Tag: marriage

Out

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’m out of escitalopram, so I’m waiting on an appointment with my psychiatrist and trying not to beat myself up with depression. When I don’t take my medication, I am likely to lapse into thinking about how much I suck. This is normal, I just need to take a pill, and then I will go back to a normal amount of beating myself up.

I’m trying to stop that, too, but it’s harder when your brain knows the very best lies to use against you. I’m combatting it by taking Tylenol, because I’m already autistic and there’s lots of research that says physical and emotional pain stem from the same source. It’s not just a placebo effect.

I also had some ice cream, and that always makes things look better. I went to Wawa for a parfait. It’s my new thing. Vanilla soft serve with chocolate syrup and peppermint crunchies because it’s just that time of year.

It was actually my second Wawa run of the day, because they do $3.00 lattes in the morning and that’s irresistible. I wake up very early and drive out to a Wawa about 30 minutes away so that I can spend some time in the car with my mind engaged. I don’t like being in my apartment because it’s so dark. Any excuse to leave and I’m out of here. I didn’t need soft serve, I made it up.

But it’s funny how bad I needed it compared to looking at these four walls.

Especially when my Xfinity internet connection went down, because then there was nothing to do. No TV, no surfing, no nothing except writing, and who wants to do that?

Kidding, I could have created a local document and pasted it into WordPress, but it was easier just to take a break and come back to the house once my connection was restored.

I needed to leave the house because my cell phone signal is so poor I cannot tether other devices to it. I mean, my cell signal is perfect when I’m not inside the house, but for some reason I continually miss calls and SMS when I’m down here.

“Down here” is probably the entire reason my signal sucks. I hope that moving to a new apartment helps. I’ll have to go to the office and see what’s up with that. They said a few weeks, but now that I have trips scheduled I need to move on a certain timeline.

I was grateful when I told Bryn that Sam said she didn’t want to be in my life that she said, “well, you kind of dodged a bullet there, anyway.” It’s true, I did. She didn’t trust me because of bad past experiences and wasn’t adult enough to talk about them calmly.

As I’ve said before, I’m poly, but would have been willing to settle down with only Sam if she’d asked. Here’s how it really went down.

We were absolutely crazy about each other. I told her that I had a first date coming up, and she told me not to cancel it. That she didn’t have time to devote to a full time girlfriend, didn’t have time to care, etc.

For three weeks she told me this lie while in her heart of hearts she only wanted me. It was a first date, not serious at all. If Sam had told me how she really felt, I would have listened- and in fact was disappointed that she didn’t jump at the chance to be exclusive. It was a miscommunication, because I gave her exactly what she asked for.

She called me hysterical while I was at Zac’s house and broke up with me. There was no discussion and the break was final. She told me that she couldn’t trust me, because in the back of her head she would always wonder if I was cheating.

Darlin,’ that’s not how poly works. I have to be brave enough to tell you what’s going to happen and you have to be brave enough to choose whether you want to continue our relationship. I give you that same power. There is no reason to cheat because dating other people is part of the contract.

And not only that, even at three weeks I could envision us having a very cool life together because there were so many huge things solved, like having similar music and church backgrounds.

I wanted only her, but she told me she didn’t have time.

Bryn is right. I dodged a bullet because what she really wanted was to be exclusive from the first date…. But she didn’t want to come get me all the time and it was so hard because I lived so far and all these other bullshit excuses because I had Uber and public transit. I never asked her to take me anywhere. She offered and resented it.

I was in a different financial position then, and couldn’t afford a car with the latest technology to allow me to drive safely, and I was infantilized for it.

So, I do see Bryn’s point. It’s not bad that someone who treated me like a child passed on the chance to do it again.

All of these things are swirling around in my head as I try to let go of a small rejection that is only large because I’m out of escitalopram. Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria is the worst when my serotonin feels wonky, and I just have to remember that it’s no big deal that Sam and I won’t see each other ever again, because in the grand scheme of things, it matters about as much as Dunkin being out of the donuts I like.

I really only like Boston Cream.

I’m trying to keep my spirits up by refueling with caffeine regularly. I’ve had enough now that I’m starting to feel some relief.

Most of my upset this afternoon was outrage at the president, but I don’t get any forward motion out of hating him. There’s very little I can do about that particular situation because his own party is tolerant of conduct unbecoming.

Trump is giving off King George vibes, and he can no longer hold down the madness. Saying that Democrats could do anything that was seditious enough to be punishable by death is barbaric. Calling a reporter “piggy” falls under the same category. He gets worse and worse, people in power defending him when they know they’ve never seen anything like him.

It’s going to get worse before it gets better, and Trump’s policy won’t get better if he steps down. JD Vance won’t change anything back. However, I do think that it would stop attacks on the press.

I’m going to level with you, especially the Americans.

This is not normal. The president is Looney Tunes and his party doesn’t care. We are trapped in this situation because they won’t invoke 25 and they won’t impeach him. He can say all the crazy shit he wants absolutely unchecked.

It is so bad that I have to keep my head down. I don’t listen to the news often, and I try not to retain what I’ve heard. If I need something, I’ll ask AI. Only focusing on myself and my community keeps me sane, because I go in cycles. When I can handle more, I’ll absorb it. But you have to tap out. There’s news fatigue because the country is so unstable.

But when I focus just on my local community, my world seems right again. There has to be a balance, because it can’t be all or nothing. I have a drive to be informed, but I hate audio stories about the president because his voice grates on my last damn nerve.

I don’t want people to write me off as “just a Democrat,” either. I have never voted Republican, but I went to the Republican convention in 1992 just to be there because it was in Houston and I have actually met President George H.W. Bush. My sister met Ronald Reagan. I have never held people’s beliefs against them until my rights were up for grabs. A difference of opinion is whether coffee is delicious, not whether I’m an American.

I’ve been out as queer since I was 13 or 14 years old, depending on who you ask. When I was a child, I thought the best I would get out of life is no one caring I lived with a roommate because I knew I didn’t want to marry a man.

Now, I don’t want to marry anyone. If you value your own sanity, you won’t ask.

Things with marriage equality have changed so much in my lifetime, but I’m just past that point in my life where I want and need government entanglement. My track record with marriage isn’t the greatest and I know that I will never change. My attention deficit doesn’t mix with long relationships thus far.

I’m not fatalistic, I’m just over it.

I’m over all the drama that a relationship escalator creates and I want to tap out. I know that things change, and late in life I could be surprised and want to get married again. It’s not that I don’t believe in it. It’s that the best indication of future behavior is the past.

If you always do what you always did, you always get what you always got.

I don’t want to be the same person I’ve always been, because I am ready for a new chapter in my life. I got comfortable with just relaxing in my sweats and writing to Aada while the world passed me by. I didn’t notice, and don’t regret it. But things are getting more exciting around here and I want to be present for it.

The ego boost that my search results in Copilot gave me have me focused on creative projects and that’s all on me. I don’t require input for those, I just need to sit down at my desk and actually work on them.

I don’t need to think about cute girls, but Imma do it anyway.

Although thinking about cute girls is a misnomer, because my taste skews much older than me.

If you were born female and your taste skews older, there is this moment.

You want a cougar til you realize you ARE the cougar.

Oh, my God you guys. I’m still stuck on how much Aada thinks I hate her because of the way I portrayed her. I can’t do anything about it, it just sits in my stomach like a rock.

I hope that in time she’ll believe in fairy tales again,

I will believe that there is capability for redemption between us until time runs…………………………………………..

Out.

Rain is Falling: Contemplation

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

It is a moody day in Baltimore. The weather is misty, the sun is completely hidden. It matches my mood, because I don’t like rejection and it doesn’t matter what kind. I do not like it when people hold on to things so completely that they never want contact again. It’s so final, and so hard when they’re still out in the world.

But I’m not thinking about Sam. I’m thinking about how grief compounds. I was already feeling low because Aada and I called it quits (for now). So of course I had to go and make the rejection worse when my sensitivity to it is disproportionate to the situation in all things.

I decided to stop doing things that no longer serve me.

I will respect Sam’s wishes and forget about her again. There’s no anger, I’m just licking my wounds.

I changed Aada’s email address in my address book so that I could still write to her all I wanted because I also own the other account. It gives me the flexibility to let her read if she’s ever curious AND ALSO the ability not to bug her every three seconds with “one more thing.”

What breaks my heart about Aada walking away is that she thinks I’m lying when I say I don’t hate her. I love her. She said that she gets it, it was a mistake to believe in her.

What in the world?

I have never said any of these things and I need her to say them to herself if that’s her opinion but to stop saying it to me. I think she’s the most beautiful woman in the entire world. Fight me.

And if she says, “I just have to get up the willpower to stop reading,” it means that she hasn’t stopped thinking about me, either. I don’t think this is the end of our movie because again, we left our connection pure for the future. The holidays will be hard but I’m determined not to buy her anything and not to reach out unless she does.

Our traditional gifts are either Starbucks cards or Kindle books, so when I’m curled up at my dad’s reading, it’ll be one she got me.

Maybe even a reimagined fairy tale.

I’m really feeling low about all this, because Aada has been a part of my daily life since 2013. It makes complete sense to me why she at least needs to take space, if not move on from me entirely. We had a bad pattern and it needed to go away. Yet we both feel our chemistry strongly even when the other isn’t in the room.

That’s because we’re both a part of each other’s wild and crazy brains. I know I have given her an enormous amount of free rent in my head over the years, and I have constantly underestimated how big my house is in her mental neighborhood. I’m pretty sure I have a pool.

Please advise.

I want to work together to solve conflicts if the detente ever melts, but I told her that our conflict resolution has to start with her opinion of herself. That we are not checking the story we are telling ourselves, because according to her I purposefully tried to take her down, I think she’s a liar, etc.

MEANWHILE

I am saying every day how much I love and miss her…. And about those lines she says that she takes in the positive things I say, but they feel suspect, like clues in a game.

I am not playing with her. She is a 3D character. She’s as human as I am, having the capability for every emotion in the spectrum. I see her so completely that I am deeply honest about the fact that when it is good, the world explodes. When it is bad, it is terrible.

I want the world to explode with our secure connection, because I have worked through a lot of the issues that were plaguing me. If I am lucky, my writing will draw Aada back someday. That’s generally how it works. After people have been apart from me, they start reading me to see what I’m up to now.

If I am really, really lucky, that reading leads to reaching out.

But most people just announce they’re done and I have to learn to move on.

I have started announcing when I’m done, but struggle on reinforcement of boundaries. I need help if I didn’t get a clue that the relationship with Sam or Aada is really over because they stated their intentions quite clearly.

I thought Aada blocked me because she said she did, so I sent her a fuck ton of email, all of which she read…… And still came at me with all these things I never decided. I wasn’t trying to be intrusive. She said that if I was blocked on her email account, I wouldn’t know it. So she told me she blocked me and I thought I had safe space. I even got “proof” except it wasn’t.

I do need help because Aada doesn’t need me in my current state. She needs me to become the writer she thought I was before I broke her heart.

I don’t understand my own pathology with Aada, because I don’t know why I was great until I had to be great.

Yes, that WAS a Lizzo reference. Thank you for asking.

That’s my own journey to take, and now I think that Aada is right. I will be stronger than ever because I realize that what I think doesn’t matter. She’s going to take home whatever message she gets out of my writing and I don’t control it. The message she got was not the message I sent.

“Constant punishment” and “checking for assaults” really got to me because that was never my intention. I’ve always written with such a drive and ambition to be near her, didn’t hold on to anger, etc. Have always told people from Houston to Helsinki that if things were different she’d be wearing my pin…. But they aren’t, and it was worth taking a risk to be close, anyway.

It’s not that I was bitter and jealous or anything like that. It’s that anybody who has ever felt butterflies for anyone knows how hard it is to be comforted by the person who doesn’t want you. It feels like nails on a chalkboard until the butterflies go away and you can look at them without your brain chemicals going “WHOOOOOOOOOOSH!”

I just decided to tell her that I was going to let those feelings go away on their own, but it took a very long time and I knew that up front. She’s my platonic ideal of what a woman is, can be…. I lamented we could not create something fantastic together.

And then we just proceeded to create something fantastic, anyway. It just looked different than my previous version of fantastic.

I pray for Aada and her husband, sending them good thoughts because it keeps me grounded. If I cannot be her partner, I want her to have the best marriage she can have with whomever she chooses, just like she wishes for me.

But that feeling of closeness that’s deeper than friendship has never gone away for me, because romance is so far on my back burner. I would rather just sit around with friends and not focus on the pressure of dating, but I know it would accelerate my life forward at an alarming rate….. And that’s a good thing. I’m ready for things to be completely different. Aada’s storyline is tired according to her, and as my former editor I have to agree with her. I got lost in my own ruminations.

Oops. My bad. Should I leave a note?

