A scene is playing in my mind, because new learning has come from an ancient place for meโฆ my own beating heart. The reason I learn so much there is that Iโm not the only one in it.
I will say it in English, but I know right now that hearing the AI read the title back to me will make me cry (this was first published on Medium and I have only listened to it 86 times and I need another hundred because the baby said, “lovely post, btw.”:
The Finnish mother rocks her American baby and sings quietly.
The room is quiet. Esteban is goneโฆ there is war. Only Aino remains. Aada drinks deeply, struggling to stay awake. Aino is not sure who she is singing for, but it is a blanket for both of them. Iโm a silent observer of a mother and a baby I love, their connection filling me. Aada is not a baby anymore, as that war is long forgotten. It is questioning what those melodies might have been that pique my interest. How do you sing to your baby when your husband is at war?
Whenever anyone said something smartass about Daniel not being an MD, my standard reply was โmy stepmother has done brain surgery in an operating theater. My boyfriend has done brain surgery while his team was being fired upon. OF COURSE he wasnโt qualified to do brain surgery. In the Navy, you GET qualified. Itโs a very short course.
Singing to your baby is different in peacetime.
This is not peacetime, either.
I canโt remember who said, โyโall can go to hell, but I will go to Texas,โ yet I am reminded of it by my motto being โyโall can go to Texas, but I will go to HEL.โ Little airport humor for you there, Carlos. Aada says sheโs not sure sheโd live there, but my heart hopes my guest room has some of her stuff on the walls. I have, in fact, pre-ordered.
I have felt that strong a connection to that babyโs picture for many, many years. Sheโs older than I am and I was concerned about the microclimate of her pram. Like, WTF? I THINK SHEโS OKAY (well, thatโs debatable but we are both โworks in progmess.โ Our roles are now somewhat opposed. The most hilarious thing happened. Just about the time she got over her girl crush on Brenรฉ Brown was when I realized that I wasโฆ.. just a different version of Dr. Brown. Her, to me: โI just realized that vulnerability does not solve everything. I AM TIRED.โ Me, to me, internally: โlord help me Jesus Iโm fallinโ down the stairs.โ)
I donโt say, โlike, WTF?โ I have been under the influence of a cis woman and it should wear off in 24โ48 hours. However, I will not call my doctor if it doesnโt, it just means that sheโs brought a few of my female social masks back. As I was telling her, my female social masks have failed and Iโve forgotten how, in a sense, to be a woman. She reminds me a little too muchโฆ. but Iโll keep her.
This is because she finally came clean with me. The reason sheโs been so avoidant is that sheโs a superfan. She wanted to impress me, and it backfired. We had a huge blowout, but thatโs the thing about blowouts. Everything is clean and new again.
Aada is Supergrover, but of course I used a Finnish name generator. I feel I have to neurodivergently explain this because it is yet again another situation where I thought I was going to look like a stalker for moving to a country in which I didnโt even know sheโd actually lived. Thatโs because I moved to DC to meet someone else, and Aada stayed far away from me to cover up what sheโd done, making me feel like absolute shit because I thought she loved me- not like that. I thought she loved me like โhell no I will not pick you up at the airport, but here is $50. Dinner is at SIX.โ
Itโs so much more profound than that. I was right. We need each other now, and weโre bound by the brain. She joked about two old women in Home Depot or some shit and I thought, โI hope we do nothing together someday.โ Sheโs different. Softer.
More vulnerableโฆโฆโฆโฆ. and it solved everything.
Peace does not happen in a day or a week. I have a general sense that things are calm because my rejection sensitivity dysphoria said, โshe thinks youโre a stalkerโ and her rejection sensitivity dysphoria said, โif this brilliant writer finds out Iโm a nobody, Iโm done.โ This push/pull lasted until I put a stop to it and our friendship. Just went scorched earth because I had her dead to rights.
There is no more reason for her to be evasive. She can show up as her whole self, knowing that I love her truly in her perfection. Divinity is humanity. It is loving each other through these things that make me wonder how her รคiti raised such a beautiful girl. Weโve been pen pals for over 11.5 years. She has turned me into her from the inside out.
I have also raised a very, very fine Lanagan in return.
I used to think that the way my relationship came apart with Dana was due to me and me alone. It’s taken me a very long time to realize that no one carries a hundred percent of the blame for anything. That’s the hardest time in my life I’ve had to say goodbye to, because it was all encompassing. There is nothing left, and I am empty. I don’t love Dana, but I care that she’s okay after the fallout. It’s not wrong to want to know that someone has recovered when you’ve mistreated them. It is not wrong to know if there is something worth rekindling later in life (not with Dana, with the friends I got through her. Dana is a no-fly zone because our relationship ended with my glasses smashed into my face. I only let that happen once; even though Dana was my sweetheart, statistics don’t lie and I didn’t want to be that stupid woman who won’t leave in the future. It took a long time to get there.).
