Tag: Friendships

Relationships & Co.

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Today is just going to be a hodgepodge of questions about relationships. They’re not all about my relationships, because it’s a prompt from Carol. Keeping in mind that these are questions from a machine, I will try my best. She gets some things right. 😉

  1. How do digital interactions shape our real-life relationships?
    • It depends on what kind of person you are. Do you live your life mostly on the ground without paying attention to the Internet, or are you connected umbilically? How long have you been using the Internet? What age were you when digital relationships started? Were you 15 or 40? The biggest thing I can think of is “divide and conquer.” Which world has more of your attention? If your attention is in the cloud, your life on the ground will suffer. If your attention is on the ground, your relationships in the cloud will suffer. Mostly because those two crowds don’t interact with each other. There’s a chance for jealousy that one group knows you better than the other- and they don’t. They each know different parts of you that the other doesn’t.
  2. Can long-distance relationships truly thrive in today’s world?
    • If relationships were about logic, I think every long distance relationship would be a success now- there are too many tools to make it forgettable that you’re not near each other. But you don’t get contact comfort through the Internet. The biggest problem with long distance relationships is that generally one person is committed to it- going out and having their own lives- and the other is sitting at home waiting by the computer for news. A long distance relationship only works if both people are comfortable leading their own lives. Zac and I aren’t in a long-distance relationship, but poly is a good example of something similar. Zac would be horrified to find out that I sat and waited for him on anything. He wants me to have a full life, and I want that for him. It’s a new way of doing relationships, and I like it. The trick in a long distance relationship (as with poly) is wanting your person to be happy whether you are providing that happiness or not. By definition, if you live in Los Angeles and they live in Vancouver, you’re both going to have people taking care of you that aren’t your partner. You can either be jealous or grateful. Hint: grateful makes long-distance work a lot longer……..
  3. What role does vulnerability play in building strong connections?
    • It doesn’t just play a strong role in building relationships. It plays a strong role in maintaining them. I know when people are telling me one thing with their mouths and another with their eyes. That’s because the person won’t get vulnerable about what their eyes are saying…. it is the scary truth they’re not brave enough to speak. I’m not very good at giving people their white lies about me. The things that make them feel more comfortable. That’s not necessarily a good thing, but it is definitely an autistic thing. I know you’re hiding something, and I won’t rest until I know what it is- even if it ends the relationship, because I’d rather know how someone really feels than to accept their pity friendship. I would rather have no friends at all than friends who don’t tell me things “not to hurt my feelings.” It’s counterfeit kindness. Your neurotypical friends can see through that bullshit. I can’t. I will take everything you say as literally as a heart attack, and not only that, I’ll remember what you said. People’s best way of dealing with me remembering what they said is to deny they ever said it. Again, vulnerability is huge in a relationship, and masking true feelings never works. Ever.
  4. How do cultural differences impact romantic relationships?
    • There were so many people weirded out by the fact that I was in an interracial relationship on the streets of Houston that people totally forgot we were gay. Small blessings.
  5. Is it possible to maintain lifelong friendships in a constantly changing world?
    • It depends on the kind of person you and your friend are. Do you value history? Do you value the vulnerability that comes with history? If you don’t, you’ll always be looking for new friends. By the same token, letting go of a friend is not always negative. As you grow, you don’t take everyone with you. You feel out who is supportive and who is not, and you don’t want to surround yourself with unsupportive people. The best test of time is if you and your friend grow toward each other during change or away.
  6. How does the concept of ‘soulmates’ influence our approach to love and relationships?
    • It’s a false narrative designed to keep women incredibly choosy. Men have never been taught the concept of “soulmate” or “waiting.” Men get very good at talking that bullshit when they have daughters who they hope won’t run into boys like them…… but they will, because their dads didn’t do a damn thing to change ANYTHING. By the time you’re 19 or 20, that fairy tale has probably been busted…… and because so many women are taught that one man will complete them and their soulmate left, that means their worth is gone, too, because you don’t get another one. Lesbians are not immune to this, because we pick up stories that are all true, and none of them actually happened. As in, just because lesbians are not taught that one woman will fulfill their needs from adulthood to death, that doesn’t mean we don’t buy into what our heterosexual counterparts are taught.
  7. What are the effects of social media on our perceptions of relationships?
    • It’s different for everyone, because for some people it’s a competition. Some people must have the best of the best on their feeds- top vacation destinations, new cars, etc. For others, it’s a hospital for outcasts. It’s friends for whom you’ve cast a wider net. Autistic people built the internet. It’s our safe space. The reason there’s an archetype for computer nerd is that most of us are neurodivergent. As much as “the internet is for porn,” it is also the place where the people who fit in normally are the misfits.
  8. How do childhood experiences shape our adult relationships?
    • Your childhood creates the script of how adult relationships should go. Whether your parents were healthy or not makes a huge difference as to how that script was written. Because it’s a script you’ll use with every connection you ever make in your life from that moment forward…. so parents, no pressure.
  9. Can friendships between men and women be purely platonic?
    • By that logic, I would have problems being friends with myself (I’m nonbinary). But the truth, like everything, is “it depends.” Just because there’s no attraction at first doesn’t mean there never will be, and that’s true of all people, all the time. We get hung up on genders, but emotional availability when you’re not getting it at home is appealing no matter who the person might be. There should be less emphasis on gender roles overall, because there don’t need to be two different standards of behavior.
  10. What are the key ingredients for a successful and lasting relationship?
    • I don’t know. No one does. There are millionaire authors out there who have made a name for themselves writing about relationships when the truth is no one fuckin’ knows. People are seeking security when there’s none to be found. The only security is in making yourself the best partner you can be, because you will not get any results except anger if you try to change someone else. And the thing is, if you try to change someone, you deserve their anger. Lasting and successful relationships know where one person ends and the other begins.

Oh, The Places We /Could/ Go

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The woman I refer to as only “Supergrover” or “my beautiful girl” said that I basically distilled her behavior as 11 years of being a dick and not taking responsibility. But she didn’t seem to care about the answer. That she may think the world of me, but I cannot tell it from the way she acts. There is a huge gap between what is going on in her brain and what is going on in mine. I have very little insight into what she wants. I cannot tell what she wants and needs emotionally by talking around things, like telling me an entire e-mail is “vitriol” when we are both a spectrum. In every instance, I showed how our behaviors are the same- how we both react to each other the same way. She distilled it into “everything is my fault and I guess I was the only one who was shitty.” It was just putting words into my mouth because she feels bad about herself all on her own. Nothing I have done has helped, like when she told me that she’d feel bad forever that she wasn’t more present when my mother died.

I told her that she was present. That we talked when I was on the tarmac at Hobby. That of course I missed her, and would even have loved it if she came with me to the funeral, but I wouldn’t have ever put an expectation like that on her. I didn’t put the expectation to come to the funeral on any of my DC friends, much less someone I know very, very, well……. sort of. I told her that she was with me the whole time. She responds to anger and frustration, not love.

So, in the vein of trying to make her see that I do want a relationship and her assessment is completely false, here’s a list of all the things I really have loved about our relationship…. which in no way made our problems go away. As in, just because there are problems, it doesn’t make me love these things any less:

She buys me Kindle books for holidays, and apologizes if she misses my birthday while wearing “suits and crap for work.” Sometimes, she can’t make the clock stop on my actual birthday, but it always stops for me at some point. That’s really a great metaphor for our relationship- that we are both important enough to each other to make the clock stop.

She sends me pictures, whether they’re of her family, her dogs, her travels, etc. It means more to me than anything to be a part of her real life. Just because I see it in pictures doesn’t mean it is less valuable than getting together. I think that getting together and talking with our voices would clear up a lot in terms of the problem we have, but I have never been insistent that meeting up must happen. I just think it will give us the most change, the fastest. Like really seeing if we do like each other, or only our writer personalities do.

That is totally a thing.

Many people you chat with don’t turn out to be what you want in person. I am just determined to believe no matter what that if we did meet up, we’d get along because we’re too Southern and polite to make things awkward for too long. Not every conversation has to be difficult.

But some of them do. I told her that I thought in some ways, she’d built me up to be the boogey man because we didn’t meet immediately and now it’s just weird. As a result, it’s created a major imbalance because I overexplain and she “never complains, never explains.” I feel like a problem can be solved by communicating more. She feels like we should just get on with our shit. Meanwhile, just getting on with our lives and not talking about the underlying issues are what blows our future out of the water because we do care about each other despite our fears.

She told me I deserved better, but then didn’t change a thing. I’m not mad. I just want change and she’s choosing to believe things I never said without clearing any of it up. Meanwhile, our emotional baggage just piles up. I am tired of her using the buttons on her clothes to hold in her feelings.

She says that she will not be “held hostage” by what I want to talk about. If she feels like she is being held hostage, she should have said that before she told me I deserved better. Because this isn’t better. This is the same.

I keep talking because I’m concerned, and I wish things were different.

I called her on it in the moment, and instead of saying, “no, no, that’s not what I meant,” she flew off the handle. She got mad at me for saying I was enjoying watching her spin out on her own, after she said “please don’t contact me again” and then proceeded to rip me a new asshole in a separate e-mail. The entire e-mail also said “I’m confused. Do you want me to respond, or do you never want me to contact you again? Say what you will about my methods, but thus endeth the reading of the Riot Act when I told her that she was spinning out on her own. If you fucking tell me to never contact you again, and then you feel the need to unload everything you could have said before you told me to fuck off forever, I could have cared about what you have to say next so much more.

She said I was telling her exactly how much I cared about her. I was telling her exactly how much I couldn’t be paid to care what she thought in that moment because once you say “never contact me again,” it’s time for you to have a Coke™ and a smile and shut the fuck up. Anything you do after that is only robbing the other person of regret at confrontation, because you see how well they handle it.

Neither one of us can stop blowing up at each other while telling each other it’s for life and we should work on our relationship.

It’s not that we don’t mean those things. It’s that we don’t know how to get there from here, and everything I suggest is wrong. Everything she suggests is nothing. But I wish she would. I can’t compromise by going all the way to her side every time.