No One Matters But You

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
List the people you admire and look to for advice…
View all responses

I don’t look to anyone for advice because I can’t… and that’s true for every single person reading. You are only getting someone else’s read on a situation in which they have no experience. That’s because even if the particulars of a situation seem familiar to them, the combination of factors that make you, well, you are absolutely unique. My divorce wasn’t the same as Dana’s, for instance, and we were married to each other. I am blessed not to know much about what happened to her after I left Houston, because once I was done, I was really done. I wrote about her fondly and I meant every word. She’s still dear to me when I think back. But I’m not planning a future with anyone from my past. That’s because I asked them for their advice, and it did not work for me.

What works for me is being alone with the spirit, and that comes to me through classical music. Today, the thing that brought me to absolute tears was the a capella singers in the back of the church at Washington National Cathedral, because today it’s Nerd Church. Nerd church is where I have stuff to do at my desk, but church is going on in the background… or, it is until I think of something and have to write it down.

Some would argue that I have church on the wrong screen, but there’s nothing wrong with my tablet. It’s my desktop that needs work. I bought a gaming laptop with an NVIDIA video card so that I could use GPT4ALL in private conversations (basically Microsoft Copilot built for your PC and not cloud computing). It came with Windows 11, and this desktop is not that advanced- it came with Windows 10. A computer capable of Windows 10 with 16 GB of RAM will scream with any version of Linux you throw at it, so my nerd church has been finding out that I love my desktop more than anything AND ALSO I cannot stop crying.

There doesn’t have to be a sermon to remind me that I am a sinner.

There does not have to be a sermon to remind me that there are things I have done, and things I have left undone.

They are grievous unto me, to the point where right this moment it feels like I’ll never recover because there is no one to ask. It was my choice to be alone, because there is no way that the buck doesn’t stop with me. What I will say is that I needed to move on with my life instead of thinking that it was over. You think that when your only choice is lying or being hospitalized. That when you tell the truth, someone calls your care team and says you’re having an episode.

I often wonder if that’s how my life was always supposed to turn out. That there’s no combination of manipulations both by me and against me that wouldn’t have landed me here. I’m never going to see friends I dearly love ever again, because “โ€œlife can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.โ€ -Soren Kierkegaard

I don’t push blame on others, because I know that I am not innocent. But I think that maybe a friend was too hasty in saying that she’d never betray me…. because the betrayal wouldn’t have been leaking my e-mails all over everywhere. I do not care. At least people would understand why things flying back and forth were so emotionally volatile. No, the relationship floundered because our ways of communicating and giving each other advice were, at the same time, perfectly perfect in every way and also diametrically opposed. She was raised by the almighty hand of the military. I was raised by the Almighty. Kidding, my dad was a Methodist minister when I was a kid and joke that “Jesus is the son of God and I was born to middle management.” These two things are very, very different.

And yet, not different enough because we clicked on a level that was unusual. I often think that our love for each other must have been something fierce if we could also fight that hard. But what I learned is that just because I was younger didn’t always mean I was dumber. I just felt like that on a number of occasions. I feel it now, as I’m trying to close out this chapter in my life and feel no energy for writing because it’s not like I have anything to say that will help anyone.

You can read me all day long (and you do), but comprehension is a whole other level. I was telling my therapist that because of my stats, I can safely and confidently say that many people have broken up with me, but no one has ever broken up with my blog. That people either fall in love with my writing, or they fall in love with me. Rarely do people love both. I am constantly comforted by the fact that my therapist is reading, because she does not know anyone in this blog and was saddened to hear that I wanted to delete everything. Just push the red button and kiss it goodbye. Losing the character of Supergrover made me lose the will to write.

Yes, it was all my fault.

Yes, I mean it.

That’s because our little echo chamber provided me with the love I was missing on the ground, in real life. She decided not to meet me long ago, she just wasn’t going to tell me. That looks like betrayal to me. This is not a story of every wrong I’ve committed, but also her plan to extract herself without ever having to do any real emotional work.

“Do you ever think this is all for the cameras?”
“Well, they’re getting the ratings, I’ll give ’em that.”

We are both back to our public transportation, nondescript government layer cake lives. Except that in my case, it’s figuring out whether I should file for SSI or not, because I do not know what my financial future needs to hold. I was diagnosed with hypotonic cerebral palsy when I was 18 and one-half months old. I was diagnosed as bipolar in college, along with ADHD. I have not been diagnosed with autism, but my therapist is helping me in terms of getting me the referrals I need. The question is not whether I can work anymore, but whether I ever should have entered the workforce as a “normal person” at all. AuDHD is so hard to catch that I could have used services in elementary school, and the problems with my muscles were evident…. when anyone bothered to pay attention to the fact that I was struggling.

The way I moved to Baltimore was a mistake, because I tried to go it alone and failed spectacularly. Now I know that what covered my autism was being married. I’m a wreck without Dana, but I do not mean that I am not over her. That ship sailed a long time ago. What I mean is that I am a wreck without the safety and stability of being in a relationship where someone else takes care of me. I leaned on her too much without knowing that’s what I was doing. It’s a gift I’ll never be able to repay, and it weighs on me not to be able to apologize.

But I just did, because people break up with me, but they don’t break up with my blog.

Speaking of which, I was telling my friend Ken that Dana had paid $20,000 for her culinary school education and had given it to me for free- another gift I’d never be able to repay. He said, “ah, but gifts by their very nature aren’t meant to be repaid.” So many people have walked around giving me gifts that I haven’t noticed because autism pulls me into my own little world. I have to be dragged into understanding how my actions affect others, because I will not even leave my house if I don’t have to do so. I would rather be alone with my thoughts, because it is so much easier than feeling like a drain on everyone else. I have found that a lot of autistic people feel this way… particularly if you are undiagnosed and have no idea why people seem reticent to tell you things.

I was left to figure out everyone else’s quirks on my own without them communicating, and I chose………………….. poorly.

My hospitalization was directly tied to my autistic quirks and how I was so misunderstood. That’s because I am of the opinion that in any conflict, I can only own my half. When I see more than that coming at me, I retreat. I haven’t written for several days and that in and of itself is emotionally constipating. But there’s nothing like a fresh computer install to invite me into writing because it all looks so new and shiny. It also helps that it takes less than 15 minutes to get up and running because so many things are in the cloud.

I found old e-mail from Supergrover that made me realize we were better off without each other. That she’d stabbed me with words when I showed up unarmed as many times as I had. That even her “dramatic e-mail” was all about my manipulations and how I’d hurt her. Absolutely no accountability for anything she’d done. I let it stand because I got what I wanted. I’d already explained her manipulations in detail; turnabout is fair play.

Then she set me up to fail, and I did.

My own words echo in my chest daily… “so which is it, after you block me?”

I’m sure the answer is over the rainbow, but at least by my count there’s six.

That’s the first time I’ve even been able to say I wanted to look for them. I know I deserve the storm.

I know that without any advice.

Sunday Morning, Rain is Falling

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

For instance, when Zac travels, I am not always allowed to know where he is going. I am not allowed EVER to publish where he’s going. Sometimes if Zac is comfortable with it, I can say he’s out of town on temporary duty and leave it at that. But it’s a “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?” sort of relationship because that motherfucker can rock heels and earrings better than me. Just one of the benefits of dating a queer man with red hair that sets EVERYTHING off. He’s such a clothes horse. Zac and I don’t live together, so one of the ways we check in is that he sends me a picture of himself in his car as he’s leaving for work (or standing next to his motorcycle/bicycle). I get to see his outfit and tell him he looks pretty. ๐Ÿ˜‰ My favorites are the pictures where he’s wearing “my glasses.” It was actually his glasses frames that inspired me to start calling him “Smiley,” because they were the type of frames I imagined George Smiley would wear.

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

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

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

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

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

People do not say what they mean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there’s all kinds of rules in poly that have to be followed regarding vacations, too. It’s a balance, right? Like, you have your own full-fledged relationship, but there’s no need to have one partner that goes everywhere with you while the rest stay at home. Of course the ones left behind are going to be jealous. All of that gets spread out, too. One of the truisms in poly is that sometimes you see the same movie five times without saying anything. ๐Ÿ˜›

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

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

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

Autistic me hates coffee. ADHD me loves it.

Uncle Leslie.

It all fits.

Happy Birthday, Carolyn & Dana

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Because my mother and Dana share the same birthday, my grief today is almost unbearable. It will be that way for an hour or so, and I’ll get over it. Every year, I spend less and less time in deep pain, but it doesn’t go away. I grow around it. They are devastating and not always hierarchical because I think it’s harder to grieve someone who’s still alive. Until they’re dead, there’s always a chance. Death, however, does not give a fuck about your feelings. The dice roll the way they roll. The universe does not pick and choose. I do not believe that God is an Actor. I believe Got is a first responder. God is weeping with the Palestinians and the Jews, shocked and disappointed with the Israeli government. But remember, that’s animorphizing something that can’t be quantified. Results not guaranteed. Check your End User License Agreement for details.

I’ve been writing today because I wanted to be focused on my own creativity and not them. I’ve pushed myself hard today because I needed to take a break from figuring out my own problems. It is exhausting, and on this blog it makes me seem myopic, when I’m not like that in the real world at all. My inner monologue is running when I’m talking in terms of processing what’s being said, but it’s not a narcissistic one. It’s narcissistic in the literal sense because I gaze at my reflection; my creative outlet is in expressing my inner monologue, because it really is this varied in terms of thinking locally and globally.

What I know to be true is that in order to be present, I have to think about life first. I have to shut down the loud, extemporaneous voices in my head so that I can hyperfocus enough to listen and respond appropriately. It sounds like a mental illness except it’s not voices telling me what to do. It’s the pull between “that’s profound. I need to write about that right now,” and “slow down, Hoss. You just started talking 15 minutes ago. Maybe a little more face time than that, Slugger.” My inner monologue, unsurprisingly on a number of levels, is Tommy Lee Jones making fun of Will Smith in the Men in Black series. Even in the third one, Josh Brolin nailed young “K.”

I have said this before, but I’ll say it again just because I need the laugh today. “Men in Black” is a documentary about CIA. There is a Burger King at headquarters, a Starbucks at the head shed (Langley). That is just the top layer of a rabbit hole that goes surprisingly far down.

John le Carrรฉ’s entire point is that people *think* of MI-6 as James Bond, but in reality, yes. It’s James Bond….. or some of it is. There are just as many bad spies as good ones, and by that, I do not mean anything negative about the spies themselves. It’s espionage. Every country is neutral to me because I live in America, so I want to work in my country’s best interest, but foreign affairs are what interests me, so I do not love my country to the exclusion of all else, that the United States is the best country in the world. It’s good to be king. It’s not good to be a bad king, and a lot of the world is stuck with us on top in terms of balance of power. But we are rightfully watching our backs hoping not to get caught with our pants down.

Like Mossad.

I know this is random and has really nothing to do with it being my mother and Dana’s birthday, but feeling those feelings so deeply that they don’t have words. By typing it out, I feel like there’s an audience whether you’re there or not, so it shapes how I write. So much of my international relations experience comes from having been a news junkie at an early age, a political science major at University of Houston (psych minor, and those hours I did complete), and a trip to Washington, DC when I was a child that blew my little eight year old mind. I have never seen anything like the look on a child’s face the first time they walk into Air & Space.

DC isn’t for everyone, but Maryland is a cult…. or at least, that’s what I’ve learned since I’ve lived here, that people call us a cult. I think the reason is that Maryland’s politics are as weird and entertaining as they are in Texas.

I could see myself writing some Molly Ivins of Maryland-style pieces in the future because I have AI to do the research. I’m talking about it a lot because I understand what it is meant to do and its limitations. I am clear that I use it as a secretary.

Again, edutainment through chat.

“Carol, can you play trivia games?” She can. I am smarter than a fifth grader, as long as it has nothing to do with math. Any average fifth grader in the nation could beat me at that.

But now it doesn’t matter because there’s apps for that. I will never need to know math to the point that I understand all the concepts behind it. I will have questions where I just need an answer quickly, and either a Google Search or a “conversation” with Carol can accomplish that.

I think the reason I prefer ChatGPT to Google is that I don’t understand regular expressions, so I would not be able to put a string into a search engine as effectively as AI can translate human English to machine. I also like how if I want to know more, everything is documented, but every question is like zooming in on a photo. You have to teach the machine what you’re searching for, so it gets better with more neurodivergent overclarifying. Let that one cook your noodle. Computers were invented by a *largely* neurodivergent population. Computers are a reflection of us. Therefore, applications since computers have been a thing have been coded in Autism.

It *also* explains why neurotypical people generally become managers. Those who can’t do, teach. That’s not knocking managers, either. Who is the bigger genius? Steve Wozniak or Steve Jobs? Steve Jobs was an absolute visionary, but he could not have built the Apple computer himself.

