My Career Made Sense Once It Became Storytelling

May 9, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What is your career plan?

My combination of physical and mental maladies make it where it’s hard to stay employed. I have gotten many jobs in many fields, and I’ve enjoyed all of them. I’ve just never managed to last long enough at anything to establish a career. When you are neurotypical, it does not make sense to you why I would get fired. And then I listen to how you talk about your coworkers and in instantaneously becomes clear. No matter how loving and open you think you are, neurotypical people do not like working with neurodivergent ones. Whether it’s that someone doesn’t like their tone or they’re doing something completely wrong doesn’t matter. In an office, there is very little difference in simply being annoying and ACTUALLY being bad at the job. It matters that you’re pleasant just as much as you’re competent. Not wanting to work with someone is just a valid reason to let someone go, because it’s not the boss’s job to babysit.

However, my survival cannot be dependent on neurotypical people, either. My livelihood is threatened by my own body- demand avoidance, burnout, and meltdown being the big three. I can cope and muddle through in a job. I excel when I sit down at my keyboard to tell you about the world around me. I am not thinking about all the ways I could be criticized, which is good, because If blowback was always my first thought I would not be doing well. I would be over focusing on people who didn’t like my writing while ignoring people who do. That doesn’t seem healthy, going out of my way to focus on the negative.

I keep thinking about what Daniel said…. “Just because you write in bulk doesn’t mean you say anything of substance.” It plays like a tape in my head, and what I have to remember is that whether it’s good or bad, being able to go back and read about what my life was like in years past is invaluable. If you asked me what I was doing five years ago today, I could probably tell you. I just have to remember that Daniel was miserable and trying to hurt me. I notice that lots of people treat me like absolute SHIT and then say, “I’m not going to be the villain in your story.”

I also have a problem with consequences equaling negativity. I didn’t tell you that Daniel or Supergrover was a bad person. I told you what happened. BOTH of them are extraordinarily defensive and nothing is ever their fault and you’re a really bad person no matter what they did, because they don’t like to feel. Anything you do to make them feel is suspicious. They googled it, and they do not like it.

My life got so much better when I decided I was tired as fuck of both of them. I am a storyteller, therefore I don’t need any “friends.” I need actual friends, ones who believe they are capable of making mistakes instead of coming unglued when they’ve hurt me and I said something about it.

According to them, I should just keep my mouth shut because their bad behavior is good. It’s me telling people about it that’s problematic. If their behavior was so perfectly perfect in every way, they would not get mad that I wrote about it.

I am not going to let them make me a victim by insisting that I keep my mouth shut over things they did that genuinely hurt me. Neither of them gave a damn about me and my pain. They wanted to be hero-worshiped and showed up every single day to hear me extol their virtues and lost their everliving SHIT when they realized I was going to treat them like a normal person and not play them up to be gods among men. However, I don’t NOT do that, either. I love the people in my life and I often write glowing things about them that make me cry. But when I’m not being glowing, it’s not that I’m hurt. It’s that I’m a bad person because I opened my mouth.

That pattern seems on brand. You’re only as sick as your secrets.

So, instead of fighting with friends and coworkers, I would rather record my life and move in the direction of my own system rather than trying to fit into someone else’s. Because needing their love and approval got me nowhere, I replaced them with self-confidence.

I am not trying to be hard nosed. I am trying to own my story. The part that they’re angry about is that I am not telling the story the way they want to hear it………………… While never even DARING to have the guts wo write their own. It’s easier to bitch at me…………… But absolutely nothing will keep either of them from lurking and fuming. There’s not a chance either of them will just go the fuck away and leave me alone.

Repeat with anyone that has ever known me, because I generally end up talking to myself. It’s how being autistic is. You rarely have friends because you’re social masking and there’s something officious and off-putting about it. I don’t care if you think that’s annoying. I just ask that you stop interacting with me rather than bitching about my writing. My writing lives within me and around me. You ain’t shit.

It’s not that my friends aren’t valuable. They cannot give me direction and focus. That’s all on me. And until they start digging deep, they’ll never understand how hard it is. They’d rather be locked down, hurt, and lashing out at me. Thankfully, that has stopped because I stopped allowing it.

Supergrover does not get the right to absolutely shit all over everything and then walk off like nothing happened. She participated, and now acts like she’s a motherfucking hero and I’m a mental patient.

You do you, but okay.

Which One?

May 7, 2024May 7, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What do you do to be involved in the community?

I am most involved with online communities, because I prefer to type than to speak. It’s not that I’m not a good time in person, I just get tongue tied and like the safety of using a keyboard. It has led to very mixed results, because most of the time, it’s just a communication tool. Occasionally, it brings out the worst in me. I have to be careful with it, because I become disconnected with the world of Outdoors and In Person.

And it’s not even really that I become tongue-tied. I become inauthentic. I start social masking and it feels like putting on a show rather than it being natural to my personality. That person hides every single thing about her that makes her unique so that she cannot possibly be offensive to anyone at any time. I become the me that’s appropriate for very large gatherings of people. I haven’t been a public speaker all my life, but my dad has (he was a minister in the UMC). Therefore, I am not that person, but I can social mask it. I fail because invariably there’s going to be something that makes the mask look like a lie. Maybe to other people, definitely to me. That personality is based on my mother, the loving preacher’s wife who lived to serve…… As in, my social mask is not “leader” but “support person.” I think it’s why I thought I’d be such a a good friend for Supergrover. It is extraordinarily true that my hormones grabbed me by my guts for a little minute, but none of the things I wanted to offer her long term were predicated or dependent upon her turning into a teenager as well.

In short, I know how to support a big shot.

I just, frankly, am not my mother and I never will be. I start all my taking care of her schtick, and things go great until I try to speak truth to power. It’s not because Supergrover is inflexible or hard-nosed. She doesn’t trust me. We didn’t used to have this problem, and now we do. In effect, I thought I could be so spectacular a friend that she would realize that she shouldn’t hold me to my worst mistake. So far, I have gotten a few brownie points, but things have never gone back to normal. I would say that the operation was a whispering success. 😉 She relaxed on some things, not on others. The one thing I refused to be was impressed. Me being impressed would have been the death knell, because she wouldn’t have liked it if I thought being friends meant parroting back her own opinions to her, either. I have never been a “yes man,” and SG was not my cue to start.

I am not impressed with anything that would make her impressive to anyone else, and that’s what makes her valuable to me. It’s like HSPVA to me. Mireille Enos is not valuable to me because she’s one of the most talented actresses in the world. She is valuable to me because she was a senior that smiled at me in high school when I was a freshman. I have never been crushed out on her, I was just an insecure ninth grader and for a moment, I wasn’t. I also don’t value her movie star looks, because in my head we’re both children. I love that I know War from “Good Omens,” but I know her from one of the smallest stages in the world- the black box at the second oldest location of HSPVA.

I have mentioned that I saw her as the lead in “Diary of Anne Frank.” What I did not say is that when the Nazis arrived to take the family away, actors dropped from the catwalk in their battle rattle and scared the ever living SHIT out of all of us. It was really VERY effective.

In terms of community, artists are a good one. I remember another play the theater department did for Black History month that celebrated diversity. There were four actors on stage dressed completely in black and with bags over their heads (see thru, presumably….). They start talking and one is clearly Asian, one is clearly Central American, one is clearly white, and one is clearly black. They talk for about three minutes, all of them sounding as stereotypical as they possibly can. Every trope in the book comes out and they’re just flinging the things people say about them on stage while the crowd is roaring with laughter.

Then.

There’s a hush and a gasp in the audience when they take the bags off their heads and no one’s race matched up to their voice. It was just masterful, and I’m so glad that was part of my high school experience. I didn’t have as many kindred spirits as Clements, and I missed PVA terribly both years I didn’t go. But at the same time, I did get to be in marching band for a season, and although I didn’t choose to continue with it, I’m glad I have the story to tell now.

I got to play some stuff at Clements that I never would have at PVA because frankly, our band was better than PVAs by a large margin, like, a provable amount. My junior year, literally the first time I’d ever been in the band, we went to Texas Music Educator’s Association as the Sudler Flag winners. The Sudler flag is an award for excellence in music education. The band was already pretty good before I got there. Although I was told it was good that I transferred because a lot of their more capable trumpet players that had gotten the band the award in the first place had graduated. It was nice to feel appreciated, because I know I wasn’t the best in the world, but I was a great utility player. I didn’t have to be first chair. I was glad I got to go to San Antonio at all. Get this. I never made first chair at Clements (I don’t think…. If I did, I didn’t have it long enough to be memorable). For a very long time, though, I was third. THIRD out of the best trumpet players in the state according to TMEA. I wasn’t the gold medalist, but I was still on the podium.

I owe my success in band at Clements to Norman and Danny, the trumpet players that babied me along until I could stand on my own two feet at HSPVA. They were not dismissive or mansplaining, because we were trying to achieve a beautiful sectional sound. It was more like being picked for the Olympics with Norman and Danny as my coaches. In the symphony, you may be first chair, but the parts are not divided by voice. As in, just because you’re second or third chair doesn’t mean your part is going to be less complicated or not as high. I mean, it probably is if it’s a classical piece that’s been rewritten for younger players, but we were reading straight off the original “charts.”

It’s like reading the Gospel of Mark in the original Greek instead of the King James version. For instance, reading Bach in the original German in terms of stage notes and the key signature, which were called different things in his time. The only one I can remember off the top of my head is that B minor is H mol. That’s because I’ve also done Bach’s B Minor Mass, or Mass in H mol, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral as a soprano.

It was an early music concert, so period instruments as well. After one of the rehearsals, I asked one of the trumpet players if I could try his horn and he let me. It was a very warm sound, similar to a Monette (famous for being unlaquered). My arms were a little short for the valves, so I was grateful to be in the community as a singer and not an instrumentalist….. Although it is fun being able to say that I can play the precursor to the trumpet as well.

When I first moved to Silver Spring, I was involved in choir. I may do it again someday, because I’d like to get back into being a musician. It’s a whole mood. You feel so much adrenaline after rehearsals and concerts that your mood naturally feels lighter and bubblier once they’re over. The reason that even though it’s just rehearsal and your adrenaline still goes up is the competition, and it is relentless. I do not mean that we snipe at each other, I mean the quest for excellence is relentless. I am not competing against anyone in my choir, but to be a better singer than I was the day before. Again, I have been asked to solo for things, so I know I’m capable of it. However, I am most comfortable as a utility player in a choir as well. I can hit high notes, but I am not a diva. I think the altos have more interesting parts, anyway.

I am more on an alto wavelength, because what I’ve found over time is that more altos can read music than sopranos. I think that’s because the alto part is generally more complicated; you can pick a melody out of thin air, but generally not the supporting notes in a chord. Alto parts are usually more complicated rhythmically as well. It has created a stigma that sopranos are airheads. This is not NECESSARILY true………….. There is a huge difference between singers who have taken lessons on instruments and singers who haven’t, because dollars to donuts they were trained in solfege and not reading the notes off the page.

I am not ashamed to admit that I thought solfege was stupid, and I haven’t been proved wrong. But that’s not because I’m not open to solfege for other people. It does work, just not if you’ve already learned to read music first. If you know how to read music, you know there is no need to bring hand movement into things. Yet, we still had to do the hand movements. I never learned them. I just made Spock’s little hand sign thingme and moved it up and down. Mission accomplished.

Because my mother was a pianist and my dad was a trumpet player, I know I learned to read music early, but I can’t remember by how much., as opposed to kids learning in school. I think I was six, because my mother’s rule in taking piano students was that they had to be able to reach an octave. As in, the thumb can be on middle C and their pinky can comfortably hit the C above. I didn’t start band, however, until I was in grade five. So, 10, I think? What I do know is that I already knew how to read music before a horn was ever put into my hands.

Singing is very hard on your body, but in a good way. As in, you’ll exercise muscles you don’t normally use and it will hurt until you get used to it. The workout keeps getting more and more productive, less and less irritating. I know I am on the right track when I can lift a heavy book with my diaphragm alone.

I just thought of something funny. Dana’s mom said, “that voice! Where did it come from?” I realized I would not be lying if my answer had been that it was Biblical, because the book I use the most frequently to work out those muscles is an Interpreter’s Bible.

I’d like to be able to run with the big boys there, too. For instance, I think Father Nathan Monk is the bees knees, because he’s already doing what I’ve always wanted to do, which is minister to people no matter what they believe. Just because there’s no God in it doesn’t mean it’s not church. Secular humanism is valid. People want to live in community and help each other whether they believe there’s a higher power or not.

Father Nathan spent many years in the church before he became an atheist, and I would argue, a better priest in the process. He’s also queer, poly, neurodivergent, and from the way he writes, probably an INFJ as well. I’ve just been watching him on Facebook for a while, and it seems like we have a lot in common. He’d be one of those guys I’d like to host on a podcast about success, because he built a business off his haters. He talks about sweeping negativity away with the “broom of doom,” and he makes jewelry. He started offering broom necklaces on his web site, and the rest was history. And though we’re peers, I know I would relate to him like I relate to my dad, which is “I’m interested in this stuff, but you’ve got a degree.” I have only been a preacher’s kid, and Nathan is ordained in the Orthodox church.

However, I do not have to be ordained because I do not want to pastor a church. I do not want to be the head of the community, just in the middle where I can enjoy everyone else and not have to worry about the direction the church is taking because I do not even want to be paid to care. I worry enough about the global church without the responsibility of a local congregation.

I think that I have done something Father Nathan has also done, which is to lay out my thoughts on theology on social media (he uses Facebook, I use WordPress) because I think they are important culturally. I am trying to give you a picture in your mind that CLEARLY says “Christian” and yet doesn’t reflect any of the views espoused by evangelicals who have never read a day of Biblical criticism in their whole lives.

In fact, I own more biblical criticism than most literalists will ever bother reading. That’s because for them, the one book is enough. It’s not necessary to understand those people’s current events, etc. A Baptist will never understand that Jesus was executed for being a loudmouth zealot. His ideas were dangerous to Rome, and the Sanhedrin agreed with them because they thought he was a loudmouth zealot way before they did. Judaism did not want to try anything new and different any more than Rome did. The fact that Romans are so crazy about Jesus now is straight up ridiculous. Nothing Jesus ever said to or about the Romans was valuable until after he died.

Tough room.

We often throw away the genius in our midst, but I don’t know why people who preach love and tolerance are often victims of the worst violence. We seem to murder and regret a lot. In America, it is worse in terms of gun culture, but the Romans were able to murder Jesus very effectively without one.

Governments kill people all the time, but crucifixion is particularly sadistic. Not only did the Romans crucify him, they nailed a sign to the top of the cross mocking him, and the sign was a snarky “King of the Jews.” You know, because being crucified in public just isn’t embarrassing enough. People could come by and mock him in schadenfreude, With crucifixion, the punishment wasn’t death. It was that you didn’t die right away. You slowly suffocated in front of your family, friends, and strangers. While naked if the little piece of cloth fell off.