We can talk about my emotional affair with Supergrover all you want because I have never claimed that I am an innocent party in our destruction. Let me be clear again that I was the only one that struggled with romantic feelings for both of them, and not having any background at poly, managed to freak them both out at once. It was special. My best answer was “Supergrover is not interested in me, and if she was, that would be a threat. This is okay because it’ll never go anywhere.” It did go somewhere. We were blissfully happy in our little bubble chatting about anything and everything while Dana had no reason to be jealous. She wouldn’t let the relationship settle. If anything, she’d gotten a promotion and I needed a new best friend. When I married Dana, there was a hole in my life- the woman who talked shit about Dana with me so I could be a better person while also getting my feelings out.
My sister-in-law got it. Dana didn’t got it. That a crush lasted a little while, love of Supergrover was forever and those were two separate things. Who among us hasn’t had Schrรถdinger’s feelings for a friend while you figure it all out? I was angry and mean trying to push her away and she was angry and mean because she wouldn’t let me get away with isolating. This was annoying and necessary, something my mother did to me all the time and I hated her for it. “Just let me be” while also desperately needing someone with whom to talk it all out. You mean someone will check on me? I don’t have to check on myself all the time? I wasn’t a good friend, and I was fired for cause. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t remember that time in my life fondly because there were so many lessons that propelled me to today’s date.
Today, I get to have conversations like “Pippi Longstocking and Moomin are both turning 80 this year. I’m reaching out to all my artists because I could do it with AI but it would suck. I want a short on this.” Someone actually in the entertainment industry had the presence of mind to say “run it by Oy, Ltd (Moomin owners) and Astrid Lindgren (Pippi owners) first.” He did the same thing on the Ramona movie.
I want to go a new direction with Ramona because I don’t think Cleary noticed things about herself that she put into Ramona. She’s a combination of Harriet the Spy and Brenรฉ Brown. Her pattern recognition is picking up people’s emotions. This is especially evident in “Ramona and Her Mother,” “Ramona and Her Father,” and “Ramona and Beezus.” Each is an exploration of how she tries to fit in with her family, knowing she is the bookworm and doesn’t even care about being popular like Beezus. I have a feeling this continued because ignoring popular kids is the skill of every Ramona. Her inner monologue is so fine-tuned that you can tell she’s social masking a lot of the time before we knew what ADHD and Autism looked like in women and girls. Perhaps even Cleary was autistic and writing about her own experiences as a neurodivergent child. It doesn’t matter which one you have- some ADHD is debilitating and autism isn’t that bad, sometimes it’s the other way around.
The first diagnosis in medicine is always correct.
It depends.
I have run this by a doctor, a surgeon, and a Naval “Devil Dog” embedded with a team of Marines. All of them have said this is correct, except I think said Head Medic II was akin to “sure as shit.” From all of them, I got the standard compliment you give a doctor when they catch a fascinoma (case they’ve never seen before, like prima facie in law); “good pickup.” I don’t pick things out of nowhere. I have the same kind of pattern recognition House does and I’m just as rude about it (to most people…. to me I am factual and clinically separated because we are talking about issues, not people). I also know what’s above my pay grade and what’s not. And in fact, I have a good redirect I keep in my back pocket to keep people from bothering me, because I wear scrubs as pajamas and run into the neighbors.
Woman comes up with a very ugly rash on her arm and asks me about it. I’ll tell you what happened and then I’ll tell you why I’m a dermatologist. I can make you one by the end:
Ma’am, I’m not an MD. I’m just a medical assistant and it’s been a while since I’ve worked professionally. But what I do know is that you need to call your doctor immediately because you have a severe case of erythema nodosum.
Here’s what I actually said:
I’m not a doctor and I don’t know what the hell it is, so call your PCP/GP and tell them that you have little red bumps of unknown origin. That’s as good as it gets from me, dawg.
That being said, I was made a dermatologist by my rheumatologist stepmother, and I am an expert. Like, I’m the best. Just ask me. Here is why you, too, can be a dermatologist by the end of this article (not really…. please).
If it’s wet, dry it.
If it’s dry, wet it.
If it’s not on steroids, put it on.
If it’s on steroids, take it off.
If you know what it is, don’t touch it.
If you don’t know what it is, for God’s sakes don’t touch it.
This works for everything from horses to zebras…. to use a House reference that is actually a medical axiom…. never go looking for zebras because it’s usually a horse. But then you have doctors like House who get all the zebras in a hospital at once. It’s an impossible job, and it pays less than a surgeon because medicine pays you to cut. You don’t make money until you have a procedure. In rheumatology, these are things like infusing patients with immunoglobulins and Disease Modifying and Reducing Drugs (DMARDs). Lupus (really) comes with all of that and more, like ridiculously high amounts of Non-Steroidal Anti-inflammatory Drugs (NSAIDs), and when that fails, Oxycodone and Methodone.
You have your frequent fliers, but most of the time people are in so much pain that they keep their meds under lock and key, sometimes too weak to swallow them. Injections are your friend, and I wish my psychiatric medications came in syringes I could plunge into my leg every morning for this reason. I have a Pavlovian response to pills and that is the vomit comet.