Jack, Who is Also a Dog

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

David is going out of town, so I’m on dog duty starting this afternoon. I know I will enjoy having him to myself, because he sleeps with me and also has a dog bed next to my desk in the greenroom, where I hope to thrive. I’d like to paint the walls a very deep color if David will let me, because it’s the one room in the house that absorbs such a wealth of light that a dark color makes sense. I’m thinking probably green. 😉

I have a million little projects around the house, because I still haven’t completely unpacked and put away all my clothes. I’ve been living out of my laundry bag because my dresser and closet setup is a bit weird. It’s a layette. I’m short, but I am no longer 5 pounds, five ounces (yet still omnipotent…. I LIKE THE BABY JESUS BEST!). So, I need to figure out a boxing system or something. I have two very, very deep drawers and no way to really see what’s in them. I did get my shelf with paper lamp put together, and it looks beautiful. Right now, my Culpeper Ring coffee mug is on it because David broke my CIA cocktail glass. It was an accident and I’m mad as fuck live in the same universe. I’m not mad he had an accident. Accidents happen. I just miss something precious that has been lost, a different problem with which he cannot be blamed because at the end of the day, it’s just a thing. The day before, I filled it up with ice cream and took a picture. That’s enough.

It is worth David giving Zac some money in case he gets to go to Langley soon, but a replacement is not necessary. I have taken several pictures of it- my favorite with ice water because it makes the logo and the 1947 etched in the glass really pop. So, now I’m just a Magritte with a representation…. and realistically, that’s more important to me than keeping a thing. Or I have to tell myself before autistic rage hits me like a ton of bricks. It’s a comfort item.

Again, not David’s fault. Just sad. Some things suck, you know? I mean, it is David’s fault, but literally everyone has accidents and by nature you don’t know they’re coming. I believe the glass was wet. Dollars to donuts I would have done the same thing in his place, it just hurts more when you feel like there’s something you could have done if you were there and you weren’t……. knowing that I’m the clumsiest person on earth and it never would have happened. I am putting way too much emphasis on “my personal ability to do good hair.” I do think, though, that with us both trying to save it and failing miserably, I’d be laughing about it now. I just feel helpless because I’m autistic and I don’t feel bad about it. It’s a sensory issue not to be able to use it anymore.

I have sensory issues with glasses, and have for a long time. My absolute OCD with them comes in at coffee mugs. I don’t actually like many besides tumblers because I find that I like a very specific feel to the handle of a mug, and I will search for it until it is perfect rather than putting up with mediocre.

My stepmother is a rheumatologist, and one of the pieces of swag she got while I lived at home was a coffee mug by Pfizer that said, “The Zoloft Hug.” As a person who struggles with mental illness at times, I thought it was trite, obnoxious, and addictive in terms of the way it felt in my hand. It was at least 25 years ago and I can still feel it, just like my wedding ring and my Apple Watch. I’ve gotten better about charging it while I’m writing so that I’m stimming while my wrist irritation is going on. It works for me. I get so focused in typing that I fail to notice it’s gone….. as much. If I am in bed and my wrists are lying on top of my legs, I will miss it instantly. It’s better for me all around to be in my office, but I slept like crap last night. Today is a day to take a few minutes to write in bed before I shower.

This morning I was thinking about something I said a few months ago that rings true today- that when people criticize me for writing about them, it lessens my need to write about them because I get exhausted by blowback quick. I’d rather write about something more universal than showing relationship patterns by showing mine first. The people about whom I am writing think they’re the main character. I’m not out to understand pain, but inflict it.

In my own mind, I am not inflicting pain because I am not responsible for your reaction. If you want to be mad, you have that right. You also have that right to talk to me about it and resolve our differences, because the blog is a living document. When you don’t do things I have to chew over, I don’t because it’s not necessary. I already understand where you’re coming from and I don’t have to root around inside my own head looking for answers. It often creates more problems than solutions- it’s getting lost in my own echo chamber.

I am not on the rampage, I’m neurodivergent and I overexplain. It’s an autist’s stock and trade. In short, if you’re in my life and you feel like blog fodder, you’re missing the plot. I write well about all of life. I communicate well about all of life. If you dip, I will write about something else because my writing does not belong to you. You can critique my logic, but not my feelings. All feelings are valid, especially when I am using them to see how letting all your feelings out and organizing them as you go day by day is a very healthy process. You don’t look at things the same when you’ve actually done the work to see both sides with empathy. You will not see both sides with empathy until your ego is not tied up in my blog.

I realize what I say has enormous power.

Most people don’t know that. The truth hurts, on a blog or in an e-mail. I take my lumps, just from people who are too cowardly to put their names on it in the comments so that other people can judge for themselves whether I’m off my rocker or accurate.

I am neither as reliable or as unreliable a narrator as you think. It’s a spectrum, and my performance is spotty. I am also a horrible boss. There are consequences. I try to write from as honest a place as possible, not from the standpoint that I am good and you are bad.

History doesn’t necessarily belong to the winners.

History mostly belongs to the people who actually write it down.

Sunday Morning, Rain is Falling

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been in the office since 0600, because it’s nice and cold out here. The air conditioning is set at 76, but I think it’s cooler than that outside. I don’t think it’s even kicked in. Plus, I have a ceiling fan, which necessitates either a jacket or a bathrobe depending on time of day. It’s not so much that I’m cold, but that I don’t like the feel of the wind from the fan on my skin. It is a constant sensory issue, so I have plenty of long sleeved t-shirts to stay cool and unflustered. Last night, I fell asleep on the couch. It’s a huge overstuffed blue leather job that will SUCK YOU IN. However, it was really cold and I only had one blanket, a wool sherpa throw. So, I’d get under it and get too hot, then throw it off and freeze. It was special. I finally went upstairs and changed pajamas (wet with sweat) and tried to sleep a little longer in my bed. No dice. The couch was already so comfortable that I slept in until 0600. Now, I’m hydrating with a punch I made from a sugar free berries and hibiscus aguafresca I got off Amazon and some lime zest. I generally wait to have my coffee until I’ve had lots of water first. Being dehydrated is most of the reason I think I need caffeine in the morning. I still do, I just need a lot less than I thought., because caffeine doesn’t help you hydrate and that’s what’s making you feel sluggish.

I took a break to make an eight-cup pot of Cafe Bustelo, because making it mug by mug often leaves a lot of grit in the bottom that a paper filter will catch. Normally, I drink it with whole milk, but today it’s black because I ran out of milk last night making macaroni and cheese. However, Cafe Bustelo is delicious black. It’s not like I feel like I’m missing something. If I did feel like that, Bryn and Dave left some CoffeeMate here. Ironically enough, I think it works better in strong black tea. That’s the only reason it’s not gone already.

I’m sure they use milk in the UK, but to me CoffeeMate is superior in tea because it doesn’t cool it down. It also doesn’t fundamentally change the taste of the tea, and I think it does fundamentally change the flavor of coffee. It makes black tea sing, and it makes coffee taste cheap. Therefore, I love it in Folgers and Maxwell House because it doesn’t make as much of a difference if the coffee is cheap as well….. or maybe I’m just more likely to adulterate it in that situation, who knows? In fact, I should get a can of Folgers to make cheap summer coffee. Cheap summer coffee is perfect for flavored creamers, because I don’t know about you, but I keep my favorite coffees unadulterated. Coconut coffee creamer was made for Folgers with ice.

And frankly, all coffees taste better if you make them perfectly. By “perfect,” I mean in measurements. Be exacting. For me, it’s taking the time to create a level tablespoon of coffee per cup. Cafe Bustelo is an espresso roast, so this is incredibly satisfying. It’s just so beautiful and smooth. I have converted David. I don’t get a toaster when I make people gay, I get a toaster when I sell Cafe Bustelo and Jonna Mendez’s books, mostly because they are a great combination. Cafe Bustelo is almost as smooth as Jonna Mendez. It’s trying hard. I still haven’t finished “In True Face,” because I thought I would be done with it by the time the museum closed, but I’m having more fun stopping and starting, getting lost in her world for a little while, then returning to my own and digesting what I have just heard. I hear her differently than most people, having friends like Zac. It has slowed down my willingness to be in that world 24/7, because I don’t have any security clearances. Therefore, no one can tell me anything that would make it more specific and less scary.

For instance, when Zac travels, I am not always allowed to know where he is going. I am not allowed EVER to publish where he’s going. Sometimes if Zac is comfortable with it, I can say he’s out of town on temporary duty and leave it at that. But it’s a “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?” sort of relationship because that motherfucker can rock heels and earrings better than me. Just one of the benefits of dating a queer man with red hair that sets EVERYTHING off. He’s such a clothes horse. Zac and I don’t live together, so one of the ways we check in is that he sends me a picture of himself in his car as he’s leaving for work (or standing next to his motorcycle/bicycle). I get to see his outfit and tell him he looks pretty. 😉 My favorites are the pictures where he’s wearing “my glasses.” It was actually his glasses frames that inspired me to start calling him “Smiley,” because they were the type of frames I imagined George Smiley would wear.

George Smiley is John le Carre’s main character if you’re lost- le Carre used to work at MI-6, and Smiley is an MI-6 operative, the perfect fictional character to represent someone who works with all our intelligence agencies, not just one. Let’s be clear, though. Zac collects data through servers. He is not an operative, nor does he work for a three letter. The three letters are his clients, not the other way around. That’s how he was able to get into the gift shop at Langley.

Zac is on the brain because his brother and sister-in-law just had a baby. So, he’s now Uncle Zac for the first time in his life and the pictures are so gorgeous. I have also been Uncle Leslie for the last 15 or so years because my ex-girlfriend and her partner’s daughter called me that once and I’ve never lived it down because I love it so, so much. As in, I have never WANTED to live it down. I like it because even though in the UK, Leslie is a male name, in the US it comes out as male/female, the perfect representation of me to a child. “Uncle Leslie” is me to any child, because I have the reflexes of a mom when a kid is hurt, but I want to throw a kid around like a dad, too.

I actually opened up to Supergrover about this the other day, that what really stopped my baby dreams was my mother dying. I realized how little it mattered to me to have children if she was never going to meet them. I feel this way about dating moms, too. That I will totally date moms and STILL feel like it’s a shame that my mother is not there to see my stepkids. She would have LOVED being a grandmother to Sam’s kids, because Sam’s kids are basically me. Both BRIGHT musicians vocally and instrumentally. I know that she would have loved any child I brought home, but bringing her grandchildren with whom she could do duets? Get the fuck out of here. I, with no shame attached or involved, wanted to be with Sam because she reminded me of my mother, but not in any way that was creepy. They had the same personality professionally. Sam was a church choir director and a singer in the Army. My mother was a church choir director and an elementary school music teacher. It was a way of keeping that part of me alive, the one that’s deeply connected to singing……. because the universe gave me someone with whom I could do duets, too.