We as a world have not changed. I do not know what their practice is currently, but the reason we allowed Trigon, our Russian asset, an L pill (cyanide) is because the rumor was that in Russia, if you were caught spying for the US, they would put you in a crematorium feet first. Trigon asked, and we granted, his ability to take his own life before he was tortured. This is not ancient history. Trigon was caught the year I was born.

The L pill was hidden in his pen, so he offered to write out a full confession. They look on in confusion as he bites down on the pen and dies before he hits the floor, saving him emotional trauma and physical dignity, even post-mortem.

It is a different mindset to kill someone than to stand around and watch them suffer. For instance, if I ever did anything that put me on death row, I would not want a viewing gallery. I’d just sneak in one of my ordained friends under the clergy rule and pass quietly, without the feeling that I was being watched like an animal in a zoo……… A feeling that Jesus would most certainly know intimately.

These are the things I want my community to focus on…. That Jesus’s story is tragic and uplifting because of who he was as a person, not who he became post-mortem, post-resurrection, etc.. In the United States, the prevailing message is the opposite, that you are “washed in the blood.” Everything Jesus did while he was alive takes a back seat to the idea that Jesus is magic.

He absolutely is, but his magic comes from the smallest piece of his soul, the son of a carpenter……. The place where no one looks.

Freeze Dried Skittles

May 5, 2024May 5, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Things have been crazy since Bryn and Dave have been here, and it’s hard to reflect a moment while it’s happening. You may not hear about all the things we did for months, because what tends to happen is that I do something, and then as time passes, the words to be able to describe what happened previously will come to me. Some memories have to rise above the facts to make good writing. I am not talking about “enhancing” a memory. It’s just that it’s hard to describe feelings without much time to even know what they are.

It also depends on how I’m prompted. A lot of the things you learn in this web site are about me because a question (from a prompt, a reader, etc.) will jog a detail that I’d forgotten previously. I have been accused of lying by people saying “that’s not the same story you told last time.” No, it’s not, because it’s a different day and I always have three or four threads running in terms of processing something. Some blog entries are built on one and three. Some entries are built on two and four. But it’s not lying. It’s standing in front of a different part of the elephant.

The view is different when you’re standing at the trunk, but in the next entry, I’ll tell you about the view from the tail. It’s all one day, it’s all one story, but one entry does not cover a whole day. That does not mean if you read both entries, the first one is right and the second one is wrong….. Or vice versa. I am not trying to change a story, but to add additional details that my ADHD brain forgot to include the last time around. I can think in four strands at a time, but I can only write one of them down. That does not invalidate my other thoughts, or make them lies.

I have had to explain this many times, which I have the words for as an adult. I did not have the words for it in first grade, and I was in trouble for lying a lot of the time. Meanwhile, it’s akin to a game I played at the Spy Museum yesterday.

You had 10 seconds to memorize a photo and jot down the relevant details. So, I see that the exhibit is about the Culpeper Ring and the OG Spymaster (George Washington). So, I am trying to record all the details and think, “what’s the pertinent information here?” So, I figured the relevant details would be that there are 25 muskets and 10 cannons headed to Yorktown.

I am so proud of myself. I got the relevant details.

I was questioned over it and I was so fucking confident.

“What color was the pen?”

I failed miserably. But on that one, I got it wrong because I hit the incorrect button with my elbow.

I am probably overthinking this, but I am betting that weapons movement is more important than pen color, but I cannot assume that because I do not know the objective of the mission. My job was to memorize the picture, not to know why they needed the information.

The pen was white, by the way.

But that’s how CIA works. In effect, everyone has a tiny role to play and they all add up to a massive organization. As Jonna Mendez points out, you really don’t even know what operation you’re a part of all the time in terms of major historical events because you’re not read in high enough to see the big picture. You just have to trust that you’re working for the greater good.

I step out on that ledge a lot, because I’m an American. I can criticize CIA every single day all day long and no one is going to lock me up. That lets me love them even more because in a country with a government like China’s, painting their intelligence service’s portrait with more than one color would land me in prison……. Especially if they thought I was painting my feelings as fact.

(“Painting my feelings as fact” is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me in the history of anything, and Supergrover said it when she was angry. The reason it’s gorgeous is that I can’t think of a blog entry in which I didn’t think about using it. That phrase is ridden hard and put up wet around here because I can’t write anything better.)

My point, and I do have one, is that I can tell The Agency to fuck all the way off because of the negative things they’ve done over the years, AND they can be the paramilitary heroes we need- the only friends you’ve got when you’ve traveled and pissed off Putin instead of Biden. I would rather take my chances with Biden, because he might think I was irritating, but there is exactly Jack or shit he can do about it. If they put you in jail for being annoying, I promise I would already be locked up.

CIA is responsible for a lot of bad in the world, but my favorite character in the Marvel universe is Everett Ross (Martin Freeman, the Tolkien case officer in Black Panther). I cannot paint them with one color, because they’ve been adding different hues since 1947. It is important to me not to love them like a child, where everything mommy and daddy do is GREAT! I love them like an adult. I acknowledge the bad and the good. My first priority in intelligence has to be loving my agency because it’s my country, like rooting for DC United instead of the Portland Timbers……… But not at the exclusion of my international friends, whose experiences with CIA might not be as kind as mine. I also get the impression from John Le Carre that I can hate CIA all I want and I’ll still never hate it as much as the people who work there (that was a joke).

If my government is going to allow my intelligence agency (which I personalize because of taxes) to do stupid shit, I like that my government won’t throw me in jail for saying they just did something really stupid. This is always brought home to me by a trip to the museum, and we wandered around for a couple of hours last evening.

Because I’m such a Mendez fan, I went to the Canadian Caper and stopped to “talk” to Tony. I look at his pictures and notes and we have conversations in my head. All the things I would have asked him, etc. I told him that Jonna was AMAZING at her book talk and with the way my insides glowed, it was like he responded. I just figured he’d like to know how she’s doing from an outsider’s perspective. 😉

The museum is not personal to me because of my special interest now. Now, it’s personal to me because I know someone who helped found it. And, of course, because she’s my friend, I want the museum to succeed and sell her books all the time. Seriously. Several times people have asked me for recommendations because I look like I know my way around the book section, and for me, their book section has like seven books tops (that is also a joke- there are MANY intelligence authors I admire, I just don’t know their backstories well, if at all).

I wanted Zac to like the museum because he works in intelligence. I wanted to know whether he thought it was truly representative, what Intel wants people to know about them, etc. He did like the museum, and did love the “artifacts,” which made me feel good. I kind of think of it as his museum, too.

I always like to get a little something at the gift shop because the museum always needs money (they’re not a Smithsonian). This time, it was a small tin with the museum logo that says “DocuMINTS.” I didn’t buy it for the candy, I like the tin for odds and ends because it’s small enough to fit in my pocket and it looks too cool for me.

I am LOVING the retro collection they have now. I’ve already gotten the long sleeved t-shirt, but they’ve also added a hoodie that says “International Spy Museum” in the 1970’s font they used in Argo. As I was telling Zac, I love that the movie starts out like a 1979 movie. I love it because it just looks cool, but it’s also an inside nod to the movie for me.

Lord, I do love a font.

Also, hats off to the casting director on “Argo.” When Zac and I were standing in front of the exhibit, the cast photo and the real photo are nearly identical- to the point that it’s spooky. You really have to get close to tell the difference between Bob Anders and Tate Donovan.

Tate Donovan has been one of my favorite actors since “Space Camp.”

Which is probably why I bought some freeze-dried Skittles in the gift shop as well. Zac loves new and interesting candy, so I gave them to him for his sweets and snacks cabinet. It’s my favorite “room” in the house. 😉

What do space candy and CIA have in common?

Think seriously how we would have gotten to the moon before Russia without them.

It’s a large set of facts I’m painting with my feelings.

I Made the List for the First Time

May 4, 2024May 4, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

List the people you admire and look to for advice…

This is the first time anyone has ever asked me this question and I thought to put myself on the list. I have never been comfortable enough before in my own skin to think my opinion was worth anything. However, once I sat with my thoughts day in and day out, my discomfort at sharing those opinions went away. Mostly because I realized that no one is wrong or right. We are all making it up as we go along. I didn’t have to put people I admired on a pedestal because my opinions were just as good as theirs. It wasn’t hero worship. It was thinking something was wrong with me and that made them automatically better at opinions.

It is also true that when you’re physically disabled and mentally ill, other people assume they’re better with the thinking because they don’t have those issues. It is amazing to me that people think treated bipolar disorder and untreated are the same. So, you have a lot of people who tell you that your opinions aren’t worth anything because to them they aren’t. They have invalidated you by your diagnosis. People tend to be dismissive because they don’t think I’m in my right mind anyway. I don’t know what I’m saying.

In a very real sense, this is true. Accurate and dead on. I do not know what I am saying.

This is because I know exactly what I am saying, but through my autism and ADHD, I do not know what you hear when I talk. I know this because of the difference in what I mean vs. what people have angrily insisted I mean. This is because their brains process the order of my words differently than I do, which changes the meaning of a sentence.

What could possibly go wrong?

It leads people to put emotion where it doesn’t belong, because they’re, in effect, accenting the wrong syllable. Thinking I’m being aggressive, sarcastic, cold, whatever the emotion and telling me that- which is great. I need to know your experience of me. The problem comes in when there is no way to prove to you that I mean what I say and I say what I mean, so I am struggling against the way you perceived my words and not what they actually were. For instance, trying to prove I wasn’t trying to be aggressive when you are absolutely convinced I purposefully tried to anger you.

There is really no way to un-fuck that particular situation. I walk away from those relationships because the thing that’s harder than anything else in a relationship is proving you’re NOT angry. With autism, disproving any negative, really. It’s hard to prove you’re NOT anything if someone’s perception in their minds of you is certain.

Through being autistic, I have learned that I am a master manipulator while I sit there and wonder why people say that….. Or I did, until I learned I was autistic. That everything I say is probably going to come out wrong. So, I’m in a situation where people think I’m manipulating them and it’s supported by the fact that I’m bipolar.

I am not malicious and I am not mentally ill. I take medication every day for it. You don’t call someone blind when you can see the glasses on their face- their vision is corrected. You don’t treat a mentally ill person like they’re on thin ice for being put away.

You don’t focus on the fact that someone is an alcoholic. You focus on the fact that they’re in recovery.

So, if I know I’m not malicious and that I’m not trying to manipulate people, then obviously I am failing in my communication and need to learn new strategies for saying the same things. This is because I do not have a problem voicing needs anymore, but I don’t know how to talk at all without people telling me that I’m acting like I know everything.

However, it’s only a certain group of my friends that jump on me this way, so how they communicate plays into it as well. It is not a one sided communication issue. Because they have things in common, my pattern recognition on what they’re doing reads universal rather than personal to each individual relationship.

So, not only do I need better communication overall, I specifically need guidance on how to phrase things so that I don’t sound like I’m master of the universe. My self-esteem is so incredibly low (and I’m vulnerable about it) that I’m surprised people think I sit around and think about how great I am.

Coming into my own was hearing the child inside me say, “hey. You’re not THAT bad.” My trouble with communication made me reticent to give an opinion at all, because it always came out wrong. I have been told that the most fucking irritating thing about me in the whole entire goddamn world is that I’m always right, so take that for what you will.

One of the reasons I shut down and became a writer, basically talking to myself for incredibly long periods of time is that it came across like people tolerated me rather than genuinely wanting to be in my company. I jumped into writing because I wasn’t wanted elsewhere, and not in a “poor me” kind of way. It was “I don’t have to have friends, because I can entertain myself.”I do indeed have friends, I’m just saying that my happiness is dependent on them. I have the capability to bring myself joy; no one is responsible for making me happy.

I also think that writing reinforces what I think- I am not arguing with myself over how I feel in person because I’ve already written about it here. Therefore, people are deathly intimidated by me because I am deft in an arena where few people excel. My Achilles Heel is that I often have communication issues and end up beating the wrong dead horse instead of the right one…….. Because I interpreted someone else’s words putting the accent on the wrong syllable.

There are plenty of people that I look to for advice, generally my sister and Bryn are at the top of the list.

I ask Supergrover for advice all the time. It’s just that her responses are calculated on everything she’s already said. It’s the same way with Dana. I can’t go back in time, but their uploaded consciousnesses live in me. I talk to their characters. Their characters don’t grow and change, but it’s comforting nonetheless.

I am coming to rely more and more on myself because I realize that being disabled and autistic has led me to discount my opinions, buying into the view everyone else has about both groups. I realized when I was talking about people I go to for advice, it felt like I wasn’t even allowing myself to sit in the conference room with them.

I started taking up more space when I realized I wanted to define myself. That it was okay to take up room. It was okay if I didn’t swallow other people’s opinions whole in order to please them.

I’m not the expert. I constantly play tapes in my head of the things people have said about/to me and it sits in my brain like a rock. I defined myself by all the negative things that people placed on me, and thought I was a bad person because of it. I don’t mean recently. I mean I can tell you about feeling the exact same way at six years old. School is brutal for kids who can’t communicate. Having a neurotypical kindergarten teacher was the first time I realized that people couldn’t hear what I was saying and were putting meanings into my mouth.

I started releasing my demons as a writer…… Or at least, as I said the other day, exercising them. I hardly ever say “exercise” because I know they ain’t leavin.’ It makes me laugh to think of my demons in workout clothes. We are very serious. We are eating Starburst for breakfast.

Breakfast of champions.

I do not know what it is about the autistic brain that makes me insufferable. It’s funny because it’s true. But know that it’s not all me. Part of it is that I have a disability you know nothing about, and are choosing to believe I am not that different from you. The fault in this is not being able to predict my behavior and thinking you can because your heuristics are for neurotypical people.

I am taking responsibility for learning my half, but I can only meet you. I cannot go all the way to the other side and drag you to the middle. It is a disability. Worrying that I’m failing is a non-issue because it doesn’t matter. There’s no chance of winning. It’s miserable when that reality sets in.

I have found that I need respect for myself because I am so misunderstood. I am also not saying I’m not part of the problem. I haven’t known I was autistic since I was a kid, so I have to learn new coping mechanisms.

I think the thing that hurt me the most this week was a scene from “The Big Bang Theory” in panels as a meme on Facebook. It’s Amy telling Sheldon that his friends all hate his bad behavior and that the fact that he can’t do anything about it is the only reason they tolerate him.

I cannot be dependent on external validation. I write or pray. It’s a new development, but trusting in myself hasn’t backfired.

Singing a Brand New Tune

May 1, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Ass I often do, I surfed Facebook for a few minutes. I was looking for a prompt to give me a jumping off point, because today’s prompt was “are there any quotes you live by?” Last year, the title was “many, most of them mine.” I was not saying that I’m the expert, only that I’m the author I read the most because I go back over what I’ve written to see what’s next. Therefore, my own words are more likely to stick with me because these essays are ABOUT ME, which is the topic I know the most about (on most days).