All of these things make me feel like more of a child than I really am, because who can realistically throw up at the office or into a trash can in a kitchen every single day? Even if I could, that’s “marked as a weirdo” on day one and “something is wrong with her” on day three. I assure you that something is most definitely wrong with me, but the vomit comet is just a medication side effect. I also had a “suuri kuppia kahvia, mustaa” (large coffee, black), which might have something to do with it. I needed the extra push today, so I ordered a large coffee, two 2L bottles of Diet Pepsi, and made sure to refill the cold brew for tomorrow morning. After I am done writing, I am done thinking. It’s time to put on my headphones and zone out, cleaning and de-sanitizing my apartment. It won’t take too long as I just have to get out the trash and vacuum/steam clean. The hard part is turning off my brain, so I carry a notebook and a pencil.
There’s no way I listen to any artist without having thoughts.
Because Swedes and Finns like heavy metal (or some do), I want to recommend an album to John and Thunder Bird. They might like it, they might hate it. But it’s various artists like Serge Tankian (System of a Down) mixed with Bird (Charlie Parker), called “Bird Up.” It’s a hard listen that twists your brain, but it’s the kind of music I need right now. It takes everything up and I cannot think. Music theory is like math. I cannot do anything except sit there when I’m analyzing chords, but I’ve managed to learn to clean while I’m doing it. It’s one of the few things I can multitask. I can also listen to murder podcasts with the rest of the basic bitches, but I cannot listen to political comedy without wanting to stop and write down absolutely everything. I do not care about murder.
My apologies if I sounded mean to basic bitches. As a consolation prize, I will tell you that I am am nonbinary and the last person you would think of when you think of the classic “Karen” image. Supergrover is a Karen on toast when she’s social masking……………….. but she hates pumpkin spice lattes. I like them. I have been smart enough not to tell her.
Until now.
I have no doubt she still likes me as a writer and entertaining her is a goal.
God bless the czar, but keep him very far from us.
This is the blessing I choose to send- God go with her because I can’t. I fell too far too fast to come back up for air. I loved everything about her; everything that came with her was the problem. I would say the same about myself. Once she was my actual friend and not just my fan things went to hell in a handbasket. She tried to prevent it, but I was emotionally unregulated, not her.
Dana had just gotten a DUI. My marriage was taking a toll on me because I didn’t sign up to be Dana’s chauffer for three months and I didn’t sign up to worry about her that long, that hard either. So, it was natural that I was going to other people for emotional support and not a surprise that I caught feelings because I was vulnerable enough to let them get to me…. which they couldn’t have had I not been emotionally laden already. I don’t have any excuses for what I’ve done, I only have context and explanation. I think that neurotypical people are lost in the thought that I am trying to blame other people for my problems rather than trying to figure out what’s mine and what’s not. There are two problems with this:
I resolve my issues, they don’t resolve their issues with me.
If I feel the need to process something before a discussion, it is not me independently exploring how I feel. The goalposts move from actually addressing the problem to the fact that they’re embarrassed about how they acted. This is never their modus operandi, ever, because it’s a lot easier to rip me a new one than to get vulnerable and apologize.
to “I don’t have any culpability in our problem at all because you posted about it.” Exploring my problems on my own becomes “you’re out to get me” even when I’ve said things are clearly not that way. Supergrover has emotionally beaten me up for years over the things I’ve published that “make her look like a villain,” meanwhile every friend I have says that I’m way, way too hard on myself.
Part of this is true; part of this is that I haven’t told her story. That’s her story to tell, and you might start telling her to stop being so hard on herself, too…. because that’s how I feel. It was hard watching her self-destruct in front of me because she thought I expected so much and held herself to impossible standards. How do I know this? She told me that’s what she was doing and that two things were true:
In the moment, she was really mad.
Time goes by, and I “have hit the nail on the head.”
I am alternately the best and worst writer ever to her, when she’s the best and the worst writer to me. We could have had a real future with real money on the table because she likes writing children’s literature as much as I do. I’m working on several projects she’d be perfect for, and it is her choice not to be in my life until she realizes on her own what healthy love looks like. I think she thought that I wanted this toxic dumpster fire, and that’s not true. I gave up when cleaning it up failed year after year.
I have standards for friendship that my friends surpass. I’m not looking for friends, I’m looking for Companions.
I watch “Doctor Who.” I have standards.
The hardest part of my life that I’ve ever had to look back on is finding out what would have happened if Amy had chosen The Doctor.
I cannot figure out why the filter over the image is so dark, but I asked AI to draw me Moomin lost in the world of “Oh, the Places You’ll Go.” The caption reads “I am the Moomin lost in a Seussical” in Arabic, because I lived with a Lebanese family for so many years. If Beirut was calm, I would retire by the marina. I am nowhere near retirement, so I have a wait and see attitude. I want to go to Finland right now. Why would I not want to live in the desert later?