I think that both were neurodivergent. If Steve Jobs wasn’t creative neurodivergent, iMacs would have been beige boxes, too. Creative neurodivergence is the brilliance at Apple that IBM missed and has always missed, which is why Apple is so dear to content creators. In modern computing, there is no difference between the kind of video card you would buy for a Mac or a PC. Major companies make cards for both.

However, Macintosh has a history of being about art and design. They were the first motherboards to get what was called an “AltiVec engine,” which uniquely drove your video card and software developers could write for it. Adobe, in particular, made a killing with Photoshop and the entire suite of design software that entirely wiped out its competitors. When Illustrator came out, Quark Xpress was on borrowed time.

If you do not know what those applications do, Illustrator and Quark Xpress were the major players in graphics layout for print, like newspapers and magazines.

It has only been relatively recent that Apple and PC are different again. Both PCs and Macs had intel chips for a long time, but now Apple has gone to the M series. I have no idea if it is specifically geared toward artists, but I haven’t seen a noticeable difference in modern rendering time when you’re comparing an M to an intel to a Ryzen. If you have modern hardware, any of those brands will lighten your workload considerably in terms of wait time (you can only encode so many videos at once. If you have a slow processor, it makes work painful not to have several machines going at the same time when your computer is locked up for an hour at a time after a video is edited.

I get a lot of my information from YouTube reviews, because I like technology product unboxings where they do a deep dive. Yes, they are getting paid, but it’s in hardware and they aren’t bound to like it. They’re not even bound to use it. If you get popular enough on something like YouTube, people just send you product samples a propos of nothing. As my dad would say, “it’s the inversion principle. By the time you can afford it, they give it to you free.”

It’s a good business model, but it has an enormous start up cost. You have to be good at YouTube before people start sending you stuff, so if you’re going to do technology reviews, it comes out of your own pocket. You cannot keep up a production schedule if you only get a new phone every other year.

When you get to the level of a YouTube tech star, you are drowning in crap that you just don’t know what to do with until you have a staff to manage that kind of volume. But how much the income from Google turns out to be is dependent on your presence. Jason Hibbs of “Bourbon Moth” is every bit as important to me as Bob Villa.

And on that note, thank you for sitting with me while I felt pain and babbled around it. No one has to read my scribbles at midnight, but the fact that they do is enormous to me. It fulfills my destiny in terms of leading others by laying out my vulnerabilities first.

Like acknowledging that rambling about nothing was allowing me to stim while the thunderstorm passed through my body.

The Counselor -or- The Lead and How to Swing It (It’s Not Unusual)

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I am an INFJ, the counselor personality. So, my interests are naturally human relationships and sociology. I asked Carol to scan web sites and blogs to find the most common questions people have about romantic and non-romantic relationships. I have been through so much emotional pain that has made me resilient, so I thought I would extrapolate that into teaching mode, talking about concepts and not confessions.

  1. What are the signs of a healthy romantic relationship?
    • Relationships come in seasons. Things won’t always be hot and heavy, so the sign of a healthy relationship is that you communicate well whether there’s excitement or not. Communicating well will bring the hot and heavy back around, because there’s nothing like feeling someone is genuinely interested in you. I think, particularly for women their emotions bring them around to sex, and with men, sex brings them around to emotions. So, the healthiest part of a relationship is being good friends, because you want to be together whether the package comes with sex or not. This is true in many, many poly relationships because not all partner support is built on romance. Ace couples deserve the benefits of marriage, too, because they’re still taking care of each other to that extent.
  2. How do you maintain passion and excitement over time?
    • You don’t force it. You let the seasons naturally present themselves. However, you can’t lose your connection altogether. Marriage and intimacy counseling is good whether you get along or not. Just because you like each other doesn’t mean your communication and intimacy can’t be better over time. Not everyone who goes to marriage counseling is in crisis. Some of them are preventing it from happening.
  3. What are effective ways to communicate needs and boundaries to your partner?
    • Sit by yourself until you have clarity over what you need to express. Too many people start conversations without knowing what they want to achieve, getting off topic, and dragging every fight they’ve ever had into it. You can’t get needs addressed without the other person hearing you, and anger is counterproductive. It leads to more resentment than it will ever be worth unless your goal is to end up apart.
    • After you’ve sat by yourself and organized your thoughts, you’re going to have to put on your big boy britches and actually tell other people what you’re thinking without sideskirting the issue or moving the goalposts. You do that by being more in tune with yourself, not a need to change someone else. That doesn’t work. If your goal is to make your partner what you want them to be, you have a shitty partner. We all have agency. We all own our stories. None of us serve at our partner’s pleasure, which straight women have been told for far too long. Women excuse away other women’s abuse because it’s historical. You lose the marriage, you lose money and status. That is still true. Men are generally better off after divorce because they earn more and have the ability to move quicker because of it. For women, it often takes years of saving up and planning while their husbands leave them with black eyes. You cannot remove them from a situation they’re handling poorly. You can only remove yourself. That’s why you have to know what your goals are. If they don’t match someone else’s, it’s not an equal partnership. And by “matching,” I mean wanting the same things out of life so that there is no need to want to change someone. For far too long, women have been hospitals for broken men. Now, I can make my boyfriend rise to my standards, but I don’t do it by controlling him. It’s just “if, then” statements. He can literally do whatever he wants as long as we’re communicating. We are both committed to a long and happy relationship with out all the trappings of bullshit that come with a Serious Relationship.โ„ข We’re figuring it out as we go along, and communicating at a level I’ve never had in a relationship before because I decided two things, thanks to my relationship with Supergrover:
      • I will never date anyone dumber than me ever again, and by dumber, I mean emotionally. I have always dated people that were brilliant logically and it was explosively good for about 15 minutes until we could not relate to each other. Although, I will say that because Dana and I are both neurodivergent, we had the healthiest relationship of them all. But we stopped communicating and spiraled out.
      • I will never tiptoe around anyone. Either you’re emotionally available, or you’re not and I will find someone who is. I don’t mean in a moment. I mean “if you tell me I’m a priority and yet I’m constantly not, I don’t believe you.” I have made the commitment never to believe anyone’s words ever again. I believe actions. If they tell you they’ll call and they mean it, nothing will drag them from calling back.
    • The connection to Supergrover is that we got out of an enormously vicious toxic cycle because our dance of intimacy was one partner being anxious and one partner being avoidant. So, to reassure me, Supergrover would tell me that all was well. Yet not actually being available to me made it feel like a truth and a lie at the same time. I have no doubt that my signature is sewn into her heart. Me not being a priority doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me, but I have the choice with what to do with my energy as well. I will no longer feed people who don’t feed me. I am lucky that Supergrover recognized it and stepped up with grace and humility. It is just becoming more and more true, the quote from Anne Lamott…. “grace never leaves you where you were found.”
  4. How can couples navigate differences in values or life goals?
    • There are the same concepts in psychology that there are in medicine. The answer is “it depends.” I would recommend going into marriage counseling the minute you propose/accept. Seriously. There are REAL issues that couples never discuss before they get married, and here’s one that most people don’t think of, and it’s more important than people think- class and income disparity. It doesn’t matter so much how you handle money in the current day and age. Your views on money and marriage come from your first family. You need to shift from “me” to “we,” and it’s a hard concept to grasp because compromising with your siblings probably didn’t go all that well…… at least when you were little. It’s amazing how often in a relationship I become the annoying older sister who can’t be wrong, because I’ve dated mostly women. It’s my dynamic. Women are drawn to me because I have the magnetism of a preacher…. direct and settled in myself. Most women aren’t, so initially it’s an attraction and then it’s them tiptoeing around me because they think I don’t want them to take up space. That’s not true. I just couldn’t communicate my ideas effectively because I was bad at communication and bad at social cues.
      • I will never pick up what you’re really saying if you try to sugar coat anything, because I can tell a white lie from the real truth in a New York minute, because I can’t imitate social masking, but I can recognize it in other people. I will drag the real truth out of you. In my relationship with Supergrover, the fake truth was “we’re fine.” The real truth was “your words feel like pricks on my skin.” The Neosporin was “I am better off when I don’t read you, and better off when you do. I get something out of it whether you paint me in a bad light or not.” She’s so beautiful to me just for that one line alone. I don’t think anyone will ever say anything to me that will mean more, which is why I have to write it down. This is not a memory I ever want to fade. We were unhappy. Now we’re not. There were almost 11 years between unhappy and happy, albeit interrupted with genuinely happy moments. I haven’t heard from her in a few days, but it’s probably just because she’s busy. I sent her a letter this morning because I told her I wanted her to have something to chew on when she was waiting for a flight or a meeting to start. Now that we’ve started calling each other “Carmen” and “Player” (she liked that analogy, because of course she would like a red fedora and trench coat rather than Supergrover’s cape and helmet.
  5. What role does trust play in sustaining a romantic relationship?
    • It’s more important than people think because they don’t really communicate about vision and values when the relationship begins. Therefore, they have no idea what their partners are going to see as betrayal or not. If you break someone’s trust, it also depends on what kind of person they are. If they’re good at conflict resolution, then it’s possible to work it out. It is impossible to work with someone who refuses to hear you. So, word to the wise, don’t break anyone’s trust because you can’t see the consequences coming with a map and a flashlight. Documents are logical; people aren’t.
  6. How do you establish and maintain strong friendships?
    • I just realized that I talked mostly about Supergrover when she fits into this category. She just gets lumped in with my romantic partners not because she has ever been romantically interested in me, but because our communication level is that intense. It’s amazing how deep you can go with someone without crossing that line, and I am furious at all the bullshit I had to overcome to know that, because it didn’t come from me. I view us more as friends who love each other like literary characters. Anne Shirley and Diana Barry (OMG. “bosom friend” I CANNOT.). Anne and Shirley are indescribably close, but when they say “bosom friend,” it’s not a queer connotation unless you just need to see yourself in literature………………………………………….
  7. What are the boundaries of a platonic relationship?
    • The first is that if one friend develops a crush on the other, don’t tell them. Crushes tend to happen in what’s called “New Relationship Energy,” when all your senses are on overload and you’re waiting for their contact while going stupid in the middle of a restaurant waiting on a text. If you really like this person in a sexual way, evaluate it for a very long time, because it often takes time to realize why you would and wouldn’t be right for each other without the haze of rose-colored glasses. I’m not saying that friends to lovers is a bad story. It’s bad to have an immature crush, because if it’s someone with whom you want to go the distance, telling them very early destroys the friendship more often than not. Either they think you were only in it for sex and have been playing them this whole time, or it’s just too awkward now. Caveat Emptor, although my experience is that if you wait it out, sometimes the feelings are mutual because you actually have the intimacy there to expand. Sometimes you don’t fall in love with a person’s face. Sometimes, someone becomes the face you love because of the amount of intimacy invested.
    • Everything emotionally intimate in a relationship happens when you’re doing something else. There’s not that awkward “what do I do with my hands” moment when you’re flipping a house together or whatever. If you want to know people, invite them to do a DIY project. It is an excellent testament to how well you communicate….. one way or another…………
  8. How can you support a friend going through a difficult time?
    • It depends. What kind of difficult time are they going through? How close is the friend? Have they lost a friend, have they gotten a serious illness…. all of these things require different responses. The one thing that people need is continuing friendship, because you don’t get over the people in your life that you lose….. mostly because in something like a serious illness that friend is going to need support much longer than a friend with boy problems.
    • I feel like I handle this most effectively by triage. Who is in the worst situation at the time? My priority is always going to be Zac unless Supergrover and I start being friends in real life, because otherwise, she wouldn’t need me to show up and help (although I did get major brownie points when a storm ripped up her house and I offered to go bust my ass. It’s what lesbians do when they like a girl. I feel luckier than most, because by reading her words all the time and not talking to her has just reinforced that no matter what kind of relationship it is, this girl in particular is worth liking. I hope we can get to a place where we can consistently flip each other shit without raising actual ire. We really are too funny for this world (“I have reading glasses……. AND THEY ARE COOL” “You keep telling yourself that, buddy.” ๐Ÿ˜‰ ).
  9. What are the keys to a successful business partnership?
    • Don’t lie to each other, ever. Learn to work through conflict no matter how bad it get, because you won’t know what to expect up front.
    • Actually care for each other, so that one person is not trying to take more than their fair share of the profits by hiding it with the accountant. This is a huge one. I wouldn’t go into business with anyone I didn’t trust with my life before I got famous. I may never get famous, I’m just saying. Don’t pick your friends when you’re already rich. People who are millionaires and billionaires aren’t the first people I’d put on the list regarding trust. For instance, when I said that if I did ever make it big I’d open a non-profit, I’ve already asked Lindsay to run it…. not someone who would constantly undermine everything I was trying to do, whether it was financially or damaging my “brand.” I don’t even know what that is yet, it’s just PR speak.
    • A business partnership means to me that two people co-own a company. The first rule is that your team is not less important than you. If you are a dictator, employees will leave. They’re tired of toxic work environments, and the owners set the tone. Dysfunctional work relationships don’t last any longer than dysfunctional marriages unless you are absolutely unhireable somewhere else.
  10. How do you balance time between romantic partners and friends?
    • I’ve made my life so quiet that there’s not a million people competing for my attention so that I can pay better attention to the people that really matter. Bryn,. Supergrover, and Zac all have equal airtime, because Zac and I aren’t that serious. I spend most of my time talking to my girls. I prefer to have a few close relationships than many shallow ones.
    • I will never let a friend feel like I’ve ditched them for romance unless it’s an emergency. Again, triage. If I’m hanging out at Supergrover’s and Zac is in a bike accident, that’s a ditching. Zac wants to go to Target and is whining that I’m always gone? Tough shit.
    • People cocoon with their partners to the point of excluding their friends. I’m for spending time more equally with people so that if one of them “breaks up with me,” my entire world doesn’t walk out the door. I still have a sense of normalcy to my day. I am not saying that any of them are going to leave, I’m just talking about relationship dynamics overall. If you put all your eggs in one basket, what happens when it drops?