The thing I saw on Facebook is that “worrying is worshipping the problem.” It is every bit as meaningful as something I heard in “I’m a Christian now. That worked.” It’s a group for atheists and I lurk to see what they’re saying, because I am often jogged theologically by the things they say, like “Jesus wasn’t the only person claiming to be The Messiah at the time. His was just the story that stuck.”

Like today, I had to sit down.

His was the story that stuck, which is to my mind one of the greatest theological phrases ever uttered in the history of ANYTHING….. BY AN ATHEIST and I am FURIOUS I didn’t think of that line before they did. 😉

Except for perhaps a line tied with it (being the best and furious I didn’t think of it) “a/theism is the greatest love story ever told, and the truth is in the slash.” I am not talking about the overwhelming guilt and shame the church is quite capable of handing you….. Wrapped in bread and wine, no less. I am talking about Christopher Hitchens debating Rowan Williams on YouTube and learning they were good friends. Zac and I were actually talking about this the other day because he’s an atheist. I told him that I loved Hitch, but I didn’t love Richard Dawkins because he may be smart but he’s also an asshole.

He seems to me to be a not religious evangelical, and his schtick is making Christians look like they’re stupid even when they’re only out for self improvement and not world domination. Social justice Christianity is left out of the conversation because it’s not as easy to make fun of us. We question everything, including the idea that all Christians are stupid.

In effect, Dawkins is worshipping the problem. He’s so fanatical in his beliefs that he’s trying to change people through force and anger, not ever present loving kindness, which all atheists I’ve met have. Luckily, I have never run across an atheist who espoused Dawkins-like views, and I have to say that it’s partly due to my interaction with them- because I don’t try to change them, I don’t tell them they’re wrong because they’re not (religion is a spectrum and belief in God is ontological…. Essentially, God exists as much as you believe God does. Evangelicals get in the weeds with The Great Commission and think that Jesus thought you were personally responsible for recruiting people. They take it a little too seriously and often become right judgmental bastards because of it. You won’t convert, so they’re angry and fearful ALL THE TIME because their getting into heaven is DEPENDENT on your yes. Otherwise, in their churches, they just aren’t working hard enough.

Meanwhile, I am out there saying that atheists I’ve met, for the most part, left church because they were hurt, angry, afraid, and exhausted. You fucking Evangelicals are cancer, especially walking into a church where it explicitly says they won’t marry you if you are A) not a member of the church II) marrying a Jew. I will not tell you where I saw it because it’s not worth it to have you show up and protest. It wasn’t Joel Osteen, but definitely Joel-adjacent.

Now, non-denominational Christianity looks like rock concerts with homophobia that looks beautiful because it’s Biblical.

Meanwhile, your houses are built on sand.

Peter, the rock of the Catholic church, has probably met way more gay people than you. We just didn’t have words for it until Victorian England. A lot of the preachers after Jesus died would have traveled to ancient Greece and Rome. When you think about history lining up that way, homophobia is INSANE.

Homophobia. I do not think it means what you think it means. The Old Testament was not calling homosexuality an abomination. They were railing against the ancient Canaanite practice of young boys becoming prostitutes at the high temple. They were protesting pedophilia and disrespect for a holy place, not the sexual acts inherent to being queer in the first place.

Jesus did not say a word about homosexuality, “therefore, it [justification for treating queer people as lesser than] cannot be essential to his teaching” (Jim Rigby, Presbyterian Church USA). JESUS DOES NOT CARE IF YOU HAVE MATCHING TOWELS, GLASSES, AND SMALL DOGS.

Evangelicals are cracked when everything I know about Jesus can be summed up in one Disney show tune…… “God Bless the Outcasts.” You are JOKING if you believe Jesus sat with sinners all day long and wouldn’t have been on the side of the queer community, because now we’re the ones being persecuted instead of him, his land occupied by Rome. The “Holy Roman Empire” has a lot of fucking nerve, I’ll tell you that much. Crucifixion was your practice and you killed Jews for sport. Then, a Jew’s story becomes well-known and you somehow take it as “permission” to take over the whole world.

This is not the religion you’re looking for.

They’re worshipping the problem.

They’re creating ways to put obstacles in people’s way based on bullshit Jesus never said.

OCCUPIED BY ROME. RENDER UNTO CAESAR, PEOPLE.

Jesus has met a fuckin’ queer, all right?

Stop worshipping the problem, because it was never even there. You made it up. Stop wrecking people’s relationship with Christ because they don’t think they deserve it.

Jesus said to “walk in the light while you have it.” I hate that so many “church people” continue to live in darkness while the light is right above their heads. All they have to do is stand up, but the church keeps them on the kneeling rails.

It wrecks relationships with friends and partners as a result, because you’re not right……. But you’re certain.

You do you, but okay.

Things That Make Me Laugh

April 30, 2024April 30, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

This meme, which I posted on Facebook with the caption, “they would never tell us if they were watching us through our microwaves. That is Pop Secret Information.

But as I have said before, I am not offended by the NSA or CIA because if China and Russia are spying on me, I want my people in the room, too. People do not realize that they are willingly handing over their every move to the Chinese government. They do not believe that we (the US) are trying to protect people by banning it. It’s a huge injustice to content creators, when all we’re trying to do is keep US information inside the US. It’s not working when people actively invite China into their mobiles. Why use the back door when you can walk through the front? Social engineering at its finest. For that reason, I do not have the Tik-Tok app installed on my phone. I do watch them, but on the web site in private mode or re-vlogged on YouTube.

I honestly don’t care if the US knows what I do and don’t. I really care if China can pick me up out of a lineup, because I am dangerous to them being interested in intelligence. I would not go to Iran because of this, either. I would love to see Tehran as a tourist, but if anything would get me marked as an American spy, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s “writing about American spies.” Just a wild guess.

It doesn’t take much, because they’ve got relatives selling prayer rugs on La Brea. 😉

There is an “Argo” quote or reference for every occasion, and that makes me laugh.

I’ve also gotten a huge kick out of watching Donald Trump go blissfully into every hearing and genuinely believe that he has never done anything wrong in the history of his life. It’s catching up to him in a major way, and I do not have schadenfreude. It’s fascinating to watch, like JK Rowling if she ever showed up at Pride.

Surely neither of them is that out of touch, and yet they are.

People say that both parties are the same, and on some issues, they’re right. I do not like the way either party funnels money to Israel. I do not like that Republicans are fighting over who gets to be a person. Who gets to be an American. So far, the mold is white, cis, straight, and male. It is unsustainable, and yet we continue to uphold it….. or at least more than half the nation does, because not all Democrats are that liberal. They do not see the problems inherent in treating minorities like shit, because none of, say, my problems affect them.

For instance, abortion would look different to most politicians if they were poor.

It makes me laugh, because I always laugh at people’s blind spots. It is better than rage or depression. Like, how dense are you if you don’t know that the news of a new baby is not always happy?For some women, it’s a death sentence because they made the devastating mistake of not trusting the bear instead.

The most vulnerable time in a woman’s life is pregnancy, because some fathers don’t support abortion. They support killing the mother because they’re not financially stable and the pressure becomes too much. The woman becomes the problem.

It makes me laugh that men do not understand this, because it makes them look like they don’t have eyes. As my friend Evey Winters points out, one of the reasons we trust bears over men is that good men stand there and say nothing. What am I supposed to do but laugh at their stupidity? I cannot solve everything by not leaving the house. If I didn’t laugh, I wouldn’t function.

My jokes are dark because the world is dark. It’s black humor to deal with an often black world….. or as I’ve put it before, trying to be an Easter person in a Good Friday world, but the way I go about it is to shed light on problems. I often am using dark humor to make a greater point, and I just have to hope that people come along with me. I think that most people who are minorities for any reason have a blacker sense of humor than the majority because there are so many more obstacles in our way….. and the more obstacles created the more things that make you a minority. For instance, AFAB (assigned female at birth), queer, neurodivergent, physically disabled, and poly are all separate sets of discrimination. The only way I escape all of it is by claiming it, because there’s no way to blackmail or shame me over any of these things. I learned that lesson at 14 when I came out as queer and it’s one of the few things that’s stuck.

Don’t cut myself into more manageable bites. Let them choke.

Republicans are asking minorities to either be just like them or get out of the United States. That should not be acceptable behavior in any country, much less “land of the free, home of the brave.” I quote this a lot, but it’s apt here:

Only the Americans would put “free” on a note so high no one could sing it. -Tony Kushner

I mean, I can, but that’s because I’m a classically trained soprano, not because I’m free.

Singing makes me laugh because that’s what I do when I hit a wrong note, and I hit a lot of wrong notes while trying to find the right ones, especially since it’s only now that I have a piano in my house (electric keyboard in the music room). This is also the first house in which I’ve been able to work out, and by that I mean “sing.” The attic is soundproofed, and so is the basement. David is also a singer, so hearing me warm up would not send him into hysterics the way it would have with my other housemates. I was very lucky that I got to sing at Bridgeport, because I was terrified to go into opera voice at 2300. I cleared it first, but permission is not reality when you have never heard someone sing before and they go full hat with horns in what would be considered “the middle of the night” in my neighborhood.

That thought makes me laugh in and of itself. It also makes me excited for January, because I might be in shape to try out for the opera chorus this year since I have a practice room that is ACTUALLY a practice room. Singing, like everything else you do with your body, gets easier as you limber up the muscles. I have not used those muscles in a long time, so I would prefer to be in a sound proof room until I can get control of it.

I can “fake it til I make it,” but it’s not how I prefer to sing. I will warm up for an hour before a performance. Otherwise, the chances of missing a note are greater, as are the epiglottal stops that make it where I can’t sing at all. The funniest time that’s ever happened was that I was filling in for another soloist in something that went up to a B flat (the highest note in the chord for the Star Spangled Banner, as well). I get up to the A and I have an epiglottal stop and just glissando down. It was…….. something.

I would like to work with Giles again, but he’s not taking students because he’s an elementary school teacher now. Giles was my voice teacher at University of Houston and we just happened to end up in the same city. Because he studied with Katharine Czienszky (apologies if I’ve spelt that wrong…. don’t have time to Czech), I have a lot of singer friends in common with him all over the country….. some of whom have known me since high school.

I think knowing really famous people before they got famous, like Robert Glasper, prepared me for the life I have now…. which is knowing that life doesn’t get better. You do. I just happen to know a lot of people that have defied insurmountable odds to get where they are, like Mireille Enos (The Killing, Good Omens) and Justin Furstenfeld (Blue October). One of the best plays I’ve ever seen starred Mireille as Anne Frank and Justin as Otto. Justin didn’t go to PVA for music, he was theater as well…. although one of the violists in my orchestra, Ryan Delahoussaye, is also in the band.

Yes, musicians. I know a violist with a gig.

Now that made me laugh.

I’m spending my evening writing because it’s distracting me from the fact that Bryn is not here yet and David has choir practice. I thought seriously about going with him, because I could commit to Tuesday nights. I have to think seriously about going to church twice a week again. However, it wouldn’t affect my schedule too much. I am rarely gone over the weekends and it would be a church in which I already had a ride. It’s a liberal church, but it’s Catholic. I would rather get paid as a ringer than attend a Catholic Church voluntarily, because I believe in open communion. I’m fine with the current pope and he’s one of my heroes because the Catholic Church is not where it needs to be in terms of being a liberal church, but it is better off than it has been in a long time. Christianity must change or die, and Catholicism would have been first due to their outdated views on, well, most everything.

However, church makes me laugh, and I’ve come a long way if I’d even consider it. What made me leave the last time was grief. I didn’t like going to church because I saw my mother in everything everyone did….. and I saw myself in the pastor. In fact, I’d been reading my pastor’s work for years because he’s also a blogger. I knew who he was online, but I was surprised as shit when I accidentally walked into his church.

There’s an Episcopal church near me now, so I might walk to it instead of Christ Cong, who was faced with closure due to their building issues. I think a reconciling Methodist congregation has it now, so that is also a viable option if I just want to stare my childhood in the face twice a week.

It makes me laugh, so it might be worth it. Or perhaps both churches are sharing the same space like “Little Mosque.” Maybe there’s a buddy comedy happening without me. I should look into this.

I’ve been a part of something like “Little Mosque” before, because we had a Jewish congregation rent our space at Bridgeport up until relatively recently, when they got bigger. I went to schul some Fridays just to listen to the transliteration, and I also enjoyed Ariel’s preaching. I also preach from a Jewish translation of the New Testament, because Jesus was a Jew and I’m trying to put him in the correct historical context. I once had someone say to me that “United Church of Christ” stood for “Unitarians Considering Christ,” and I don’t think that’s true at all. I think that people like Baptists depend on Jesus to comfort them when they’re distressed.

The UCC knows that Jesus was sent to distress us in our comfort.

And that makes me laugh.

Business

April 30, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

It’s one of my favorite Eminem tracks, and I have done it at karaoke (POORLY). But today I get to say that I had a win, because it made me feel good. I was going to post this in the article about productivity, but I’m neurodivergent. My brain diverged and I forgot. I said that I locked down my personal Facebook page and redirected everyone to my professional author’s page. What I did not say is that I started thinking like an entity and not a person, because now that’s true. Bryn also has an account on this blog, and has the capability to create entries independently of me. She doesn’t always post, yet I have to be prepared for the possibility that she could. I also would have offered one to Supergrover (after I’d added Bryn- it didn’t occur to me before) if I thought she wanted it…. For two reasons. The first is that she’s a wonderful writer. The second is that I would be very surprised if I didn’t give her an account, just access to mine, and you could tell the difference. It would be my voice, just on crack. You’d think I’d gotten better in a hurry, but you wouldn’t have thought I changed style and structure except a quarter of never.

That’s because Supergrover writes fantasy and I don’t. I am so cerebral that the only fairy tale I’ve ever liked in my life is the one she handed me. I think that she thinks I get lost in thinking of her as the evil stepmother when I’m trying to reach “happily ever after.” Every story deserves an “HEA.” I can already see it, feel it on my skin. It just looks different than hers, and I have to be at peace with it. I am.

So, I started thinking of my blog as the beginning of Lanagan Media Group when I added Bryn and became open to the possibility of adding others; I felt an amazing amount of business savvy in locking down my personal profile. People don’t need to become friends with Leslie, they need to become friends with Lanagan Media Group. I am not a person anymore- because I have another author, I’m a brand.

But that brand is not Bryn pedaling my voice and views. It’s being able to talk about those things and discuss boundaries. We just don’t have to discuss much because we agree on most everything politically and neither one of us has a conniption fit when we write about the other. If we had a fight and she wrote I was a bitch that day, good for her. I probably needed to hear it. That’s because I know that when we have an intimate moment that strengthens our relationship, she’d reflect that, too. She’s not out to get anyone when she writes about herself, she’s digging deep and letting the right people go with her….. Because they like her for who she is and not who they think she is.