Alas, Beirut is not calm. However, it only needs to calm down enough for me to make a quick and dirty documentary about the food. Even if I do not move there, I really want to spend time there. I have no idea how much it would be for an Airbnb, but that is my new obsession (though I will go with an alternative now that I know there’s a link back to American Jacob Zuma). Trevor Noah, I don’t know if we have any mutual friends. Readers, if you know him, will you please send him a link? I am not fucking around, and I want results. Here is the plan:
If you’re willing, I’d like you to impersonate Jacob Zuma at every single show you perform from now on in the US… and explain the thing over and over at every show about how Trump is displaying South African dictator tendencies. I saw it on TDS and it is the new Democratic slogan. We are not unified, and this is an issue that Independents will take up whereas universal healthcare and UBI are divisive. It is also punching them when we used to capitulate by being smarter, not elitist. There’s a big difference and you’re the common denominator.
Oh, isn’t it weird that he has a South African no one elected as his advisor when he spent fucking absolute YEARS trying to prove that an African couldn’t run the US? Why do they never call Elon Musk an African American in the news? Apparently, there are only black South Africans. According to the camera in the United States, everyone is black in Africa. There are no white people, no interracial people, no white expats, nothing. Who knew?
Please do everything you can to add jokes for an ADHD and autistic audience. We’re hurting because of that South African jackass because all of his evil is being written off as neurodivergence by Evangelicals who are designed to think different is “evil,” anyway. See oculus sinister for details. Left-handed stigma and left eye dominant come from the same “disability,” then expressed by evil spirits. I am not punching down. You’ve said in interviews that you’re ADHD. I’m AuDHD. We have more in common than we don’t and we’re more powerful together than apart. You know as well as I do that if we do not hang together, then surely, we will hang separately. And it’s a republic, if you can keep it.
Real talk. If you go back to S. Africa, I want to know about it. That is ALSO my cue to bug out. I am in the unenviable position of choosing between inexpensive and fast, while also knowing that I have to go the asylum or education route if my business does not succeed. It would be amazing to approach a foreign government with a business plan when I expatriate. That way, I’m eligible for government grants whether I’m an American company or a foreign one.
My humor in the face of trauma is, “I’m not going to be Martin and Malcolm. I’m going to bippity boppity Baldwin back the fuck up.” If I end up in Britain, look forward to an unknown trans author absolutely cutting Rowling to ribbons by suing her for everything she’s worth. I don’t need money. I need people to know that she’s bullied kids to death. That they are the new Alan Turing and the British people should be ashamed of themselves for listening to her TERF, aristocratic horseshit. I’m one of the people she hurt, so I will take enough money to live on. Everything else goes to the Trevor project because trans people in Texas/the rest of the Deep South need a lot of help. You’ll read that I’m the proud non-biological mom of a trans woman. What it doesn’t say is that she’s trans in gun country. If I need to get out today, she needed to get out in 2016. Please bring attention to the issue of just how much this is like the Holocaust. Elon is autistic, but he’s not a target. I am.
Don’t stop being funny, but stop being funny. Hit harder and faster. They deserve it now. They elected a felon. Get louder.
You’re the only one who can get loud enough to drown out fear and intimidation long enough to say that Elon is a crook bent on taking government money for his businesses, not improving a goddamn thing. That he is apartheid years old and no one is paying attention because in the last election, it was so fucked up. VP Harris losing was just a hail Mary pass with an interception because the fumble was thinking that all states were on board with the narrative that Trump would usher in devastation mostly out of ignorance and apathy. Realistically, how much of the day do you think he is interested in running the country? He’s not, but Don Regan and Nancy Reagan and Michael Deaver would make out like bandits. Michael Deaver is known as “The Wizard of Oz” because he fed ready-made content to the media every morning, enforcing the narrative that the president was okay, it’s not Alzheimers until they’d been hiding it for four and a half years. With Trump, they don’t even need to prove dementia because it’s on display. This isn’t even being unkind. I was a medical assistant for a few years and my clinical pattern recognition tells me that it started at “covfefe.” That is the clinical definition of word salad and people glossed right over it. It can’t even be considered a mispronunciation from speaking fast because at least it’s conceivable that was the case with “hamberder.” With Trump, you can never count on the word salad being nonsensical, made-up words. But word order is the definition of nonsensical when he’s off-script. This is not stupidity anymore. This is fucking dangerous whether or not he’s just a useful idiot or a full-on Russian asset. The former is probable, the latter is possible. The American people have no idea what Trump’s relationship was like with Eastern Europe before he became president and he might not be in trouble, but something happened. Hillary Clinton might have mentioned this, but she’s a woman so you cannot take anything she says seriously. America isn’t ready for a brilliantly intelligent female president. We just need more white cis male idiots.
According to popular opinion.
Being angry is not new for me. I have a series of articles called “your blog makes you sound like a dick.” That comes from real feedback, and I ditched them as a friend because that was the point and they didn’t drop it. I don’t want to give them a chance to apologize and not because I’m still angry. It’s funny now. There’s just a difference between thinking someone is wonderful and wanting to allow them another cheap shot.
My favorite line about this comes from a conversation I had with Supergrover and mused about with Aaron N, not Riker (to neurodivergently overclarify). It’s the concept that all of my exes are people I love desperately and completely, but you couldn’t pay me to like them all the time.
