was married and feeling like total ass about myself because I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. The second is that there’s a reason I was so in love with her. No one had ever put my mind in hyperdrive like that- made me care about the world and not just my little piece of it.
I just realized something, and now I’m making me cry. When we began, she was my Jamie Frasier, and Dana was my Frank. Thankfully, it was a totally different situation, but those are the only literary characters I can think of that accurately represent what it was like to be married to two people at the same time. The difference is that Dana and I loved each other deeply and fiercely. I didn’t find out that I needed Supergrover because Dana was capable of being toxic until much, much later. I learned that I was poly by going back and reading what I’d written about both women 10 years ago, how it was possible to love two people with such rabid attention and not have boundaries on either. We did have boundaries that helped me be safe, I just ignored them all because I was under every kind of stress you can possibly imagine and I became more mentally ill than I’ve ever been in my life.
Now, I realize that I have been The Receiver the whole time……….. with perspective.
All of it spiraled into me checking myself into Methodist Hospital, because I believed that neither my psychological nor psychiatric reactions were correct, and that my behavior was driven by both not having the emotional tools to deal with that amount of enormous emotion at once as well as not the right protocol.
Dana, Supergrover, and I all have massive life stories. It wasn’t the romance of it all that put me in the hospital. By then, I was already in it for the long haul with both of them. Hearing both of their stories bonded me to them in a way I’ve never felt about anyone else, and why I’ve made the decision not to enter a monogamous relationship ever again. It’s not that I cannot be monogamous, it’s that if it happened once, it could happen again. I am not going to bet against the house and end up wrecking my life at 46 the way I did at 36.
I lost a stable life with both of them because I spiraled out, but because of the already established long haul relationship, I never stopped hoping that Supergrover and I could, in a sense, start over once I got better. She’s not vulnerable enough for that, because it would require talking about a lot of uncomfortable things. If we’d ended up as partners, those uncomfortable conversations would have been different, but no less important. In a lot of ways, I am glad that I did not end up married to her, because what I learned from spiraling out is that if it hadn’t been my crush on her, it would have been something else.
Those intimate conversations wouldn’t have happened no matter how our situation turned out. I learned this by going back and reading my own work, because her emotional reaction to everything is to lightly move past it if it’s not all that serious and full on attack when she feels threatened.
It’s why “She’s So Mean,” “Your Love is My Drug,” and “I Believe in Love” (Matchbox Twenty, Ke-Dollar Sign-Ha, and Indigo Girls, respectively) have been my favorite songs since their release. “Your Love is My Drug” is particularly sentimental for me in two ways. The first is my connection to Supergrover, because our adrenaline was that hyped on many levels, and the second is that Dana and I danced to it at Lindsay’s wedding.
Accidental polyamory, but ok……………
Incidentally, my favorite meme from that Facebook group is when a guy texts another guy who is dating his girlfriend and he gets pissed about it. He says, “relax, bro. She is dating both of us. You are my boyfriend-in-law.”
Relatable. It’s how I think of Zac’s partners. That I’d hope they’d never react poorly if I reached out to them, because I don’t think of them as threats in the slightest. I get irritated with Zac about our relationship, which is different. The conversation we had about his newest partner was about me being jealous because he treated her completely differently than he did me, and it was particularly egregious for a number of factors.
My jealousy had absolutely nothing to do with his partner. It had everything to do with how Zac behaved, which, in the poly community, is called “being a bad hinge.” I was calling him out in love, because I want the best for him. I was also standing up for myself, because I am an older partner who can absolutely lay in his lap….. I also refuse to be a doormat on the other end of the equation. Zac prevented me from doing that from the beginning, because this is the first time he’s ever been a bad hinge and I had to call him on it. He established that the partner who never called him on anything was the worst because he couldn’t respond to their needs if he didn’t know them, he was bad at communication/getting back to people, etc. Therefore, the person who never called him on anything never got their needs met because they weren’t taking up room.
His honesty floored me because he’s the first partner who’s ever laid that out for me before we ever got intimate. Generally, that’s something I figure out after being with them long enough to pick up those things on my own. How much I care is dependent on how much I love you. If I don’t love you, I won’t call you on anything. That’s because I don’t want to do anything to make the relationship worse.
I have abandonment issues, and it’s something I’ve known since I was 14, because I knew even then that it was a core memory.
My emotional abuser was always as honest with me as I am with everyone else (about most things). I appreciated it at the time because as I found out through a Facebook meme, “you don’t like powerful women because they’re powerful. You like powerful women because you’re autistic and they’re direct about what they want.” It’s a terrible match, because they’re direct about everything except their emotions.
I have a feeling there are a lot of ASD/ADHD people trapped in that cycle, because we’re programmed to throw truth bombs whether you like it or not, and emotionally avoidant people HATE THAT. They would rather follow social convention and get mad when you ignore it. Social convention is nice, but it’s not kind.
What is kinder? Zac laying out everything for me beforehand, or surprising me later? What if he’d led me on for months before telling me that he had other partners? He could have, because telling someone that you’re dating other people is not required when you haven’t had the talk about whether you’re exclusive in the first place. I don’t feel like it’s a conversation you have on the first date, necessarily, because you haven’t even found out if you like the person well enough that you want to sleep with them.
Although if you do know on the first date, then that definitely is a first date conversation. You will wreck both parties, otherwise. One is disappointed because they found a great connection, the other is furious that they thought they might get a love story and they were actually one of many…… because most women are programmed to believe that when someone shows interest in you, that means that means We Are Really Starting Something™ from the moment we start texting.
The reason I say women are programmed to think that is that I was programmed to think that from a very young age, so I can relate. I also have found that if you express that you’re not interested in being exclusive from the first day forward, they’ll stop talking to you because they want that fairy tale so bad.
I was single for seven years, happily so, because I was more interested in Supergrover’s emotional support than I was interested in finding a red string. That’s because Dana’s trump card was punching me in the face, and I needed those seven years to recover. There was no way in hell that I would trust anyone that much, because I didn’t trust myself. I participated in us spiraling out to that degree, and by writing it all down I got perspective on the way I behaved and why.
That’s because I could go back and read it later without having the emotional attachment to my words because I was still struggling with the same problem. Looking at your own behavior with an omnipotent third eye is invaluable, whether you’re writing it for publication or secretly at night.
I choose to publish how I feel because I find that as I’m learning myself, other people learn themselves in turn. It’s what my personality is designed to do.
I’m an INFJ.
Like The Giver.
I love whole people, not just superficial attraction.
Like Lord John Grey.
Perspective on my life comes from other writers. Maybe yours will come from what you read here.
Here are my two favorite quotes about writing.
The first is a teacher asking a little girl who her favorite writer is, and she says, “me.” After writing since grade school and being 46 now, I cannot say that I am a great writer. I can say I’m my favorite author. It is one thing to love your characters when you see them in fiction. It is quite another to love your friends in real life so much more when you can see how you’ve both changed each other over the years. The second is “one day you’ll be someone’s favorite author.”
I hope that my friends realize that as I pass down memories like The Giver, they’re the reason I can do it, my reason for living because my experiences make my writing so much richer and deeper. I have been compared to Dooce, The Bloggess, David Sedaris, and a lot of other comedic writers. I can express things comically because perspective means I can laugh later, while having felt like Sylvia Plath in the heat of the moment.
I just realized that I told you that I had to give myself “The Tiffany Talk,” and I didn’t explain what that was. I then realized I couldn’t describe it better than I did the first time, so here’s a link to a sermon I preached at Bridgeport that I believe is the best I’ve ever done- and not because I’m that great.
Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.
I’m AuDHD, so I’m kidding. Of course I know what they are. I make them all the time. By the hundreds. Then, “ooh. Snickers.”
My dad did the “Daily Franklin” planner training when I was a kid, so when he showed me how tasks lists work, I use them to this day. And it doesn’t work if I do it on my computer. I have to physically write it in a journal before I start adding things to my Google Tasks. That’s because Google Tasks doesn’t use the Daily Franklin method.
You need three columns- Priority, Task, and Status.
That way, you can do your task list stream-of-consciousness and then have room on the left to figure out what’s most important, represented by A, B, C, etc. Instead of just crossing things off, the “status” column can be a dot until it’s a check. A dot means “in process.” My journals are a mess because I can’t draw for shit and my tables look awful, but I’ve been doing this for 35 years. I have tried, and doing it in Excel does not work for me because the retention comes from holding the pen.