Sometimes, people don’t notice that it’s not me, so I started asking Bryn to introduce herself at the beginning of every entry she writes. I love it when she posts because she is naturally so much funnier than I am. My entries are not as full of laughter, because when I write, I am focusing on myself. How many of you when you sit alone and think are consciously trying to make yourself laugh? I am, and that’s the only reason there are jokes in here at all. However, no one does it all the time. Bryn just likes making herself laugh more than I do, and it shows.

Bryn is also neurodivergent, which is why we don’t have a problem in communication most of the time. Everything the other says is #relatable. Therefore, I am stereotypically #blessed.

I’m talking about her so much because she gets here tomorrow and I haven’t seen her since way before the pandemic, so the right amount of time to be over the top excited and can’t think about anything else.

I’m also excited to meet Dave, her boyfriend, and get to know him in the flesh as opposed to “this is Dave” occasionally as he walks by the video call. 😉 It’s necessary to get in good with your best friend’s partner, because we both need a person to talk to about her, because we both love her. We want to support her. I am not offering either of them more than that, just that when push comes to shove, I’m Bryn’s friend and not Dave’s. I am not ANTI-Dave. 😉 I am only anti-Dave if Bryn becomes anti-Dave. Just like Bryn would never in a million years be anti-Zac unless I became anti-Zac, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I have both freedom and security. It’s a lot easier to deal with life’s ups and downs when you know you always have someone in your corner no matter what. And both Zac and Dave are Navy, so obviously we both know what we’re doing in terms of picking men. Navy, you are a different breed and we’re here for it.

Zac and I have similar stories- he joined the military because he didn’t know what he wanted to do after high school, but he wasn’t interested in school. I tried to join the Air Force for the same reason, because at the time music classes were the only ones I liked and I wanted to try to get into “Airmen of Note.” I just wasn’t medically eligible and Zac was.

At the time, being in the military and also in the jazz band seemed like the easiest way to work as a musician every single day and not worrying about chair tests, ever, because even if I got last they wouldn’t kick me out altogether. No matter what happened, I could work as a musician, even if I turned out to be a crappy one and did something else for my day job. As it turned out, what I did not like was grade school.

I had a great college experience because that’s the first time academics are on a level playing field with neurotypicls and neurodivergents alike. That’s because in college, they don’t do “daily work.” You are perfectly free to inhale all the reading in one night if that is the way your brain works (and mine does). I couldn’t see the forest for the trees in grade school, but I kicked the shit out of college unless it was something I didn’t understand, anyway, like Logic or Trig.

It’s not school I objected to- it was the system of education. So, if you’re a neurodivergent who struggles in grade school, don’t worry about college because it’s a choose your own adventure. Study every day, or study for 27 hours in a row before a test. Your choice. You do you. Don’t be afraid that you’re not smart enough for college, because “smart” and the way your brain works are two completely different things.

I did a lot better in school when I wasn’t micromanaged and my brain could just be my brain. That I wasn’t set up to fail by not having papers in my bag that day. I was excellent even in classes with the Socratic method, because I would inhale the reading and be able to talk about it, and in classes where reading wasn’t mandatory (as in, we didn’t discuss it), I wasn’t punished for saving up the reading til later because I knew it would be on the test….. So I had to read it at some point and did. Class and the reading were often disjointed when they didn’t reflect each other, because both we as students and the professor would get off on tangents, especially in International Relations (we were obsessed with the war in Kosovo at the time).

So, for all you ADHD/autistic kids it’s okay to stop worrying about what you’re going to do in college because you might find when you get there that college jives more with the way you think than high school did, anyway. No matter how you do it, it’s right.

Just like now, I would have a problem with being required to write long essays every day on a given topic, but I write them to myself because I think they’re important. I am lucky that they have become important enough to other people that the reason I allowed other authors was to increase my reach while I was asleep, because I’m on Eastern time and Bryn is on Pacific. It was a very Pacific strategy.

I am capable of synthesizing and adapting ideas. I got that one from ITIL, which is the Bible on how to run a helpdesk- “follow the sun.” Maybe one day I will make friends close enough to add in New Zealand and Australia rather than requiring one of us to move there. 😉

I worked for Alert Logic, and we had a “follow the sun” approach, which led to one of the greatest victories of my career. The vice president of the company in the UK took a support call and transferred it to me without hanging up the phone. He was absolutely blown away that it was 0300 and I was chatting to him like it was just a normal workday…. Asking who his Doctor was (I asked all British customers that just to calm their asses down before addressing the issue at hand. If they’re calling to say something doesn’t work, they want to fight. Don’t let them. A cappuccino machine in a dress is the one true way). This vice president said that if everyone was like me, they’d have a better company. Unfortunately, my manager did not also think this.

That’s because I thrive on my own structure, which I had a lot of at night, especially when I transferred my business phone to my cell phone so I could answer calls in my pajamas in my home office, which I did when I was the one following the sun, handling international customers from midnight til 9 AM.

It was so intimate to be the only voice in the dark on my end with the busy chatter of their offices in the background. I often got to know people quite well because you have to do something to pass the time when files are transferring, etc. because it’s not enough time to put someone on hold. So, we’d chat to each other. I also got to know my British coworkers in Cardiff better than most because I was the one on the American end who was handing things over.

In fact, I once met a “Davies” that looked very much like Greg, and in retrospect I wish I’d asked if they were related. He’s one of my favorite comedians of all time, and on “Who Do You Think You Are?,” Greg finds out that he’s Welsh. I also had a fascination with Cardiff and “The Doctor Who Experience,” but I did not get to go before it closed. I’m sure that if I’d stayed at Alert Logic, I would have gotten a rotation in Cardiff at some point, but they were not the best with autistic employees who didn’t know they were autistic. Hindsight is 20/20 on agreeing that why I got fired was unfair, and yet it wasn’t their fault, either. I cannot hold them responsible for something they did not know, I can only lament that I did not know to tell them and move forward in a different direction.

Which reminds me- I get so much attention from the daily prompt tag that the next time I get to use it, I will say it again. If you want to read me, you’ll have to follow me, because I don’t appear in #dailyprompt every day anymore. That’s because even if I use it, I don’t have the specific tag for that day to put me into that feed. So many people have gotten used to reading me on that tag alone, because of the number of people that showed up every day back then vs. now. It’s not that I don’t do well in other categories, that’s just a big one for exposure. I got a year of it, so I should be grateful, and I am. What would be more helpful is another year of prompts rather than reusing the same ones.

I suppose I could create another author tag and use THAT account, but I’ve been theantileslie for so long that I don’t think of myself as anyone else, except for possibly “Rev. Argo,” because that’s how Bryn used to address my mail (I did her wedding years ago, am ordained by the church of the Latter Day Dude, and Argo is my favorite movie). If I had thought of it on Dec. 31st, I probably would have done it. It’s too late now. But maybe next year if there are no new writing prompts to be had.

Writing prompts make it easier to blog, just like sometimes Alzheimer’s patients come into lucidity about the past if you prompt them. Details come up for both of us that wouldn’t have come up otherwise. I find that especially the way I write, no writing prompts is ever going to be the same from beginning to end, because it’s going to bring up different aspects of an experience depending on how I view it that day.

I don’t think the same thing about every situation all the time. I make peace within myself by seeing things in a hundred different ways, because there are a hundred different ways to explain what happens when I’m around other people, or two hundred stories total because my 100 won’t match theirs. A lot of it is that autistic thought processes don’t seem “correct” to neurotypical people. Because our pathways are different, they are wrong.

Sometimes, I have to get used to the fact that I’m wrong whether I am or not, because I cannot get people to see that my thought processes are not “crazy.” They’re DIFFERENT, because I cannot even begin to think like someone else and in a neurotypical world, difference is bad. Very bad. They googled it, and they do not like it.

I have known this for a long time because I am not officially diagnosed as autistic, I am in the process of waiting for a diagnosis and doing all the research/online tests I can do until that appointment. However, I have been diagnosed as ADHD, and had I known more about ADHD when I was at Alert Logic and why it’s like autism, I could have been more specific in my demands for accommodation. Very few of the things I need in a working environment are specific to Autism or ADHD. Both accommodations are nearly identical. If I had known that I take in information through sight and that’s why I have trouble talking on the phone and writing at the same time, I might have gotten accommodation for it. I cannot process what one person is saying and process a response and write down my experience while it is happening, i.e. documentation. There are ways around a problem if you know you have it. I could not help myself.

That’s what all this autism talk is about. It’s not trying to “prove” I’m autistic because there’s no real way to do that. We all look different, we all have different ways of presenting. I especially know that you’ve met autistic women your whole life without knowing it because most women don’t know whether they’re autistic or not. It never would have occurred to their parents to get them tested because classic presentation is young boys. That means there are millions of undiagnosed women in the work force and we all struggle a fuck you amount. That’s because they’re caught in a system not built for them, but never taught that it’s not built for them. They’re just angry and frustrated because obviously, it’s not the system. They’re just failures.

Up to 80% of autistic people are unemployed at any given moment, and for women, this is mostly expressed in not being able to handle life like a “normal woman.” We are taught that we are failing when we cannot handle being a partner, mother, and coworker/employee all at the same time. However, the more and more roles we take on, the more we’re spread thin without realizing it. The potential for constant meltdown/burnout cycles gets larger, which makes us look like we’re shirking our responsibilities because all wives and mothers are built to handle a million details and you’re just defective. I am so glad that I’m queer, because I have no doubt that if I’d bought into what being a wife and mother really was to a man and married someone to have that life, I would be dead by now. This is not saying that my husband would have killed me, but it is not unfathomable that he would be enraged by my lack. No, I’m talking about not having gender roles in a relationship kept me from feeling like I was failing as a partner all the time.

Life is relentless as an autistic person in an allistic world, because you cannot convince someone that you really didn’t know/understand something. “Everyone” knows. I would like to punch this mythical “everyone” in the face. They’re setting me up for failure, like commercials that try to convince people with no money that they need extravagant cars.

I thrive in my own system, and so do many autistic people. I just don’t think that many women have the language for it. I hope I’m giving it to them straight, because autism is probably a diagnosis they never would have thought they had because no one ever told them it was possible. There’s a woman I hold in my mind when I say this, and I hope she knows it’s her. It’s a face with many, many names when I follow the sun.

That’s because I’m not a brand, I’m an archetype. There are millions of women out there just like me, and I’m trying to find them. It helps not to feel so alone. I am already friends with lots of autistic guys due to the nature of always being online and having been on the Internet since it was born. I already indulge my autistic male side because men are more likely to know they’re autistic.

I have said that I’m enby and I mean it. I have just already met my quota in autistic men and want to get to know other autistic women, because it affects us differently in terms of the role we play in society. There is no room for an autistic woman to be herself unless she ignores a MASSIVE amount of American culture.

I get called “difficult” a lot when I don’t understand. It also doesn’t take much for a woman to be difficult in my society, so I am guessing that whether or not I am difficult depends on your perspective. I have definitely had to turn a negative into a positive, going even further against the grains of what female means in order to understand myself. I am not all of anything. I am a little bit of a whole bunch of things. I contain multitudes, and I’m not a good enough writer to have thought of that first but it doesn’t make it less true.

So, you should follow me because I am not going to be the same person tomorrow. You will perceive a different aspect of my personality then, because Bryn will be here…… And also because I’m a different person every time my outlook changes, because what I present depends on what I pick up.

Therefore, I would also like you to pick me up.

You know what I mean. Get your mind out of the gutter. 😉

I’ve Been Laughing About Today’s Prompt for a Year

April 29, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Because I answered it last year, I can’t answer the daily prompt again…. but that didn’t stop me from laughing about it. The prompt is “have you ever been camping?”Leslie Goes Camping is one of my favorite stories in life, and it is years and years old.

The setup is that Dana (ex-wife, but we were best friends for years before we got married), her then-partner, and I went on a camping trip for our church. It was great, because we were able to have worship on top of Mt. St. Helen’s, and a few other things we could do when “Jesus has left the building.” Dana and I had met the Easter before, when I’d been brutally dumped (not really, but it felt that way at the time) and needed to make a whole new friend set…… arguably worse than being dumped, but neither made me feel so hot.

It was the start of The Separation, and Dana and I didn’t even know it. However, she would have been relieved, and I know this. She watched me struggle every fucking day for years. I wasn’t a very good wife on most days, but I had my moments. I just have to hope that Dana remembers them, too, and I don’t have to continue to feel bad that I completely wrecked her life as well.

I do not think this is because we were bad for each other (at that time). I think I didn’t know I was autistic, so I got called a judgmental dickhead a lot. In fact, I can’t remember a better day in Dana’s life than when my beautiful girl called me a judgmental dickhead to my face. At that particular date and time, I did indeed deserve it. She was not always wrong, she was just not always right, either.

To me, there is a huge difference between saying “your actions have hurt me” and “you are a bad person.” Both women saw me as saying the latter, and they’re both invaluable, both bright diamonds. I just don’t think that either one of them could follow me very well, and that’s not due to anything they did or didn’t do. It’s the way I communicate now that I’m aware of my shortcomings, and the way people interact with me based on the label because they’re already aware that, girl. I got issues.

But I was thinking of exactly none of that when it was time to go to bed. On the mountain. In the dark. Where the temperature drops precipitously. My friend Kari lent me a fabulous sleeping bag that was rated for -20F weather. However, I could not generate enough body heat to keep the bag warm. About 0430, I opened my suitcase and put on every piece of clothing I brought at once, then went back to sleep.

By the time I came home, I knew that I loved camping, just not in that cold a temperature….. so maybe not on top of a mountain next time, eh? I also knew that I loved Dana in a best friend sort of way. We were inseparable after that, and not because we were actively trying to have an affair. Dana’s partner was a construction worker, so we gravitated toward each other when her partner was on the road for six weeks at a time. Neither one of us needed a girlfriend- Dana was already ridiculously happy and since I’d just been dumped, I was not in any shape to feel romantic towards anyone.

What I didn’t realize is that I wasn’t dating other people because showing up for each other made it where I didn’t need or want to hang out with anyone else. I was satisfied with the love of a good friend. That’s why we were best friends for three and a half years before anything happened. I would rather have emotional and intellectual stimulation, so if the choice was going to a restaurant to meet someone new that felt like a job interview, or playing “Drunken Trivial Pursuit” with my best friend, guess what’s going to win every single fucking time?

Dana and I did not gravitate towards each other because of anything shady. We just came to rely on each other more than anyone else, and it pulled the romance trigger in both of us. It was completely organic, but I do know it started on that trip. That’s because I honestly didn’t have any other friends at all. They’d dumped me because they didn’t see the bullshit through the notes, just inhaling all the music as is- leaving little brown spots on their noses……………

When your emotional abuser is a wonderful musician and locally a big deal, you can count on exactly zero people thinking that you’re telling the truth unless they sit down with your friends when you were 14 and she was 25. That’s the thing that would have blown their performance fleece back, but they didn’t have time to look critically at anything.