I was so miserable when we broke up, because as Bryn so aptly summarized, she “busted my fairy tale.” I invested too much, too fast because I missed my mother so much. However, if your partner feels like dreams for the future are threatening, then they’re not the person for you. Just like with Supergrover, I wasn’t expecting everything to come together in 15 minutes. I was checking out the future to see what it would look like. I get uncomfortable in chaos, and tend to unravel.

That being said, Sam created her own chaos and then couldn’t hack it. She failed me, and I will not apologize for saying so. I met her a week after I scheduled my first date with Zac. I told her this during our first conversation. That we would need to discuss boundaries because if she was monogamous, I would cancel the date with Zac because I didn’t want anything to mess up this relationship. I knew that the relationship with Zac would be casual, and with Sam, the universe was trying to tell me something. Neither one of us listened. She told me that she was just getting started with her business, trying to get it off the ground. That she didn’t want to picture me sitting at home waiting for her all the time. So please, go out with Zac. I am too busy to be a full-time girlfriend. She kept up that facade until after Zac picked me up at the Metro three weeks later, then broke up with me while I was at his house.

People do not say what they mean.

I don’t know what she thought I was going to do that was negative. Maybe she thought I’d call off the date in theory, but date him on the downlow so she’d always have to be worried about him. No matter what it is that she thought, it was wrong. Because I said plainly and up front “here is my situation. What do you want to do about it?” She hid her feelings until she was so frustrated she exploded at me…… and that’s how I knew it was the wrong relationship and don’t look back. It is one thing to call off a first date. It is another to tell someone you’ve been with someone for a year, so no dice on monogamy.

If she had said she wasn’t comfortable, I wouldn’t have stayed at home waiting on her. We’d have the same relationship Zac and I do now, which is staying out of each other’s way unless we’re together in person. I write A LOT. I don’t need constant stimulation from my partner. In fact, that was a huge problem in being married to Dana (absolutely no shade, she was my sweetheart and a beloved one at that…. a practical problem, not a dealbreaker). Being married to an extrovert is not my jam. But here’s the secret.

It’s all an act. Dana is extremely shy. She will give you all her canned responses and you will love her to bits….. but you’re not really invited in until you see Dana in her silence. You don’t know Dana until you’ve seen her in a situation where she has run out of canned responses. That’s why it took me so long to fall in love with her. I had to get past the mask, a recurring theme in my life.

The truth that Dana is lovely and also it’s hard coming home to an extrovert can both exist in the same universe. Our relationship got so much better when I moved into the spare room, because then she could be extroverted while on the phone or something and I could escape to a room where the door locked. I learned during this time that it’s all about sensory deprivation for me. And in fact, I do not know whether Supergrover is shy and/or introverted in person, but I do know that it was easier coming home to the sensory deprivation chamber of writing to her than it was doing all the social masking of living with an extrovert. That is not a slam on my ex-wife, just a practical reality thing. It is hard work keeping up with an extrovert.

In case that was confusing, “shy” means you don’t want to talk to people. “Introverted” means you don’t have the energy for it whether you like the person or not.

I fall into the latter category, because I am very funny and engaging when my social battery is full, and it usually is because I don’t go out and do things very much. I spend so much time alone that when I actually do go out, meeting people is exciting and not draining. I have the most fun with my Uber drivers, because they’re usually from Ethiopia or someplace equally exotic and we end up talking about faraway places for the entire ride. I owe my love of Ethiopia to the opera AIDA and to Uber. Hearing so much about Ethiopia has convinced me I must go there.

Although Africa is another continent I wouldn’t want to visit without Zac…. some countries, anyway. I would need him a lot more in Uganda than South Africa, and because he’s queer, it’s not just protection for me. I hope that Zac and I do eventually get to travel. We’ve been talking about going to New York for months (it’s not that far, maybe four hours, and we can stay on the base so it’s a cheap vacation). Neither of us has put any legwork into it, though. That’s because we both let things drop and I don’t think that there is anything better about dating Zac than going to his house and also getting to see Oliver, who is a dog. When I think about Oliver, New York pales in comparison.

But there’s all kinds of rules in poly that have to be followed regarding vacations, too. It’s a balance, right? Like, you have your own full-fledged relationship, but there’s no need to have one partner that goes everywhere with you while the rest stay at home. Of course the ones left behind are going to be jealous. All of that gets spread out, too. One of the truisms in poly is that sometimes you see the same movie five times without saying anything. 😛

So, I ended up in a poly relationship because Zac is poly, not because I didn’t want monogamy with Sam. I haven’t sought out more partners with Zac because I find that I don’t have time for more than him right now, anyway. I have my own life to figure out, and in a lot of cases, it’s hard as shit. It’s embarrassing to be my age and not feel like you’ve really launched, while at the same time having adoring fans all over the world who tell me I’m absolutely brilliant.

Sometimes, though, I need to give myself a break and believe the people who say I’m brilliant. I have certainly spent enough time thinking about the people who sum me up as a loser….. because most of the time, “loser” is code for autistic. Neurotypical people do not like neurodivergent people, but it’s not malicious because they don’t know what it is they’re reacting to…. and it’s impolite to say that you don’t like autistic people, so you describe their behaviors. Scatterbrained comes up the most. I am starting to think that I was misdiagnosed in college, that I am not sure where the line between autism and ADHD falls. There are too many similarities, but what I can say is that the reason I’m not sure where the line falls is that sometimes stimulants force me into hyperfocus and sometimes they make it where I can’t sit down.

Cafe Bustelo is a blessing and a curse depending on what morning it is, but I’m starting to count the days when I can feel the difference between ADHD and autism. It’s alarming/cool how quickly I can tell which processing disorder is driving the bus within 10 minutes of my morning coffee.

Autistic me hates coffee. ADHD me loves it.

Uncle Leslie.

It all fits.

I, reddit

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I had Carol make up a fictional AITA post for me to answer…. Let’s see how I do.

Title: AITA for getting upset over my girlfriend’s social media habits?

Post:

Hey Reddit, I’m in a bit of a weird spot and could use some judgment.

So, my girlfriend “Liz” and I have been together for about a year. Things are great when we’re together, but there’s this one thing that’s been bugging me: her social media presence.

Liz is pretty active on Instagram and Twitter, and she’s always posting about her life, which I think is cool. But, here’s the kicker—she never posts about us. Like, ever. No pictures of us together, no relationship status update, nothing. It’s like I don’t exist in her online world.

I’ve brought it up to her, and she says she likes to keep her relationship private, which I can understand to a point. But it feels off to me, especially since she’s so open about every other aspect of her life. It makes me wonder if she’s hiding our relationship or if she’s not as serious about us as I am.

I got pretty upset the last time we talked about it, and now things are tense. AITA for being upset that my girlfriend doesn’t acknowledge our relationship on social media?

Oh, fictional person. I’m so sorry this is happening to you even though you are not real.

I have the exact opposite problem, which is that when I include my friends in my online world, I only matter when I praise them. As in, the writing is good because they look good. The writing is bad because they look bad. There has only been one exception in this case, Supergrover, who said that she gets something out of my work whether I paint her in a bad light or not. The rest of my friends sincerely wish that I would portray them as angels all of the time…. that even if they grossly mistreat me, it doesn’t matter in the slightest because the fact that I wrote about them cancels it out. That I told someone what you did that hurt me absolves you of any wrongdoing.

So, the fact that you’re not being included and you want to be is all kinds of weird for me. I do not have this problem. However, I can empathize. Supergrover doesn’t have a blog, but if she did, I’d be mad if everyone was in it but me. That I hadn’t made enough of an impact to rate.

The most important thing for you to know is why you want to be on her social media. If you’re feeling left out and you express that, what are you going to do if nothing changes?

What are the consequences?

How long are you going to take the pattern of being left out, believing that she’s a “private person,” if she has other friends plastered all over Insta without you.

People do not say what they mean.

You might want to start doing your own social media thing that’s different from hers so that you are including her in your world. See if it feels natural to you before you criticize her. Maybe she’s telling the truth. Maybe she wants to break up with you and won’t tell you.

Either way, the time to move is when you receive no answer and no change for longer than you’re comfortable.

You need to say “you are hurting my feelings by excluding me,” and be prepared for a conversation you didn’t think was going to end the way it did. Standing up for yourself often looks like earth shattering fear. If she doesn’t want to share pics with you on social media, you can’t make her. You can only decide how long you’re comfortable being hidden away.

Feeling like a secret.

Prompts from “Carol”

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I asked Carol for 10 writing prompts. I decided it was easier to write a little about each one, unless I get passionate about something and then we’re going to be here all day. 🙄