Demand avoidance makes me unable to do a lot, but I do what I can with the spoons I have. Link is to a PDF of the original blog entry, because I couldn’t find a copy in HTML. It’s one of the best blog entries I’ve ever read, so if you have friends with long term illnesses, it would help you to read it. I had to save the file to my OneDrive and share the link, so please let me know if there are issues with it. I’ve tested it on my own machine, which is a guarantee it won’t work for anyone else.
With disabilities, the recurring refrain (in A flat minor) is “but you don’t look sick.” When I figure out how to do that, I’ll let you know…. but honestly, it’s not a hard leap. Most people know I don’t move right, my eye drifts, I tilt my head to the side a lot because I have monocular vision and I’m trying to use my good eye….. leading people often to say, “are you looking at me?” “What are you looking at?” “I’m over here.” I’ve been teased mercilessly my whole life and it’s gotten better with age, yet some adults are still rude. Some adults still only have the emotional capacity of a teenager, and I meet most of those people at work.
Neurotypical people don’t know how to communicate with the neurodivergent, and no one knows how to communicate with the physically disabled because it’s like someone died, in some respects. When someone close to you dies, people genuinely and repeatedly do not know what to say. They handle people with disabilities the same way. It’s amazing how many people think teasing me before they even know me is the right tack.
I don’t even let my friends tease me (about this), and if you knew me, you’d know that. However, my friends would have the good sense not to say those things in the first place (or some of them would, anyway). A stranger or a coworker has no such qualms.
So, mostly the thing that never gets done on my task list is shutting down ableism, and it won’t go away in my lifetime. Everything is a dot because of my processing disorders and physical limitations.
Before we get started, I just wanted to tell you that I am willingly using my iPad today because oh my God. I refuse to code in anything but a monotype font. It has been 15 years since I’ve used anything but “Droid Sans Mono.” On my Android, I still do. That being said, when I dug into the app iOS app “Koder,” one of the recommended fonts was……. wait for it……… Helvetica. I’ll take a screenshot of the app so that you can see its ultimate superiority over Arial, the font that was so good Microsoft made a knock-off of their own…….. instead of buying the font from the actual artist. Seriously, fuck them. They did what people do to artists all the time. Although perhaps Steve Jobs had a non-compete with the artist so that Microsoft had to rip off Arial. I will be finding a documentary on YouTube shortly.
I absolutely loved the doc “Helvetica,” because it shows the artist, and just how many street signs are made with it in how many countries (it’s a lot). But, even still I had to justify switching from monospace. I had to sit there and justify it for a little bit. In the end, it was “you’re a writer…. you don’t code that much, anyway….. bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. I just love fonts an autistic amount. And now I’m sitting here looking at the way I’ve loved Macs since I was 18. I had a Mac SE in my room in high school, and it was my favorite computer ever because it’s the last one I had that didn’t connect to the Internet. I want a computer from 1990, Zac just bought a word processor and called it a day.
Word processors don’t have Helvetica. But maybe e-Bay has a Mac that old. On second thought, I’d rather have one of those old as shit Mac laptops, because even though they’re much heavier than a normal laptop, I’d rather write with the computer in my lap as opposed to my desk. My desk chair is crap and I don’t want to change it because nothing modern would match. In the end, I might give in because I really do like sitting at my desktop, I’ve just gotten used to lying in bed with my tablet and keyboard in my lap, because I’m 10 times more productive that way and both my tablets have everything I need to work and play.
One of my readers said that she felt anxious I responded to her in a blog entry. I did it so she wouldn’t be intimidated by the length of the reply, because it wasn’t personal at all. She said something that stuck with me, that she’d been married for decades and we had completely different outlooks on relationships. I thought that was so universal that it was a blog entry all on its own. That yes, people do have different outlooks on relationships because there are so many permutations of human behavior that nothing in this life is a binary.
She’s not wrong, and neither am I. And I’m pointing it out because of the stigma that comes with ethical non-monogamy. I like what Jada Pinkett said on the matter. “Will is his own man. He has to make choices that make it ok for him to look himself in the mirror.” She made the point that she doesn’t control his time, and that’s how I feel about Zac. I do not get to dictate what he does while he’s not with me. I’m just here to receive him, because he offers me so much solace even when we can’t be together all that often. He’s cooked for me, and of course it’s always fabulous. That’s my boyfriend cooking for me. I’ve talked to him many times about cooking for/with him, but he says that he’s just always had this outlook that you could for guests. I am so thankful he’s not impressed I’ve cooked professionally.
“Food is hospitality. When you reject someone’s food, you reject them.” -Anthony Bourdain
Which is why my favorite meal to cook is never about the food. The food doesn’t taste gorgeous because of something I did as a professional cook. It tastes better depending on who’s at the table. I don’t celebrate the people who aren’t here, I value the ones that show up. It’s taken a lifetime to learn, this not yearning for someone who isn’t here, because again, that goes back to 14 years old. I made people priorities when I was only an option, and could even see it and not give up.
I have deep and abiding abandonment issues from my emotional abuser, probably why I lived in Portland for so many years. I had to prove to myself that she wouldn’t abandon me, and found out when I got there that was not the case.
With Supergrover, I don’t know what would have happened if I’d kept my big mouth shut a lot of the time, but I do know that her hotheaded anger fed mine. My dopamine and adrenaline went through the roof when she snapped at me. I don’t react well to that, and neither does she. But I can count on one hand the number of times she’s apologized for her own words, because it’s so much more convenient to believe that I am the sole cause of everything. I have no doubt that she’s telling people that I’m the most toxic person she’s ever met, because she couldn’t take accountability for shit when it was emotional. I know she’d send a fully armed battalion to remind people of her love if she thought someone was hurting me. What she cannot do is take in that I feel the same way about her. We just don’t have the same love language, and I became fluent in hers- acts of service. Over time, she became less and less interested in mine, words of affirmation. I would tell her that I felt bad she called me a dickhead all the time, and then all of a sudden I was enormously impressive.
So, in a lot of ways, I feel that we could have fixed a lot with one night where she was my sous chef. She’s a very good chef. Horrible line cook….. which means that what I wanted was being able to tumble and roll in those roles.
This wouldn’t be appropriate for us because we’re not a couple, but it illustrates a point.
One of the things that therapists do in age gap relationships, because they often become a big damn problem, is to ask the older partner if they ever lay in the younger one’s lap. If the couple says no, then generally they’ll make them do it in the office. Over time, the older one views themselves as wiser because of course they are, but not about everything. The problem becomes the older half parenting the younger, making their relationship a strict power dynamic rather than one that’s fluid.
She couldn’t lay in my lap. That’s all on me, but that’s what we lost that made me push her away. I didn’t like feeling that my letters were making her feel guilty and not knowing it for weeks on end. I hated that she always relied on her own instincts to figure out what I was saying, and she was often wrong. I have no doubt that telling me she’s “read through many lines” means that she’s read through the wrong ones because she had no context and didn’t ask for clarity so that I could reassure her that I wasn’t attacking her. She assumed I was attacking her, so we never got back what we lost.
Here’s why it’s such a shame. I told her that I was French-trained, but that I’d had friends who were Japanese-trained and either works well. She said she didn’t know the difference, so I sent her two pictures of me holding a knife over a cutting board and wrote “French” and “Japanese” on them. She said she kind of uses a mix of the two, and one of the things I would have told her if we’d cooked together is “there is no such thing. You’re holding your knife wrong. Here, let me show you. “Spider on a mirror, Supergrover. Spider ona mirror.”
I think there has only been one time in my life that I shared a computer with someone. My dad and I had a desktop in our apartment after my parents’ divorced, but it was easy because we were never using it at the same time. Here’s the one thing that was really funny…. I was running late on a paper for English, and I knew I could bang it out easily and be on time for class. So, I ran out of school at like, 11:00 AM and flew home (it seemed).
Then, my dad walked in for lunch and was genuinely surprised to see me not at school. The cool thing was that he saw I was working and just left me to it. He knows me. We’ve met. We only work exactly the same way. The adrenaline of the moment makes us write better. I do not remember a time when either of us finished a sermon before 0200 on Sunday morning. He just said, “are you skipping a day?” I said, “no, I’m late on a paper. I’ll be back by 1:00.” And that was the end of that.