So I moved halfway across the country TWICE to try and get rid of that feeling. I wasn’t running FROM Portland so much as TO The District. I already had friends here in addition to Supergrover, so my moving here was never dependent on her. Because our relationship was virtual and planes exist, I have a feeling we would have been equally happy in different cities all these years because physical proximity has never mattered.

It hurts that I’m not laying on her couch right now instead of mine, because if I think about what could have happened, I delve into what actually did. It’s not pretty, even now. I just wish it was.

But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. I know it’s my fault, and I don’t blame her. I just wish I could convince her that’s what I really think. I want peace for her just as much as I want peace for me. That just because I’m talking all this out doesn’t mean that I want to be shitty to anyone.

As I have learned through a Facebook meme, it is time to stop dividing myself into smaller, more manageable bites; in order to reach my full potential, I’m going to have to let some of you choke. The people who are left are my people. I am tired of making myself smaller.

Even though I felt as small as I ever have next to the beauty of Mt. St. Helen’s. It is not lost on me that I didn’t stay warm because of lack of blankets. I didn’t stay warm because I wasn’t generating my own heat.

If the last 15-20 years have taught me nothing, it’s that I should be.

Productivity

April 28, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 4 Comments

Today’s daily prompt is about times in my life that I’ve felt productive, and this is a great time to ask me about it because I don’t think I’ve ever been more productive writing-wise, and I don’t want to be known for anything else.

It’s been a transformation of enormous proportions. I have been pulling myself inwards, thinking about my directions and distractions. What and where are they? Why do I fail when I am so motivated by hearing other people talk about success? It’s all about dealing with the gap between knowledge, emotion, and communication. I do hear people, and I do take in emotions. However, I don’t do it at the same rate or speed because my pattern recognition is different. There are literally different pathways to your conclusions than to mine. I am not a sociopath, cut off from all my emotions. I show all of them very well in writing. I show them very well in person, although I am much less likely to tell people what I think in person because it’s hard for me to verbalize it. If something feels like a threat, I go mute. I do not stop taking everything in. My mind decides “we’re not going to do speech today.” And we don’t.

Part of being so much into chatting online vs. getting together is because I don’t experience those gaps in between trying to say what I think and trying to verbalize it. It is why I now think that Supergrover is my puzzle piece by now, because she’s had unfiltered access to my brain for 10 years without once hearing a stutter as I figured out how to put words in my mouth. I solve the problem of stuttering by taking time to think before I speak, because most of my stutter is just lag. Damn lag.

Therefore, people who know me would probably say “you don’t stutter.” I don’t when I’m not choking on buffer overload (and as you get older, the amount of RAM decreases). When people are talking to me, the thing that you are reading right now has not stopped. It is running underneath my speech. Therefore, I have multiple trains of thought running at all times, and picking one of them in order to speak slows me down by quite a large margin.

It also depends on how many other sounds are competing with your voice in the room. I like very intimate conversations because I can really only process one voice at once. I am never trying to “get people alone,” because I don’t have to. I go off to be by myself and the other introverts adopt me because they see it’s okay to be overstimulated… Or someone is concerned and now the person that’s concerned about me is in my bubble. Either way, it’s not about my personality. My personality is “when you’re overwhelmed, find somewhere quieter.” That’s how I got Bryn. She has always been in my corner because we were the introverts trying to get away from the noise. We talked to each other in quiet spaces because we could hear ourselves think.

I remember myself at that age (19) and just realized that my haircut now is the closest it’s ever been to when I was that young. And yet, I really don’t look much different except a few gray strands and a few more wrinkles. Some people say that they don’t feel any older. I do. I feel ancient- partly because I see how I’ve grown, but partly because I’ve been middle aged since I was nine. I have never talked like a child, ever, which is why in our family no one imitates things I said when I was little. No one. I have been very precise with language since I learned to use it; it just so happens that most people excel at conversation and I excel at taking a second to think of a reply and chatting back.

Supergrover once told me that it was clear I often said things before I thought about them, and I believe that is true. It has to be, because I’m ADHD. But at the same time, I think she was also talking about consequences that a naurotypical person would see coming, but not a neurodivergent one. I don’t mean issues of clear right and wrong. I have that. I mean being able to divine consequences and/or their feelings out of thin air, and our relationship was only using 7% of what went into communication in the first place. A good example of this is thinking I’m being the bigger person by laying out my vulnerabilities first. She took it not as “this is what Leslie is worried about,” but as “Leslie needs to guilt me about something.” Meanwhile, I think I have said something perfectly logical and she thinks I’m trying to hurt her. It’s unsustainable, because I do not want her to feel guilty.

I want her to see that these are the problems we need to resolve so that we can move on, because I can imagine that some of the things I think and feel do indeed make her feel guilty, but making her feel guilty was not my intent. I think she thinks I want to punish her for what she’s done, when she’s the most precious thing in my life. The fact that she thinks that I feel such negativity is overwhelming, and I feel like I’ve proven that within myself I was not asking for anything huge. She reassured me that I do come up in her mind all the time, and that was that. That she didn’t have to drop out of her life and appear in mine. That I was worried our relationship was truly lopsided and I was on the wrong track. It was a half a line in an e-mail, not a day at the beach.

Wanting to do things together is dreaming because she doesn’t have the bandwidth, but I didn’t make it clear that I was just dreaming, so she thought I was being demanding. If I was demanding, e-mails wouldn’t have been enough to sustain a relationship for 10 years. When I throw ideas out there and they’re not for her, she becomes part of the problem by not saying “eh. I don’t think meeting in person is for me.” Or whatever. She’s never said anything like that, so I’ve always treated her like a normal person. And in fact, I believe she sees me the same way. That’s because I was preaching at Bridgeport during the pandemic and she told me to send her a link. She didn’t get to come because something came up, but the fact that she told me to send her the link made my heart beat eighty times faster and I did very well that day.

However, I didn’t know she wasn’t able to come until after the service (Zoom), so I still put a reference to her in it because it tends to make people laugh to themselves. I also thought it would make her laugh to be an atheist and think “a preacher mentioned me in a sermon today.”

And the thing is, I wasn’t disappointed in the slightest because she was genuinely sorry that she couldn’t make it because what came up was really important- not that I’m not, but I’m not her only friend and I’m not a member of her family, unless you count the space in her head I’ve been renting all these years.

It feels very much like a constant running version of “All of Me.”

I do not know whether she would be Lily Tomlin or Steve Martin, but as I’ve seen Steve Martin age I actually think we’re more alike, despite Lily and me both being queer. I love comedy, but I also love zoning out and doing my own thing, like buying art and writing novels/screenplays. I have a feeling that Steve Martin is a neurodivergent introvert as well….. That stage presence is an affectation for EVERYONE who is in any way creative. You get to see us live, you don’t get to see us in the practice room.

You don’t get to see the thousand pictures I took before I got to the good one……………. Except you do.

I write in bulk, so how many of these entries do you think I think are amazing? Not all of them, I assure you. I feel like I spend my days work shopping ideas, throwing them around in my brain and trying to word it so that I understand them. If I can understand them, then mostly so can other people. I get lost in my own head and forget transitions a lot of the time, but that’s what it’s like to get a blog and not a book.

You are not getting the finished product, you are reading my notes. I am a different writer outside this blog because when I am writing for publication, I tend to clean it up more. Not only that, if it’s important I get someone to edit me (A friend or a Fiverr). By “important,” I mean anything I’m turning in to a contest or I’m being paid, like a book review. Even if I don’t get a salary, the book is the payment.

I took a break to make breakfast, and now I don’t remember where I was going.

The stove is gas.

I have to keep pinching myself when I say it. It has made me cry several times, both because having a gas stove is such a a good thing and because there are All-Clad pans to go with it. I remember every moment of learning to cook just by the way the pan feels in my hand. It’s too professional not to trigger me in a good way. David hasn’t seen me flip mushrooms or anything, but he has come home and say it smells good. What he’s smelling is butter. A lot of it.

Now that I have All-Clad, I’m back to cooking like I’m in a restaurant. It’s good, because I don’t eat very often, but everything I do eat is loaded with calories. Most days, it’s eggs and toast. Today, I made oatmeal.

I started with a couple tablespoons of butter, oatmeal, and chia, flax, and hemp seeds. I sauteed all of it until it was brown, then added water, Mexican vanilla, and sugar. It sat on the stove for about five minutes (steel cut, but microwavable so it doesn’t take long on the stove) and then I added some peanut butter and dried cranberries to finish.

Then, I let it sit while I was cleaning the kitchen, because I like oatmeal to cool so that it breaks apart in chunks. It took me about 15 minutes to clean up, at which time I took the liberty of pouring some almond milk on it.

Now, the whole house smells like brown butter, and I am very, very pleased. I wish I had made a larger pan, because I like steel cut oatmeal warmed up in the microwave rather than buying quick oats. These were some I’d ordered off of Amazon years ago and I’m still using them up because I didn’t know I was ordering six boxes of six. Normally, I buy Irish steel cut oats and it takes about half an hour. For my money, now that I’ve cooked with microwavable steel cut, it’s fine. It tastes the same when you put the amount of ingredients in yours as I do in mine. I didn’t do it this time, but last time I sauteed pumpkin seeds for oatmeal as well.

Generally people who say they don’t like oatmeal haven’t had what I consider oatmeal. It’s watery, or soupy, or whatever. Mine actually looks like cereal. Plus, the grains all taste better after they’ve been sauteed in butter first. Pretty much anything tastes good sauteed in butter, but get exponentially better with sugar, vanilla, and dried fruit.

I need to go to the grocery store at some point today, but breakfast was just “throw it together.” I like to go to the grocery store when I’m full, because it helps my impulse control…… But not too full or nothing else will look appealing. I will go to the grocery store, walk around, and leave. I get overwhelmed at too many decisions. It is literally why I have a standard order on Uber Eats and I just hit reorder. If they don’t have something, I discuss substitutions. I do not want to go through decision fatigue with every single item.

The only thing I know I want today that I haven’t gotten in a while is toilet paper. Hayat always bought all of ours, I didn’t have to get it myself. So, I get to pick out my own. This is exciting for me. You have no idea.

Before David left for church, he told me I could put my office in the sun room. He said that no one uses it, and that it’s kind of cold. I told him that was fine. I could get a little electric heater if I had to. It’s nice to have a place to write that’s not shut up in my bedroom. I’m having trouble transitioning into having a whole house again. My housemates and I stuck to our rooms and rarely came out. Therefore, I’m usually in my room. I think David thought I was unhappy and that’s why I’m shut up in here. Nope, it’s that I only think of myself as renting one room.

I have seen David visibly relax over time, because since he’s also neurodivergent, having someone move in with him was VERY intimidating. It was intimidating for me, too, but not in the same way. He’d never rented out his space before, so he didn’t know what to expect from anyone at all. I’ve had housemates in every living situation since college except a spot here and there. Once I lived in a junior efficiency by myself. All of the others, I was either in a relationship or I had housemates. Once, I had a one bedroom in a retirement community. I was in my 20s and I was delighted. They didn’t legally discriminate, they picked up the trash door to door, there were two pools on the grounds and I was the hottest person at both of them….. I mean, what was not to like in that situation? 😉

They stopped doing things for the residents after a while. At first, we all had breakfast together every Sunday morning on the landlord’s dime. That stopped, and then picking up trash door-to-door stopped. The only thing left that marked it as a retirement community at all was a bus that went to several shops around the area. In Houston, I drove, so I didn’t use it. Basically, though, what made it unique was gone.

I am trying not to do that to myself. To give pieces of myself away so that I am no longer unique. I am also not trying to be invulnerable, to actively disconnect myself from my emotions so that things hurt less. If I felt less, I wouldn’t have so much inspiration to write, because I wouldn’t think my life was worth remembering.

Smiley

April 27, 2024April 27, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What are your favorite emojis?

I have jokingly called Zac “Smiley” since we met. That’s because George Smiley was John Le Carré’s main character and Zac is not in a big three letter, but he works in both military and civilian intelligence roles. I was delighted one day when I said something in voice dictation like, “you’re adorable, Smiley.” Siri wrote:

You’re adorable 😊

So, if I had to pick one out of all, it’s the OG. I was around when it began, and I use/say it almost as much now as then.

I feel like I use emojis the way they were intended, which is to indicate which lines are jokes… not a mode of communication. To me, that is like saying “I need 300 words on my desk by 1500, but make sure it’s in Wingdings.” Therefore, I hardly ever use emoticons that I can’t type.

It’s not fun to me to stop and insert imagery like a web designer. I will add emojis at the end, but only sometimes. Mostly I am concerned about getting you an answer, not picking pictures.

My other top two are a winking face and a smiley with the tongue hanging out because they’re easy to use at 90 wpm. I also try not to use them in every single paragraph. They are decorations, not cake. My feelings may have more to do with the creation of the web not being what maintains it. As in, I may be telling you things that no longer apply. In my background, they were lifelines to ensure that you let someone know your intent in a chat room, because an emoji transcends language. I get that going to pictures is nothing new and hieroglyphics are valid, but that’s not how we did it in the beginning. I’m not advocating we go backwards. I just haven’t had a situation where I needed to stop talking and use emojis instead. It has never come up.

I also don’t expect other people to be writers, so I am not telling you what you should do, either. I am saying that my habits are built from having specifically a desktop since I was eight. It was a different feel not to have the Internet on all the time, like a utility. You might have only been able to chat for a few minutes before someone accidentally picked up the phone. The phone lines carried both data and voice just like the internet does now, but picking up another phone in the house would drop the data connection and you would be “kicked off.” I have to explain this because not all my readers are my age.

I wish I could remember more of those early conversations, because I didn’t realize how quickly my day to day life was changing. My watch has a faster processor now than my desktop had back then.

I have a watch that would have genuinely been helpful at CIA during The Cold War, and I would not doubt that they had something like an Apple Watch long before we did. It’s not because I think there’s a deep state or anything shady. It’s that with all the technology research CIA does, a computer that’s capable of sitting on your wrist like a Pip-Boy can’t be an original idea. Jonna used to take calls from her staff after “Get Smart” and “Dragnet” from officers saying, “can we do that?”

But there’s a second reason, and that’s that during one of Jonna’s talks, she said that they do such specialized things that one person will spend their entire career on one thing, like batteries or cameras. That’s because once an asset got to the place where they were supposed to plant the bug, it had to last a long time, because who knows how long it will be before we can get into that room again? And in fact, she was talking about “The Americans,” the scene where the maid hides the bug in Caspar Weinberger’s clock.

(I thought it was really funny that Ollie North consulted on “The Americans. It’s just the richest ending to that story I could imagine, because it was a major one. I remember it and I couldn’t have been even a teenager yet.)