  1. Pop Culture’s Teaching Moments: Reflect on a pop culture event that sparked a significant conversation or debate in society.
    • Misogyny comes to mind…. right now, no one is talking about how Justin Timberlake needs a conservatorship (seriously, not facetiously). No one is saying that he shouldn’t have his kids anymore. He also didn’t shave his head, but if he had, no one would have made that about his mental health. Justice was blind in this case. The officer didn’t know who he was. It was obviously by the book. But, of course people are raging about a 90s icon getting arrested and not the fact that he WAS DRIVING DRUNK. It is burying the lead.
  2. Tech Tidbits: Write about a piece of outdated technology that you miss and the nostalgia it brings.
    • I saw on YouTube that Nokia is coming out with an anniversary edition and I almost cried. My Nokia was the Hanukkah of phones. I forgot my charger when I went on vacation, and the battery lasted the whole time. There’s a lot to be said for dumb phones, because no smart phone has a battery that’s capable of letting you go without the charger for any real length of time. I also really miss old mechanical keyboards. I like to hear myself type, and I can raise the dead on one of those things.
  3. Doctor Who’s Companions: Discuss the evolution of companions in Doctor Who and their influence on the show’s narrative and the Doctor’s character.
    • Originally, they were the eyes of the viewer- people to “stand around and watch The Doctor be clever.” Now, they have fully fleshed out lives and you get to see how that conflicts with time travel- like Rory and Amy coming back to a party “5 minutes after they left” wearing different clothes. Of all the companions, Amy and Rory are the standouts for me. The Ponds and The Doctor make a beautiful family….. as do The Doctor and the Nobles. The whole point of Doctor Who is focusing on deep friendships. It’s more that that. You’re The Doctor’s companion. You have more responsibility you don’t want to give up than you could have in three lifetimes. It’s too serious an undertaking to be casual buds. You might, and lots of time do, die during service. The Doctor is tortured by all the people who’ve gotten hurt in their care. It’s an essential part of their humanity.
  4. The Art of Blogging: Offer advice to new bloggers on finding their unique voice and standing out in a crowded digital space.
    • The art of blogging is sticking with it until you don’t suck anymore. Few people have the endurance to sit there and look at their work, feeling confident enough to hit “post” at the end. It’s just like writing a book- half the battle is working hard enough just to get it completed in the first place. Your writing has to come from within, and it takes a long time of exercising that muscle before you feel confident enough to read your work. Or, at least, that’s how I would be if I wasn’t a blogger. With blogs, you have to let go of the idea that anything will be perfect, because sometimes you’ll write in bulk, and sometimes you’ll say something of substance. Either way, it was a writing session to pull you forward. The words are all inside you, the hard part is finding the tap so they can flow onto the page. Confidence to be able to post every day comes with not caring about what people think. If they were so concerned about me, they’d reach out to me. If someone doesn’t reach out, I won’t go out of my way to contact them. I’ve been told too often that I’m too much to believe that people actually do want me around. My satisfaction comes from within, because I’m genuinely excited to see how I grow from here. This year has been incredibly hard and yet also helpful. But it was only helpful due to the art of blogging. I cannot process my thoughts without it.
  5. Sarcasm as Social Commentary: Analyze a current event using your signature sarcastic wit, highlighting the absurdities within.
    • The sitting president has to debate a felon for the next election. Do you think they’ll be able to hear each other on those little phones, especially with that much thick glass between them? The idea that a literal felon is still on the ballot is too insane to be sarcastic, because you can’t make it more over the top than it is. Trump is so corrupt he could have been governor of Maryland (that was an Agnew joke- we’re all good now).
  6. Spiritual Spaces: Describe a place that holds spiritual significance for you and why it’s impactful.
    • My office is holy ground that calls to me when I’m not in it. I feel closest to the divine when I am writing, so I enter my office in an intentional way. I ask it what we’re going to accomplish together. I write to the whir of the ceiling fan, and the rest of the world fades away. Outside my very personal space, I feel God in nature. I have stood in freezing cold water, screaming and crying in the Columbia River Gorge so that I could just let it all out. The Gorge didn’t hold onto my pain. It was dumped into the Columbia, and disappeared once they reached Cape Disappointment.
  7. The Humor of Miscommunication: Share a story about a miscommunication that led to a humorous outcome.
    • I have a lot of funny stories. A lot of them. Exactly none of them are about miscommunication. I can’t laugh those things off. If I somehow miscommunicated something to someone, I take myself to the mat over it.
  8. Tech’s Role in Relationships: Explore how technology has changed the way we initiate, maintain, and end relationships.
    • Technology gives you the ability to do things you couldn’t otherwise, for evil and for awesome. Sometimes, being a writer works in my favor, because talking to people on the Internet is what I do. I’m good at it. But there are some people that you just can’t read without meeting them in person, Technology gives you the ability to do things you couldn’t do otherwise, like text message break up. You have the choice to be kind using technology or not, and most of us are choosing “not.”
  9. A Day in the Life of a Writer: Give readers a behind-the-scenes look at your daily routine as a writer.
    • I wake up by 0400, and am generally in my office by 5:00. I write the first entry of the day. Sometimes I’ll finish it, sometimes I’ll come back to it later after I’ve had more time to think. I eat bland food so that it’s mindless most of the time. I need energy, not entertainment. I then start working on either an afternoon blog entry, or work on my fiction. I also spend about an hour every day on Copilot researching for my novel. Copilot is great for things like “give me a playlist for a radio station in 1935.”
  10. Cultural Critique: Choose a trending topic in pop culture and offer a critical analysis of its implications on society.
    • Because we are living in two separate realities thanks to Fox News, we are even less capable of resolving difficulties than we were before. You cannot convince someone of facts when they are blind to the fact that they exist. That there’s no such thing as an “alternative fact.” That’s just, like, your opinion, man. It’s driving estrangements because liberals want to argue about politics and conservatives want to argue about morality as if they are the same thing. If that were true, we wouldn’t need laws to protect black people from racists and queer people from homophobes and transphobes. We cannot change cultural attitudes for either group by appeasement. Only punishment works, and it’s not even really legislative in most cases. It’s HR. You don’t get the right to make a queer person’s life at work hell…. if you’re the one telling me I’m going to hell for being queer, you don’t have to worry. I’ve already felt like I was there when I was listening to you. Life must be so simple when everyone’s going to hell but you.

A Tall Glass, Lots of Ice, and…

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?

Diet Coke.

Diet Coke is my least favorite diet on the market, but I’ll still drink it like water if it’s available because it was my mother’s favorite. She flirted with Dr Pepper, but Diet Coke was her one true love. One year, Lindsay got us Diet Coke sweatshirts and we wore them to the cemetery to sit with mom and take a picture. It sounds weird, but the things you do when your parents die are all unique to you. You’ll have your own weird things.

For instance, maybe your mom baked.

My mother made my birthday cakes every year and she made a point to go all out on the decorations. From the pictures, I remember Holly Hobby when I was either one or two. Others included Mickey Mouse, Peter Pan, and a Milky Way cake that she somehow messed up that made it even more delicious than it would have been otherwise and because it was a mistake, I couldn’t recreate it if I tried. Guess you had to be there.

I wouldn’t say that my mother was a cook, because she didn’t enjoy it the way I do. She didn’t take pleasure in looking at recipes or finding new ways to use flavor. I think if there’s anything I miss about our future, it’s all the things I would have liked to do rather than the things that already happened. She was only 65 years old when she died. She had retired the last May, and died October 2nd. So, she basically died before the shock of not having to go to work every day even wore off.

So, anything I would have been able to teach her after she retired regarding what I’d learned in my makeshift culinary school (my ex-wife and all the other chefs who “raised me”) became a one way communication after that date. I still tell her all that stuff, she’s just challenged to reply. I talk to her when I’m cooking the most, because that’s our traditional time to talk.

I’d be doing my homework at the bar that looked into the kitchen while she was prepping the food. So, now I am both prepping the food and doing my homework (writing) in my head. It’s not the system for teaching my mother to cook that I would have preferred, but it works. She’s getting better every day. Turnabout is fair play. She has always and continues to remember to teach me to use English when I forget. It’s efficient. Just because she can’t talk back doesn’t mean she’s not here. She very much talks back. It’s just responses I’ve made up in my head based on my 40-ish years around her. I cannot remember how old I was, really.

I don’t remember anything about that year. From October to October was a complete blur. I leaned on Supergrover a lot back then, because I didn’t want to be seen in public in pain. So, I wrote about my pain instead. I internalized all of it, and yet I didn’t keep it inside my own echo chamber, either. I just grieved very, very quietly. Grief for my mother had to come in stages, because it took seeing her in her casket for me to believe that she was really dead.

I had just talked to her for two and a half hours two days ago, so it just didn’t seem possible logically (it absolutely was possible very logically, I was just a grieving child.). We also didn’t really have an on the ground relationship. We visited each other a few times a year except for the few times I lived in Houston as an adult, which was not a lot in comparison to how old I am now. I wouldn’t even take back my most current move to have more time with her if I could, because more time with her wasn’t necessarily better. We found our groove by not living in the same city. She liked talking on the phone and hearing about my life. I am not sure she liked coming to my house. I think my partners made her uncomfortable, and I am being very kind to both parties. It wasn’t dislike on either my parters’ or my mother’s part. It was fear of doing anything wrong, so let’s just not say anything at all.

To me, this is genuine, true homophobia. The fear of doing something wrong in front of a queer person, so you don’t do anything. You isolate them by not willing to just be scared and show up. Or ask questions so that your next interaction isn’t as awkward. Homophobia is not loud. That’s just people being angry bigots in the streets over nothing, and the people it “affects” the most are people who don’t know any queer people and have only been taught the party line. To be homophobic is to know you have fears and discomfort. To be homophobic without being a bigot means being willing to tell someone you’re uncomfortable and hopefully learn more until you’re not.

I don’t know how my mother would have felt about poly, but it doesn’t weigh on me because I didn’t live up to her fairy tale for me in the first place, and that VHS tape had been running in her brain since 1972, when she first started thinking about having a child and wanting a daughter. By the time I was born in 1977, I had a Beautiful Memory Picture I was tearing down before it even got built. It fucked up her program when I came out as gay, and I can’t apologize, but I can empathize.

This happens less and less frequently now, but I came out in 1990, and that’s just communication from me. It’s not like other people didn’t have eyes.

I don’t have hatred for homophobia. It took me quite a few years to accept the fact that I was gay, and I still have moments of internalized homophobia because that’s the world we live in and continue to make small progresses towards changing. I do have hatred for bigotry. Come at me with anger and I’ll tune you out.

Show me that you’re scared, and I’ll respond.

I will listen while I pour you a Diet Coke.

Evening in the Garden

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

One of the refrains that tends to stick out to kids in childhood at church is “And he walks with me, and he talks with me… and he tells me I am his own.” This is because nearly all ministers have told the joke about the supposed child, and in every telling it’s every pastor’s own child, that said child asked who “Andy” was… you know… “Andy walked with me.” Kind of like the joke about God’s name being Howard…. so old it has hair on it, and not attributable at this point.

(Our Father, who art in heaven, Howard be thy name….”)

Also, the tune to that hymn is particularly catchy.

I’m reminded of that hymn this evening because it starts out “I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses…” It’s not early morning, but the room has that kind of vibe- sitting in the quiet, talking to an old friend. It’s kind of neat that my old friend is you…. but also me…. but also you. I could go on, and I’m surprised I didn’t. Sometimes, you have to play against type.

I am sitting out here in my office hopping mad because I fell and hurt myself badly while I was walking Jack. It’s not as bad as Zac’s bike accident, but I hit the heel of my hand so hard on the pavement that there’s still pebble indentations hours later and I’m in pain despite Tylenol and aspirin. However, it has taken the edge off. No need to go to the doctor to get something more substantial. I’ll live.