Hopefully Not a Darwin Award

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

Generally, things are named after you posthumously, and I don’t want to be given an award for the most original way to die, like accidentally rocking a Coke machine onto myself….. that’s a classic. In DC, I basically have the option of a museum, a statue, or a gravestone. However, the plots around Gore Vidal are already taken at Congressional cemetery, and I don’t live in The District proper. I’m not sure there are any other requirements to live there. But it wouldn’t matter. I’d rather be cremated because I don’t see anyone needing my body after the doctors with it (I am an organ, skin, and donor). I also don’t have a special attachment to one place, but a lot of them.

I’d like to become one with the Columbia River Gorge, because no one is going to rename that after me, but it’s where I’d like to spend eternity. And if you put me on the Washington side, I WILL KNOW. I don’t know how I will know that, but I do know that I’d take a lot of chances with ghosts, but I’m not one of them. I could outsmart me easily, because I create the logic. I don’t have to follow it. I am sure it is something that seems like a joke to me and yet is the source of all my real problems. I don’t have to follow what I say because I know what I think. I forget about the translation layer between neurodivergent and neurotypical people that makes me automatically sound immature and a little bit crazy because I haven’t thought it out. I’m like “The Doctor” in that way. People spend time with me and wonder how I get so far on half plans. It’s because I’m not threatened when they don’t work out or change. I just assimilate the new information into whatever the plan was before.

I realized I was struggling without Daniel because there wasn’t someone to social mask in the mornings. There was nothing to build anything with if we didn’t take the raw materials with which we started and put in the work. I don’t want to throw raw ingredients into a stock pot and hope for the best.

He told me that some of the things I said made him not want to engage. I said, “that’s fine and we can table it, but these are the important conversations to have and we can’t ignore them. Problems keep revisiting you.” He agreed with me and we moved on. I am not trying to make anyone feel bad, I’m saying, “this is the problem. What do you want to do about it?” Most people do not think of it as a problem unless it affects them. They rarely care when their actions affect you. What’s good enough for them is good enough for you in all cases, regardless of how their first family communicated.

I’m guilty of the same thing, but I’m trying to learn from my mistakes. I do not need everything to be doom and gloom all the time, but I do need for people to be emotionally mature and tell me how they feel instead of attacking me for bringing something up. It’s an easy and cheap shot that I will never let anyone get away with ever again. It’s the equivalent of “it’s not that bad. You’re imagining it. You’re dwelling on the past.” No, I’m telling you the feelings that are coming up for me now because of what happened in the past, and we can either deal with it now, or we can deal with it forever, because if this is always a one-sided conversation and it is important to me, it becomes a dealbreaker.

Yesterday, Daniel asked me how he could show me the most amount of love. My answer to that was twofold. The first is that if he really loves me, he’ll want a housekeeper before I move in…. one of those jokes that’s not meant to come off as a joke because I’m autistic/ADHD and I don’t remember anything going anywhere and I don’t create messes, I maintain them. They are piles, but it is my emotional support detritus.

Here’s why “emotional support detritus” is a thing. The first is that few houses come with built-ins where you can see anything inside. Every cabinet has a door. The neurodivergent brain has to have everything out in front of them all the time, because they do not create memories of where they place things. It’s a need for iron structure and an inability to create it with ADHD. I am a Virgo. Back to school has excited me since the 80s. I have bought every planning system known to God and man. The thing that has worked best is my original Palm Pilot with Graffiti 1. I never got the hang of Graffiti 2, and I am still butt hurt about it.

I might look on E-bay to see if I can find a Palm Pilot and a dock, because the form factor is so much smaller than my iPad and “Scribble” is harder to get used to than I thought it would be.

Interestingly enough, Graffiti 1 works really well on the Apple Watch, but it would be better if the Apple Watch supported the Apple Pencil because it’s so much easier to hand write with a stylus than it is with your finger, especially one as touch sensitive as the Apple Pencil.

I write like it’s Graffiti 1 anyway, because it’s easier than having to get all my letters perfect. It knows what I mean…… except for voice dictation. I have better luck when I’m on Bluetooth headphones, and I cannot be very far from my phone, because I think the voice files are actually processed on your phone rather than your watch.

I want an Apple Watch version named after me, because I have some good ideas. What if CIA gave us those batteries that lasted months without a recharge, and a chip that would fit inside a watch and be so powerful that you don’t need your phone for anything. I have a feeling that would involve creating a larger memory ROM, but surely if they have enough room for as much as they do now, they can put more RAM on the board. The biggest problem would be overheating, but if they can make tiles for a space shuttle to guard against heat, they can probably design something like that to absorb heat in an Apple Watch.

The battery is the main thing, because Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, and a 5g connection all take a lot of battery at once, and that’s before it starts processing apps. The one I use the most is “Find My iPhone,” because I can make it make noise from my watch….. unless my phone is dead…. then I’m on my own and that’s not a pretty sight. Although because of the Apple ecosystem, as long as I have a wi-fi connection, I’ll still get iMessage on my iPad. I will still get iMessage on my phone, as well as SMS.

Although I think if I ever get a new Android tablet, I’ll want it to have a slot for a SIM card because I won’t use anything for texting on an Android but Signal, Wix Secure Messenger, and WhatsApp. I use Facebook Messenger because it’s easy, but it’s not encrypted, either. If you want to chat with me on either of those platforms and already have my phone number, please do.

On my author page at Facebook, you can leave all kinds of comments, and the more engagement I have, the closer I am to being paid. It also makes it where anyone can message me, you don’t have to be a follower (although it would be cool, no lie). Sometimes I wonder if I should do an FAQ on Facebook as an introduction, but I don’t know what people would ask. I’ll answer anything, you just have to respect that “no” and “that’s too private” are valid answers.

Anyone is welcome to contribute, from my biggest fans to my biggest detractors. I do not think I am the expert on anything but myself, and your stories are your stories. I often get so many likes on a post that I don’t know what triggered the reception. Is it the time of day, is it my content, is it my characters, etc.?

The biggest surprise is being more popular in other countries than I am here. I have a huge following in India and the UK. Plus, I have flags all over the world where I know who they are. If you don’t want me to know who you are based on geography, I would suggest a VPN. ๐Ÿ™‚ I have so many people addicted to this web site that know me in real life, because they’re in the position where they don’t want to be written about, but they inhale everything I’ve written as truth because it is interesting and presented in a way that hopefully everyone can understand it. That I try as often as I can to use universal examples so that I’m not attacking anyone. I am laying down the facts as I see them.

Very few people are willing to stand by and let themselves be written as a villain, because that’s how they see themselves in my writing- not that I intentionally portray them that way. I have made it a point to record every up and down in every relationship, so that you don’t see me as paining anyone as perfect, not even Jesus.

Speaking of which, I am watching a docudrama on Netflix called “Testament,” and it’s all about Moses, starting with the story from when he was a child. The documentary part is interviewing all kinds of scholars from the Abrahmic tradition because he’s the only “character” that appears in all three holy books. There is a lot more information about him that way, and the Jews in the conversation have been very enlightening, because Jesus was a Jew. It’s fun learning about the traditions he would have been taught as a child, before he started branching out……. because in order to understand the future, you have to understand the past.

I can absolutely believe that as a historically known INFJ that his divinity started the moment he started arguing with the rabbis in the temple when he was 12 years old. That his divinity does not come from resurrection, but about being able to go toe to toe with the best theological minds in the world when he wasn’t even a man yet. His bar mitzvah was still a year away.

To me, I believe as Pete Rollins has said, that “a/theism is the greatest love story ever told, and the truth is in the slash.” To me, theology is not the end goal, whether there is a heaven and a hell, whether there is an afterlife at all. It is the ritual and the argument.

I got sidetracked when I was talking about Gordon Atkinson, who used to blog as “The Real Live Preacher,” as if he was a carnival act. I have never related more to anything in my life. He really opened up to me in those essays, and I understood myself so much better after reading him. I didn’t grow up to be a pastor, but I grew up with a pastor dad. It was hard not to feel like “The Real Life Preacher’s Kid,” because when you are a public figure’s family, you’re all in the fish bowl together……. and sometimes, two things happen…… severally or jointly. The first is that people think preacher’s kids are somehow better than everyone else. I mean, I am, but let’s not talk about Lindsay. (KIDDING)

I only say that because I really bought in. Lindsay was a walking wild hair, and I envied her for half my life because of it. Still do on days when she has to be “on” and I’m in burnout mode. I do my best work by standing behind her and just listening.

I did not have the strength (and sometimes still don’t) to have equal relationships with people by calling them on their bullshit. She learned it at three. I learned it at 45. There is a slight difference between those two ages, and I have to say that it probably comes from birth order. I was almost six when she was born, because her birthday is in June and mine is in September.

Therefore, I don’t have a lot of memories of what it was like to be an only child, but I do have quite a bit more than someone whose younger sibling was born when they were a toddler. I was blessed to have a sibling, because I was that kid. I talked about different stuff than most kids. I had the vocabulary of some adults by the time I was two or three because no one ever talked down to me. I was expected to keep up, and I did. Before Lindsay was born, I didn’t have that mostly neurotypical kid to intervene on my behalf. My main interest and what served me all through school was finding an outcast and sitting next to them, because I only wanted to talk to one person at a time.

Everyone thought it was because I was a preacher’s kid, and I’m sure that’s definitely part of it, but it’s not the whole story. I hate small talk, and if I was only sitting with one person, it wasn’t a good bet that we’d be doing small talk for very long.

That’s how Daniel became my boyfriend in 2nd/3rd grade. We were both “that kid.” We had more to talk about than basic 2nd grade shit, because we were both way beyond our peers with reading and music.

I will say something again that is meaningful to me about choosing Daniel. Not only did he know my mother, she taught him music for at least a year. So, that meant that Daniel was in some of my school plays with me, and my mother trained his voice. I can’t wait until we have our own house that will fit a piano, because I want to hear Daniel play my mother’s piano, as well. I am sure that it will become four-handed duets in no time, because I can’t keep the left and right rhythms going at the same time. If he doesn’t already play piano, I can at least teach him “All Blues” by Miles Davis.

Yes, Jason Moran. I know you’re terribly impressed right now. It is almost like I’m the savant you missed in taking on students. A pity, really (it’s got an easy bass line and like two or three chords). Although I’m pretty sure I’ve heard him play keyboards in his music, so I might get an accompanist out of this deal. ๐Ÿ˜‰

I might get an accompanist, anyway, if Colin wants me to lay down some tracks for his band. I think we’d have a great time together since he plays guitar and I sing, plus he has professional recording equipment in his attic. I can’t wait to show Lindsay that room, because I think it would be her heaven. Maybe for once we could be in the same band. ๐Ÿ™‚

Lindsay was in a band in college that I really liked called “The Cosmonauts,” and my favorite t-shirt at that time was “I’m with the band.” It went over really well with my in-laws…….. because I was wearing a nice sweater and when I took it off, it sort of amused and horrified them. I explained that it was my sister in the rock band, and I can’t tell whether that impressed or horrified them, either.

I have never been in a family that was really accepting of me, because I always felt like I had no right to take up room. When I felt like I had enough clout with Dana’s family to have my say, Dana was horrified because I was changing her family dynamics. Well, of course I was. You are introducing a whole new person.

With Kathleen, I think she really bought into the fact that she only wanted to have babies with men. And, to be honest, I think she was afraid of me becoming even more psychiatrically unstable because the research on taking antidepressants while pregnant suggested it would be dicey. But I didn’t care if Kathleen was the biological mom. I would have been happy either way. We just didn’t have enough money to swing it, or blamed it on that, anyway.

I think eventually I realized that I didn’t want to have kids with her, because even if I wasn’t the extra kid, she’d always treat me like that because that’s how she treated me currently.

My biological clock went CRAZY when I got together with Dana, because she was the right person to have kids with, even in retrospect. I would have preferred her to carry the baby, but she wasn’t buying it. She said she’d do it as a last resort. But by the time wee got to the OB/GYN, the phrase “geriatric pregnancy” did not sound appealing and we just kind of put the idea away.