We, the people of the chatrooms, have conversations exactly like this because we’re always looking for the next new thing, computer-wise. Zac and I have a Chinese Wall on technology, because he knows I’m interested and I’ll ask way more questions than he could possibly answer. The only thing he’ll say is the history of something if it’s UNCLASS. Like, “we have stuff that looks similar.” If he says “looks similar,” that’s kind of my cue to go read a book. 😉

I have never been in a chatroom where we weren’t discussing computers or the chessboard at some point. I have no doubt that I’ve met half of Anonymous by now. I know for certain I’ve met one. I didn’t even have to catch him at anything. He took some Ambien and came to my house because he still couldn’t sleep……… Then I didn’t sleep for three days.

However, he was the kind of hacker you want. Someone who’s a hacktivist on the good guys’ side. White hats do exist.

In all of my years on the Internet, it’s been as nonbinary as everything else about me. I got sucked into the world of hacking, but I don’t hack. It’s kind of the way Lindsay is woven into the queer community in Houston even though she’s cis and straight.

Oh, and I should write this down. “Enby” is short for nonbinary. It’s the gender that most fits me, and yet I don’t care if people think I’m male or female. Pronouns are not about respect to me, because I think it’s more important for me to know who I am than anyone else. Pronouns are a non-issue because I don’t make them one. The easiest thing is just to say “they” if you don’t know, anyway. It’s funny how my gender often depends on how people perceive me, which most of the time is female, but when people don’t look closely, I’m always a “sir.” Neither bother me in the slightest.

(And for the record, if you misgender me, just apologize and move on….. Because you didn’t misgender me and I’m not offended. Plus, I do not need your entire history with trans people as an apology. I’m sure your nephew is great.)

The truth is, though, lots of people on the Internet are nonbinary by now, whether we like it or not. The Internet has changed the rules of the game because you become disconnected from your physical body during emotional intimacy. It’s not that way for everyone, obviously, but it’s a good observation of most. For instance, “straight guys” trolling gay chatrooms because they’re curious and don’t want anyone to know they’re chatting with other queer people at night.

And most of the time, that comes off as rage bait. It’s very popular to come into a gay online community and start asking things like “so which one’s the wife?” And you watch a mix of insults go by because it’s our space.

It is also true that a disproportionately large neurodivergent community exists on the web because we built it. I have always worked with other autistic people without being able to identify it for myself, because I did not know that I was social masking, first of all (in a way that other people don’t), and I also didn’t know that you can have a full range of emotions and pick up all social cues and guess what? That’s not what autism is, either. It’s a criteria, but it’s not all of it.

Being autistic is absolutely why I gravitated toward Linux. It wasn’t to play around with Linux, necessarily. Part of it was learning Linux, and it was exciting because I could do things that very few people my age could do. The better part was a group of people who could understand me in my own language, which for years turned into me being the only woman in many rooms (because that’s mostly how I’ve presented at the office, although we all kind of look nonbinary in Oregon because we’re all wearing the same Columbia jacket we got on sale last summer at REI.

I wouldn’t have learned any of the things I’ve learned about myself without an Internet connection, because I didn’t have many queer friends growing up locally in Texas, but I had a ton of them in Australia.

So, I suppose the easiest way to say it is something you’ve heard all your life, so I hope it makes sense.

“My kindom is not of this world.”

😉

Questions for Famous People

April 26, 2024April 26, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been watching YouTube for the last few hours, and I have discovered some amazing things. The first was a show about drumming. They’d take a drummer from one genre and just throw them into another. My favorite was a professor of jazz percussion at Juilliard that got “Enter Sandman.” You get to listen to it one time without the drum track so you can think about what you want to do.

But I start watching YouTube and invariably I want to start creating for the web instead of watching other people do it. I was also thinking about “getting to tell Beyonce who I am,” and how arrogant that must sound. I went to The High School for Performing and Visual Arts in Houston, Texas and so did she. However, I left either one or two years before she got there. Had I graduated from HSPVA, I would have seen her every weekday for the maybe year and a half she was at PVA. She did not graduate there. Not graduating from HSPVA works out better for some than others.

So, by telling her who I am, I mean I could walk up to her right this minute and we’d have the best conversation because we know SO MANY people in common. For instance, one of the choir directors at HSPVA while we were there, Rob Seible, was my choir director at Bering UMC. That is just one example out of many. It would not be interesting to me to talk to Beyonce because of her fame, because I’ve done show choir. I was over it before it began. I am very happy to let her do her thing, and I honestly believe she would rather talk about HSPVA than how awesome she is for the thousandth time (not that she is not awesome).

I could walk up to Matt Mullenweg (founder of WordPress) and tell him that I had Doc Morgan for Jazz II and he would instantly smile. I am not sure that Matt and I have any friends in common because I believe he’s a little too much younger for our paths to overlap. That being said, HSPVA becomes quite a fraternity because there’s only a handful of schools like it.

In thinking about that, it started me down the road of “if you could talk to other famous people, what would you ask them?” It started out as a thought exercise in my head because I think I ask good questions. And, God forbid I have an unexpressed thought……..

John Brennan, former director of CIA

What’s a story from University of Cairo that’s not in “Undaunted?” It can be off the record if there’s hashish in it. (That was the most entertaining part of the book…….. not sure why he decided to come back from Egypt, because the way he described his life sounded like perfection to me.)

Margaret Cho

Tell me about all the queer people that have come up to you and said that you helped them through their childhood.

Ellen Degeneres

What is wrong with you? Life is so unfair when you have 370 million dollars and lack personal responsibility. The next stage for you is not “old, mean, and gay” because I have practically cornered the market. The next stage for you is to reflect on why you’re surprised your career is ending this way. You have never taken responsibility when the buck stopped with you, and then you blamed it on Hollywood. Trying to compare it to getting fired for Ellen is atrocious. You were not responsible for being gay, but you were damn sure responsible for your staff. No one “threw you away again.” You fired yourself.

Bill Gates

I don’t really have a question so much as an observation. How is it possible to love and hate you so much simultaneously? Windows is getting worse, but the world needs more people with money like you. The Gates Foundation is terrific.

Jose Andres

When did you hear about Tony? Who called and what time was it? Do you remember where you were standing?

Who are your guys? What’s your last meal?

What’s your favorite station? Who’s the best chef you ever had? What did they sound like? Do you know how to do pastry or do you hate it like the rest of us?

What’s your favorite brand of gin? (I once had a housemate who worked for him and he said that was Jose’s favorite.)

Anderson Cooper

Can we cook sometime? I think I can help you with your sensory issues.

Harry Wales

How are you doing? Not in that fake, American way or that fake, British way. Seriously. Level with me. How are you?

Kamala Harris

Is Lindsay behaving herself? (Harris: wait. You’re Lindsay’s sister?!)

Eminem

You talk a lot about “blowin’ ’em off and keep goin.’ How does one actually do that? What gave you the self confidence to say that your voice was your own?

Rachel Maddow

Do you think if we got out our high school pictures, we’d be wearing the same clothes? (Having walked up to her wearing the same clothes she’s wearing currently because have you ever seen us in the same room? Kidding. People confuse me a lot with her because we’re both queer and have brown hair…….. Like they confused me with kd lang as well.)

Chris Hayes

Every time I think of you I say Chris Matthews first. Do you also have that problem? Yes, uh-huh. Rachel and I do look alike. Thank you.

Locked -or- Friends of Friends

April 26, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I am sending out an announcement to all of my readers, because people tend to find me personally on Facebook and either follow or friend me. I don’t get paid for that. But I do get paid if you share things on my professional author’s page. I am on my way to being what Facebook calls a “Rising Creator,” and I can now give Top Fan badges and all that. The one who has it right now is a Canadian writer/editor that is not even related to me- not even on my ex-girlfriend’s step neighbor-in-law’s side.

However, she does live close to Ottawa so maybe we’ll meet some day simply because I like the city and want more photographs of it. I was very impressed with the French cathedral aspect of Parliament, and you really don’t see how different Canada really is unless you go there and see it for yourself. It’s kind of like stepping back in time and wondering “what if we lost the Revolutionary War?”

I’m not joking or being light. Canada is the country I think of when I think about how they’re so much happier than we are and they have WAY CRAPPIER WEATHER. So, it’s definitely a thought experiment because it’s a delightful blend of British and American culture. But if you only know Canadians from their accents, you don’t see the street signs in French and English, or the aforementioned Parliament. You don’t see how disorienting it is because it’s like the US, but it’s SO not.

No one in Canada breaks a leg and owes thousands of dollars.

There are other government safety nets, but that’s probably the biggest. Preventative care is so much cheaper than emergencies and because no one goes to the doctor because it’s too expensive, everything is a multiple thousand dollar emergency. If we kept people healthy, we cut down on emergencies.

Americans should be mad as hell by Googling what other countries pay in medical fees. It does not cost $5,000 to set a leg, but that’s what you’re going to pay. It doesn’t really cost thousands of dollars for all drugs, but that’s what you’re going to pay. That’s because prices in this country are built for the government to pay, not us. For instance, it’s not what they’re supposed to charge the patient, it’s what they’re supposed to charge the insurance company or Medicare/Medicaid. Putting those prices on citizens is insane. And the government and all the insurance companies know it, but it’s too big a racket to shut down.

Reaaaaaallllllyyyyyy wishing I was a Canadian about now.

No, I’m not serious, but I’ve been thinking about it since my senior year of high school in a “Calgon, take me away” sort of haze. As I was telling my “Top Fan,” I’ve never had enough points because you get so many for being bilingual.

I am not saying that I hate America and we aren’t a good country. I am saying that some countries do things better than others. We have filmmaking wired. Taking care of poor people? Not so much.

I have no idea where I would live, but I do know that I would like television. My favorite Canadian TV show is “Little Mosque on the Prairie,” which I saw on Hulu a million years ago. It’s about a young new imam (which was originally autocorrected to “Miami.” Eyeroll. ) whose congregation is renting space from an Episcopal church (or some variation thereof). It’s very much a buddy comedy like “Boston Legal,” it’s just theologically hilarious instead of legally hilarious.

I’m not sure which is better, but render unto Caesar?

I like them both.

I sat here for a minute and I was thinking about other old shows that I like besides “Boston Legal,” because there’s some characters missing in my life that I’d really like to interview.

I would love to sit with Sidney Bristow and find out how she finished her career. Bonus points if I get both the Bristows at once (Jennifer Garner was Sidney, Victor Garber played her dad, Jack).

Another great character interview would be Austin Powers and Foxy Cleopatra (plus getting to tell Beyonce who I am). It would be good to see Captain Mal and Wash to see how that whole thing turned out in retrospect (I’m a Browncoat.).

I would like to live in the world of Good Omens, because I think it might be the only thing I’ve watched that’s weirder than I am (in a good way).

I know that SpongeBob is perpetually in his late teens/early 20s, but since I’m a line cook, I have a good time thinking about him being retired and that whole line of conversations.

I would like to meet Dexter Douglas and Freakazoid, because Dexter is Autistic and Freakazoid is ADHD………………………….. And yet they’re the same person.

This Needs Attention

April 26, 2024April 26, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

There needs to be an overhaul of #dailyprompt on WordPress, because not being able to use it cuts you off from the WordPress community. I got more exposure from #dailyprompt and #dailyprompt-x than I have from tagging anything else. That’s because you’re more likely to appear in people’s feeds because they have it- people have to go looking for things like “friendships,” “relationships,” and “CIA.” And now I’m really laughing hard because to a new reader, this must look horribly confusing and I think it’s better to just leave it.

If you only have dailyprompt-x for so many days, and then you just start reusing them, eventually, you can’t answer them anymore. It doesn’t matter to me that it’s an old prompt. I am never starting from the same place on a different day, especially with 365 days in between. It also reinforces using the Jetpack app, which I have noticed they like reminding you to use it a lot…… So make it easier, Matt (Mullenweg, owner of Automattic). It creates a habit, and literally the only habit I have. Now, I’m feeling a bit weird at committing to write every day and I somehow have to think of it myself? Like I’m a creative writer? This is bullshit.

I hope I’m kidding…………..

I have gotten so used to rolling over, picking up my tablet, and seeing what the prompt is- then taking a few minutes to think about it while I get myself together- and writing everything in one shot.

One of the funniest things I’ve ever gotten is that the prompt came out at midnight and by 12:30 AM I had a fully functioning essay ripping Evangelicals a new one; a reader said, “whoa. You are good at this.” How did he know I was good at it? Daily prompt tag.

I write a lot faster when I feel passionately about something, and a writing prompt doesn’t have to be followed strictly. You receive the idea, and whatever comes up, comes up. If the prompt is about a time in my life when I felt embarrassed and it was on a fishing trip so my ADHD brain jumps to everything I know about fish, it’s still valid because I was still prompted.

Today’s is “topics I’d like to discuss.”

And I’m all like, “this web site is always about me. What about them?”

I will talk to anyone about anything, but I like listening to subject matter experts. That’s why living in Washington is so important to me. One of the best nights I’ve ever had socializing in Silver Spring was stopping into a restaurant on a whim (All Set for some Sriracha Cheddar biscuits. If Red Lobster closes, Silver Spring is going to be okay). I started talking to the man next to me and he was president of the National Black Journalism Association. So, I got to hear about what he does and how he does it. Those are the conversations I treasure because I am all about self-improvement and learning from people who are better than me at what they do. I think that people think I’m obsessed with fame, but they don’t see Tim Ferris that way.

There’s a difference between wanting fame and wanting success.

Not only that, I’m not impressed by anyone, ever. I find that if I get impressed, I won’t speak at all. The inverse is also true. The more that you treat people like you’re impressed, the less they want to get to know you because you’re somehow weirdly obsessed with them. I got my own taste of that when I realized that I did not want to date a fan. Since I have mentioned that Supergrover started as a fan, I feel like I have to specifically say I’m not referring to her.

I went on a date with a woman who’d read me and she grilled me over the coals. It felt like one would feel when they show up to a party and get served because of the bait and switch. I will give you a for-instance. If I said on my blog that I was married three years ago, then why am I not married now? Fair. But it just kept getting deeper and deeper, like she was trying to catch me in a lie and there was some kind of “gotcha” somewhere. She didn’t do anything specifically wrong, per se. I’ll just never forget the feeling of being on the witness stand and not being able to give any right answers. If they didn’t match up exactly to what I’d written months ago, then I was a liar……. When time had gone by and I was in a different mindset and god knows what I was thinking while I was writing that day…….. You get my drift.

Blog entries are just a snapshot of my day, and you can see it in my feelings between entries, because some entries are diametrically opposed. To me it is a way of saying to the world “yes, she can be taught.” I don’t feel like I am now lying, I feel like someone is holding me to the past. My blog is helpful to me because I can see where I need to grow and adjust. It is not useful to have people around me that do not see it as a living document. Everything is being amended to reflect progress.