The reason I remember it so clearly is that I was under a lot of pressure. I wasn’t doing well in school except for Microcomputer Applications, English, and Creative Writing (where’s the lie?). Math and science have always eluded me except in seventh grade, when we had a “group project” and I turned all autistic on it, writing down everything the teacher said so that my notes and lab calculations were correct.
He took me aside and said, “I gave you a higher grade than everyone else because it was so obvious that you carried everyone else on your back.” For instance, I would say that Lindsay did marginally better than me in Con Law thanks to me, because she had a transcription of every class. And yet, those are the only two classes in which I was any good (Con Law and Life Science).
I went to the city-wide science fair twice, and I don’t remember who came up with the ideas, me or my dad, but it wasn’t like he did the work for me. I just took his idea and expanded it.
In seventh grade, it had something to do with how dyes are carcinogens. It takes a very, very, very, very long time, but both blue and red are toxic, making grape Kool-Aid one of the worst things you can drink all day, every day (I do it a little bit now that it’s sugar free).
In eighth grade, it was all about car safety, but I don’t remember exactly what it was about…. maybe seatbelts? I don’t know. By then, science was the bane of my existence and my dad helped drag the project out of me. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested in doing work. I wasn’t interested as much in the subject, so my mind wasn’t completely taken over with facts…..
It wasn’t grape Kool-Aid. Let’s not get stupid.
It wasn’t until I was in 11th grade that there was even a class called “Microcomputer Applications.” Because I already had techie friends, I figured out that we were networked with the middle school Lindsay attended. So, my first order of business was to “hack into” Lindsay’s user account at her school and leave a letter for her in her home directory. “Hack into” is in quotes because you had to know the person’s Social Security number. Yes, they were that stupid in the 90s. It was all new. This would have been 95-96, and I didn’t even have an e-mail address until the second half of my senior year (I gave up music altogether because I couldn’t graduate with an “Advanced Diploma” without moving my schedule around to accommodate MA and study hall.
Since my dad was at work, I had my own computer for the hour I was supposed to be in study hall, so basically I was the original “WFH.” I’d do homework a little bit at night, but mostly rushed it in study hall so I didn’t have to stay up until past midnight AND do a full load the next day.
The thing about my high school, and many others, is that teachers in your grade do not collaborate at all. They do not give a shit if they’re giving a high school kid six hours of homework a night while also expecting them to function during the day. Even if I started my homework after “Jeopardy!” at 1600 and “Animaniacs” at 1630, that still left me doing homework until midnight because I had to take breaks to eat, spend time with my family, and if I remembered, pee.
I also didn’t really have time for friends until late, because with my parents being divorced, I needed my own spending money. So, in addition to all that studying, I was a receptionist at SuperCuts. Sometimes Meagan (or Meagan and Tony) would come and pick me up from work and we’d go to Starbucks or Chili’s.
Back then, SBUX was new and basically the only bar for high schoolers. My first date ever with Meagan was that she picked me up for school and we went for a coffee run on the way. I am amused at myself in retrospect because I had never heard of a “Frappucino,” and I love being marketed to, so that’s what I wanted.
Meagan said, “are you sure? It’s December.” I didn’t pick up what she was saying because I didn’t know the word “frappe,” either. I’d never been north of the Mason-Dixon line (then), and she’s Canadian, not fluent in French but enough to have had a secret language from her kids until they started school….. why I’d be so happy in a Mexican-American family where Mom speaks English and the kids are all Big Macs and Coca-Cola, Spanish is lame.
Wait, Coca-cola is a bad American example…. Mexicans are Coke addicts and it’s a big damn problem. Fabulous documentary on YouTube. Even “beisball” is a bad example because Mexicans love it, too. Maybe our differences lie in apple pie and apple empanñadas. This paragraph is really making me miss Houston. If you look at the demographics, we don’t have an overwhelmingly Mexican population. I meet people from Central and South America all the time, but I haven’t met any Mexicans (yet).
If I find a pocket, that’s where I’d like to live. I’d get to practice my Spanish, if they needed it they could practice their English, and because I’ve been to Mexico so many times, we have some of the same cultural references…. especially since both Mexicans and I have had kitchen jobs. I’ve never worked in a kitchen in Texas, so I’ve never worked with Mexicans (Portland is so white the best representation is our hip-hop station. Another good reason I got out.). I have never worked in a kitchen where I didn’t have to speak Spanish, or learn words for things in Spanish on the fly because cooking moves fast.
It’s just again, Salvadorans, Hondurans, etc. I think what I’m missing is that the Mexicans I have met have such a strong connection to Texas. Therefore, more cultural references than I have with South America because even though the kitchen is common, our upbringings aren’t.
The worst time I’ve ever felt in the kitchen was because I broke a cultural taboo that I didn’t know was there. I couldn’t tell whether the dishwasher thought I was being a white entitled bitch or truly being horrible to him, but either way he couldn’t and wouldn’t explain what I’d said was wrong. We were practically besties before and never talked again, and because of the language barrier (I’m nowhere near fluent, especially if it’s not “Texican.”), he got pissed about giving me information at all- why I’d hurt him- and I got hurt because even if he opened up to me, I could only understand part of it.
It was a bad situation all the way around, because what I did know is that I said something about his mother. I know I deserved what I got, I just didn’t know that he wouldn’t take it the way an American would. “Yo Mama” jokes have been famous since the 80s. That’s why I think he was genuinely hurt- he had a cultural norm I didn’t.
I tortured myself over that for months, because I couldn’t explain and he didn’t want it. I did the best I could….. a very sincere, loving, “I am so sorry. I didn’t know.” And in fact, I still don’t know what I said that irked him, and it’s years later……… and still painful.
But other people don’t have to forgive you, and that’s okay. It’s on you to let go of guilt and move on. It’s how you get more resilient over time, because people walking away hurts less when you realize that first, you don’t get to decide how hurt someone else might be. You don’t get to decide how much apology is enough. You have to know when progress is being made and when you’re banging your head against the wall. Because getting to the point where you’re banging your heads against a wall means that you’re actually both hitting your heads against the wall and something’s got to give.
If you know what makes you happy inside yourself, your intuition will tell you which relationship you’re getting…. are you getting the one in which progress is being made, or are you getting the one where you’re spending time and energy on a relationship where the other person is “just not that into you.”
Speaking of which, I saw a meme that made me laugh. Someone had set up two books in a bookstore and snapped a picture…….
“God is Not Mad at You” -Joyce Meyer “He’s Just Not That Into You” -Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo
Aside from the fact that I use the singular they for God, I couldn’t help myself. I needed that laugh. I’ve also loved Joyce Meyer for years, because I don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. Plus, she has the same way of preaching that I do…. a female voice who projects with authority because so many men complain about hearing The Gospels and the sermon in a woman’s voice.
I feel like Joyce Meyer and I are Erik and T’Challah. It’s not that she doesn’t have a point. I’m not trying to take anything away from her audience. I’m only saying that in this case, she’s smart and also The AntiLeslie.
And, to be honest, I’m pretty sure she’s been married to a man for a long time, but she reminds me of “Suze Orman” on SNL…… “it’s ALL. ABOUT. THE. Jackets.”
The reason I don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater is that my dad was more conservative theologically than me, but not Joyce Meyer. His line about this was some dumbass came up to him in the “God Quad” at SMU and said, “I was a Methodist until I got saved.” My dad said, “I was a Baptist until I learned to read.” My dad has never been a Baptist, but Texans don’t let facts get in the way of a good story.
What I also mean is that I grew up listening to all this stuff because my dad didn’t generally use headphones. I got used to the sounds of the men’s voices, Fred Craddock’s in particular because he’s just about one of the most soft-spoken preachers you’ll ever meet…… who can also punch you in the gut emotionally with half a line (he was liberal for the time as well, taking care of the population of Appalachia).
Here’s the highest compliment I can give him, because it will make sense to the people that hate Christianity. He was a Jimmy Carter Christian. The kind that prays for you and then builds you a house…… because that’s how “thoughts and prayers” are supposed to work.
I also learned to love criticism of The Bible, because I was interested in studying it even when I didn’t feel all that moved spiritually.