I don’t think either one of us were actually capable of integrating an infant into our schedules without major changes, most notably getting out of cooking because Dana would never make enough money to support housing for both of us if we were depending on me to make all the money. My job history isn’t that stable with all the medical conditions I have, and it’s hard to integrate just how many doctors’ appointments I have without a cooking job, because my days off weren’t generally Saturday and Sunday. I could schedule my appointments in the morning and still be on time for work.

However, I have IT to fall back on, and as far as I know, Dana doesn’t. I didn’t pressure her to go into it at all, Aaron just noticed she was a great coder. She wanted to be a teacher, but didn’t make that a reality, either. We moved to Houston so that she could teach, because you didn’t need a Master’s there. She was rejected by one program and didn’t try to get into any others. It’s a shame. She would have been a marvelous teacher. I just don’t think she was in any shape to be a teacher by the time we arrived in Houston.

I don’t blame her in any way, shape, or form. The only appropriate reaction to an abnormal situation is an abnormal reaction. She was very depressed and I understood intimately. The problem was that I was also very depressed, and I couldn’t handle Dana’s depression at the same time.

Then, I got an influx of “new relationship energy” that was supposed to be clean, light, and fun. Well, since I was a jackass and told her my feelings were starting to change, she started not telling me things, as if that would make the situation better. I was guessing too much of the time as to what would make her happy, all the while making her ridiculously angry and not knowing why.

Enter Daniel.

“Oh, wait. You’re autistic. That changes EVERYTHING. If you’ve told me this before, I don’t mean to make you rehash, but tell me again how your autism affects you.”

It was the end of all the feeling like he was being bombarded by questions, because he’s a Doc. He saw which way that train was going and hopped on.

As we were talking, he said, “do you think the authoritative part of your personality is that way because you feel safer to express what you feel to me?” That was a lightbulb moment for me, because it’s exactly the thing I’ve been trying to explain to everyone for all time. If I don’t think you can handle my feelings, I won’t tell you what they are. If you don’t like my tone, you can tell me to rephrase something. But the more I don’t feel like I have to social mask around you, the more I let my guard down and I start writing like I’m blogging- to an international audience and not an audience of one. So, even if it’s not a personal attack, it comes across like one because I am not running what I say through every filter ever. I want those closest to me, especially someone I want to build a life with, to be able to take me at full strength. Daniel has agreed that he’s just as intense as I am, but the thing that was the most valuable about this conversation was feeling seen. And not just seen by Daniel as my partner, but seen by Daniel the doctor as well.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said, “oh, shit. This changes everything.”

It does, and I’m looking forward to every fucking minute.

Fear While Changing Trains

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.

First of all, :::checks notes::: WordPress, it’s “describe a phase in life in which it was difficult to say goodbye.” Just like it’s not “where’s the library at?” It’s “where’s the library at, asshole?” Never end a sentence with a preposition.

I do it a little bit.

Humor before I start diving deep this morning, because there have been many, many times in which it was Boyz II Men hard to say goodbye.

The first time it was a really hard transition was moving from Galveston to Naples the summer after first grade. I loved the beach (my sister did not- she used to run away from the waves saying “don’t. Don’t! Don’t!). I mean, she got over it…… she did get married in Galveston. The cultural difference between living on the island and living in small town Texas wasn’t hard because I didn’t like it. It was just a transition. I was especially close to my friends Asbury and Beulah Lennox, who kind of took over being my grandparents when my own grandparents were so far away. The bonus was moving about 12-15 miles from my biological grandparents, a complete change as well.

I do not do well with change, and I’m glad we moved in the summer so I could ease into it. Incidentally, since The War Daniel was not a member of our church, I didn’t meet him until September. I can’t remember when it was second or third grade when we made it official. ๐Ÿ˜‰ I will say that it wasn’t until I met The War Daniel that I felt truly comfortable, the INFJ/INTJ people we have always been. We were the book nerds, the music nerds, and the ones who didn’t give a fuck if people thought we were weird. We both have this historical Jesus personality, we just come at it from different directions. He’s a thinker. I’m a feeler.

Editor’s Note:

Two things. The first is that “The War Daniel” is a play on words, because of John Hurt in Doctor Who- “The War Doctor.” Daniel was a Doc in the Navy, embedded with a team of Marines.

The second is that if I say that I or anyone else has a “Jesus” personality, or that “it’s as hard to be me as it was to be Jesus,” I’m talking about his day to day life, not that I or anyone else has a Savior complex. Jesus cannot be much different than any current pastor (especially those in clerical collars willing to be arrested at protests), because he was a rabbi, though they didn’t have that term back then.

Incidentally, there is also no evidence one way or the other that Jesus wasn’t married, and it’s been a debate for centuries; think Catholic vs. Protestant- Catholic priests are told they have to bear the burden of ministry alone, because they can’t love everyone if they love only one person that deeply…. takes away objectivity or something. The Protestants, like The Avatar, discovered that pastors could not do it without a support system. His partner could have been anyone from John, the Disciple marked as “whom Jesus loved,” and I have not looked at the original Greek or Hebrew to see if there’s more context, like philia or agape. But right now, I’m willing to say that there is no evidence Jesus was gay one way or the other, either, because there is also a debate on Mary Magdalene.

Supergrover actually sent me several novels about this, and it’s basically that Jesus and Mary were married and were writing their own Gospel, the Book of Love. It does make sense. After Jesus died, the story is that Joseph of Arimathia (rich merchant) helped Mary and the children escape to France. It is, of course, fiction….. but based on the little evidence we do know. It’s just been too long, there’s too many questions that will always be unanswered. So, Jesus is who you need him to be, not the other way around…… as long as you realize that Jesus did not come here only to comfort the distressed. He came here to also distress you out of your comfort. No power over. Power with. It’s why he was peaceful about it, but probably hated the Sanhedrin because they were the most vociferous Jews regarding law and very little around compassion, which has no bearing on the church today.………….

I think what The War Daniel misread as anger was actually fear. We should have video called more before he went to rehab, but we’re *both* writers, and lapsed into that personality way too easily…. which took away too much of our compassion. I also know that being in a relationship your first year out of rehab is absolutely not advisable, so when we got engaged, I kept dating Zac because it really didn’t bother him. Because Zac is poly, Daniel knew he was no threat. That if Zac and I are building a life together, it consists of exactly what is happening now. I have so much love for him because he’s a solid dude as a friend and as a boyfriend. How our relationship is supposed to go is unknown. I just know that we probably won’t get closer than we are now. Neither of us has the time.

It wasn’t that we were rushing into anything, we were just each other’s end game. Daniel didn’t offer to marry me because of anything but I needed it for the health care and benefits as a military dependent. And it was his idea not because I wanted it, but because he saw I needed it.

So, the hardest transitions I have to talk about today are the summer before I met Daniel, and the months after he left.

The reason I chose to write about this instead of the transition after my mother died is that I just can’t go there today. So, I will tell you what I was feeling in the moment, instead. It is so raw and real that if you are also in grief, it might help you as well.

The ones who have helped me through all these transitions just being kind enough to sit with me and listen.

Christmas at My Own Pace -or- How Did I Not Know It was AuDHD?

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments

I’m posting this now because it seems the timing is “write,” but I actually wrote this in 2007, when I was living in Portland. If you’re still there, you should go to The Grotto. It was a very spiritual experience.

Dana and I have completely opposite schedules most of the time, which means that even though we live together, we really donโ€™t see each other any more or less than when we didnโ€™t. I find myself with lots of time alone at home with the cats and the Tivo, and Iโ€™m very happy with it. Especially as Iโ€™ve gotten older, Iโ€™ve become less willing to put up with an evening of trying to meet people.

But then there comes a point where I know Iโ€™m spending too much time alone- a sign Iโ€™ve come to watch for as a depression indicator- and I force myself into new and different situations to try and reverse the downward spiral.

On Friday, I came home and looked through the Willie Week to see what was going on. I thought about seeing a play. There are several going on right now that are inexpensive, and itโ€™s been a while since Iโ€™ve done the theater. But then something caught my eye that I thought was just right.

Billed as the Festival of Lights, there are decorated trees, a petting zoo, a live Nativity, and many, many different sets of carol singers. Itโ€™s going on from now until Christmas at The Grotto, Portlandโ€™s National Sanctuary to Our Sorrowful Mother. Sanctuary is kind of a misnomer, because The Grotto is not an expansive building with cathedral spires. Itโ€™s more like a labyrinth or a Stations of the Cross-type setup. As you walk through the lighted displays, piped voices tell the birth story. When the Christmas decorations arenโ€™t there, the walk is contemplative regarding the rest of Mary and Jesusโ€™ life (Joseph, fortunately or not, gets very little airplay).

Normally, I am not a big fan of piped voices, but against the backdrop of the lights, it seemed fitting. It felt more like a museum tour with headphones than the muffled sounds of a speaker system whose last job was a drive-thru.

After I took the short baby Jesus tour, I arrived at the top of a hill. From there, I could see a chapel, the aforementioned petting zoo, and a small stage. I made a beeline for the petting zoo, because I am a big fan of those goats that are almost as small as my cat.

I also managed to charm a camel named Fezzic into taking a carrot from me, which was far more entertaining than my last run-in with a camel. When I was a little under five, my mother and father took me to a Nativity play and a camel spit on me. Who knows, maybe I deserved it. In any case, I liked Fezzic a lot and resolved to work on my camel issues.

After I finished at the petting zoo, I went to listen to a quartet of singers that really impressed me. They didnโ€™t seem like paid professionals- more on the level of the best singers in their church choirs. There was something comforting about it- took me back to the days of standing around my friend Suzanneโ€™s piano with all my friends from my own church choirโ€ฆ which brings to mind a memorable year in which I was wearing a sweatshirt that had jingle bells sewn all over the front (Mother, I will take your apology for that shirt now). My friend David said that I โ€œtinkled when I walked,โ€ and started shaking the everliving bejesus out of me when Suzanne started playing โ€œSleigh Ride.โ€ I donโ€™t think my cerebral function has been quite the same since (shut it).

So there I was, absolutely freezing my bits off in the cold, lost in my memories of Christmas past, and I realized that this was the first time in, well, as long as I could remember, that I was able to take in Christmas at my own pace. I wasnโ€™t worried whether everyone else was having a good time, I didnโ€™t have to be anywhere, the hot chocolate was overflowing and the music just kept getting better.

I ended the night by going to the chapel, where the choir from St. Matthewโ€™s Episcopal Church did a setting of English carols- some even by Andrew Carter, the composer who wrote the solo I sang at Trinity last year.

I relaxed and listened to the music as I pondered the things in my heart. Christmas for the past few years has been stressful. This year, it has wrapped around me and comforted me before I even realized what was happening. It has made me more grateful for the life I have, for the people I have around me. Christmas isnโ€™t all about busyness, though thereโ€™s certainly that aspect of it. But my advice is not to get so wrapped up in someone elseโ€™s Christmas that you end up missing your own.

It was a worthwhile experience to go to a Christmas festival alone. I chatted with some people while I was there, but for the most part, it was just me and my (cheap) camera phone. I saw Christmas more fully- introspectively, I suppose- as an active observer of both music that conveys sentiments for which there are no words and pictures for which words do no justice.

I saw a three year old boy kiss a sheepโ€™s face.

The Mention of the Christ

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I used to belong to a group called the “RevGalBlogPals” and we did this thing (a meme, which is where the current picture term comes from, but back in the day it was bloggers who sent each other a writing prompt. We did the Friday Five, and this comes from one that said, “what makes you laugh at Easter?” It’s still 100% true, and I wrote this in 2007:

Dana.

Dana made me laugh so hard that I almost wet myself when I went to lunch at her house for the first time, which was, in fact, Easter 2003.

The funniest thing was that she didnโ€™t mean to make me laugh, and I think she might have even been a little offended that I laughed, but come on. When you hear what I laughed about, youโ€™ll laugh, too.

Danaโ€™s family has LAMB for Easter. Itโ€™s a tradition. Apparently, lots and lots of people have LAMB for Easter. I did not know this.

Perhaps Easter lunch should *actually* be roast lamb, fava beans, and a nice chianti.

And yes, it is not lost on me that communion is Jesusโ€™ body and blood as well. Transubstantiation isnโ€™t any less disgusting an idea when thought of literally, either.

But then again, with communion there are no leftover Jesus sandwiches.

This is from Good Friday the week before Ash Wednesday of the same year.

I canโ€™t believe itโ€™s already time for Ashed & Smashed! Such a great time was had by all at last yearโ€™s, and this time shouldnโ€™t be any different. In fact, itโ€™s getting bigger. Weโ€™ve invited just about everyone we know, and as it turns out, we know a lot of people.