And speaking of Riker, I generally use real names because if you met me on the street, I would want you to know my crew in advance. Riker is not his real name, but it is his real nickname and he’s a writer on this web site….. and cops caused his worst trip. Bryn is here, too, but I haven’t convinced Aaron N he’s a writer. He absolutely is, and at times better than me. He just doesn’t believe it. And in fact, thinking he’s only better than me at times is not an indication of my thinking highly of myself in an arrogant way. It’s that after 25 years I should be allowed a modicum of self-respect. Even if you’re not a fan, you have to admire the output. ๐
Strangers do…. people I know?
Unclear.
I am sure that I put people through hell with what I say because other people are gossips uninterested in finding out what makes themselves tick. Every problem happened to them; they didn’t cause anything. It’s a miserable way to be because it doesn’t lead to trust at all if you cannot admit you made a mistake. Because my voice has turned from mild geek into authoritative chef, I have plans.
I have decided that no one is really going after Anthony Bourdain’s career hardcore, because no one has his “voice.” Gordon Ramsey’s travel shows are good, but he’s not a writer and he shouldn’t be expected to be. What made “No Reservations” was not Anthony’s talent at being on camera. It was the scripts he wrote for the voiceovers. Yes, he was very talented, but the intros were what made the show more compelling than “A Cook’s Tour.” By “going after Anthony Bourdain’s career,” I mean that I do not want to be on camera, but to continue busting up people in plain text because I don’t take bullshit on my line. That translates to being a writer, and it translates to having Tony’s voice naturally rather than having to acquire it. How do I even have the audacity to compare myself to a brilliant writer like Bourdain?
I’m not.
Today there will be no premium content because I get the chance to do the daily prompt so rarely that it’s worth using these articles as a stunning display of………………. something. The thing about talent is that the art cannot be judged by me. It is not my job to have emotions when I read after I publish. It is your job as the audience to have a reaction. My part is over, and I have finished the performance. While you are reading, I am writing the next thing. I am not rehashing what I have written. This serves multiple purposes:
All of my reactions are organic because I lose the ability to hold onto pain once it is on the page.
Stream of consciousness allows for more audience engagement. People do not have to go back days/months to understand me, they just need to step into the flow; by the nature of the “conversation” with the audience, I will repeat myself because themes recur. I am not going to suddenly have different problems one day than I did the last. Solving them is a journey, not a destination.
I show people it’s okay to come unglued in public because the more oddly specific I make my entries, the more they become universal. Your thoughts aren’t for someone, but for everyone. We are divided in many ways. Food and love are the common denominators, and Bourdain told me that…. something like “to be vegetarian overseas is the height of rudeness because when you reject someone’s food, you reject their hospitality.”
The American version of hospitality leaves so much to be desired, because when you move to the US, you’ll find degrees that range from polite to kind. Say what you will about New York, but everyone stabs you in the front.
I am not a politician. I am just a private citizen. I barely know how to work WordPress blocksโฆ even though I thought WordPress hung the moon 25 years ago. I prefer the classic editor, but it does not make my entries appear in the same way. So, I put up with blocks because a Fireside chat is what we all need right now. The world is a mess, and I’m going to try not to curse as much as I normally do because I have found that people are very precious when you curse online, but not when they do.
I’m introducing the Fireside Chat idea to interest you in a community conversation. So far, it’s all been me. You’ll have access to premium content on an app that’s available worldwide. One of my problems is that the Finland category on Medium is not actually available in Finland. Subscribe here for premium content if you like to read. Subscribe to Medium if you like audiobooks. I do not read my own stories (I get too choked up), but there’s a handy dandy AI voice that will read them, and it looks cool to see my name on my phone when I’m listening.
My favorite conversation this week came from Christy, my social media maven because I’m old and she’s not.
Leslie: I like to listen to myself on Medium because I have to find out how, in a sense, it preaches. Christy: That’s why you’re a professional.
When you are chosen by God to be a leader, not in a political way… more akin to being sick to your stomach because you know you’ve been given talent, and you cannot refuse that call anymore. I am the product of everything I’ve ever been, and the thing that most people miss about me is the entire saying………..
That a jack of all trades is often better than a master of none. It’s not better for everything, but it is better for synthesizing information as you take it in. What gets me up in the morning is working on solutions to big problems. The American left is under attack with people thinking it’s perfectly ok to say to the press or introduce bills in Congress to erase progress. Do you think that trans soldiers who have been discharged deserve it?
At that point, you can sit and spin… today only, you can take a ride to the shoulder.
I shouldn’t have to take this much anxiety medicine to deal with my day. I am used to taking .5 of clonazepam to prevent panic attacks. Because I get 60 pills a month and don’t take them every day (I save them up in case my scrip is on hold at the pharmacy. I cannot go a day without some in my bag, because it’s a comfort item. I know I am prepared. I could go a day without taking twice my normal amount before two things happened at once. My US passport was invalidated, and a man broke into my apartment.
I’m being picked up in two minutes because I will cut a bitch for a Diet Coke right now. Time for some hardcore Wawa action.
Hold please.