It’s something I learned from Gordon Atkinson, a Texas preacher who became such an amazing blogger that he left the church to write full time. I think he’s doing books now, but here’s a link to his archive. I don’t normally put hyperlinks in my work so the past can stay past, but these essays run back to 2002.
Because the essays aren’t organized by date, I’ll just have to tell you what I learned from him rather than linking to that entry specifically. I was already in a mood, and I found a minister who was struggling with the same thing I was…. how called he felt, his imposter syndrome…. how sometimes he loses his faith when he’s doing hospital rounds and has to rescue himself, etc. I wasn’t doing a hospital rotation, but it’s something that I knew I would struggle with as well if I went the pastoral route.
Incidentally, the reason I didn’t go into ministry is the same reason I didn’t become a therapist. I can’t manage my own problems. That gives me two disadvantages. The first is that I will be constantly overwhelmed by other people’s problems and continue to not work on my own…… because it’s a monotropic thought process to think of other people first, because you like it. What says avoiding your own emotional work by pretending that other people’s problems are more important than yours?
When you start taking up room in the universe, you realize just how much you’re not getting by not asking for it. This is because once you start working on yourself, you know when you’re kowtowing to someone and afraid to take up room, or whether you’re trying to make progress. When the other person is receptive, that’s truly healthy. When your issues cause anger and frustration in them, that’s when the toxic cycle begins.
It actively says to the one who brings up problems that theirs are unimportant. Only the person who is completely shut down is allowed to need things. That’s because the person who expresses emotional needs and gets ignored tries even harder not to make the other person angry, because the last time they brought up an issue, all hell broke loose.
This cycle can go on for decades, and it doesn’t matter whether it’s with your first family or your partner and kids. Plus, there’s a lot of resentment and anger that boils under the surface when one person lays out their issues, and the other person seems receptive…. but “seeming” and “actually” are two different things.
Here is What I Know For Sure.™ In my relationship with Kathleen, if I brought up a minor problem, like housekeeping, she’d step all over my ass. When Dana started doing things like that, we spiraled out… mostly because at the time I was in it up to my ass and I didn’t have much patience. But what I learned is that when someone starts shutting down, that’s the end whether you like it or not.
Now, I have a lot of patience and if I expressed unhappiness about anything in my relationship with Zac, he wouldn’t just say “we’ll talk about it” and forget. He’d either remember on his own or send me a calendar invite to talk, either an audio/video call or in person.
That’s what I mean about it being the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had. I don’t have a partner who tries to kick the can down the road on hard conversations.
Speaking of hard conversations, I made a mistake because I was typing too fast. I am not Zac’s newest partner, but because I’m not around much, people think I am. We are also not cutesy in front of our friends, we are cutesy when we’re out on the town, which mostly means making people want to throw up in the grocery store.
The conversation was surrounding how, since we aren’t cutesy and aren’t together all that often, how do I fit into your life and what’s your bandwidth? That’s a hard conversation to have, because I was terrified that he’d say he was overwhelmed and we needed to break up because I live so far.
My logic was 100% upside down and backwards. We’re good for life as long as we stay where we are, with which I am completely comfortable. He’s just as dedicated to me as an orange string as I am to him. I need his friendship as much as his romance, at which he is very good.
He might not think so, but what really sticks in my mind as romance is remembering things I say. When I said I liked Bullet Coffee, he got me an immersion blender just because.
Editor’s Note:
In case you’re not familiar, Bullet Coffee is a tablespoon of grass-fed butter, a tablespoon of coconut oil, and very, very hot coffee in the blender. The official recipe is the tablespoons of oil and butter with 80z of coffee. I like Cafe Bustelo best. The reason I like it so much is that it provides all my morning calories and brain food at the same time, so 8oz of coffee is enough to start my day.
He sees when I’m struggling and likes helping out, and I don’t mean monetarily…. although he is sweet about telling me to put whatever I want in the cart at the grocery store and Trader Joe’s because he knows that I’ll want to have food and drinks at his house that I’d buy at mine.
The latest was kidding him about me being fake irritated that he was out of Dr Pepper Zero and he actually stopped by the store on the way home and bought a 12-pack. He had a million other drinks I could have chosen, just nothing sugar free.
Well, that’s not true. He has a Soda Stream and I love putting in a bottle of still water and turning the carbonation up to hell.
I also like soda with hard alcohol, fresh fruit, juice, etc. and it’s so great that it tastes fresh from our water. But juice, I think, is one of the worst things for you on the planet if you’re not drinking the kind sweetened with Splenda. You can ask your doctor if they think Splenda is bad for your child, but what you cannot ignore is that all juice is mostly sugar.
Just like restaurant food is mostly animal fat and butter. You get to choose whether you want that rich a meal, and also if way more fat is worse than way more sugar.
I would also rather eat my daily allowance of calories than drink it. So, that’s why I drink diet soda or the drink mixes you add to water bottles. When I drink alcoholic drinks, I tend to use seltzer as a mixer, and even with non-alcoholic beer, you have to be careful. They’re sometimes less calories than a real beer…. sometimes not.
My current favorite drink mixes are an import from Mexico and it’s only, like 10 bucks for 44 drinks…. take that, SODA. They’re sugar free aguafrescas. Both the lime and the piña colada flavors blow me away, because they’re not really sweet. The lime tastes like the real limonada you’d buy on the street in Enseñada…. and yet, not as good as Sunkist Lime, tbh. The piña colada tastes like real coconut water and a little bit of pineapple. It feels like being in Mexico 16 oz at a time. I have such fond memories.
Plus, other countries have laws around dyes that we do not. What I have noticed is that Mexican drink colors are not loud. Given my 7th grade science project, I believe this is for the best.
And through all of this, you may be wondering why I’m changing topics a lot. It’s that in my entries, I’m a gardener. I don’t pick and choose what’s important to say and what’s not. The plot reveals itself, I cannot predict what it will be because in order for the writing to change, I do. I start at a subject that’s not too deep and dig down until I feel comfortable enough to let go.
And now we’ve arrived at that moment, what I’ve avoided saying for almost a hundred paragraphs now. One of the biggest roots of my trauma, my first case of PTSD, was walking into my room and seeing my precious first computer melted and mangled into my desk. I’m autistic, always have been, and computers are one of my special interests.
Given the way that I use the internet for writing now, you can only imagine how much I lost in terms of text documents….. and I saved everything on hard drives and floppies, but of course I didn’t have any on me. They couldn’t have been, because I had to rush out of the house too quickly to grab anything, because my room/office was already full of smoke.
The bad thing from that time was twofold. The first is that scanners hadn’t been invented yet, nor e-mail (outside of the military), so there were no pictures to save that way. The second is that I didn’t think of my files as important back then. Apparently, I didn’t think pictures were important, either, which happens when it’s the choice between saving memories and black smoke chasing you down the hallway. I did not see anything burn.
The fire started in the attic, so of course I smelled the smoke, but luckily I do not have any trauma of actual flame.
I think that’s why the image of my first computer is burned into my brain. In the moment, I did not have time to take in the horror, and I was all alone. My mom and Lindsay were shopping. My dad was delivering communion to the shut-ins. I called the fire department from my next door neighbor’s house dressed in Snoopy pajamas, black pantyhose, and heels. This is because I was getting ready for my first church dance. I was wearing the nightgown until my hair and makeup were done, so I was also sporting hot curlers.
I got to make up for that missed dance later, and even met someone I really liked… but it was just a sweet crush on both ends because he was a little bit older. It was the type relationship where we realized we would have been good together, but the timing was off.
That was an excellent night because it took me a while to get over being the only one who knew our house was burning down for a while. In fact, my mother drove up to the house surrounded by police, fire, ambulance, the whole bit and thought I was dead.
It was a very good moment when she realized I was standing right there in the neighbor’s yard, still having nothing to change into, but she knew why. She was the one that was going to help me with my hair. The worst part is that it was December and I didn’t have a hoodie. The best part is that it was NE Texas, so it was still 50-55 degrees. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable.
That fire was so memorable that it literally appeared in the Naples paper for 30 years under “On This Day” (Dec. 20th). I believe that’s because it affected the church just as much as it did us.
In those days, less so now, you moved from parsonage to parsonage instead of buying your own house. Because of the housing market and ministers retiring without many assets (nor a place to live), the UMC started giving people living allowances separately from their salaries so they could work their own way up in real estate and have a place to retire.