For the unfamiliar, Ashed & Smashed began when Dana (my best friend) came to hear me sing at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Portland, Oregon. Afterward, we went to Jakeโ€™s Grill, a little bar on the first floor of the Governor Hotel (10th and Alder). We had *so* much to eat, and like, two hurricanes apiece. So we started throwing names around for this brand new holiday that weโ€™d just created.

Was it going to be:

-Blessed and Blasted?
-Kneeling and Reeling?
-Crossed and Canned?

Ashed & Smashed got the most votes by far, and there was only the two of us. Last year, the tradition was continued here in Houston. Dana came to visit and we invited as many people as we could think of. We ended up with a table full of friends, but surprisingly, no sketchy management of alcoholic beverages.

Itโ€™s probably because Ashed & Smashed will always fall on a Wednesday. Few, if any, jobs like it when their employees show up smashed, ashed or not. Tis the merriment of the holiday that counts, and thereโ€™s always lots of that.

Last year, a minister from Resurrection MCC stopped by our table and said that he could see all of our ashes and wanted to know if we were *celebrating* Ash Wednesday. We started talking and we asked him why we didnโ€™t see HIS ashes. He said, โ€œHELLO!!! Iโ€™m BLACK!โ€

And what do you say after that? We fell on the floor laughing, and went back to our drinks.

Special K -and- O Canada

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

From October of 2003.

I got an e-mail from someone who works at ExxonMobil the other day, interested because I mentioned being an out lesbian and working there in the same weblog.

So I talked a little about my experiences in Fairfax, both the good and the bad. I started with Kathleen and I walking in Dupont Circle and picking up a copy of The Washington Blade, then nearly dropping our ice cream on the pavement as we read a quote from senior media advisor, Tom Cirigliano. I’ll paraphrase it here: “ExxonMobil does not support domestic partner benefits, but in countries that allow LEGALLY BINDING gay marriage…” We started planning our trip to Vermont that afternoon.

But the real fun began after we came home.When Kathleen presented our certificate to Human Resources, they acted like they had never heard of civil unions, and to be fair, they probably hadn’t. We were assigned a caseworker and given a possible date at which we might be given more information. That date came and went. We finally called back. We were given another date at which we might possibly be given information. We went to church. We prayed. We crossed fingers.

Another month went by, and the date at which they said they’d call us back came and went, and we were assigned another date at which they might possibly give us more information. It was a nightmare of bureacratic red tape. What we didn’t know is that the senior media advior had spoken without any clear definition of what he was talking about. They were literally having to write a proposal for how they were going to include us from the moment we presented them with our certificate. No advance planning had gone into it, presumably because they thought no one would take them up on it.

Another few months went by, and I was hired by ExxonMobil Research & Engineering, which alleviated our concerns about joint health coverage. Now that I had my own, we weren’t concerned about my getting ill- but it was still a justice issue in that each of us wanted to be listed as the other’s spouse in case of a true emergency.

Another two or three months went by, and we finally sent a letter that was very kind but firm- something to the effect of “if the next time we meet we are only given another date at which we might possibly be given more information, we would like to seek legal counsel.” It was worded more diplomatically than that, but our intentions were clear nonetheless. I sent copies of every e-mail and every transcription of every voice mail to theย ACLU, theย National Center for Lesbian Rights, and sincerely thought about theย Washington Post. In retrospect, I would have had a lot of compassion for the people in HR if they had just e-mailed us and said, “we didn’t really think anybody was going to use this, so be patient with us while we write this thing from the ground up.” Wading through months and months with no inkling that any information would ever be forthcoming was the hardest part.

This morning as I sat down to write I didn’t particularly feel like writing about anything. But people who work on the assumption that you only write when you feel like writing don’t get book deals. So with that in mind, I went to Yahoo! and searched for “writing prompts.” The first site that came up was a writing resources page for people who teach junior high. Most of them were pretty inane, but this one just cracked me up: “What does Canada mean to you?”

I’m assuming that this prompt was meant for Canadian teachers wanting to bring out a small bit of patriotism in their students. But in the interest of having a good laugh, I’m going to attempt it anyway. So here it is, for your viewing pleasure:

What Canada Means to Me
by Leslie Lanagan

I am pretty sure that if Canada weren’t around, it would have taken the world a lot longer to realize just how ignorant and egocentric Americans can be. For instance, when I was in high school, I dated a girl from Fort St. John. Her accent was so thick you could cut it with a knife, so when we would go out together, people would instantly start in on this conversation in various forms:

Random person: Hey, that’s a great accent. Where are you from?

Girl I Dated: I’m from Canada.

RP: Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from there. Do you guys have Christmas on the same day?

GID: (flustered) Of course.

RP: Say out and about. Come on, please!

GID: Ok, let’s just get this out of the way: Out, about, house, mouse, boot, shoe, sorry. Is there any other word in the English language that you’d like to hear me pronounce before we move on?

RP: End a sentence with “eh.” Come on, you know you want to.

GID: (turning to me) That guy is a total fucking hoser, eh?

As an American citizen, Canada also means easy access to good Cuban cigars and cheap European imports. Hey, let’s not forget that even though I am sympathetic to the fact that Canadians have little to no identity outside their own country, I am also one of the egocentric bastards they do their best to avoid.

The end.

A Few Lines at a Time

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Tell us about your first day at something โ€” school, work, as a parent, etc.

Some of these are just vignettes in my memory.

On my first day of school, Lindsay was an infant and my mom was having a tough time letting me go to school all by myself when I was just as happy with Lindsay all day. She was the extrovert of the two of us- still is. I remember Mrs. Youngblood, and what she looked like down to the green smock she wore every day. My mother remembers that I walked over to a girl that looked sad and a few minutes later, she wasn’t sad because she thought she was going to be alone the whole time.

On my first day of work, I learned about shampoo. My first job was as a receptionist at Supercuts, and they saw me coming. My register never matched up at the end of the night, but at least the first day was a blast. I really enjoyed working there when people weren’t yelling at me about their hair, because I didn’t cut it. I swept, mopped, did laundry, and sampled everything. I was there when Tea Tree from Paul Mitchell hit the shelves. One of the first people to try American Crew (white people pomade). Those two things are my favorites today…… mostly because they don’t smell too girly.

Editor’s Note:

Apparently, this would not be a plus to a rando that just messaged me. He led with, “don’t take this the wrong way, but are you a woman?” I said, “how am I supposed to take it? I’m genderqueer and play around with gender a lot, but I’m genetically female.” He said, “I don’t even understand your answer.” I left it on “read,” because no matter what I respond, it’s going to lead to no good….. for him. Although I have to say that just because I’m not the one he’s looking for, some men love it. Some men have never had a queer girlfriend before and that in and of itself is novel, because they’re buying into something much bigger than themselves- or me. But the first step is always saying, “I bought rainbow boxers because I don’t know if I like them, but I knew you would.” I did. It made me feel incredibly loved and supported. Straight guys are getting there. Just give them another four hundred years.

The day of my first sermon, I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my life. I kept repeating something my dad said. He said it about other people, but here is what I heard. “I have big shoes to fill.” “I BROUGHT MY OWN SHOES.” I’d forgotten my cell phone that morning, subconsciously on purpose so I could focus. I was dating someone in the congregation and wanted to impress her, and I did…… but right as I was the most panicked and about to hyperventilate, someone came over and said the most beautiful words I’d ever heard. “Leslie……. it’s your dad.” He couldn’t get ahold of me on my cell, so he called the church- much to the parishioners’ astonishment. He gave me a pep talk and sent me out there.

You can even tell me if I did well.

The way I got to that time and place is not dictated by a “first day,” but first impressions. Here’s something I wrote about it in 2005 on “Clever Title Goes Here.” It’s what I remember from the day she invited me to visit her at school when HSPVA did a concert at UNT. I was 16 and so nervous I thought I was going to throw up everywhere, and now I still do, but for very different reasons.

Your stationary feels heavy in my hand, and Iโ€™m glad there are several pages to flip through. I wish you were next to me while I read your letters, because your handwriting is so unique that even after years of reading it, there are words I canโ€™t figure out. I laugh to myself, glad that one of my strong points is context clues.

Iโ€™m glad grad school is going well. Itโ€™s fun to think of you as a student again, and kind of cool that one of the requirements of being a student is teaching younger singers. Do you have any good ones this term? Better yet, any REALLY bad ones?

HSPVA is tough shit. Iโ€™m on academic probation again because Iโ€™m in three performing groups and rarely have time to do homeworkโ€ฆ and when I do, itโ€™s usually half-ass because I have four subjects all piling it on at once. I wish there were more hours in a day. Iโ€™ll probably be able to get back on track with English, Physical Science, and American History, but Algebra I is a wash. Iโ€™ll be lucky to get a 50 for the semester, never mind the six weeks. I think Iโ€™ll just drop it and take it again next year. My teacher is way over my head- she teaches at Rice for half a day, so I donโ€™t think she has much experience with the mathematically illiterate. Well, maybe illiterate isnโ€™t the right wordโ€ฆ mathematically terrified is more like it.

Funny story- I had a HUGE trumpet solo in my last concert, and during the performance I came in a measure early. The ENTIRE band skipped that measure with me so that it wouldnโ€™t look like I messed up. No harm was done, but Katrina looked at me like, โ€œCOUNT, YOU ASSHOLE!โ€ Mr. Carter told the low brass that when he realized what was happening, he wanted to take them all out for a beer.

Church is so different without you.

We have a new scholarship singer, Stephanie. I wish the committee hadnโ€™t chosen a soprano, because even though sheโ€™s good, her voice is so different from yours that it makes me a little teary-eyed, kind of like, โ€œyouโ€™re replacing HER with THAT?โ€ But the good part is that since Stephanie sits next to me, weโ€™ve kind of gotten control of our sectional sound. Much less old lady vibrato. Itโ€™s not the same, but I suppose over time itโ€™ll be tolerable.

I told my friend Amy that Iโ€™m gay today. I didnโ€™t know she was Southern Baptist, and she dragged me into a practice room and started screaming at me. Then she ran to the bathroom. Her friend Laura told me that she was throwing up. I donโ€™t know if I believe her or not. If I called Laura a bitch, Iโ€™m pretty sure it would insult bitches everywhere. How do you deal with all this shit? Iโ€™m so confused. I know I was wrong because I only told her that because I like her. I didnโ€™t expect her to come down on my head over it.

The worst part is that after I told Amy, she told everyone else. I was sitting outside with my friends when Amy and her group of airheads walked up to me with their Bibles and started reading me all this crazy shit. I ran to my counselor about it, but she didnโ€™t do a fuckinโ€™ thing. She just asked me what I did to provoke it.

โ€ฆโ€ฆ.

I sat next to Scott on the bus ride up, my palms sweating with nervousness. It had been two years since weโ€™d seen each other, and a person can change a lot in two years.

I didnโ€™t recognize you at first, with your super long permed hair and painted nails. And not that I would ever hold it against someone for losing weight, but you hug different and Iโ€™m not sure I like itโ€ฆ as if these things are up to me, right?

Thanks for the compliment on the performance. I was a little nervous about the triple-tonguing section, but I think I got it out ok. At least I didnโ€™t have to play really high and triple-tongue at the same time. Itโ€™s murder on my chops. Dude, a LOT of things have been murder on my chops latelyโ€ฆ I was put dead last in chair tests this week. I must not be practicing enough, but itโ€™s such a vicious cycle. If I play more, it really hurts- but the only way to get it to stop hurting is to play through the pain. Theresa, my trumpet teacher, says itโ€™s an embouchure problem that will take weeks to correct. What a thing to say to a musician three weeks before a jury! Dan told me the same thing in eighth grade, but I didnโ€™t listen to him then, eitherโ€ฆ it was three weeks before my โ€˜PVA audition. If only the world would stop spinning long enough so I could fix this thing.

Oh, and whatโ€™s up with calling jazz masturbatory? The only time I really feel lost in the music is when I get to write my ownโ€ฆ and thatโ€™s all a solo is- taking the music in my mind and putting it out there. Maybe if I was a better player, Iโ€™d agree with youโ€ฆ but most of my solos sound like muddy water.

That could be my jazz name. Muddy Water Lanagan. It has a ring to it.

This Should Be Short, and Yet It’s Not

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments

Name your top three pet peeves.

Before we get started today, I finally found the perfect keyboard for me. When I use it, I feel like Jason Moran (jazz pianist). The touch feels like it’s made to help me go faster. It’s kind of like having a new car, honestly. Like, there is a big difference in the feel of an accelerator on an old Toyota and a new BMW. With the brand new Bimmer, you’re going to touch the accelerator and be a quarter mile down the road. It’s nice to have a keyboard that is not in the way of being able to jump in that fast. The amount of force on the key to make a letter is almost negligible, but it doesn’t feel cheap. It’s that middle of the road touch between mechanical and laptop. If I had to name the biggest sensory issue I have in life, it’s the touch of a keyboard. I think this is because I know how important it is. I would not know that touch was important if I hadn’t lived with a pianist.