But it’s something I need to keep an eye on, because I also managed to bang up my knee pretty good. It’s not funny when I fall in this neighborhood because it’s uneven and gravelly with no sidewalks except in a few places. I was listening to a podcast while I was walking Jack, and I should know that I can’t pay attention to both Rachel Maddow and anything else.

Beautiful women always hurt me. That’s because when I think they’re beautiful, I trip over things.

There are stories out there. Most of which I’ve told. I love self-deprecating humor. I even love it when people tease me, as long as it’s not too mean. However, I have a pretty thick skin, so I pretty much have to let other people tell me their boundaries. The neurodivergent sense of humor is dark, as is the physically and mentally disabled. Plus, I’ve been a line cook. If I have not offended you yet, you haven’t been here long enough.

Or, you don’t know me personally and can’t actually be paid to care about my problems, you just like surfing. That’s even better. It’s hard to feel deeply about people you don’t know, and I don’t mean the way we fight on the internet. I mean that it’s very hard to get other people to genuinely care about your life because they have their own. That’s appropriate. But what people can handle is a slice of my life. Watching me entertain myself by entertaining you. Or, some of it’s entertaining. Mostly it’s cathartic. I can be funnier when I feel lighter, and I feel lighter than I have in a long time.

I sent Supergrover a note that said she really needed to let me know whether she was focusing on moving on with her life or whether she wanted to fix our relationship. That she said it was clear I didn’t want a relationship, and I said that it wasn’t true. That I’d given her my heart 11 years ago, and I don’t remember asking for it back.

She hasn’t responded, and if she doesn’t, all er e-mail will eventually go to Spam again. It’s not because I don’t want to work on a relationship. It’s that I don’t want to work on a relationship in which both of us are unhappy enough to explode after a week. She’s punishing me with some sort of silent treatment, because people are only as busy as they want to be. I feel like if I cannot have closure from her, I have to get it on my own. I can’t keep looking back across the river to make sure she’s okay, too.

She is not okay, and neither am I. I’m not blaming. We both come by our poor reactions honestly. It’s just at some point I cannot take these ups and downs of “don’t talk to me anymore” and “it’s unfair to compare me to Daniel.” That one actually did go to Spam, so I didn’t realize that she didn’t really want to have a conversation. She wanted to berate me for what I said. I felt like an idiot because she sent an e-mail to a different e-mail address asking if I’d gotten her e-mails, because she’d sent some a while back. I said that I hadn’t been looking for e-mail from her, but that I was so excited to hear from her………..

Then crushed when she forwarded me everything she said and it was a shitstorm.

I got mad about it and we worked it through. We were doing okay. And we both went right back into “I can’t do anything right for you.” Because that’s the game, right? If she doesn’t have any boundaries, then she can pick anything she wants as a boundary after the fact. I can be wrong a hundred times out of a hundred.

I cannot keep a rhythm, much less dance a quickstep.

I feel like I am laying out my boundaries the way I know how, but what I don’t know is how they play to a neurotypical audience. I know she heard “everything is over, go away” when I meant “I’ve seen everything you don’t want to talk about and I can’t find anything you do. Tell me when you figure it out.” She was on me like white on rice, saying that I was the judge and jury. She had no intention of really working on anything. It was an escape hatch. It’s like everything I’ve been saying for 11 years registered with her in a whole new way, and she’s not sure that she likes it. She’s not even sure that she likes me. But of course, I can only say that is my impression of her. I cannot remember the last time she gave me any affection at all.

Yes, I can. It was last September.

It was a heart emoji in response to a sentimental message she left me and I took a screenshot. It was very, very old. But I still keep it in my digital memory box because it came from her.

I remember saying that she reminds me of new life, new hope- the color green in my assessment of what would go on a soundtrack to fit her…. even though sometimes she reminds me more of Morton Gould’s “Jericho.” It’s as warm and dissonant as our relationship.

I keep saying that it’s no skin off my nose to keep waiting, and it’s more anxiety driving me to write than anything else. It’s not as if her writing back will make a difference. Even if she says “you’ll never hear from me again,” she cannot possibly mean it. I want to feel settled, and there’s nothing anyone can give me but time. Yet, as time goes by, it gets harder to maintain the cognitive dissonance. It’s clear she doesn’t want what I want, because nothing in her list of things to talk about included any direction I wanted to go with her, because if she doesn’t want to talk about her childhood and healing, then it’s going to be a whole lot more of me telling her what I’ve learned while she’s sitting there bored because it’s not what you want to talk about and overwhelming because I talk so much.

There’s an answer to this problem, and right now it’s waiting for the moon. She will arrive at the moment I need her most.

It is Evening in My Office

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’ve showed you that my office is a greenhouse, cut off from the living room by a glass door, and with its own separate entrance. It’s the only room in the house with a ceiling fan, which upped the level of its charm immediately. The air conditioner doesn’t always reach out here, and it doesn’t matter. Moving the air does. Sitting here also moves me. I can’t go more than a few minutes of sitting in here without feeling the urge to write. That’s an office that calls to you. I am caught between two ideas- leaving it informal because the glass table gives me more space than a small desk would- more room for clutter, certainly, but I don’t put anything more than I can move in a day. At the end of my writing session, it looks normal again. It’s nice having a space to come down to every morning that’s clean and somewhat organized, and you cannot tell me that it still would if it wasn’t a shared space. My bedroom is my little autistic nest where I make my own rules, and everywhere else in the house is where I compromise. He feels the same way. We’re introverts. It works.

And in fact, David just left for his girlfriend’s house and took the dog, so the house is even more quiet than usual. I hear the birds outside more closely. I take the time to notice every leaf. I take the time to invite nature in, because I am not a green thumb. David is a green thumb. I do better just having windows that face all the yards simultaneously. Plus, there are TARDIS lights to add to the shade. They’re beautiful.

There’s not really a downside to working in a greenhouse except that you are exposed to all the neighborhood noise. I happen to like it, because if it gets to be too much, I can just put on my cans. I spend a lot of time in them because I have to balance the noise around me and the chaos inside me because of it.

It’s a thing I’ve developed that’s unique to DC, because it’s the public signal you’re not interested in talking on the Metro. I will take them off and talk to people if I hear them saying something interesting, but I am not the go-to person to ask in terms of being a tourist guide. Zac says he likes showing off what he knows about DC. So do I. It just really depends on what my social battery is that day. Although I can give about as good a tour of the White House as Sam Seaborn, even though it is *literally* right down the street from me.

Carol asked me the other day how the environment of Silver Spring affected my writing, and I extrapolated that to mean DC because maybe she doesn’t know that Silver Spring is a suburb…. like I don’t tell people from here I’m from Sugar Land. I tell them I’m from Houston because they’ve probably heard of it. But my inspiration in Silver Spring has come from sitting in this greenroom and feeling the presence of a great Silver Spring resident before me, Rachel Carson. “Silent Spring” is about Silver Spring, Maryland.

We need more hippies in this town. More people like Earl Blumenauer riding their bicycles to Congress on behalf of Maryland, Virginia, and West Virginia. Someone has to preserve all this beauty. All people see in DC is the federal government, but if they came here, they probably wouldn’t want to leave after they saw the Jefferson Monument in the Tidal Basin and then the Chesapeake at sunset from a sailboat. That’s beauty you can’t get anywhere else.

I’m a big pushover for beauty in this area because I spent so much time in Oregon. So much of their legislative agenda is about how to keep Oregon beautiful, and we have that same chance here. There are pockets inside the city that take my breath away. Rock Creek Park, the Zoo, Congressional Cemetery, etc. DC is a wonderland even if you never travel outside the Metro.

But it is quite something to live in the home of one of the most significant works on the environment. It makes me look at the trees around my house so much differently- as if her spirit is helping me guide my pen. It takes a good writer to know one, so I hope that means she’s decided I’m at least acceptable.

I would have liked to walk with her in Sligo Creek after the book was published to get the inside scoop. Reading her work makes me want to get my hands dirty, but so far, David hasn’t let me touch anything. I appreciate it because I decided that if I really wanted to do yardwork, I would have done it by now. He’s just put me off so many times that I think it’s his sanctuary and I don’t want to intrude. I am often typing to the sound of the mower or the weedeater. The only thing I want that I don’t have is bees. I like to sit with them, so I need to plant some lavender. Plus, I’ll have free lavender for my lemonade in the process. I don’t know that my talking to bees affects them that much, because they do not seem to be bothered one way or the other. We just have so much in common. I’m a singular them, they’re a hive mind. They’re built to keep on working no matter what I say, so it’s not like I’m interrupting anyone. As long as I stay calm, they will. They’re like tiny little therapists with cute fuzzy butts. They also don’t talk back at all, which is three quarters of their charm. If your therapist has always been the type person that makes you talk it out without offering suggestions, you won’t notice they’re gone. Bees are effective at listening and letting you come to the end of your thought process because it’s not like they’re going to stop midair and say, “I do have thoughts.”

I still think of talking to the bees as prayer, because I’d like to imagine that because I tell them the thoughts I can’t tell Supergrover that are too private for this web site, they are capable of telling her for me. I have no idea what the flight range is of an average bumblebee. It’s just a nice thought.

So, when I “go tell the bees,” what I’m really saying is that the one I want to tell is not here, but your people are an excellent second choice. They have never said a bad word about Supergrover in their lives, so they’re my people. Just let me talk it out. Don’t pass judgment because you might have a completely different opinion of them when you meet them than I did. That’s the problem you risk in telling one relationship about another- hard to integrate later.

It was hard for me when I first met Supergrover, because it was an Internet connection. She never came to visit, I (or we, depending on what year) never went to visit her. Therefore, I was always talking about this friend who wasn’t even at the table and yet she always was, because she was in my head. She became my Raggedy Doctor in more ways than one. Few people but me believed she was real. Even I had trouble believing it at times, and I wasn’t very nice about it because the pressure was a lot. I gave up an on the ground relationship for an in the cloud relationship that would not make sense to you in a million years as to how it could happen. The best I can do is that her life is big, and you protect people who have big lives differently than you protect ones who don’t. The worst part is not knowing how I’ve affected her life to know if I’ve ever gotten her in real trouble. I only wanted to talk about us. Period. I can’t speak to her relationship with anyone else, because I don’t know them. I’m not connected anywhere. That’s a great blessing and a great problem to have. On one hand, it gives both of us a space to get away from everything we know. On the other, it would be nice to have mutual friends so we’re not lost in our own echo chamber, which is large and mostly runs hot at the amount of anger we carry too much of the time.