It’s also about accountability. I can’t go back and cover up my past, but I can read it to change my future. It’s scary to go back and look at what you’ve said in light of what it did and didn’t do for you, and that’s what happens when I go back and read an entry from even last year or the year before. It doesn’t take five years for things to change. It doesn’t even take one. The blog changes every single day not because I’m making things up, but because I make it my business to think about how I can improve my relationships and get clarity on my life.

However, I made a decision to paint myself as an unreliable narrator because I am. I have given you everything you need to know about why I am an unreliable narrator, and that mostly has to do with the fact that narration is unreliable in and of itself. It’s harder to take seriously when that person is documented as having mental health issues.

I am not trying to be anything I’m not. Interesting, yes. But an expert? No. I’m also still laughing about “who peer reviews you?” Because if there was a peer review for bloggers back in the day, it was all of us commenting on each other’s posts. People don’t comment now. They acknowledge. It’s the difference between Facebook and Reddit. Both have ways of one-tap recognition, but redittors are not known for being terse. Reading people’s writing on Reddit is sometimes better than reading a novel…… As long as you don’t mind looking through a lot of spam and porn to find actual intelligence. Reddit is the best of us because it’s the worst of us….. Just like we loved “The Real World” when it stopped being polite, and started getting real.

For instance, I posted on r/washingtondc about the beauty of Washington and how you should stop and take a look because it’s worth it, etc. Basically using lines I’ve used with you guys about DC before. All of the sudden, I had almost 300 upvotes along with a cacophony of where’s hiking? Where’s biking? What are you talking about?” People came out of the woodwork saying “here’s where to rent a boat,” here’s where to hike/bike, here’s the good lakes, etc.

And when you’re in r/washingtondc, you do not dare mention Virginia or Maryland. There are places to do all of these things inside the city if you are not expecting the Columbia River Gorge dumped into a major metropolitan area, which is what most of the people from Seattle seemed to be so fucking mad about. Like “Rock Creek Park is not hiking…. When I was a hiker…. :::dramatic flare:::

Sit your jack ass down.

I realize that this is not The Gorge, but Rock Creek Park does have good hiking, and I think that Great Falls is just as beautiful as anything I’ve seen on the West Coast. Just because it’s a little different doesn’t make it less divine. Sailing on the Chesapeake is just as spiritually satisfying as driving out The Gorge.

I’m blessed that I’ve gotten to live on all three coasts in the US, because I’ve lived in Houston/Galveston as well. I also know that I am an Oregonian, not a Californian. I am not that kind of “West Coast.” Portland is full of old white lesbians that nine times out of ten look something like Paul McCartney. I fit right in.

Oregonians and Californians have a tense relationship, because basically when California started becoming expensive, Portland became the new hot place to live. Oregonians are gatekeepers, most of whom think should have closed when they came in. I am guilty of a little bit of that because it made rent skyrocket dramatically. I lived in Portland when it was the right time for someone my age to do that, but I’m glad I left. It’s not just that I’m a different person, it’s that Portland is a different city. If I moved back, Portland would remind me of DC and not the other way around in terms of the way the city is more focused on business and industry, less on being the place where “young people go to retire.”

Maryland’s suburbs do not remind me of Oregon, but Virginia’s do. There are lots of pockets that look like Lake Oswego, Beaverton, etc. On the Maryland side, the population is too dense to spread out like that. Zac’s neighborhood is a perfect example of what we don’t do here in MD, because it’s a townhome community backed up to a nature preserve. It looks very much like many of the houses I visited in Oregon. It’s not a beauty contest to me. Both cities have a lot to offer, I just think Washington has more because of the transit infrastructure (I would be broke trying to get around Portland or Houston). I don’t wake up every day and think, “God, The District is gorgeous, but it’s not Oregon.”

I’m not always on Reddit.

Here’s my favorite quote so far:

That morning was when I began to invent my own personal version of shorthand, which I would continue to use throughout my career. It was so secure and so covert that even I couldn’t make out its meaning sometimes.

I gravitated toward her style in some ways because it’s reminiscent of mine. Or mine is reminiscent of hers, but I started writing before I started reading her books. So, chicken and egg debate on who sounds like whom. I know I sound like her when I write about intelligence because she’s my touchstone on how to do that. But as a general rule, both she and Tony write like me because their books and my blog are both memoirs. Mine is just written paragraphs at a time.

Memoirs are one-sided, always. People get very angry about them. Will Smith, Jada Pinkett Smith, and Harry Wales are the three recent memoirs that have caused the most scandal, but all memoirs are written with one person’s story in mind- the writer’s. I keep memoirists in my head all day long because I only have a few people giving me blowback at any given time, not a nation or a kingdom.

I don’t think I could cause an international incident with my blog, but give it time……. Eyeroll.

If I could pick a writer that I would like to spend a day with, learning their secrets, it would be Vladimir Zelenskyy. I’ve thought he was brilliant since I saw “Servant of the People” on Netflix, so I know that we are kindred spirits. This is because he’s also interested in writing, comedy, political affairs, satire, etc. I believe I would need a translator, but if I were to meet Zelenskyy at all, I would FIND a translator. There’s got to be a Yellow Pages in this house somewhere, damn.

The other thing I learned this week that I’m going to have to tease Jonna about the next time I see her is that I’ve already found a typo. She called it “Silver Springs.” I kidded her that one day I’d write something as good as hers and she said, “it’s good you’re still workin’ on that.” Every time I hear her say it in my head, I fall over laughing. It was the right way to tease a writer…. Because I like talking to subject matter experts. It means a lot to me that we can joke about craft, and more importantly, I know that Jonna has lived in my little town.

The funniest gag in the first episode of “SOTP” for me was the newly elected president saying he needed to stop by the mall for a CD for his niece on the way to work because it’s her birthday. His staff offers to do it for him so he can get to work. He agrees and the scene ends.

Later, the secret service show up with the band, because as they explained, they could not find the CD.

And on that note, it’s time to go and make coffee…….. Because I just heard the pipes.

Gratitude Journaling

April 25, 2024April 26, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I just caught a dog rifling through my trash can, so I am not feeling particularly good about myself right now. I didn’t know that the dog was smart enough to open the trash can himself. I shouldn’t have doubted it, and I can’t get him to clean up the trash, either. So, I cleaned it up…. by myself…. again.

I’m not bagging on David, my housemate. I am bagging on Jack, who is a useless housekeeper. My coworker needs a visit with HR for a performance improvement plan. I don’t know how to keep a dog out of the trash except getting a different trash can or keeping the door closed all the time. I’d rather just train the dog, but again, Jack is very smart. You have to get right up in his face before he will even begin to think you have half a brain. So, we’ve been working on “sit,” “heel,” and “bring Mama a Diet Coke.” That last one was a joke that Heather Armstrong (Dooce) wrote about her dog, Chuck, the former Congressman.

I’m trying to keep Heather’s name alive because she’s a part of the zeitgeist, but no one has influenced the direction of this web site, because Supergrover and I both loved her once upon a time. It was the same for me- I fell out with reading her when she got on the influencer bandwagon, because like my beautiful girl I thought it lost something when Dooce stopped getting so real. There was no more Dooce (a typo she used to make while typing Dude), no more Asian Database Administrator (probably good she took that one out), no more dry humping and Sprite.

Sometimes I feel like Dooce is gone and I got the best of the best and you just got me. I keep trying, though. I’ve just realized that what I thought was Texas old guy is actually Utah blogger, apparently, and I know her writing well enough that she would be pleased by this. Unfortunately, I never got to meet her. We just ran in the same circles. If I had an hour with her, I’d ask her about blowback.

I’ll ask her about the friends she lost, and the friends who came to take their places. It’s something for which I’ll always be grateful, and I’m glad she came up in my mind while I was trying to say “I’m not in a very good mood, so I need to find things for which to be thankful.” I count blessings, every single one. It keeps me from thinking that I am failing all the time, because I recognize when I have a win.

I continue to be thankful for my house, and even Jack. He continues to be “my dog,” and he’s as lovable as every dog ever. If he’s ever missing, I know he’s in my bed as far under the covers as he can go. He’s shaved almost to the skin right now; when the wind is blowing in from the windows he shivers. It’s how I like it, because it’ll be 55F outside, but I’ve got a sheet, a blanket, and two comforters on top. I think I’ll be okay.

At the same time, when I take sleeping pills my body temperature goes way up, and having the windows open keeps me from sweating because of them. There have been a few days, though, where I woke up and thought I lost three pounds because I’d shake the blankets off, it would be too cold, then I’d pull them all back…. All night. It was glorious, let me tell you.

I’m grateful for a comfortable place to sleep, and a room with so many new possibilities. Neither my lamp nor my shelf with a light came with light bulbs, so I ordered some retro LEDs. They look like they’re from the early 1900s. I have a floor lamp without a shade, which is why I thought it would be nice with the bulb exposed to go decorative. I am hoping that I will have enough light, because each bulb is 60w. I wanted higher than that, but I couldn’t find any yellow bulbs that came in 75w or 100. I do not like the bulbs where they take all the yellow out and it leaves a slightly blue glow on everything. I do use 100w white bulbs in my bathroom because I want to get dressed in the most unflattering light possible. That way, when I get myself fixed up, I will look better when I leave the house. It’s good to have goals, anyway. 😉

I’m grateful I have a bathtub again. Hayat replaced our bathtub with a stand up shower long ago, so it’s nice to be able to sit and relax when I want. I liked the stand-up shower, too. I’m not knocking it. I just had trouble shaving because I am terrible at balance. It’s not that one was bad, it’s just that with a bathtub I can also sit in lavender and eucalyptus salts.

I’m grateful to still have a garden. David is the gardener, I’m just the enjoyer. I’m going to have to put some lavender out for me, because I’ve talked many times about talking to the bees. It’s real. I don’t mean that they can hear me, necessarily, but that it does make you feel better to talk to them.

I’m grateful for DC. There are limitless possibilities for beauty here. There’s kayaking, biking, hiking, sailing- basically everything I could do in Portland is also right here. The two cities mirror each other in lots of ways when it comes to layout. That’s because people in DC do not think of Arlington as the same city, but if you look at it from the sky, it looks the same as Portland being divided by the river north to south and Burnside east to west. We are a bridge city, and I can’t wait for Bryn to see it from the air. The only real difference is that when you land at National, there’s not a long airstrip parallel to the river. If the pilots at National can’t stop in time, they’ll fall into the Potomac.

Seem to remember something about that in the news when I was a child.

Zac says he has never met a person that loves this area as much as I do. Zac has never left and come back for any real length of time. I wonder how it would look different to him if he’d lived here in his early 20’s and then traveled all over. I missed the Potomac because the Willamette is always cold. Always. I cannot remember a 4th of July in which I was not absolutely freezing my ass off. I once drove with a housemate up to Mt. Hood for lunch (we weren’t skiing that day) and it started as we were driving home. It was June 27th. DC is the beauty of a city with a river running through it that is also not 54F and raining 280 days a year. I love Portland a whole lot, and I would move back if I had to do so. It’s just not my first choice for a number of reasons, and the weather is at the top.

The only pro here would be getting to live in the same city as my best friend, because the position has been filled- end of story. That being said, occasional video calls and visits are fine. I do not have a need for Bryn to move here or me to move there. If so, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I just can’t think of a good reason all our time needs to be in person.

There are moments, of course. You don’t move to your partner’s or your best friend’s city because something is happening. You move there to be available if it does. That’s because even now when something is going on with Bryn, I can’t help but want to jump on a plane. Therefore, I’m not sure I’ve ever been more surprised than when she said she was jumping on a plane to get to me. It’s getting so exciting thinking about her visit, and it’s already the 25th. So, not many more sleeps. I’m grateful.

I’m grateful that both Bryn and Dave want to see SPY so it doesn’t feel like I’m strong-arming them into going there on my account. I live here. I can go any time I want (and do). We haven’t decided what we’re going to do all days, and I know they’ll probably also want time to themselves. We just need to talk about dates so that I can send Zac an invitation. I live and die by Google Calendar.

Zac’s acceptance is not mandatory, I just want him to know he’s included in the fun and he’s said that he does want to meet Bryn. So, now Zac will have met one friend I met in high school and one I met my freshman year of college. I’m glad I can bridge those gaps in time, and it makes me happy that Zac is going to learn just so many “Borum-isms.”

I am grateful for “Borum-isms.” It’s a specific cadence, and I will pick it up instantly because it’s not based on accent but rhythm. Bryn’s dad said something so incredibly profound that I’ve remembered it for over 20 years…. “the hardest part of teaching is remembering what it was like not to know.”

Bryn also reminds me of Arya Stark, and I don’t have to squint. But by that I mean she is take charge alpha dog all the time, which means that she is strong and firm, but also the most loving person in the room because the alpha’s job is to manage the whole pack by seeing their needs and helping them……. serving, not owning……. as opposed to whatever the fucktard morons think it is this week.

In some ways, I’m grateful for guys like that because it reminds me of Roy Wood, Jr. who said that he appreciated businesses with the confederate flag outside because then at least you had a tip it wasn’t going to go well for you. If someone is advertising on the internet that they want a “tradwife,” they probably mean that they want someone who will take all their bullying all the time and call it Biblical. Therefore, there’s no confederate flag, but there’s a big waving red one.

I’m grateful for the ability to see red flags and work on them. I see them in myself by rereading my work. Throwing words on a page and seeing what they look like once they’re outside you gives you enough separation to say “ok, that’s good…. but that’s bad.” Not the writing, the way I behaved.

I am working to find peace within myself, so don’t think I don’t notice when I’m angry and figure out a way to resolve it in myself. I think I have. My tone is completely different than it was a year ago. A lot of it has to do with Supergrover finally telling me what she really wanted. She wants peace and rest, I assume for both of us. Maybe one day our paths will cross again, but I doubt it. I require something she does not have, which created the initial attraction to each other in terms of energy. This is because she has something I don’t, which is pragmatism and logic. In some ways, our personalities are exactly alike. In others, they are diametrically opposed.

But leaning in through all of that made me who I am today, and I’m more confident in myself as a result, and grateful I ever got to meet her at all. I am so angry that what she chooses to highlight in our relationship is all the negativity and not our incredible potential for joy. Maybe she already has these things with everyone else but me, and it’s because I’m a shitty friend that I don’t have these things with her and I’m whistling Dixie because no one else ever has a problem……. I would tell her the same thing I told her when she said she was giving up Diet Coke. “Yeah. Uh huh. Keep talkin,’ sweetheart.” No, wait. It wasn’t about Diet Coke. That was another day. And now I’m laughing my ass off, but that joke is above your pay grade.

I think the thing that makes her spit nails is that I’m right. What I realized through my mistakes is that I didn’t have to sit in them just because I’d made a long time making them. That my history with her meant a lot, but not at the expense of my own health and happiness. It’s not because I wouldn’t have done it. It’s because I expected her to pull her weight. I would have done anything for her, but I realized that she didn’t feel that way about me, and it was stupid to think that, in retrospect. I did not feel that way every single day. I recognized her hurt and talked about what happened often, but she never took the bait and opened up to me so that I could better understand her. I thought, “I am going to end up giving her absolutely everything I have and she’s not going to notice in the slightest.” I’d listened to the whispers and the screams long enough.