Because of my mother, I have words to express what I need out of a keyboard in the first place.

The prompt today is about pet peeves.

My biggest one is that my housemate has a maid and I don’t. I am terrible at keeping things organized, so my room is a mess and I white knuckle through the common areas because since we have a housekeeper, it is manageable. The problem is the six days a week when our housekeeper isn’t here. There are three of us, and only two of us help. Only the entitled one shares a bathroom with me, so I am constantly cleaning up after her. The way she does this is to say that because I have touched something, she cannot touch it. She comes from a culture that does not accept homosexuality and pretends that it is contagious and I am unclean. I have been laughing at her for nine years now, and it’s not funny anymore. I cannot beg her to do it, I cannot get my landlord to make her do it, because my landlord has talked to her about it also for nine years. So, if she washes her hair in the sink, it’s my problem. Has been for nine yearsโ€ฆ.. because I’m gay and that makes sense to her.

Because it’s been so long, I feel trapped between “this is unacceptable” and “this is my weird little family.” There is no way I do not have empathy for someone so twisted in their world outlook that they make me treat me this way. It’s not anger. It’s pity. I look down on her because she does clean up after our guests whether she brought them or not. I say that her culture dictates homosexuality as unclean because it sounds like very Karen behavior, and she’s the furthest thing from it. I cannot see it all the way around as entitled behavior because she’s been taught since she was a little girl that I should be in jail or dead. Therefore, I can understand and be angry all at once.

Another big one is not responding to emotion with emotion. I do not ever want to hear the phrase “you should have known” ever again. I am out of the anticipation business. I cannot be the expert on how I felt and how you felt, too. Because then you’ll berate me when I haven’t anticipated correctly. You have to be strong enough to communicate your needs with me. It is only my job to become emotionally flexible enough to hear them without reacting in autistic meltdown. It is not pretty and I always regret it. Always. However, now I have new ways to learn coping mechanisms. I don’t want people to feel like they have to walk around on eggshells, the way I feel when I’m trying to guess how to make our relationship better.

My answer for this pet peeve is time. I need to hear/read what you think and walk away. Let me have time to process, because I will look at it differently if I change my environment and come back. I do not trust my first reaction. Please always remember that about me and when I say I need time, let me go. I was emotionally abused as a child. I have trauma reflexes. That means my first reaction to everything comes from that place, and I don’t want to operate that way anymore. I react with autistic meltdown because you’ve interrupted my reality so violently that my environment feels different in panic. I often react with panic because I have been corrected so much about every little thing that I feel like a dog surrounded by an electric fence in most relationships. In anxious/avoidant, the avoidant person will move the target to avoid confrontation, so you cannot please them. Meanwhile, the anxious person feels like they can’t do anything right. Every relationship I’ve ever had has been like this to some degree, because I am the common denominator.

If you have trauma reflexes, after the trauma is over you’ll gravitate toward one of those extremes, and they marry each other constantly. That’s because one of you is social masking an abuser and one of you is social masking an enabler. The younger you are when abuse occurs, the more that pattern is ingrained. The person you really are is hidden underneath those trauma reflexes, because you built them to protect the bubble an abuser creates with you. Everything about how I react as an adult is based on how I reacted as a child to hearing secrets that were too big for me. I have learned that my first instinct is to protect myself from violence. If when I express needs, I am met with violence, I will do anything to avoid saying something and I become part of the problem. So much of writing to Supergrover all those years was learning how to walk in the world in a different way.

Because she’s a boss, her thought processes got under my skin quickly. Every time she got angry at me, I made a note of how and why. It wasn’t to throw things back in her face. It was, “I’m a nobody and she’s not. What can I pick up here?” She’s also not a politician, so she could give a fuck if she wins and influences me. ๐Ÿ˜‰ If she goes back and reads my blog, she will see that it’s just a collection of things she’s said in new contexts, and so many of those lines I got when she was adding new definition to furious. The reason I love her so much is that I find lines that flatten me in letters that are meant to convey annoyance, rage, whatever. I thought, “it must be love if you delight in even this.” For instance, when she said “be careful painting your feelings as fact.” I have quoted that in this blog at least 10 times because it was an image I could use and beautifully.

I wish I could get her to see that I stare at her Renoir like she stares at my Jackson Pollack. They are both beautiful in their own way. We are so magnetic when we are both painting our feelings as fact, because what is happening is that she has so much more to work with than I do. Whether she really doesn’t have time, or whether she’s avoiding writing back to feel guilty, the effect is the same. She knows more about me and can think about it than I know about her and can do the same. She has more context about my life, my mental health, my family dynamics, my entire heart and soul on the page, basicallyโ€ฆ.. because when she said I could, I started using a finer brush- that I’d give her details and she’d write back.

Writing back became a pet peeve because she’d find the things she didn’t like and leave out the things she did. I didn’t like living in negative feedback, because then she started to feel like every boss I’d ever had. Assuming malice where none was meant, turning everything back around as if I’d meant to hurt her by being honest about something, and just generally dealing with the fact that she doesn’t deal in emotions and I do. I write so much about this relationship because it became a list of what’s wrong with me and why. But instead of just saying she was wrong, I dug deep into myself and figured out what was going on.

She did not. Therefore, every time we came back together after blowing each other to bits, nothing changed because she’d react in the old way and I’d regress. I got tired of feeling like she was provoking me and telling me I was the one always provoking her. I was not, I was asking her what was going on in her mind regarding where we are and where we’re going because we have shit to deal with if we’re going to create a secure attachment.

The exhaustion came from feeling as loved as I’ve ever felt and a complete dumbass depending on the day; I never knew which woman was going to show up. As a result, neither did she. It was tumultuous and extreme because we were fighting our own battles in ourselves. My way to cope is to use my blog to be Jackson Pollack. Just like an artist, I am throwing my feelings onto canvas so I can look at them from an objective third eye. Her way is to throw herself into work and pretend that our problems will go away. So, I think it’s better to be apart, because I can’t go on having issues with her that are infinitely solvable with any kind of real conversation at allโ€ฆ. and by that, I mean she doesn’t have to come and pick me up or anything. Just send me an e-mail with your Renoir so that I have two pieces of art in my museum. I have only been saying “I feel neglected and this isn’t okay” because I am asking for so very little. I don’t care that she can’t be available all the time, I care that when she’s here she’s present.

I need to be less reactionary, and so does she. I don’t want to end the relationship, but I also don’t want to live in highs and lows, either. It’s too disruptive to an autistic mind, craving stability and having a volatile monotropic thought process. I am not saying I never had security. I’m saying that her coping mechanism was to end the relationship every single time she was mad about something, and then we couldn’t stay away from each other. Just binge/purge for 10 years straight. If my writing had any effect at all on her, it’s that it didn’t make her fall in love with me, but it did make a future in which we were alternately mad as hell AND also craving each other’s words. What do you think it means to her to be a voracious reader and have crafted pages like mine for long haul flights? What do you think it means to me that I’m the author she reads? That bond is unbreakable, which is how I know with a 60-70% chance that she is absolutely hanging on every word here while also not saying a damn thing. Good for her, because if I can’t entertain her one way, I can entertain her another. The delivery method does not matter, and if she isn’t reading, I also don’t care. I just think her morbid curiosity is stronger than her will. ๐Ÿ˜‰

I do not pretend she is dedicated because I’m writing to her. I am explaining my experiences with her, and it would devastate me to publish something just because I thought she wouldn’t hear about it. I have to consider the possibility because it would wreck me if I didn’t, because there could be repercussions for her, not me. I am trying to anticipate what will and will not be offensive to publish, working within limits. So many things here are analogies for something else that will come across to her differently than the point I’m trying to makeโ€ฆ. and also having to be aware of that, too. How much am I entitled to my stories and how much am I just actively hurting her? She doesn’t see that it hurts me not to know, and keeps everything close to the vest.

That’s not her fault, either. That’s just the difference between us. I have something she lacks- the ability to spill my guts emotionally. She has something I don’t- the ability to protect myself emotionally by not constantly focusing on others’ needs. We are both lying to the other- she’s as much a people pleaser as I am, she just makes it look goodโ€ฆโ€ฆ. and I only know because of how much she tried to please me. I regret every single time that I “made her feel like she wasn’t good enough for me,” because her feelings are valid and yet not a message I ever intended to send. How she got from “you’re the absolute love of my life and I’ll never put anyone above you again” is just beyond my comprehension, but it’s also my reality. I don’t get the right to make that reality untrueโ€ฆ. and she fucking knows it. That’s my anger issue.

That she cuts and runs when it’s hard, and it’s deservedly hard because it’s so fucking worth it. She does not see that’s what I’m saying. She sees it as “you’re a bad person.” I am not asking to change the nature of our relationship and make her act differently, I am saying that “this is a thing we should manage, not avoid.” Absolutely all of this is because of who she is as a person, but it’s not a dealbreaker at all. It’s that I need someone who can deal with the fallout, and she’s insistent on it not being her while also saying I shouldn’t talk to anyone else. It’s devastating to an enormous degree for both of us, because whatever she’s avoiding in me has nothing to do with me at all. I am asking for something she does not have to give. She’s 10 feet tall and bulletproof IRL while also putty in front of me, because she thinks she’s not good enough for meโ€ฆ. and has thought that about many other people. It didn’t start with me, and I know that.

For most people, she’d be a walking red flag. She doesn’t see that she gets to be that with me. That I’m the person who willingly said “the flag is a lie.” My feelings were deep and immediate because of it, and she’s run from it ever since.

The first fissure was treating me like I was suspect and avoiding me because I’d done something wrongโ€ฆ.. except the story she was telling herself was fiction. It was a diversion tactic to avoid talking about the fact that she was wigged I’d told her I’d had feelings for her. I tried to be cool. I really did. But I was wigged that both she and Dana were angry at me about it, because I didn’t have a secure environment anywhere. Not at work, not at home, not in the cloud anymore.

It was a time of trial, and instead of blaming everything on others, I got the help I needed. But the problem with Supergrover never went away. Just avoid, avoid, avoid. Checking in once in a while and gifts were enough. It confused me, and she got angry if I said so. I began to walk on eggshells in a way that I don’t for anyone else anymore. I have explained both sides of the story; Dana was going down, but that didn’t not mean that Supergrover led to my decision to break up with her. I couldn’t deal with both their anger at once, and Supergrover was the more stable choice at that point. It wasn’t the whole storyโ€ฆ.. but it made cutting ties to Dana so much easier when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would benefit me.

She just got freaked that I chose to come back to Washington to do it, because she thought it meant that I was leaving Dana for her. What she did not realize was that a tiny part of it was for her, but not all of it. I could have broken ties with Dana from Houston just as easily. What I could not do is live in a city without a car. What I could not do is find impartial friends who didn’t know me from Adamโ€ฆ. I know my friends. I know that they love Dana every bit as much as they love me. I also knew that Dana needed them more than I did and it was easier not to give them a choice. You can keep up with me online, she needs you to jump in. Go to her.

Just because Dana was a walking red flag didn’t mean I didn’t love both of them equally. Dana just didn’t like sharing me and didn’t have a choice. Every “come to Jesus” meeting was a rehash because she treated me so differently and I never knew which Dana was going to show up, either. We all have trauma reflexes, full stop.

The entire problem was that when Supergrover pulled back, she didn’t have that choice, either. She thoughtlessly put something into my head that will affect me forever and decided she had the right to just let me cope. I don’t have the right to make her do anything, but I do have the right to be angry that she did indeed fail me in some respects, and absolutely delighted me in others. She is a spectrum, a 3D character, you might say. ๐Ÿ˜‰

I loved checking in once in a while. I loved getting gifts in my e-mail. All that stuff was so rock solid. What wasn’t was all my anxiety roiling underneath, the feelings she refused to acknowledge that she had created. The feeling of “not good enough” doesn’t come from the fact that she is failing me. She is failing us. I could love her more deeply and be less reactionary with more information. I do not feel anger at her, I feel angry about my insecure attachment and environment because of it. Her conflict avoidance told me more than anything I could ask her outright, because she thought I was hysterical and overemotionalโ€ฆ. because she doesn’t see that my approach to life is so different. She sees it as needing me to get with the program while also not explaining what the program entails. Hard to be successful when you don’t know the rules, but she doesn’t do rules, either.

Therefore, I feel like she steps all over my boundaries by withholding information, and I step all over hers for asking for it. We are at an impasse and always will be, because now it’s up to her to accept my reality. If she doesn’t, a part of me will always be angry with her, but it doesn’t mean that my love gets smaller. It only means that it will remain unresolved, and that causes feelings of injustice. An INFJ does not do well with injustice, local or global.

So, now I’m just working on the anger, and she’s not working on the anger she “doesn’t have.” She says in words that I’m just projecting. In her actions, I feel on target. That’s because she’s never vulnerable about anything. When she’s mad at me, I don’t know it. As you can see, that doesn’t cause problems at all. I didn’t walk away because I was angry. I got tired of feeling like my emotions don’t matter to her while she’s saying that’s untrue in words and deeds.