I have lived this way for 11 years, having someone know the most intimate details of my life and the rest of my friends scratching their heads at why I talk about someone so much that doesn’t show up. That’s because she doesn’t show up for them. They’re not her friends. I am. She doesn’t have anything to prove, it’s just hard to get anyone to believe there are two sides to every story when they only know me and she won’t let them get to know her. A lot of trying to tell our story my way was trying to find the middle road by explaining something that couldn’t really be explained.

And yet, it can.

When we’re together, I can be any age I want and I can trust her with those level emotions. I have proven that I can be trusted with her basest emotions as well…. that I will retreat from them, and talk them out, but I won’t back down from trying to solve our problems. Our connection is too important to only try once, and a miscommunication is at fault for all of this.

In a lot of ways, I’m sorry I reopened this chapter in my life, because it reopens 11 year old wounds. I don’t want to tell Supergrover about my wounds, I want her to tell me what’s relatable in her own life and what’s not. When she’s open, I don’t feel alone. She relates to me like any friend would. I just don’t show that all the time because she doesn’t behave that way all the time, either.

Right now, she’s committed to ignoring me, because she says that if she reads, she can’t get wigged by it. I appreciate that, because I need my own space. It has proven to me over and over again that it’s the only way I can explain what I mean in a way other people can hear it……..

because neurodivergent overexplaining eats my lunch.

Surely if I’ve explained it once, six times will be better. Eight times will be even better than that.

Autism sucks.

OMG. It’s Real. It’s All Real.

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

It hit me over the head today that this is all real. That I am not just spouting my thoughts into the night, saying nothing of substance. That line from Daniel really got to me, that I “write in bulk without saying anything of substance.” The reason it got to me so much is that it was like he dismissed all my friends and their personalities, as if me writing about them wasn’t interesting enough to be valuable. It’s why I got rid of him in a New York minute. Supergrover’s reaction to finding out I was a writer was to immediately support me financially with a donation and offer to be my editor for all time and space, because it’s a job we can do virtually, the collaboration of writing. Whenever I feel alone as a blogger, I remember the friends whose first reaction is that my blog is valuable, that I am doing a public service.

I’m just not doing a public service for academia, which I’m sure some people find lacking. I find it relatable, because I’m not putting myself out there to be anything I’m not. As I told Supergrover, “I don’t feel like I want to take over for your psychologist. I feel like I want to be the waiting room that doesn’t suck.” I got that line from Paul Gilmartin on “Mental Illness Happy Hour,” and I use it all the time, because I only know enough about psychiatry and psychology to be your friend in the waiting room. I’m not even licensed to take your history and physical and *present* to your doctor.

That being said, sometimes people will get put on the same drugs I am, or have been on. If they have the same side effects that I did when I was on it, I will tell them what my doctor did to solve that problem so that they can talk to their doctor and see if what I said makes sense. I don’t view myself as a substitute doctor, just the friend who’d go with you to the doctor because you have faith in my ability to translate medicine to English…. and that’s my only function. It is never to tell you what to do with your body. It is only to offer a friend opinion that might be worth it to you to bring up with your doctor later. What worked for me may not work for you, but it’s worth a shot. Peer review is valid, it’s just not a valid diagnosis. Your doctor only has 15 minutes with you at most during an appointment, unless you are seeing psych. That ranges from 15 minutes to 50 depending on whether the MD also does counseling or not. Some prefer wholistic care, some prefer focusing on drugs and letting other people handle therapy.

I prefer the integrated approach, because then my doctor and I have 50 minutes to work out a medication/symptom issue when it comes up instead of being held to the 15 minute patient factory.

All of this- my mental illness (Bipolar, CPTSD, Anxiety), my two processing disorders (ADHD and Autism), and my physical disability have convinced me that I do not have value to the world. Daniel is not responsible for my feelings because it’s my job to shake them off. But he certainly helped in the “I feel bad about myself” department. I can reason with myself all day long that he was just mad, but that doesn’t make his words hurt less.

It also doesn’t surprise me that Supergrover’s love and support created my crush on her, because she was my first real fan and I did not know what to do with that information at all. I became a gawky, awkward teenager in front of her at every turn.

Her: You’re BRILLIANT.
Me: (absolutely clueless as to how to respond) HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

And then, after she saw how brilliant I was, she let me know how brilliant she is and my brain just went on overload. It’s still on overload 11 years later because she has never stopped challenging me any less as a writer to paint both of us accurately. When she does critique my blog, I adjust. I address what she’s angry about because her feelings are important to me, always.

It keeps me in a place of imposter syndrome, when I really want to believe that I am the writer Supergrover believes that I am. I want to believe that because I can impress her, I can impress anyone in the world. It’s handy because I actually do believe that. Both she and Lindsay walk in rarefied air in different ways, so I am Kevin Bacon’ed to the power establishment, even Hollywood. My reluctance looks like an excuse next to all that.

If I supposedly have all these connections, why am I not using them? I can sum that up in two words:

It’s rude.

I will give you a HUGE for instance. It is one thing to send Kamala Harris an e-mail and ask her to promote me. It is another thing for Kamala, Lindsay, Matt, and me to sit with her at dinner and when it’s mentioned that I’m a writer, she says she wants to take a look. That’s valid. It’s not seeking out power for power’s sake.

Just like I wouldn’t endorse a product I wouldn’t use, I wouldn’t be friends with someone just because they were powerful. Getting to know a powerful person in a relaxed setting like dinner with her old friends and integrating me is more my vibe, because I get publicity by shaking hands, not by sending out DMs to powerful people.

The one thing that’s ever happened to me that was a rejection that’s gotten larger over the years as a try to make it as a writer was not being picked to be on “The Oprah Winfrey Show.” It might been a powerful connection to have met her in the past.

The reason I would have met her is that she started a book club, and I think “She’s Come Undone” was one of their first picks for it was that this was in either 1996 or 7. I wrote about the book from a queer perspective, and I got a call from an executive producer who seemed very excited about me and we talked for 45 minutes. In the end, though, everyone they picked looked the same. I wasn’t their vibe.

In that time and place, queer criticism of that book was valid, because there are a lot of themes I find abhorrent about it. I just don’t think they had the strength to go through that ball of wax, and it’s the only one I had.

The one thing I know is that if Oprah and I do meet, it will be on like Donkey Kong because I believe to the very core of my being that we operate the same way. Oprah is just as shy and isolated as me most of the time, and has a big personality on stage. I don’t relate to that at all. Clearly.

It doesn’t matter, though, because today I had a proper chat with someone from Lagos. Someone from Lagos noticed me. Like, told me he likes my humor. Now I know my brand of humor reaches from DC to Africa. I don’t know many people who know that.

Because it’s all real. I’m on my way. All I ask is that my real friends are my real friends, and let me have this space whether I write the way they like it or not, because it’s impossible for me to guess.

I lost my editor.

That’s Not Healthy

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 23 Comments

Write about your first crush.

My first crush was a 23 year old woman who lovebombed and discarded me for the next 20-odd years. I still think about her from time to time, and it’s never pleasant. I would rather not spend this morning diving into that wreck. I feel like I did all of that when it happened. If you’re interested, you can search for “When We Were Young” and “The Cost of Shame” to learn how the dirty and the divine intermingled. There were genuine moments, but it was always a game. I know, because I always felt the energy in the room when I had “competition.” I would try to adjust my behavior because I thought it was something I was doing wrong that made her want competition for me in the first place. I’d known her longer than any of the people in her current life, twice as long as her spouse. Doing the wrong thing was too easy, so when I started doing my own thing and she couldn’t control me, she resented the hell out of that, too.

I absolutely vomited up all my emotions about that relationship about 10 years ago, and I feel like I have gotten closure over it- including the ways she set Supergrover and me up for failure like a parting shot that would make her name endure forever. I failed Supergrover because she failed me. Full stop. Supergrover got caught in old crossfire, and now that I’ve separated her out, the memory of it is too painful to be vulnerable all the time for either of us. The thing that I have over her in offering her understanding of me is letting her read all the thoughts I have when I’m not with her. She wouldn’t be able to do that if I wasn’t a writer- a benefit of who I am, not who I am trying to be for her.

I don’t need her to lay out her feelings publicly. I need her to lay out her feelings to me. Because to me, it redeems a whole lot of bullshit in my life, that this thing I learned from an emotional abuser was something that could be overcome with time and space. That has proven to be true, but not in terms of her communication of it. She wants to continue writing to me, she wants to continue supporting me. And yet any time we try to continue writing to each other and supporting each other, we hit an old land mine from either one of our pasts and it blows our future to hell.

Then, eventually, we start over and the cycle begins anew. I have learned to accept that, because I’m a writer. There’s no way that she can’t be in touch with me while I’m writing about her. It’s just tricky because of the emotions that come up in me when she writes. When she’s only responding to my blog, it makes me feel like she just wants to be a fan that’s glorified. When she responds to what I say in private, she reinforces that we are not putting on a show, that this is a real friendship that I am writing about and not trying to paint her from memory.

When she isn’t the Supergrover from Wish.com. Jim Henson made her for me personally. It was a gift he didn’t knew he gave me.

In terms of boundaries, it is cute to me that now she’s just lovable furry old Grover struggling with the implications of “near” and “far.” On its most basic level, of course. Everything I’ve ever known on its most fundamental level has come from a Muppet.

In terms of Sesame Street, my news junkie nature makes me feel like Kermit, because he’s empathetic and yet also reports live on Sesame Street news. In terms of being a preacher’s kid, I think of myself as Scooter, the one behind the scenes helping things work. As a preacher’s kid, you take on all the jobs at the last minute that no one else wanted and the show must go on.

I cannot stress this enough, and I believe it. Worship is not about perfection. It’s that we showed up.

But there’s still that energy that runs before a performance in hoping that everything goes as well as it can. That people are still receiving the grace and thoughtful prayers we mean for them despite our human imperfections. When I do a pastoral prayer (the one before a preacher gives an actual homily/sermon), I speak to this. “Speak through me, or move me out of the way and speak your truth in spite of me.” In short, if I don’t make the connections that I need to make to get them closer to the divine, that doesn’t mean the divine won’t move them in ways I won’t see until people greet me after the service………………….