I am sure that it was difficult for the church in that moment, realizing that they needed to rebuild an entire house. I never got to see it. We rented until we moved to Houston. My friends John and Linda have told me it’s beautiful. I believe it. It was the most majestic house on its street before.
From what I have heard, they just took it down to the studs, because the outside was fine. It relieves me because my favorite thing about the house were the Greek columns out front. It was the best house ever, and looked above a minister’s station in life even before it burned. But we drove old cars. There were no BMWs to match the vibe.
I do believe that it was easier to buy a parsonage that large and beautiful because it was bought in Naples, Texas. In DC, that house would be worth a quarter of a million dollars, especially because of our big front and back yards.
In DC, you’re lucky if your yard is bigger than a postage stamp.
I can say now that living in Galveston and Naples were some of the best years of my life, because I was young enough that things weren’t complicated….. except for being physically weak and mentally strong. The kind of thoughts that you’re hearing stream-of-consciousness now are the same way I processed emotions as a child.
Which is “try to take up the least amount of space possible and maybe no one will notice how weird you really are.” Here’s a for-instance, and it does have to do with computers.
I went on an interview in Portland once where I was going to be a contractor, not a full-time employee. The representative from the agency who got me the contract was trying to give me a “pep talk” before the interview and said, “I think when you walk in, you should announce the problem you have with your eyes because it’s noticeable enough to be distracting and you could make everyone uncomfortable.” When I told Lindsay about this yesterday, she wanted names and numbers.
She was going to sue the pants off this guy until I told her that it wasn’t recent enough, so I don’t remember the name, nor the agency.
Funny enough, I walked in and owned the room. I got the job in 25 minutes. However, the employment agency would not let up on me about my disabilities and “making other people uncomfortable,” so I fired myself and moved on to a better fit at Oregon Health & Science University (OHSU).
We lost our funding for that project, so that’s when I moved to cooking. Dana was having a blast and I couldn’t stand being in an office anymore. I wasn’t the best cook, but I’m not the best office employee, either. In fact, I’m a much worse office employee.
I understand chefs because I’m autistic and they’re direct. I don’t understand bosses and HR-speak, and I don’t mean it like I don’t understand telling an employee to fuck off in the middle of a meeting will probably land me in hot water.
I mean that I don’t understand the things that go on behind closed doors, the way the bosses talk about me, and how I interact with coworkers because they’re trained to bullshit around everything.
I know that a lot of people don’t know what it means to “synergize,” but I don’t understand the difference between overperforming and underperforming because so much of it is calculated on your behavior and attitude whether your bosses/coworkers’ impressions of you are correct.
I understood it better at ExxonMobil and Alert Logic, because ExxonMobil ranked you and you got “grades.” Alert Logic displayed metrics in front of all of us so we knew how we were doing. It was uncomplicated because it was based on numbers and achievement, not (always) nebulous office politics.
At Alert Logic, though, I found my people. Other linux geeks like me. At ExxonMobil, I was stuck with a very large amount of STEM autistic geniuses, and because I’m creative autistic, let’s just say *our quirks didn’t line up.” That’s because not everyone was autistic, but everyone treated me like their personal secretary when I was actually IT support.
Why yes, I have printed out e-mails for people because they wouldn’t read them on the screen. Thanks for asking.
The one time I genuinely offended someone was when I told her what a simple fix it was for her audio problem. I meant it as “no big deal,” she took it as “you’re stupid.” What happened was that she was trying to play something from her iPhone, and she couldn’t get the aux cable to connect. She thought it was an IT problem, so she called us and I responded.
When I got there, the audio was fine. The case was preventing the audio cable from going all the way into the phone. So, I told her that all she had to do was remove the case and she’d be good to go. It embarrassed me in front of everyone when she said, “you didn’t have to say that part so loud….” and looked butt hurt.
I don’t like my job when people think I’m actively trying to make them look stupid. I save all that for when the day is over and I’m blowing off steam.
It was a lot of fun sitting around with my linux homies to set us apart from users, and regale each other over the calls we’d gotten that day.
In those days, we got a lot of calls about floppy disks, and we had to tell them, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Your work is gone. You didn’t save it on a hard drive as well.”
Two reasons for this. The first is that floppies were not that stable to begin with. It’s what happens when you have a tiny drive with magnets in it and only a thin layer of plastic to protect it.
The second is that people discovered that the side of the computer was the same material as the side of a refrigerator, and hard drives worked the same way, except metal surrounding the drive instead of plastic. So, they’d stick the floppy onto the side of their computer and it would erase the floppy so hard you couldn’t even retrieve the file structure, much less “final_final_final_paper.doc.”
If you put the floppy close to the hard drive, then the magnet would interfere with it as well. Remember I worked as the lab supervisor at the largest computer lab on campus, then the next year was promoted to supervising the smaller lab in the Graduate School of Social work all by myself. Therefore, I cannot tell you how many students I’ve had where I felt like I had to stop them from not contemplating suicide over it.
As an aside, USB flash drives are more stable than floppies, but I only think of them as “transport media.” As in, I work on my desktop and transfer files over that I’m taking to someone else. I don’t use it as permanent storage except for on laptops and tablets that have microSD slots.
If I had to sum up my love of Android tablets in two words, it’s “MicroSD slots.” The Ten Commandments stone tablets will have an expansion card slot before the iPhone, and even the newest Samsung phones don’t have them for the same reason. If you need more storage, they’re going to charge you an arm and a leg for it by having the storage soldered onto the motherboard. You can’t get a 32GB phone and add a one terabyte card anymore. Apparently that is now reserved for tablets only.
The best thing is that Android .mp3 players are the same way. My little Sansa Clip can hold a 512 GB card, and what that means is that I can either have every album ever made, or a smaller library in lossless quality….. for instance, copying the .wav file on a CD directly to your SD card is going to take up way more space than even the highest quality .mp3. But on a large expansion card, you can do that.
Because Apple did the same thing with iPods that it does with phones now. No expansion slot. If you wanted more storage, it was more expensive. I think the plan was to go to phones in the first place. The iPods were the equivalent of Microsoft Solitaire and Minesweeper.
Those games were not included with Windows as fun. I mean, they were, but that’s not the point. The games were included so that you’d be interested enough to learn how to use the mouse.
You learned the interface on an iPod Touch that would connect to wi-fi, so that when SIM cards were added, it wouldn’t feel different. Everything that used to be in iPod Touch is on the iPhone now, and again, no actual room for your music collection unless you’re willing to pay premium dollars. Even on the iPhone Mini 12, which I still carry because of its size (the form factor was not popular and they don’t make them anymore), the cost difference depending on disk space was enormous.
Meanwhile, you can add an expansion card to a tablet in two different ways. The first is that it will be formatted in a way that other computers can read, so you can take the card out and plug it into your desktop, etc. The second is that it will format as a virtual hard drive which doesn’t leave that tablet. The difference is that with the card integrated into your tablet, it doesn’t see the difference between one drive and the other, so you can install apps easier, because if you run out of space on your tablet, it will start installing apps to the card flawlessly without you having to move things over manually…. and honestly, only some apps can run disks formatted to be portable storage because they’re integrated into the operating system. I think the last time I did it, I used App2SD or something like that, and it would tell you which apps could be moved and which couldn’t.
Now you can skip the middle man.
I have a 128 GB expansion card on my HD Fire because I don’t have to want to be dependent on my internet connection. I will always download movies from Netflix, Amazon, etc. rather than streaming them because I might start them at home and finish on the train.
Again, wandering off into nowhere because it’s easier than wandering into everywhere pain lives.
Like seeing my very first computer melted into my desk.
What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?
The reason I’m most scared to edit an entry is that it takes a lot of bravery to be vulnerable with people on this scale. If I sit with a piece, over time I start judging it. I lose courage and back out on publishing. I write very fast and hit “Post.” Then, I don’t own it anymore. I’m not the judge of whether it’s good or not.
Plus, getting into the routine of writing every day means that I don’t dwell over past entries unless I have said something that crosses over from personal to professional (for someone else). My perceptions of their feelings are fair game; their jobs are not. So, I’ll go back and change something if they’ll tell me what I need to alter.
For instance, I had to keep that story tight about Kamala Harris for a month so that by the time I told you my sister had a meeting with her, it had been old news for quite a while.