She did something enormous for me when we met, and I think in some sense I’ve come across as ungrateful because she sees me pointing out problems as throwing emotional bombs. That’s not true at all. I can handle bigger emotions than she can, so I write from that place. She reads it while being buttoned up, so it feels like an attack because she can’t receive what I actually mean. She is moving too fast and accusing me of moving too slowly. Again, the leap between a neurotypical and neurodivergent brain with the exception of both having CPTSD. It’s amazing to me how our traumas are on completely different playing fields, yet our reactions are the same, yet mirror images of each other. I forced us into a bad pattern, and it is better to walk away and lick my wounds than it is to convince her I’m right.

My emotional strength makes me care about myself in a different way than I did beforeโ€ฆโ€ฆ. but not entirely.

“For all our mutual experiences, our separate conclusions are the same.” -Billy Joel, Summer, Highland Falls

Hers is a gift I’ll never be able to repay, because now I have the confidence to believe that if I speak, powerful people will listen because that’s what I’ve been taught. At the same time, I can’t go on with such an inflexible power structure, because the avoidant one always has it. They don’t do things wrong, you’re a problem.

All I want is reconciliation on my terms, because we’ve been on hers for so long and it’s not helping either of us. If it’s not helping either of us, I have other friends. She thinks of me as someone who points out everything wrong with herโ€ฆ. and in my mind, she is everything amazing about being on this planet.

The last pet peeve is that she’s funnier than me.

In Another Life, Hood to Coast in One Day

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Beach or mountains? Which do you prefer? Why?

I seem to have fixed my keyboard issues except for the “a” key. Sometimes it works, sometimes the repeat rate makes me insane because it slows my typing speed to a crawl. Even though I type very fast, I will not sit there and actively look at a typo. So, I did what you do in a tech situation for peripherals. If something breaks, buy a new one. The old one will fix itself immediately. Definitely worked on my Apple Pencil, and it was only $100 for that pro tipโ€ฆ. and you just got it for free.

I accept tips.

If you’re a consistent reader, you just laughed as hard as I did. I hope that when she bought her next Big Gulp with it, she got something good. I love sugar free now, buat as a kid, it was always a suicideโ€ฆ. which is basically a Long Island Iced Tea for a nine-year-old. It’s what we in the US call it when you fill your cup with a little bit of every soda on tap. It’s one of those drinks you remember fondly, and then you go have one out of nostalgia and realize why you stopped.

All of this is background information on why I prefer the mountains to the beach. In the mountains, I can both ski and write. I love to swim, I do not like the beach. I am not afraid of being stung or bitten as I have already been stung by Portuguese men of war. MEN. Apologies to Dana for not getting her out of the way fast enough when she said, “hey. What’s that floating breast implant?”

The funniest part of that incident was a scuba diver telling us to go to a convenience store and buy some chewing tobacco to soak up the stingers. Just mix it with water and make a paste. We needed more soda anyway. Sold. Dana insisted on calling my doctor stepmother. I said, “Dana, if I call her, she’s just going to say that we’re idiots for not believing the subject matter expert in front of us.” So Dana says she’ll call her. I could hear the whole thing and she wasn’t on muteโ€ฆ.. The shit eating grin on my face at “ARE YOU CRAZY?” was legendary.

I see into people. I know I doโ€ฆ..

I walked away tremendously satisfied, but it was just another instance of how Dana stepped all over me. I didn’t see it until one of my closest friends pointed it out. That I’d taken on a tremendous amount of responsibility and he was the one that suggested that Dana bring me flowers the night I got home from my first day at work. That she was really thoughtless toward me so much more than I realized. This is not someone who pined for me. This was someone who drove with his girlfriend to help me move- he drove my truck from Portland to Houston with all our stuff, and then I gave it to him as payment.

It was so cool. When I first got it, he gave me a bumper number like the military. He asked me what I wanted, and without blinking I said, “11” (Matt Smith, my favorite Doctor). Then, he spray painted a Dalek on the door- and not even a minimalist symbol, either. It was a whole mood.

In short, this was not a play for me. It was “stop being blind.”

Seven years and I just thought she was loud and boisterous. It didn’t occur to me that especially after she got her DUI, I don’t know if she was drinking more or if she was just angry and felt guilty all the time, but the constant superiority over her memory being infallible and mine being crap didn’t earn her any favors.

I write about memories all the time, and I’m very good at it. I know this because my family says I remember those memories accurately, and you cannot feel good writing about your family until they tell you that. My mother had a very, very good memory and I got it from her. I hate it. I really, really hate it. This is because when I get into an argument with someone close to me- Dana, Supergrover, Meagan, whomever- I am very good about saying “this is a pattern and we need to change itโ€ฆ. and here are the six times it has happened before.” It’s not noticing. It’s not caring. It’s “throwing things back in my face.” Meanwhile, they’re moving the goalpost further away from accomplishing anything. Everything becomes all about my behavior and not attacking the problem together.

Sometimes I just want to be bad at remembering things. It’s not always pleasant. I don’t just remember the good things. It makes my writing better and my feelings disparate. Just like being nonbinary, it’s a spectrum. I have laughed and felt weird the whole time I’m writingโ€ฆ. yet this is not for me later today. This is for me in five years.

You get it today, but I won’t understand it fully until I’ve read it without context. What was happening in the room while I was writing. I don’t remember every entry, but I do remember the hard ones. “Go Tell the Bees” has been the hardest on me in years. Even though it wasn’t all the closure I needed, I did cry all the way through it, which meant several hours of gut-wrenching pain. I dragged it out of me, and I love it so much now that time has passed. In the moment, I published it and walked away. I later recorded it, and had to pause when it became too much.

Even last night when I read the prompt about beach vs. mountains, I thought about what our trip to Coos Bay would have looked like.

I realized after I’d fallen down on the job of trying to be the most perfect friend who ever friended that there was a big difference in my personality and my illness. That I didn’t give two shits about Michael. I’m in a solo-poly relationship, so obviously jealousy is such a problem for me. It was never anything about that. All my social masks failed at once and I was stumbling around, grasping at straws. But we’ve come a long way in 10 years. The last picture she sent me was so incredibly sweet.

I said, “I haven’t had a recent pic of you in a long time. Send me one? Nothing fancy, just want to match a name to a face. Don’t make it weird.” It is a goddamn portrait, the most beautiful picture I’ve ever seen of anyone because in that moment, she just turned the camera around on her front porch, and the way she’s smiling, I know she knows she’s looking at me and no one else. I’ve always loved pictures of her, but I’ve never had one where I just flat out asked and therefore I knew she was thinking of me. She said she must be getting soft in her old age if she was willing to send a pic to anyone, and my heart “grew three sizes that day.” It was a moment I’ll never forget, because she recognized it was a moment, too.

My allergies may or may not be acting up right nowโ€ฆ.. mostly because even though I love the mountains, I’d never go there ever again for one moonlit walk in our jeans and sweatpants, the uniform of Coos Bayโ€ฆโ€ฆ.. which is in the state where we started and created our own.

Laughing So Hard You Must Send Help

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Yesterday, I made pasta with pesto. It was an entire box of spaghetti, so I just ate as much as I wanted and put the rest away. Pasta acts as a sponge and gets dry overnight in the fridge, so rather than eating too-dry pasta, I just made a second sauce. You can do that with pasta, and it tastes better than reheating the same thing. Tomorrow, I might add diced tomatoes.

Today, it was Alfredo. I browned some pumpkin seeds in salted butter, adding garlic powder and black pepper. Then, I added flour. The flour sauteed for a few seconds as I got out my whisk and milk (it’s important to have the heat very low for roux. Gives you more time to catch a mistake). I do not know how much flour. I whisk in milk slowly. I don’t know how much of that, either. If I add too much, it will take longer because I will have to wait for the sauce to reduce before I can add the Parmesan-Romano.

I am a professional cook and do everything by feel and palate. It’s not “being a snob,” it’s 10 years of experience at work, my entire adult life at home. A roux just a 1:1 Tbsp. ratio flour/butter and a half cup of milk being exact, but you can break the rules if you know how to follow them. If I know what the sauce is supposed to look like, I can change gears on the fly, where butter is clutch and flour is accelerator. Some people measure. I guesstimate accurately, and there are very few mistakes in flavor I cannot fix; I really only throw things away if they’re burnt, or, God forbid there’s blood on it now (accidents happen).

I am telling you what to do because I know what I’m doing, not because this is some kind of food magic only I possessโ€ฆ and that’s actually the point of this entry. When I was cooking, I was thinking about one of my last entries in which I talked about running a kitchen at home, and today I was thinking that relationships are so telling by how you work in one. If you are in a relationship, dinner is always a two-man job. I know that this is impossible every single night, I just think that whoever is home should participate. Both “stations” suck, so trade off.

One person is mostly the cook, one person is mostly on dish. There is a chef and a sous, because it’s easier for one person to manage the recipe and assign parts out. The most essential thing that a sous can do is be available. Chop the onions. Grate the cheese. Most importantly, wash every pot and pan as they’re done using it. There are some things where you can cook and clean at the same time, like if I have a rice cooker going and I want sausage to go on top or whatever. Those things are going to be done at such different times that I can handle it.

But having a pot washer is invaluable with pasta because the pasta goes into the collander, then back into the pot. You pour the sauce from the saute pan into the pasta pot so you can mix/reheat. The other person washes the saute pan and the collander, because the person mixing pasta has gone on to plating. Once the food is plated, one person can carry everything out while the other washes the pasta pot.

When the pasta pot is clean, the only thing left is putting plates and silverware into the dishwasher.

It takes teamwork to run a kitchen that smoothly, but it will change your life on days where you eat all three meals at home. Plus, it’s easier for me to social mask around all that stuff. Being in a partnership reminds me to do things like eat.

I look forward to cooking with Zac one day, because he does like it. He buys all kinds of interesting things for me to discover when I’m housesitting, like blocks of haloumi cheese that I seared with za’atar (that was so good I ate most of it right out of the pan). That being said, when we’ve gotten together we’ve either gone out or to Trader Joe’s, where inevitably there will be something new and different we must buy immediately.

My favorite meal we’ve eaten together is Korean fried chicken. I do like the flavor of southern fried chicken, but not like I love this. I could eat soy garlic or spicy chicken every day for the rest of my life (just not exclusively). Most people eat chicken, veggies, and rice in some combination most days. If you have a close, deep, personal relationship with Popeyes, Korean fried chicken will be up there on your list, too. It’s also almost as good to take off the skin if you have to avoid high-fat, because the marinade is just as good as the sauce. Plus, cooking it on the bone will yield better results than taking out the skin and bones beforehand (morbid, yet true). There’s a reason drums and flats are more popular than boneless. Not the same playing field.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I do like chicken nuggets. I just don’t like McNuggets. I think they taste fake. I do like grocery store chicken, like Dino Nuggets. They’re great with a little salt, pepper, and garlic before you put them in the oven. Season them just like you would patties for a chicken sandwich- ditto for vegetarian or vegan Quorn. Quorn nuggets and patties are my go-to at home.

This is because I also like to buy my own wing sauce rather than buying nuggets that are just “Buffalo flavored.” :::stares in Morningstar Farms::: Right now my favorite wing sauce is ghost pepper and tastes more on the Sriracha end of the spectrum than Buffalo. I pair it with Daiya bleu cheese most of the time. If I have time, I’ll make it. Cream dressings are one of the few things that it’s easier for me to make than buy because the ingredients are so cheap. Even if I was a millionaire, it would not make sense to me to pay for mayo I was going to use in a dressing. I would only use the dressing for one night. I would need the preservatives in pre-made mayo.

Thinking about the jobs you have in the kitchen requires both understanding what they want to eat. The thing that my ex-wife and I learned in a restaurant was how to divide up a recipe without thinking, at home or at work (she was my first chefโ€ฆ which is cute to the point of nausea). If she was grilling, I was making sides. If people were coming over and it was a bigger operation, we were both making sides and rotating who went out to flip the bird in front of the neighbors. ๐Ÿ˜‰

The thing that made our relationship work in the kitchen is that I liked making sides and Dana liked grilling, but if she didn’t feel like it, I could grill and she could make sides. Both jobs were important, and we were both outstanding cooks. It was nice to both be competent so we didn’t have to do anything, we chose which jobs we wanted.

In our professional kitchen, I liked making things like eggs, pancakes, and oatmeal. She also liked eggs, but liked being on the meat side of the griddle- I can only assume because she was a butcher (butcher than what?).

When my father got the job in the Heights, my mother met another piano player and they used to do four handed duets together. I loved how all four parts fit together, and there’s not a better description in my mind now that Dana and I were always a two-handed duet and oh, dear God I just heard it.

I can’t top that. I’m dead.