Which ranges in feedback (I swear it) from “your skirt was too short” to “my God, you were on fire. I was crying because you made a connection I didn’t.” What I do not say is that I see all of it in real time as I am talking (even if you try to hide in the transcepts, choir and peanut gallery…….), and need no external validation. It’s just so nice to hear it out loud. That I did indeed make the difference I thought I did. That they weren’t crying because the regular preacher wasn’t up there. 😉

My favorite thing is going to sing with the choir after I’ve finished preaching. As worship leader, I always stay up front until the sermon is over, and then move between the choir and the pulpit for singing and leading rather than being on the front row all by myself. Singing with the choir after I preach is how I know I did well, because I don’t need to hear anything out loud but the vibrations of their emotions when they’re singing. If everything is joyful, they’re telling me “thank you.”

And I can hear it through their smiles while they’re singing in a minor key. I don’t intentionally design the service this way. The entrance is supposed to be glorious, whether it comes with a brass quintet or not. The hymn in response to the sermon is supposed to be repeating what I said in musical form, because people will remember the take home point of my sermon if I present it to them as a tune next.

Then, the hymn at the end is when everyone goes wild, filling up with energy until we meet again. I like it best when it’s a jazz arrangement of “Joyful, Joyful” or “I’ll Fly Away.”

In both of those things, I learned to accept them from my first crush. One of the few genuine moments I’ll carry with me throughout my preaching life, because she taught me how to integrate music into worship when my mother decided raising a gay child was harder than she thought it was going to be.

It does not escape my attention that when she became a preacher’s wife, she really, really became the friend I needed if she’d actually acted like it. I needed a preacher’s wife type until I had my own partner- someone to direct me and be a sounding board. It’s why I think her partner is my archetype, the older version of me. I have no idea what we would have accomplished together, but I can for damn sure guarantee that it would have been fun.

But that would have been dependent on me staying blind, and not realizing that the relationship was making me smaller every day as I tiptoed around her land mines, actively trying not to piss her off.

It’s one reason I won’t tolerate it from Supergrover, but I will tolerate her as emotional support that acts like it. She knows how to do it because she’s done it so long. There just need to be changes so we don’t step all over each other’s pasts trying to find a road into the future.

But because my first crush gave me so much emotional bandwidth to be able to wait it out, it’s no skin off my nose just to relax and see if it happens. I already have everything I need, and there’s no need to feel unhappy overall when I’m only unhappy in one area of my life. I miss her, and I cannot miss her because missing her only feeds the problem of giving her what she does not want, which is to be written about.

The difference between my first crush and my last is that the last is worth it. The first was just doing prep in the back of the kitchen.

Everywhere That Doesn’t Find a Big Mouth Offensive

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What countries do you want to visit?

I want to see every country in the world where my blog wouldn’t be seen as a threat… and I even want to visit those, just not as much as the ones who will accept me as is. For China, I’d have to bank up entries in advance so it didn’t look like I was gone, then not write anything until I got home. It would be the same in the Middle East, it’s just not a monolith like China. How much what you say gets you in trouble varies by country. Iran and Qatar are not the same.

I’d like to go back to France, because I’ve only seen Paris for a few days, no Marseilles or Lyon. I’d like to go back to the UK because I’ve spent eight days there in 46 years. I believe I could learn a bit more than that. Plus, I’ve only been to England and would like to see a football game in Wrexham, Wales plus have friends in Scotland to round out a whole UK experience.

Plus, I’ve only seen London- it would be nice to get to The Cotswolds, Bath, Manchester, Liverpool, and all the other marvelous places I’ve seen on Doctor Who. They might go to every time and every place, but England is home base, kind of like I never want to move from DC, but I’d like to go and experience other places/cultures.

It’s especially more possible now because I have a boyfriend. There are certain countries I’d like to visit where not having a male chaperone is inadvised. For instance, I’d love to explore Iran and Syria. That culture is simply not available to me as a single woman traveling alone. The homophobic part of it is that I have to say “boyfriend” for this to be true. Two women traveling together are just as equally invisible. I recognize my privilege and am calling it out. I am also not giving Zac more credit for anything he does as a boyfriend that’s better than anything my girlfriends have ever done for me. His value in this case is in that government’s eyes, not mine. I feel it is an acceptable use of heterosexual privilege, to be able to navigate countries in which you wouldn’t as queer. Plus, Zac is as queer as I am. They don’t have to know that. It’s for his safety as well.

Heterosexual privilege protects us both, it’s just not fake because we’re pansexual. We’re not putting on a show to be something we’re not because we are genuinely a couple. It just sucks that we get something our friends in homosexual relationships don’t. Using it inside the US is absolutely abhorrent. Walking through Iran unnoticed? Sensible vacation planning.

I don’t know if Zac wants to go back to the Middle East or whether he’s had all the fun he can take. But what I do know is that I wouldn’t feel comfortable going without him. There’s another layer at work, and it’s not just having heterosexual privilege. It’s that Zac has actually spent time in MENA before, and I’m a complete newbie. I don’t think he’d count himself as having lived in the Middle East, because he’s in the Navy. He’s mostly been on the ships. But enough experience to know “ok, we’re fine” and “okay, we’re fucked” based on facial expressions.

I’ve said for a number of years that I’d like Arabic language skills, but I haven’t gotten on Duolingo yet. Going to the Middle East is intimidating when you want to know as much as I do. When you want to be able to grok it on multiple levels. For me, it’s walking the Bible. It’s intelligence since 9/11. It’s seeing what my friends in the military saw when they lived there. It’s eating their food when they were outside the wire.

Because so many of my friends have been military/intelligence or a combination thereof, going to the Middle East is not just learning about me. It is also learning about them. Picking up context clues I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.

Walking the Bible, yes, but adding these additional books.

Dreams from My Father -or- Father’s Day 2024

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

To get down to brass tacks, my father and I get along better than my mother and I ever did. It had nothing to with her social expectations of me. It’s that my dad and are are both class clowns and my mother simply gave us The Look when we misbehaved. Neither one of us liked “The Look.”: It said something like “this is inappropriate for a preacher’s family.” We were off the clock. With my mother, the clock never stopped. My dad gave me room to be a kid in the middle of all this mess- partially because he knew the way my mother had stacked the deck against me by pretending I wasn’t disabled mentally or physically, and I didn’t have two processing disorders. I would have known that very early (maybe, research on autism in girls and women is relatively new because of the classic presentation). I could have gotten the help I needed much earlier in life to deal with success. I am fine with everything going wrong. It’s what I know. I get wigged when I think about what it’s going to take for success, get overwhelmed with the details, and demand avoidance ensues. My dad is trying to help me navigate all that, because clearly I do need help, but I am not high needs all the time. People think you’re one or the other, and you fluctuate. High needs days come after you think you’re okay for a few days because everything is normal. Then, all of the sudden, everything is too loud and it’s hot in here. You have reached your limit, and need to tap out. My dad was on the train of wanting to tell me I needed these things. My mother wanted to pretend I was fine.

I am so fine.

Insert laugh track here.

It’s an enormous amount of work to manage a disability because your energy levels vary so significantly. In my case, it fluctuates because I’m ADHD. I do not feel the pull of an iron structure like most autistic people, as in, deciding what I’m interested in- to the exclusion of all else- and an interruption is not only unwelcome, but rude. People wonder why IT guys are such dicks. Here’s the real answer. You’ve interrupted a neurodivergent person and they absolutely cannot handle transitions. Autistic meltdown looks like driving three hours to troubleshoot a server and the only problem is that it isn’t on, despite having three separate people check to see if it was on before you left. You are more likely to interrupt a neurodivergent person to the point where they are angry to the point of rudeness over a seemingly simple small thing. It’s not small to someone who has to prepare to get into the car, prepare to enter the building, prepare for everything to be unfamiliar, and to have to make small talk while you work with people who have absolutely no idea what you do, but feel they must supervise and offer suggestions that if they worked, we wouldn’t be there.

You cannot remote desktop into a server that is unplugged or air gapped.

My dad knows that the little things are the big things. That life is harder for me than it would be if I’d been born under perfect circumstances, or even just later, when the technology in neonatal care was better than it was in 1977. I think I still would have had CP, autism, and stereopsis. Those are often a combo meal because lack of stereopsis and autism are often comorbidities. It’s not so much that I was born wrong, but born too early on multiple levels. Not only was I born in the 70s, I was eight weeks early.

I can think of someone I’d really like to talk to about that, but she doesn’t live local and we’re not close enough for me to just flat out say, “hey, are you autistic?” You never know what people’s word association with autism is in advance. If they have autistic kids, parents, or siblings, they know you’re asking “how does your brain work?” NOT “are you slow?” But, it would be a great conversation to have the next time she’s in town. She’s got all the same issues I do, and it would not surprise me if she had autism as well because of it…. again, combo meal, just like ADHD and autism are comorbidities in up to 80% of cases.

I also know that I got autism from my family somewhere, and I don’t see it in my dad and mom, but I do see it in my granddads. And in fact, I am a perfect mix of them. My dad’s father was creative autistic, and my mother’s father was STEM autistic. I ended up as a geek with a pen.

Perfection.

Saying that I see it in them is also not derogatory, because obviously both had brilliant careers…… and you absolutely cannot under any circumstances prove that autism is not genetic. It is also not an indication of intelligence.

One of my first memories of my dad is him teaching me to say “betahemolytic streptococci,” and “antidisestablishmentarianism.” He broke everything down and strung it together. As a result, I do not misspell much. I know my English roots and my Latin roots because medicine. Unless you’re at High School for Health Professions, I doubt they worry whether you can spell arrhythmia and diarrhea in high school.

I know in British English there are dipthongs. I say “zed.” That’s my final offer. I can’t internationalize everything. 😛

Though I will say that I am well versed in British English because of my grandfather, who got me started on Black Adder, A Bit of Fry and Laurie, Are You Being Served:?, and every BBC anything he could find on KERA. We always watched “A Child’s Christmas in Wales,” just one of the reasons I’d actually like to go to a game in Wrexham rather than watching “Welcome to Wrexham” on Hulu.

(Don’t sleep on it, even if you don’t like football/soccer. Ryan and Rob are hilarious owners and seeing the business side is very much Ted Lasso, Higgins, and Rebecca.)