I think the other reason it’s hard to edit entries is that it would be easier after the fact, but I’ve moved on to a new thing…. because it’s easier than sitting in some of those feelings again.
I don’t ever want to go back and edit anything, because I’m a good editor….. for someone else. I need the same thrashing with a red pen I’d give someone else, but I write too fast and furious to put someone else on a deadline like that.
There is one funny thing from yesterday that I didn’t notice until I reread… “I seem to have two audiences locked up…” and proceeded to only describe one of them.
The other is the people interested in cooking and what goes on in a professional kitchen. It gives me a different writing voice, one I like. It’s more confident than I am, because I’m hearing Anthony Bourdain in my head and not me. I’m definitely borrowing style without trying to imitate him, because all line cooks and chefs sound the same.
I think that I have so many long time readers because people do become invested in my weird little life, one that I adore because I chose it.
I don’t think that I chose wisely a lot of the time over the last 10 years, but I’m hoping the next will be easier having literally edited my life. I’ve been broken in ways I never thought I would be, and I’ve survived. Not always happily, but what didn’t make for a great time did make a good story- good or bad, it’s what happened according to me.
I underestimated how much crying there is in writing, and perhaps this is unique to me in some ways because fiction writers are always crying over someone else’s feelings. When I’m writing, I’m pulling things out of me that I haven’t thought about in years. Not everything is happy.
Not everything is sad, either.
What I can say is that it would be miserable going back and editing everything I’ve said about Supergrover, because editing came at a cost….. but no, it didn’t. That’s because I should have realized a long time ago that she was never going to open up to me and I was wasting a lot of time and energy with hope.
However, there are several good options as to why she’s not talking right now, so I don’t want to be a dick and say we’ll never speak again because I’m sure we won’t. I’ve been sure several times before, and it hasn’t lasted that long. But what I don’t want her, or anyone else, to be able to say is that I was the only one who exhibited toxic behavior. That withholding information was just as bad as giving too much. That we were both hotheaded and angry. That we’re both first children, and not used to being wrong. We’ve got each other’s numbers. For every action, there’s been a reaction. Sometimes it’s mine that’s blown out of proportion. Sometimes it’s hers.
No one won anything here. We both participated, and it became toxic because of a cycle perpetuated by both of us. I want to show that more than anything because I don’t have the want or need to blame her for anything.
Writing is about what I’m going to do. Editing it is dragging up the past. It makes the ghosts rise from their graves, and I’m eager to avoid that part of it. With an editor, they’d be reading my words without having memories attached to them.
So, in order to get me to edit my own work, I’m not exactly sure what it would take. It would be cutting my brain off from my heart…. something that writing stream-of-consciousness never does.
To start, I’m complaining about Bluetooth because for some reason, my 10-in Fire has started randomly dropping my keyboard. Like, not just the connection. The entire device disappears and I have to re-add it. Complaining is relative. I have other devices if I can use if this one gets too annoying, it’s just my favorite. The reason I haven’t already wiped it is that this tablet has everything on it. My whole life. Every account, every everything. I haven’t spent that much time with my other devices. For instance, I don’t have all my e-mail accounts added to my iPad, or cloud drives.
The only thing I would do differently if I bought another Android tablet was to make sure the specs on the hardware were the same, but not an Amazon Fire. I hacked it to run all the Google Play apps that I want, but they don’t work exactly right in terms of notifications because both systems aren’t integrated. So, even though I have Gmail installed on my Fire tablet, that doesn’t mean I’ll get notified I got an e-mail from you, etc.
I need to beef up my iPad, because realistically I know that it’s better hardware than I can afford with an Android (it was a gift, a 10.5-in iPad Pro first gen). However, needing an Android tablet is not because I prefer it, even though I do. It’s that I’ve bought apps in every shopping center. Without a Fire tablet, I lose Amazon. With a stock Android, I lose the Apple App Store. With the iPad, I lose Amazon and Google Play.
The other thing is that there are apps made for one operating system that aren’t made for the others.
Android is particular about that because a lot of it is linux desktop software that has been ported over; it’s a different user interface, but the same code underneath. Google Services Framework is also huge in Android development, which is why you have to hack a Fire tablet to run it. The Amazon app store has less than half the apps that Google Play store does because most Android apps have Google Services Framework as a requirement to install. I can get by on Microsoft products, because Amazon has Edge and Outlook and a few other things. But very quickly I realize I’m going to have to install Google Play, anyway, because Amazon doesn’t have my password manager.
You can do all that relatively quickly and easily with “XDA Fire Toolbox,” but again, it’s not going to work exactly the same as a stock Android tablet. I wish they’d burn FireOS to the ground and just put stock Android and their own apps on a Fire, not reinvent the wheel. The apps that Amazon writes for Google Play and iOS are objectively better than the ones they write for FireOS…… because they don’t have Google Services Framework…….
I complain a lot about computers because they’re inanimate objects. They can take it. For instance, my Fire tablet doesn’t know I’m writing about her, but I don’t know if she’d be pissed or not. I have a feeling that because she’s a computer, she would agree with me, that Amazon is not using her hardware to the best of its ability. Although I will say that for such a cheap tablet in, I think, 2019, I’m amazed at how well it still handles split screen with only 3GB of RAM.
I do split screen a lot on 10-in tablets because I have a coding notepad (same as Notepad on Windows, just puts a different color font on HTML, special characters, etc.) and a browser open at the same time. That way, if I can’t remember something, I can look it up quickly.
I’m starting to complain that I have to Google myself, because the way I mean it is so funny. I do not give a rat’s ass what people think of me on the world stage, so I do not mean searching to see what other people think. I mean I literally go to Google and type:
That means it will only search my domain for my search terms. People, I am Googling myself like other people wish they could Google their brains.
I complain about laying mine on the table, but it’s been invaluable. For instance, that last “Googling myself” was in the doctor’s office when I needed the date of my last hospitalization. I don’t remember, but I know how to find out.
I complain a lot about technology, but the one thing I can’t complain is that it’s helping me lose my mind. In fact, it’s bringing it all together.
This is another one of those rambling entries because I realized very quickly I don’t know shit about sports. But most of you love my rambling, so I know it’s probably okay. 😉
When I was 17, my crush was the goalie of the women’s soccer team at school. We ended up dating for a few months, and then she moved back to Canada, where she was picked for a college team that could get her to the Olympics. There are at least 10 different reasons why she left soccer after that, and I’m not entirely sure I understand any of them. But that’s not my story. That’s hers, and she’s a great writer so I hope some day she’ll tell it.
Yes, I did write her senior English final paper, but she used to have a blog, so I’ve forgiven her.
Also, I got a C on my own English final paper, so it made me feel good I got an A on hers (extraordinarily put upon, but still….). It’s not that I couldn’t have gotten an A on both. She’s neurotypical. She had the best notes ever. All I had to do was craft everything she’d already written down.
On the other hand, when I “write a paper,” I write them just like blog entries…. except I edit. I remember everything I read, so I am putting together sentences on the fly. My interest in a subject is directly connected to how fast I can craft a sentence on it without having to look anything up, because I’ve already read six books or whatever.
That’s why when the subject matter is interesting to me, the writing is tighter. The reason I try to remember everything I read is that unlike my first girlfriend, I do not have enough executive function to be able to pick and choose what I’m supposed to remember.
I inhale it all.
I think that’s what makes my blog entries interesting. I take in most everything through sight, and then write it down. My first girlfriend being a soccer player gave me a love for watching the game, because even when I didn’t understand the rules, I understood watching movement. It’s a ballet where the main characters are grass and blood.
I also think of dance as a sport, particularly those high school cheerleaders with the complicated routines and defiance of physics. In retrospect, I gained respect for cheerleaders by being in the marching band. We were all physically exerting ourselves at football games, and then the cheerleaders upped the ante with their own competitions in the off-season.
I only remember one cheerleader from my high school, JR, and he was my favorite because he was the only guy. Every cheerleading team needs a guy to help with the throwing and the catching. Plus, JR is straight. I can’t imagine it was a bad gig.
Many, many boys in dance and choir do it for the girls, and we appreciate it as long as they’re not creepy about it. I swear to God a tenor could walk into any choir anywhere and they’d be grateful to have him.