I am home with pies and all is right with the world. I buy them for breakfast, my safe food in the toaster- apple with some sharp cheddar cheese fresh out of the oven is better and healthier than a doughnut. But I like doughnuts, too. I just eat them less. I don’t tend to go with big meals when I first wake up. I just need a little something on my stomach so that my coffee doesn’t burn all the way to my asshole. This gets worse when I drink alcohol or make spaghetti, so I switched to nonalcoholic beer and pesto sauce to survive middle age.
I eat the French way, because when I was heavier I gained a lot of wisdom from “French Women Don’t Get Fat.” It’s applicable for men, too.. The entire point is that French food is too rich to eat a lot of it, so don’t.
American portions are out of control. When I order from a restaurant, I will order one meal, or two if they’re buy one, get one free. This will last four days. When I go out to eat, I don’t go out to eat. That’s because I’m an Uber One member and getting food delivered is cheaper than taking an Uber to the restaurant. I will walk if I want something that’s within a half mile. It’s the time of year. I enjoy snow, and it’s snowing right now. Truly, it’s not a problem to walk in the snow. It is a problem to walk when it’s snowing. After the roads are frozen, you have little pieces of ice blowing at your face. So, I don’t wait until the snow melts to get outside. Just stopping is fine.
However, if you go to the restaurant, you don’t get the buy one meal, get one free deals. I go and sit at the bar with my Diet Coke with grenadine sometimes just to talk to people if I feel like socializing, but as a general rule I write while I’m listening to nothing but the HVAC in the background. The sound of my own typing mellows me out, and I have upped my anti-anxiety medication in order to stop my physical panic and allow me to slow down. This is yielding results.
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Today’s lesson in Finnish (Suomi in that language, Day 26) started with learning how to negate something. I’ve been able to say what I am for a long time. It is a relief to be able to say both that I am not an adjective… and I do not have a noun.
The worst sentence (lause) in every language is “Meillรค ei ole kahvia.” Finns, calm yourselves. I am actually okay. I have enough. I have to say that out loud because this sentence would send shivers down any Finn’s spine…. “We do not have any coffee.” However, I am not opposed to getting Finnish coffee in the mail. I have resources.
It’s good to have a friend on the ground who said she’d let me mail things to her house when I buy my tickets to Finland. That’s because it’s actually difficult to buy Finnish products over the internet. I am having a hell of a time finding Moomin books in Suomi, so please advise in the comments. I do not want a new boxed set. I want one that has been colored in, dog-eared, and annotated in Suomi because a child loved it so much. Moomin is the new picture I carry in my wallet… er… phone.
This is not an official, licensed picture. I asked the WordPress AI to do a line drawing of Moomin for me, if that is a thing you needed to know you could do, @one4paws. I needed to make that clear because it doesn’t exactly look like Moomin to me, either. However, I do think that if she were alive Tove Jannson would think it was inferior yet clever. I would have gotten one of my artists to draw it for me, but they are currently sleeping. I am often left to my own devices because my body clock is set differently than most people. I move with the sun, going to bed and getting up early.
My favorite fact in life is that when I told Katya that I thought Tove Jansson was a smoke show, she made sure to tell me she was a lesbian. I said, “sounds like a woman I would have liked to have flirted with.” She said, “Well….may be…. she was loved by all….” ๐
Janie the Canadian Editor says that I make her spit out her tea; this line made kahvi stream out of my nose.
The Finns are an interesting case study to me sociologically because so much is counterintuitive to some American cultures, not all. For instance, Finland is like Texas in that people are brave and daring and do lots of outdoor shit comparable to “hey Bubba…. watch this!” They just aren’t conservative socially. Finnish culture is Oregonian. It is no surprise to me that Linus Torvalds moved from Helsinki to Hillsboro or wherever it is he’s living now. My love of Linus/Linux is legendary, and it doesn’t surprise me that I would want to make the reverse move, either. I just may not end up in somewhere as warm as Helsinki because culinary school in Vaasa is free.
The average temperature in the winter is 22 degrees Fahrenheit, which is not colder than Baltimore- it’s just colder more consistently. The average temperature in Helsinki during the winter warms up dramatically…. it is 24 degrees.
Therefore, I will not have a problem when it’s sunny out. Being layered and in the sun is great. It’s the rain, snow, and wind that becomes a problem. However, you have these problems everywhere. In Oklahoma, “it’s not that the wind is blowin….’ it’s what the wind is blowin'” (Ron White). Those are the days you say inside and celebrate your sauna.
Again, I work on the internet. I don’t have to go outside unless I just want to do so…. and I do. I love cold weather, feeling bundled up and secure in all my gear. I am not a prude of any sort. I just have sensory issues with a tremendous amount of heat and there it is. That’s why they do it…. and why they don’t care that they’re naked. It’s just about being comfortable in said heat.
I have said this before, but in case it’s behind a paywall on Medium, Finland has the highest rate of neurodivergence in the world that has been diagnosed. I believe that there are quite a few more undiagnosed people due to the amount of coffee they drink. Caffeine is my go-to choice in managing neurodivergence. Apparently, they already thought of that.