I’ve said this before, but I did not get angry that she was also angry. I was furious because she refused to tell me anything that gave me any headway. All I could do was talk about myself when it was the last thing I wanted to talk about. I also didn’t always want to talk about her, as if I was mining her for information. I wanted an easy give and take, the strength and comfort of someone I’d known for a very long time.

There was every reason to stay except having a feeling of safety and security when we talked, because it was missing for a very long time. Any attempt to lighten the load was wrong, so I didn’t get tired of her. I got tired of how I felt about myself. She says I’m “a lot.” She has never really grasped that she’s a lot. That for everything she’d like to change about me, there’s something I’d like to change about her. What I cannot get her to see is “this is me. Take it or leave it.” And that’s what we’ve both been trying to say to each other for years, mostly at the top of our metaphorical lungs. I have found that it is much more fun to fly with a dragon than to be touched by its fire.

I’ve thought for many years that if I did ever see her face to face, that I would go mute. That she’s the only person I know where that would happen. It’s not that I am not interested in talking, it’s that I would be completely overwhelmed before the conversation began. But I know us. We both know how to make each other laugh. After a few minutes, it wouldn’t be weird. One of us would say something to break the tension, and the spell would be broken. This person that we’ve each built up in our heads will be gone, and it will seem like we’ve never met.

Here is something I also know. I will never know how much of my e-mails she’s taken in until I hear her talking around other people, because I know what I’ve written. I would know when she was quoting me and when she wasn’t, and I would never say a thing. It wouldn’t mean as much to her as it would to me.

I do know that if we were at the same party, one of two things would happen. The first is that I’d be telling a story and get a detail wrong, and from across the room I’d hear, “THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED. This is how it happened…..” The second would be her seeing someone else mistreating me because despite how she feels about me at any given moment I know she’d eat off their legs.

What I mean about getting a detail wrong is that all of the sudden she becomes very, very familiar with absolutely everything I’ve ever said when she is irritated. When she’s irritated, she quotes me back to me. How much she’s irked is inversely proportional to my joy at watching her quote me, because the more angry she is, the more likely she is to do it. I don’t do anything to irk her on purpose, I’m just saying that after a fight, when I feel calmer I go back and reread everything. I notice style, structure, all of it. Even when I’m devastated, I still find beauty in hearing from her at all because I rip her off mercilessly. Without my e-mail history, I am so much dumber, I promise you. I hope that in some ways she feels the same, because my dexterity helped her when her own words failed her. It’s something I hope she knows, really- that wherever she is in the world, my heart is with her. That’s because everywhere I go, her heart is with me.

So, even if she was trying to avoid me at a party, she’d never make it. We don’t have any mutual friends so far, and I’m not interested in making them…. mostly to protect the innocent.

I also know that no matter what, as long as I don’t start going with the crowd, she’ll still be in my audience. I know that when she told me that Dooce sucked now and she wasn’t going to read anymore and I told her it was her job to tell me when I should retire because she could just re-send that e-mail.

Come to think of it, that’s what would happen at a party. She’d hear me use a joke or two I’ve told in front of her and then we’d be picking up the end of each other’s sentences because we’ve both heard them before.

We could also have a lot of inside jokes that other people wouldn’t get, but we’d be falling out. For instance, me being the president of Overthinker’s Anonymous not because I am smarter, but because president is a public-facing office.

I think part of me hoped she would join Lanagan Media Group, because she would be great at both writing and podcasting if she had the bandwidth. She told me that she was always looking for what to do in her next career, and I think part of me hoped she would say “writer,” but I didn’t push. I got her stuff to help her in her own direction. She’s talked about writing before, but in a faraway sort of way. The bits of her story I’ve gotten to write because our lives overlapped are unique and beautiful. I know she thought it was unique. One out of two ain’t bad.

I feel like the way autism logic works, people think you’re much more negative than you mean to be because neurotypical brains are used to hearing things in a certain way. There are patterns to neurotypical speech that contain social cues. Autistic people can imitate them, but they cannot understand them. However, not being able to pick up social cues is only one of the criteria for autism. You do not have to have every single one to “prove” you’re autistic. For me, it’s a mixed bag. I do not recognize social cues in a person based on what they are thinking, but from the millions of faces I’ve seen before that looked exactly like that when X…… or when my parents described people’s emotions to me without meaning to…… I started understanding speech very, very early. Therefore, I have overheard things and ruminated on them for years before I understood them. But it’s because I’ve ruminated that I have accurate heuristics for the most part.

It’s easier to social mask when you’re hearing phone calls regarding pastoral care, because if you’re the pastor’s kid, you’re learning how to talk to people while they’re upset…… and mostly at each other. For instance, people who need marriage counseling, etc. But of course there’s a lot of people angry with you, too. Mostly over the things you’ve said.

Being a creative is being a creative. Preaching and writing are two separate skills, but they are two ways of expressing the same ideas. With me, it’s readers who don’t come back. For pastors, it’s church members who inexplicably disappear. Therefore, I am used to an ebb and flow in size and don’t get wigged about stats. I check them, but I don’t focus on them. The only stat I really like is how many flags I got that day. I like how far my site goes. This week, the leaderboard has been Africa- hello to South Africa and Ghana.

OH! South Africa!

Speaking of which, I started watching this YouTube channel called “Flipping Johannesburg,” and it’s incredible. It’s tempting to move to South Africa in some ways because land and resources are so cheap. I could build my own house or purchase one in disrepair so that I could have more land for cheap and more room to overhaul. The last house I watched on “FJ” was 800,00R, which is about $40,000. It was a U-shape with everything from a garage to staff quarters to a huge pool in the middle. I am certain that it took a lot of work to get it where it is today, and also a lot more Rand. Because of this, I am grateful that when I cannot go to South Africa, Flipping Johannesburg brings it to me.

And finally, I am grateful for Zac. He and Oliver, who is a dog, have made me feel more at home. It’s so much fun to have two hiking buddies. It’s nice to have someone to hold onto when I walk. It’s exciting to see him when his car (Antimony) comes over the hill to the Kiss and Ride. Yes, that’s really what they call the place where you pick up and drop off.

If he gets there first, he’ll park. If I get there first, he barely has to slow down and I’m on his way home, anyway. It makes me feel good that he’s relatively close to the Metro so it’s not a big imposition to drive me around. He also knows that all he has to do is say “I’m busy” and I’ll Uber. He does it just to be sweet to me and I appreciate little things. Like, how it is problem to worry how I’ll get around? It was Sam’s whole deal, too, except that Zac (for some disastrous reason) thinks that I am a fully functioning adult and doesn’t have an issue with saying “God, I’m slammed. Meet me at my house.” Therefore, Sam never got to see that I’m a perfectly capable adult. She drove me around and sulked about it because she offered and then regretted it. So, of course the easy thing to do would be to stop offering to drive me around so that I don’t have the choice to say yes or no. Because I can feel energy very well and if you resent that you have to come get me, I’ll know it. I feel it like a scar on my skin.

I would only need a car if I moved from the DMV metro area and out into Virginia or to the eastern shore. With a combination of bus, train, and/or Uber I can get anywhere. I just need a little bit more notice. This is great because if you call me and say you want to do something short notice, I probably won’t want to do it, anyway. I am bad at transitions and like to have my calendar planned out in advance.

Therefore, I am limited to staying in the city because I don’t want to lose excellent transit without a car payment and insurance. A car is just another place for me to let stuff accumulate. I’m not sure I used my car for much more than a high speed crap wagon.

“High Speed Crap Wagon” is my new band name.

I’m grateful.

Write Til it Hurts, Then Write Til You Feel Better

April 25, 2024April 25, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

My jumping off point today is this phrase, because it’s a play on something I heard at a lot at church- “give til it hurts, then give til you feel better.” It was our way of making fun of Evangelicals, yet let’s be clear. This is a church that I went to as an adult. Not that my dad and I didn’t joke about things we’d heard and seen….

For instance, one of my favorite stories about my parents when they were young is that my mom was having dental work done and she was all laid out with the bib. My dad walked in and said, “my. Don’t she look natural?” That’s what people say when they see the body at the funeral home. My dad is often funnier than I am, and I am often funnier than he is. It’s a give and take. Although I like it better when he calls me “Chief” than “you go, girl.” I am not in charge of anything, so it may not seem all that flattering. But I’m young (all things being relative), so perhaps I am just “not living up to my full potential,” which is not something he said but is said by every teacher ever who doesn’t know that kid is neurodivergent. That’s why gifted & talented classes are mostly filled with depressed, anxious teenagers.

We are so goddamn smart that it doesn’t make sense we’re so dumb. That’s because we’re not dumb. We:

Have demand avoidance, even down to taking a shower. Urging yourself to do things and not being able to accomplish them leads to guilt.
Guilt over having demand avoidance.
Shame over demand avoidance
Getting overwhelmed to the point of nausea
Hitting the limit to which we can be stimulated, leading to anger at ourselves and lashing out at others, or alternatively becoming non-verbal
Guilt over meltdown
Shame over meltdown
Go into burnout, which generally means sensory deprivation to reset, and the length of time varies for all autistic people
Lather, rinse, repeat all day long with every demand or decision all day long

When you are as smart as I am, along with all the other people with low needs/high IQ, you can see every side to every story. You are not limited to black and white, but all the colors in the spectrum. When everything becomes grey area with no solid base, you drift. You get overwhelmed, and go into a world of your own.

For me, that’s intelligence. I wouldn’t have a million dollars worth of trains in my basement, but I’d have a first edition Le Carre signed “David Cornwell.”

Speaking of which, yesterday autocorrect made me misspell both Jodi Picoult and change “Jennifer Finney Boylan” to “Jennifer Finney Boyle.” I guess I’ll need to go through my Android tablet and turn off spelling and grammar. I do that a lot, because I don’t misspell much and autocorrect doesn’t know everything- like poetic license, plays on words, acronyms, people’s last names, and thinking it knows better than me that it’s “utopian ideal” and not “utopia ideal.” Little things like that drive me up the wall, and it’s worse in voice dictation because Apple thinks it fucking knows where punctuation goes and it drives me up the wall and back down again. I want to throw my phone against a rock for making sentences look like this:

Rebecca, when are, we, going, to Starbucks?

Going back to correct all that is a nightmare, but I use voice dictation when I don’t have a keyboard because typing on my phone is hard as shit for me. It’s not that I can’t, it’s that I hate it so much. All phone companies lost me when they got rid of thumb boards and slide out keyboards.

It’s why I use my phone a quarter of never. I don’t like to call people, and I don’t like to type on my phone. Therefore, I use my iPad or my Android tablet for nearly everything. That’s because I like the bigger real estate for calls, anyway. If I’m calling, it might as well be a video call because I know I’m not going to see you very often, etc.

Therefore, I really only use my phone for voice calls. If I decide to walk somewhere, I leave my phone at home and connect my headphones to my watch. The middle man carries very little value except that I have to have it on to unlock all the features on my watch. However, it’s a fully functioning “dumb phone.” If I had money, I’d upgrade my watch before I ever bothered with my phone, or replace my older iPad with a newer one because it can do everything except control my watch (emphatic fist shake). However, for what I do, I do not need to upgrade any of my technology. I do three or four things and none of them are mobile gaming. Therefore, it doesn’t matter what chip and graphics card the motherboard on the tablet has, it just has to be adequate.

I have Microsoft Office, AndrOffice (Android port of LibreOffice- a full desktop application for you other writers in the crowd. I find it easier to use a Bluetooth mouse and keyboard for it.), a web browser, a basic photo editor, and JetPack. So far, I’ve been able to upgrade to every version, so my hardware can’t be that old.

I also watch movies, but that needs a better network connection than anything else. I’m not picky about the picture, but some people are. Those are the people that should buy high end tablets, because you’ll end up sitting in bed with it vs. watching TV, especially with headphones while your partner is sleeping (I have never needed to do this with Zac, but it’s possible, just like connecting Bluetooth headphones to your Kindle to listen to audiobooks.

I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again as writer’s advice.

We all make notes in our books. Having a Bluetooth keyboard connected to my Kindle makes it where I can use my notes later and sync them with Goodreads. You can choose whether your highlights are available to the public, so lock it down and it’s a private, free repository of your highlights and the notes you put with them. That way, if something happens to your Kindle, you still have everything and you don’t lose months of work. I also used my Kindle quite extensively when I reviewed books professionally (putting that out there because people often offer me books for free with a gift certificate so I have a verified sale to review.

I have liked most of them.

However, I’m not a harsh reviewer because I am so precise with language that I can make a bad review sound like a good one. That is because I want to say what I liked and didn’t about their books without hurting their feelings.

Of everything I read, I liked “Pancake Money” and “Dead Lemons” by Finn Bell the most.

Some of the others were downright drudgery.

“What would you say to universities about stifling writers?”

“In my opinion they don’t stifle enough.” (Flannery O’Connor)

This being said, you don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, either. They gave you their baby for free. It is something that they’ve birthed over a tremendous amount of time. A lot of care went into it just to get to the finish line. I was crushed when Supergrover thought I was dismissive of her writing when the only piece of advice I gave her was “come on, SG! I know you have more than that in you.” She doesn’t dive as deep as she can. However, she can turn a phrase when she’s in her element, and she’s not often in her element. I’m not sure there’s really a place she calls home in her soul, and I don’t mean anything derogatory by it. I mean that she doesn’t dig as far as she can go, but if she did dig as deep as me it would be the best book you’ve ever read in your life.

I know because I’ve read it. I know the parts of her that she’ll share, but she’s not often in a place to take those things and dig deep on them. She’s pressed for time all the time, and introspection is really hard work. REALLY hard work. However, I have never said she was a bad writer. If it were true, I wouldn’t have basically memorized everything she’s ever said to me- both the good and the bad. I have been furious by some letters and angered by others. We are not so different, we just choose to act like it. It’s devastating to an enormous degree, because if she read my entries from the standpoint of counting up how many phrases that are hers hidden here. And now my keyboard has decided that the “Enter” key is the only one that doesn’t work. I have no idea what is causing this, because it just drops and reconnecting doesn’t help. Maybe you’ll get more later, because I’m not really feeling the whole “writing session is over” thing. I am feeling disappointed and frustrated that I can’t keep writing right now. I should save that feeling for writer’s block. “What if I wasn’t permitted to write?” It goes a very long way. I could make it all one paragraph, but Chason told me that short paragraphs are easier to read on the web. I try to be mindful, because he does web design for a living. This is not one of those days, apparently. So, anyway, I quote her all the time from her e-mails and her other writing. She said I dismissed her when I, unlike President Clinton, inhaled.