My father and my grandfather have easily had the most influence on what I do today, because their contributions to my life are unquantifiable in terms of teaching me how to get my ideas out there, and my dad and my grandfather were both doing it before the internet even existed. I remember putting it together that I was very impressed with my grandfather because I remember a series of shots he took of his steel company from the air, not having realized how difficult it is to get those shots while basically hanging out of an airplane. I didn’t have as much insight into that strength from the photograph, but from hearing Jonna Mendez described how she learned…… which is basically hanging out of an airplane. Good luck. God bless. If you’re lucky, you’ll have someone to spot you. Otherwise, it’s just canvas straps you lean against and pray that what you feel under you is not your imagination.

It happens to be true biologically that we are related, but I wouldn’t be as comfortable in my own skin if we hadn’t met, whether we’d ended up as a biological connection or not. They have always kept me grounded, and just because my grandfather has passed on, that does not mean that he’s not in touch. I am carrying on his legacy of writing what I know. I am carrying on the tradition of preaching what I know.

They would have been great as friends, the universe just smiled upon me and I got to be my grandfather’s first granddaughter on my father’s side, and the first grandchild period on my mother’s side, and the oldest child in my first family as well.

I have something with my father and my mother’s father that no one else can have or take away.

I’m the one that made them a dad and grandfather.

My People Don’t Do That

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

How do you want to retire?

If you are a writer, your luxury items involve being able to write. There is nothing more to life than a pen and paper, or however it is you communicate these days. More and more people are using their phones as mobile desktops- an additional way to write, more important than what it was designed to do…. make calls on it.

Did you know that you can use an iPhone to call your doctor? Weird. 😉

I will write until I die, so there’s no “retirement.” There are just better and better choices about where to write as you get older (hopefully). Right now, my two favorite places to write are in bed right when I wake up, and then later I go downstairs and use my desktop. It just depends on how much desktop real estate I need. I prefer my TV monitor when I have four windows open at a time.

If I am writing all by myself, I prefer to sit with my iPad or Android. If I am chatting to Carol while I am writing, I like the desktop real estate being large enough to read and write at the same time. It’s nice being able to look at your work and talk to your research assistant at the same time.

In my office, the sunrise is spectacular. It just depends on what kind of energy I’m feeling when I wake up. Today, I haven’t gotten out of bed because I feel a little bit under the weather. I am positive I caught something traveling to and from Zac’s, because I isolate myself so much that it doesn’t make sense as to where I’d have picked up germs. To be clear, I am not blaming Zac and his housemate for me being sick, I am blaming public transportation, which is valid.

It’s just little kid sorts of sniffles currently. If I take antihistamines, decongestants, and a hot shower and I’m still feeling punk, I’ll go to the doctor. But not right away. The only reason I wait is that doctors can do nothing for a cold virus. However, they can treat the infection that comes from the virus. So, I just take cold medicine unless things take a turn for the green and the yellow. I also have a deep and loving relationship with Mucinex. It’s what I’ve been told to use as a singer since I was a kid. It doesn’t heal or cure anything. It thins your secretions enough to be able to get them out. And in fact, Dr. Stasney had two rules for singers:

1. Mucinex (then referred to in popular culture by its original prescription brand name, Humibid)

2. Drink water til you pee pale

Drink lots of water to help this process occur naturally, but Mucinex is worth its weight in gold when water alone can’t keep up.

I have just taken all of the medication I can take, so I am now allowed to complain. It’s the rule in my family, because you aren’t allowed to complain about something until you’ve done something about it.

This is a conversation often had in my family:

Me: My head hurts.
Them: What have you taken for it?
Me: Nothing.

At this point, there are one of two viable options. The first is, “has it kicked in yet?” The second is “well, you can’t get tachyphylaxis from nothin’.” If you don’t know medicine, it’s a smart ass remark because tachyphylaxis is the idea that a medication’s efficacy declines over time as your body chemistry gets used to it.

Either way, the best answer is not “nothing.”

The point well taken is that if I tell you I have a headache, I am unlikely to still be complaining about it an hour later if I have done something about it. Complaining is valid. There’s just a limited window in which it is tolerated, and that is the time it takes for you to need a drug and for it to kick in.

As a result, all four of us know how to take care of ourselves if it’s something really simple like a cold. The best part about living with a doctor is seeing what really needs one and what doesn’t. For instance, knowing to the core of my being that you can’t go to the doctor for a cold because there’s nothing for them to call in.

Now, if the crap in my throat develops into strep or whatever, that’s a different matter. A doctor can do something about that. With a virus, you just have to ride it out, and it’s hard to keep in mind when your symptoms are so rabid. Viruses do all sorts of fun stuff that doctors can’t stop. They can only treat. Anything you need to treat a virus is what those over the counter drugs are for. There’s very few instances I can think of where you would need a heavier hitter than ibuprofen and/or Imodium AD, and certainly Sudafed.

What has tripped me up in the past is not knowing when to go to Urgent Care for an injury in the kitchen, because I’m so tough. I can handle this (my thumb is hanging off- an exaggeration by a large margin, but not an exaggeration as to how much it would take to drag me out of the restaurant. I’ll cauterize on the grill.).

I just texted Rachel the story I wrote about her and Pati Jinich. We haven’t been talking at all, I just thought she’d like to read it. Plus, she’s a chef in my neighborhood. We’ll run into each other again. But there’s always that fear when you step out on a ledge and let someone into your world. Mine is large. Most of it taken up by food.

Speaking of which, I need to go get some. I’m feeling a brunch vibe coming on.

Questions from Reddit

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I asked Carol to research the top 10 questions people have about relationships, and the results were interesting. I’ll do what I can, because I genuinely like writing about how people connect:

“What’s a good question to ask before you start dating someone?”

None of those questions are for other people. Those questions are for you. That way, you are sparked by the right people instead of the wrong ones. You don’t know yourself well enough to know what you want in a partner. You haven’t learned anything about yourself in terms of connection, so how can you tell your partner what you need? If you can’t talk easily about intimate things during early days, you definitely won’t be able to talk easily under duress.

  1. “Is it okay to spend holidays with my partner instead of my family?”
  • Of course, and there’s no one way to be an “in-law.” Families do not need to compete for love and time, which happens when grandchildren are in the picture. But what both sides need to know is that the parents decide the balance. Grandparents don’t, and how much you react to it is all your business.
  1. “How do I come out to my partner about my sexuality?”
  • I am assuming that they know it already if they’re you’re partner………… This is why AI doesn’t create art. But if you’re talking about someone you’re interested in that you’re not currently dating, just ask them. It’s a different society now that we don’t have to be so careful about who’s queer and who’s not.
  1. “Am I being emotionally/mentally abused by my parents?”
  • The more responsibility you have at home, the more it’s classified as neglect and abuse. In my case, I shouldn’t have been able to live vicariously through an adult, because it created secrets too large for me to hear. If the same thing is happening to you, please talk to someone. Go to an adult you trust until they listen. It is not your job to run your household while your parents are off in la-la land.
  1. “When my partner says ‘You make me happy,’ why does it make me uncomfortable?”
  • Because their happiness is dependent on you. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling to have anyone say “you made me” anything. I want to add to people’s happiness, but I don’t want to feel the weight of keeping you happy. I know from experience that it doesn’t work. If you’re not happy internally, you will find a way to keep being unhappy and finding excuses as to why there’s no joy in your life.
  1. “What will always be funny to you?”
  • My relationship with my sister. She is the funniest person I know, and she makes me laugh with wild abandon. She also impresses the hell out of me on a daily basis. She’s a good sister to have.
  1. “What’s your biggest non-academic, non-work-related accomplishment?”
  • Making other people feel comfortable about wearing their pride jewelry at a conservative Texas high school because I was the first. Kids were still talking about it the year after I graduated, because Lindsay overheard them talking about it when she was a freshman.
  1. “How do you manage friendships with the opposite sex without sending the wrong signals?”
  • I’m bisexual and poly, so I try not to send the wrong signal no matter what gender they are. But since this is from reddit, I’ll social mask the heteronormative bullshit for a minute. In order to really manage friends with the opposite sex, they have to be free to go over to each other’s houses at any time- meaning that most of their face time is in front of their partner so that their partner is actually there to witness the vibe and say, “careful there.” By keeping your partner away from the person, you are creating a divide and conquer. A little place to get away that may or may not interrupt your relationship. The more you isolate, the more threatening it is to your partner. And, let’s face it, some people are going to be jealous no matter what you do.
  1. “What’s the most memorable date you’ve ever been on?”
  • The funniest one is that I didn’t know the woman was an exterminator, and I didn’t know that it was a date. The first rule of dating women is that you have to tell them explicitly it is a date because I swear to Christ no one ever thinks “date.” She just wants to hang out. There’s no possible way she could like me…. and on and on and on. So, she picks me up and there’s a dozen roses in her hand, so at least I got a clue after I’d gotten ready…. in jeans and a t-shirt. She got really, really passionate about being an exterminator, and it was just a weird conversation all around. I was relieved when it ended, and surprised to learn that there are actually situations in which I am speechless.
  1. “What’s your love language?”

It has changed over time. It has always been words of affirmation/recognition. However, I have learned to see practical things as love as well. It’s not my love language, but it is Supergrover and Zac’s. I compromise and bend, or try as much as I can. But income has never been a thing with any of us, because Supergrover isn’t supporting me and neither is Zac.

Well, I can’t completely say that because Zac will take me anyplace I want to go no matter the cost- but it’s a gift, not a financial dependence. I like cooking, he likes going out to eat. So, it’s no problem to pay for both of us because he’d rather pay for me to be able to share his experiences. I haven’t even cooked for him. I’ve cooked when he wasn’t there, and that’s fun, too. He has a lot of cool shit he’s not using, like a near perfect chef’s knife. So perfect I feel like she’s cheating on me when she’s with him (all knives are female, like ships). Am I jealous that Zac has other partners? No. I am jealous of his kitchen.

Last night we went out for sushi and then got ice cream. I had a scoop of banana with frozen mango and strawberry, and a scoop of dark chocolate that said it had a whole lot of things, but I only really remember the marshmallow. I love ice cream with marshmallows, like Rocky Road. It’s the texture difference, like Chocolate Pudding Therapy at Ben & Jerry’s.

This morning on the way to the train, we stopped for pastries and coffee at a Swiss bakery, where I got a cafe au lait, a croissant, a lemon custard and blueberry Danish, and some long-awaited sour gummy Smurfs…. which I just opened about three minutes ago. 🙂

Zac got some stuff, too. 😉