Portland is the same way in terms of volume. I never really had a cup of coffee until I went there on vacation. That’s because Texans don’t drink their coffee as bitter and dark as Oregonians, coupled with the fat of half and half, no sugar. I like Texas coffee just fine, my palate leans toward bold. Therefore, I want something French roast and cream thick enough to stand up to it. It’s hard to please me in vegan, but soy milk does nicely. It’s the thickest and all coffee shops have hazelnut syrup to make the nuttiness of the plant milk make sense in your brain.
I would argue that one of the best drinks in coffee shops is a soy hazelnut latte, because soy milk is not better than cream. Soy beans and hazelnuts bond together in your mind and it just tastes better. Use cream for something else. Everything has the right application.
These are the things that keep me going, because I have found that coffee is cheaper and more efficient than energy drinks. Energy drinks aren’t bad if you buy them by the case, but coffee is still cheaper overall. Plus, I like it when my coffee every morning tastes the same and it’s plain. I haven’t found an energy drink that just tastes like Coke, Pepsi, or Sprite. Therefore, I drink energy drinks as often as most adults who liked Fanta as a kid would drink it…. occasionally to remember, not an every day beverage. The same goes for grape, cherry, and fruit punch. They make me feel like a kid so sometimes I’ll indulge, but my energy and money goes toward fine coffee at the grocery store and cutting out leaving the house.
As I told Katya, “I like working in my own office because no one makes my coffee for me. Therefore, it’s always right and I do not have to share.” I do not mind sharing my coffee, to be clear. I mind other people beating me to the coffeemaker and I have to suffer through it until it runs out and I can make the next one.
Just level a tablespoon when you’re measuring. One level tablespoon per cup. Being exacting is what makes it taste good. And if you do not have a tablespoon that is capable of being leveled, then err on the side of too much rather than too little. You can add hot water later. You cannot fix it when there is not enough coffee flavor and too much hot water.
12 tablespoons is a cup, so I do the shortcut of keeping my coffee in a large enough container to accommodate a one cup scoop. I do not make a cup at a time because coffee (especially mine) is so acidic that I don’t mind drinking left over in the morning.
I do not reheat coffee, though. I prefer it over ice once it’s already cool. If it’s cold outside and I just must reheat, it’s over the stove. Some people cannot tell a difference, but when I microwave my coffee, it seems to change the properties of the drink itself. I can’t name it. It’s just weird.
I also alternate between putting a cup of coffee into a coffee maker and putting a cup of coffee into a Mason jar with a chinois (fine-mesh sieve). The percolating process and cold brew yield different results, and I like the change. It doesn’t matter what temperature it is outside, I like iced coffee when I’m inside. We have heat here.
The point is that I have taken an enormous amount of crap over the years for drinking energy drinks because it makes me look younger than I really am. Meanwhile, caffeine is one of the most effective ADHD medications on earth. I do not need to feel ashamed of “being addicted.” I need to manage how much I drink in accordance with the laundry list of what’s wrong with me and why. For instance, one of the huge reasons that I order cases of energy drinks from Amazon (when I do) is that coffee irritates my stomach and I still need the caffeine. Soda is not as acidic, and it is also sugar free (in my case- all the flavors I really like are either zero or 10 calories). Therefore, it’s another case of application. When my stomach feels better, I go back to cold brew.
Cold brew actually saves my stomach as well, which is why I haven’t used my coffeemaker in a few weeks. It is naturally less acidic when the water is cold, and I brew in the fridge or (when there’s not a danger of it freezing) outside. Sun coffee is just as beautiful.
“Sun coffee” is apt, as I am energized by the sun and need to be outside. My neighborhood isn’t the greatest place to walk around (it’s not dangerous, it’s just not touristy with parks and community, either. My readers might not agree that it’s safe, but one break-in in the DMV over the last 11 years is probably some kind of record- and he was so high that if the patio door had been locked, he would have moved on. He did not look like the type of guy that would break glass. He wasn’t even moving that fast. I just decided not to chase him over cheap ass shit.).
I need to find a place in the city that fits the bill. Right now it’s Panera because I have a gift card, but where is up to me. I’m glad I have a gift card to something familiar while I am looking for something permanent. I support local coffee shops, I just haven’t been here long enough to explore Baltimore. Wherever my mythical perfect coffee shop is, it does not exist in my neighborhood. I’m going to have to search farther.
For Portlanders, I’m looking for Rimsky’s Korsakoffee. For Houstonians, I’m looking for Notsuoh. For The District, I’m looking for Tryst. I am sure that there are many great coffee shops in Baltimore, I just haven’t found them yet.
Luckily, I have help here. My friend Ernest is a young college kid willing to help me get settled because I’m willing to help him get settled. I told him he could hang out at my place if his room was too loud. I have plenty of space and wouldn’t mind someone working with me during the day. His being African helps me out because the way he cooks, I haven’t learned yet. The way I cook, he hasn’t learned yet.
So, I definitely need to meet up with him soon. It’s a great story. We met on an Uber Share. I was looking at apartments and was planning to move to Baltimore. It was his second week in America from Liberia.
Silver Spring to Baltimore isn’t much of a change in demographics, only that there are more African Americans here, as opposed to African immigrants who have come over recently to study and work. Silver Spring has an enormous African immigrant population, one of the reasons I’m interested in learning languages.