To me, singing is a sport, and I think only other singers would agree with me. If you don’t spend time training your body to get a solo-quality voice out of yourself, you won’t. This is because so much depends on your physical strength. You basically have to be able to inhale down to your feet and control the air so that it doesn’t all come out at once. That takes tremendous pressure on your diaphragm and breath control. You have to tighten down some muscles while keeping others loose. It’s a long process, and I think while not as demanding as soccer or ballet, we all learn the same types of breath control for being able to dance, run, and sing.
Getting winded on the field or the stage is inadvisable.
When I lived in Portland, most of my friends were baseball fans. I’ve always been a baseball fan in terms of going to games, but I won’t watch them on TV like my friends will. Without hot dogs and sodas at the ballpark, it loses a lot (to me). I don’t know that the Os would do well, but I’d love to see them against the Astros eventually. Now that they’ve moved leagues, they don’t come to Washington anymore.
In Portland, most of us rooted for the San Francisco Baseball Giants. I can think of one Mariners fan from my whole time there. Also in Portland, I was much more into football because Dana was. She never gave up her loyalty to WAS, but I love Pete Carroll and she respected that. I also love Russell Wilson.
In terms of basketball, I will watch LeBron James do anything, because he walks the walk. He gives so much charity everywhere he goes that it’s inspiring. And the way Dwayne Wade is raising his trans daughter gives me hope for other families.
Oh, and even before I met my first girlfriend, Ryan played lacrosse. He said something to me that I’ll never forget, because I wanted it to be memorable and it was, apparently. He’d just gotten home from six weeks of lacrosse camp (or maybe it was shorter, but I don’t remember. It was enough to completely change his body.) I told him that I liked his new look a lot, but it made him hug different. It sent the intended message. No matter what you look like, I love you, not your body, because he told me that almost 25 years later.
Again, we were unusual for kids. We were both old AF emotionally, so we treated our parents like in-laws from the beginning, us both calling the other’s “Mom and Dad.” I don’t know how my father felt about it, but a man worth paying attention to was paying attention to her daughter…. and being sweet to both her and Lindsay. This carried a lot of weight, and I knew it because she never treated any of my girlfriends that way. It was blatantly obvious.
But in addition to Ryan being sweet to my mother and sister, Ryan had an older brother I completely adored, because he and Ryan were so funny together. Inside jokes all over the place that I could join once I heard them.
Plus, I’ve always been the oldest and it was funny watching him pull the same stunts on Ryan that I pulled on Lindsay….. both before and after.
The funniest conversation I remember between Ryan and his dad was that Ryan had fallen off his bike, and was bleeding with road rash. His dad took one look at him and said, “geez. Is the bike okay? I learned later that being in a doctor’s house shapes you so much. Those kinds of retorts are par for the course.
And Caitlin once got her butt stitched up on the kitchen counter. That was before my time, but a legendary story. I believe I heard it on the night I went to her house for dinner, and we all came to find out that Cait had been picking the crab claws out of the gumbo all afternoon.
Maybe that’s her root. She likes working in restaurants, too. For Anthony Bourdain, it was oysters fresh off the beach in France.
I remember Cait being athletic, but don’t remember her formal sports. But our whole family likes watching the big games, even though we don’t watch every one. I mean, some of them do. Some of them are die hard Cowboys fans, and when I mentioned that I was a Cowboys fan she said the only way she could respect that was she liked Tom Landry. I told her that my memories of the Cowboys were mostly rooted in the 90s and it was okay to move on.
I’ve always rooted for the teams where I’ve lived except for the Nationals, because I don’t like the curly W on the hats. I do have one t-shirt that doesn’t have it on it, so it’s the only Nationals gear I own. I am much more partial to the Orioles, and when I lived here before, I was already a Giants fan. The Nationals are relatively new because we took a long break from The Senators (to our detriment, I think).
That also means that when I lived in Portland, I became a rabid Timbers fan, and even have a picture of me with their mascot somewhere. I didn’t really live in Houston when The Dynamo was established, and because Houston didn’t have an MLS team when I was in high school. I’ve always been a fan of DC United.
Everywhere my friends go that’s overseas, I ask them for a national jersey if they want to know what I want. I know there’s plenty of cheap knock-offs, so it’s not paying DC United prices.
Zac doesn’t follow sports at all, but he’s told me that he’d go to a minor league game if I wanted because he likes it better than MLB. So, we might do it, we might not because it’s a road trip to Hagersville to see the Southern Maryland Blue Crabs.
The first time I went, I saw them play The Sugar Land Skeeters, and I was just as excited to meet them as I was The Crabs. That’s the thing about minor league baseball. You can get into deep conversations with the players because they have more time to talk after the game and they’re trying to get their adrenaline to come down.
The reason I wanted a deep conversation is that I really wanted to know how Caleb was doing. He lives in Louisiana and commutes for The Skeeters, so they were in Maryland during the height of Hurricane Harvey and he’d already been through Katrina. Because I knew what was going on in Houston/Sugar Land, I wasn’t just talking to him; I was asking questions about his experience from the other side.
My sister was running the relief effort at the George R. Brown Convention Center. He said that because of the touring schedule, he hadn’t even had time to check it out- grateful he wasn’t there and desperate to see if his house and truck still were.
I wished him well, but what even he doesn’t know is that I got a fabulous picture of him right before he hit the ball out of the park, and I took a million to get that one shot from the time the ball was in the pitcher’s mitt. The ball is several inches in front of the bat and he’s in perfect form…. and even if he wasn’t, he still got a home run. I wouldn’t have known the difference.
I think one of the things I really like about Supergrover is that she’s successful at her job (I think) because she played so many team sports as a child/teen. She already had experience with collaboration and not lording it over people. Delegation when you’re the boss is key, because you cannot micromanage the work, you have to hire the right people- the ones that are self-starters and persnickety about details on their own. It’s not on your plate and doesn’t have to be because there’s a special bond between coworkers who are invested and those who aren’t, as in, how fast productivity goes down when the boss has left the office.
That will always happen in top-down situations because the boss is so exhausting. It’s not fun to be micromanaged, especially by a narcissist.
Narcissism leads to very problematic behavior, like blowing up your phone at 3 AM and being mad you’re not awake to serve them. No family thing is important enough not to miss work. Leave your family thing when I need you.
Because in the military and all the intelligence agencies around here, that is true and ironclad no matter how your boss communicates, which is why there has to be a lot of support from your family to do those jobs. There are going to be missed birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays whether anyone likes it or not. The chessboard is at stake, the one thing that really is more important than being with your family and you can’t argue with it in any place, at any time.
Support to all those people is doing enough work on yourself to be a complete person when they’re gone. For some people, that means moving back in with their parents when their spouse is deployed so that they still have a support system. Others rely on chosen family because they live on base, either here or overseas.
According to Jonna Mendez, you have a choice as to whether you tell your family that you’re CIA or not. That’s because you don’t know if your family/friends are going to find it easier to help you live your cover, or whether they’ll blow it. One thing that Jonna talked about in the event for “The Moscow Rules” is that she didn’t tell her best friend she was CIA for 35 years… and that’s because she told her dad and her dad was impressed, so he told all his friends….. the ones who had seen her face, already knew who she was, etc. The more people that can attach those things, the more “in trouble” you feel.
However, with the military and intelligence, you just have to accept that some things are above your pay grade and you can only know so much. Like, “I can call you on a sat phone, but I can’t tell you where I am.” It’s not that the soldier/case officer doesn’t want to help you understand, it’s that they can’t because it would reveal troop movements if the sat phone was hacked.
I do not think that we are preparing for war ourselves. I think that those secrets are being kept so that no one knows who’s watching and where.
I can connect all of this to “Argo,” because there’s an “Argo” illustration for every occasion. To have people know what your face looks like reminds me of that scene where the “face book” has been ripped to shreds, and they get at least 20 people to sit there and line up the strips so they can see the pictures again, trying to stop the houseguests from getting out of Iran. This is because the diplomats didn’t have enough time to burn all the classifieds before the Iranis rushed in.
Let me say for the record that I do not have a dog in this race. Both the Americans and the Iranis have done horrible things to each other. I can understand Iran’s frustration at us getting the Shah out before they could prosecute him. I understand that it put the United States at a distinct disadvantage because we cut off diplomatic relations, closing the embassy altogether at that point.
I believe that’s why people like Tony and Jonna are every bit as effective as sending “a fully armed battalion to remind them of our love.” That’s because we can prevent a lot of boots on the ground with the right intelligence, because then we can go after someone diplomatically/politically instead of starting a war.
It is so disheartening to have a president who’s blind to the plight of Palestine. It is so complex we need to withdraw support from both sides immediately. It’s not our fight. That’s one that’s been going on for too long for us to rescue anyone. The president needs to realize that in their case, the call is coming from inside the house. We can’t police this one. It will work out every bit as well as Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and any other conflict we’ve entered where there hasn’t been a thousand years of fighting over that land.
I also don’t know what Biden’s faith is telling him about Israel, and that’s bothersome as well. It is a damn problem, because all the Abramic branches are at war with themselves over this. Christians and Jews want to protect their holy places, and don’t understand that all Muslim holy places are in the same vicinity.
I am not sure that is the message Christianity and Judaism want to spread…. that Muslim lives are worth less.
Because that’s what they’re doing…. like it’s a sport.
I’m 46, so I’m not sure I could do much with my lottery money if I won it right this moment. I’d probably put it away for my elder years. However, it truly depends on how much I won. So, just for this entry (because saving it is boring), let’s say that I’m already independently wealthy and it doesn’t matter whether I win this money or not. Therefore, whatever I do with it is up to me. I don’t know how much I’d win, I’ll just tell you what I’d do and you can decide how much it was in retrospect. Because that’s what I’m going to do.
The first $15 million goes to Supergrover, because we’ve had this plan since 2013. That day, she was joking about what would happen if she won the lottery. I said, “will you do me a favor?” She said, “sure. What is it?” I said, “find the most conservative school you can find. Oral Roberts, whatever. Donate the money for a whole ass building, so that every kid in that school has to walk through ‘Lanagan Hall.’ Then, 10 years later, tell them I’m gay.” Actually, this is an open-ended source of money, because if Lanagan Hall is going to cost $20 million? STILL WORTH IT.
I got the idea from James Beard. He was “uninvited” from Reed College for being gay, so when he died he left them a lot of “fuck you” money. It stuck with me. I think you can watch the doc if you have PBS Passport, because it’s one of the old “American Masters” episodes.
If Zac, Supergrover, and Bryn still have mortgages, those are gone, as well as my parents’ and sisters.’ If any of them have student loans, those are gone as well (but I don’t think they do). I would go back to school full-time and I have no idea when I would leave. If I got the hang of it, I might want to stay for a Master’s and a Doctorate.
Most of the reason I was bad at school is that I didn’t have enough time to work, study, and go to class. The lottery would really help out with that, because all my living expenses would be covered without getting me in debt during retirement.
My thing about getting a Master’s and a PhD is that it has to be something I really enjoy. Obviously, the current job market does not care if you have a Master’s or a PhD given the salaries I’ve seen listed for both. What I have learned over time is that managers really don’t care if you have a degree in your field. They care that you made it through something. For instance, even if my Master’s was theology, I could still apply in IT because of my work experience plus education. I could still apply for lower-level jobs, and honestly, I think I would like that more.
I have never wanted to be the manager of anything, the reason I don’t want to be a chef (people think all line cooks are chefs. Incorrect. Chef is “boss,” like “el jefe” in Spanish.). I would like to invest in food, though. I’m really interested in Athletic beer (non-alcoholic), and David Chang is one of their investors as well, so I know I’m not the only one with a palate for it that I trust.
I’d make a donation to the culinary CIA in honor of Anthony Bourdain. Not much, just enough to say I did it. Something that wouldn’t mean anything to Anthony because he’s already gone, but would mean the world to me.
I would buy back HSPVA. #iykyk
I would like to buy property in this area, but I am confused as to where I want to live. This is because I could buy land and build a house, or I could buy a condo/apartment and both of those sound glorious on different days.
(Just not in the Watergate…. it’s literally falling apart.)
Honestly, I think I would get more bang for my buck if I moved to Baltimore for a downtown condo, but I doubt many of my friends would come visit me…. oh, wait…. yes they would. Every time they needed a place to crash in Baltimore…. and I really wish I was there today because I’m a Ravens fan (who doesn’t want Edgar Allen Poe to win the Superbowl?). I can’t remember where the game is being played, but it would be fun to be at Camden Yards, anyway. So many bars and restaurants where Ravens fans would be obnoxious…. like me.
I don’t really get caught up in sports, only the excitement of the other fans. For instance, I do not like very many sports, but if it’s someone’s special interest, I’ll learn all about it just through listening to them and retaining what they say. It pays off. I still owe someone a beer because I got one at trivia off her. Her special interest was golf, and because of her, I knew Jordan Spieth won the Master’s tournament in 2015. My ex-wife’s special interest was The Commanders, so I know more about WAS than I do about any other team, despite being a Maryland fan now.
The other thing is that if you retain what other people say about sports, you can look really impressive with your analysis while also not knowing shit from Shinola.™ Although, today I did recognize the name “Jim Harbaugh,” so I’m making progress. 😉
So, it might be fun to live over a Ravens bar, because then I could have noise around me without taking it in, plus be within walking distance of everything I’d actually want to see in Baltimore…. plus, their public transit is as good as ours. The MARC train even connects to Silver Spring station, so BWI is probably 30 minutes and West Baltimore another 30 after that. It’s handy to take the MARC to BWI when you’re flying Southwest, but it doesn’t run as often as The Metro runs to DCA and IAD (Dulles is now on the Silver Line, DCA has always been Yellow/Blue for visitors).
And now we’ve arrived at what I’d do if I won the lottery in terms of securing my own future. I really believe in my app, but I don’t do development. If I won the lottery, I could be my own venture capitalist. With the right government contracts, it would be a hit in Washington and possibly as famous as Uber if it works in more cities than just DC. I would want to start small, basically a “Pied Piper” sort of office, because I don’t want to spend all the money at once…. besides, with an app, less is more. I don’t want too many chefs, not enough line cooks. It’s my vision.
If nothing else, I am good at planting ideas in people’s heads. Money would just help me do that on a grander scale. So, I’d change everything……
In 2012, when the movie “Argo” came out, Tony Mendez was asked to write a companion book to the movie. So many people wanted to know the real story, me being one of them. So, I read that book and then proceeded to inhale all Tony’s other’s….. which were co-written by his wife, Jonna. Tony passed away in 2019, so “In True Face” is Jonna’s first solo work.
My dad sent her a message asking her if she’d sign a book for me and give it to me at the talk, so now I know I will have something to read as I’m leaving. I am picturing a scene in which I cannot put it down and the museum guards are saying, “ma’am…. MA’AM! WE ARE CLOSED.” I hope I’ve managed to get some other people excited about it, too, because I’ve mentioned the book on reddit (over 500 upvotes) and at Zac’s parties (because that’s already an audience who’d be interested in going since they work in intelligence).
I could write about a hundred books I want to read in the future, but this one means more because I have such a personal connection to it. If you’ve read every single thing an author has ever written, it’s an unbreakable bond. Then, you meet the author and it’s a good experience and it adds to the excitement of reading what they do next.
I do for her what people do for me, essentially. I know I have some people that click on my links immediately, and it makes me feel incredible. So, I hope that promoting her makes her feel good, too. If you can’t be in the audience on Mar. 5th, again, at The International Spy Museum, it’s already on order at Amazon, but I don’t think it’s out already. I think you have to preorder. I’m not going to check because if I did, I’d have two copies.
I generally end up buying two copies, anyway, because my keepsakes are pristine (except for “The Moscow Rules.” I was on a plane, so there are pencil marks in the margins on that one. But for the rest, all my notes are digital and kept in my Kindle app and synced to Goodreads….. despite perfectly good hardbacks in my top dresser drawer (in which I don’t want pencil marks). “The Moscow Rules” autograph is too personalized to ever give away. Earlier in the evening, she said something about “maybe we should hire you” when I joked at her about having a sneaking suspicion she worked on “Atomic Blonde.” I said, “that part about ‘maybe we should hire you will live in my memory for the rest of my life.”
So, the book says, “Leslie….. Maybe we should hire you.”
When Jonna talks about an autobiography called “In True Face,” one of the special memories I have of her is that she showed it to me a long time ago.
She’s the real deal. You should go. We can sit together….. because I’m getting a book. 😉
Stories That Are All True 