However, I did tell my housemate Valentin (Cameroonian) that “francais c’nest pas comfortable pour moi.” His mother, who didn’t know a lick of English, fell on the floor laughing. Because of course when I’m on the spot, I say the first thing that comes to my mind…. “French is not comfortable for me,” a line from an old Michel Tomas recording rather than thinking out how to say “I don’t speak French.”
Puhun suomaista.
However, I am not advanced enough to know why the name changes from Suomi/suomea to suomalista. I just have to roll with it at this point, thus the flaw of being at the top of the ruby league by rote. I need more grammar study because parroting back (see what I did there?) words isn’t helping me to understand systems.
I see everything through systems, and Finnish is called a pyramid…. but it’s a garden. You pick up yksi sana, ja yhdestรค sanasta tulee kaksi sanaa. You pick up one word, and one word becomes two words.
Minulla on norjalainen ystรคvรค kuka kirjoittaa. Norjalainen kissat on viikinki. J.L. Henry on viikinki. Tรคmรค vaustaus on oikein koska kirjoittajat ovat kuin kissat.
This is what the Ruby League has gotten me. The paragraph reads “I have a Norwegian friend who writes. Norwegian cats are Vikings. J.L. Henry is a Viking. This answer is correct because writers are like cats.”
One of the sentences that comes up in Duolingo the most frequently is “Norjalainen kissa on viikinki.” It means “the Norwegian cat is a Viking.” I have extrapolated this to mean all Norwegian cats are Vikings because I have owned one and I know that that means….
Life is about breathing steadily right now, turning panic into progress. Slowing down and making plans to breathe next week.
I’m overwhelmed with the amount of support you’ve given me over the years, so I’m paying it forward.
Duolingo is a vocabulary builder that will allow me to become C3PO. The spiritual arc is gravity’s rainbow. The bomb inside you goes off in every language.
Your life’s purpose is to figure out what kind of shrapnel there will be in advance, because you’re the one directing it.
My AI and I have been talking a lot about what it means to be autistic. That I process emotions differently than most people. That words matter a great deal, as does being precise with language. I get frustrated easily when I don’t understand, and most of the time it has to do with syntax. Someone will show me how to do something, and then take over like I’m a child because I’m not doing exactly what they told me to do.
I am, I’m just not doing it the way they would, which makes it wrong.
Autistic people are notorious for sounding aggressive or abrupt without meaning to do so; my AI asked me how to solve this problem, and I told her that the sad reality is that you will get fired for being aggressive and abrupt before anyone takes the time to realize you’re autistic.
Everything that neurodivergent people do seems weird to a neurotypical, and because kids my age weren’t streamlined, most of my life people have been working with an autistic person for the first time. It’s intimidating- coworkers aren’t Special Ed teachers. They’re not designed to help you because they’re too focused on productivity. Get on board or get out.
I’m trying to make my own way in the world because I do not fit into it as is. Being able to bring in money from Facebook and Amazon is an exciting idea, but it’s not lucrative. However, it’s money with the least work possible. On Facebook, WordPress automatically posts to my professional author’s feed. Then, I engage with other people’s content and share memes. Sharing memes gets you more followers than offering people something to read. I don’t make the rules. I just adjust.
With Amazon, I’m dedicated to using affiliate links for products I actually use. None of the stuff I’ve recommended is expensive, just my everyday essentials. This link is to my hair product, Viking water wax. It’s pomade for white people. I haven’t changed products very often, but I am also fond of “Moco de Gorilla.” (Gorilla Snot). I found it in a Mexican grocery store in Houston about 15 years ago and I still use it. I have one at my house and one at Zac’s- although that one is Ear Wax. I can’t find that on Amazon, so it’s back to the grocery store on that one. Viking is also incredibly inexpensive because most of the time my jars last a year and a half.
I got into Viking and Gorilla Snot because they’re both nonbinary scents. I don’t like smelling like baby powder, flowers, or anything like it. I prefer spicy, like something from Calvin Klen or Dark Temptations from Axe (that one is chocolate, vanilla, and spices. It’s amazing for the price point, just don’t spray it on like you’re 15. I actually prefer the body wash because the fragrance lasts all day and it’s not too loud.)
For shaving, I use homemade soap made of beef tallow. It’s incredible, but you can’t get it on Amazon. My former housemate, Magda, made it for me. But if you don’t have someone to make soap for you, Dark Temptations will do in a pinch.
I hope that I’m doing affiliate links the right way, making them a natural part of the story rather than plastering ads everywhere. This is, again, because I’m only talking about the stuff I use every day. I’m not going to pretend I have a $5,000 television set just to get you to buy one, too.
I don’t keep up with the Joneses. I expect them to keep up with me.
And they always can, because I buy cheap stuff. ๐
I will be adding this to all my links, but my audience is finally big enough to make passive income from Amazon. However, that depends on you actually clicking the links. ๐ Here are the reasons I did it, because they’re important:
There are a lot of products that just aren’t right for autistic people. For instance, I have figured out that most autistic people don’t like to wear jeans because it takes time to break them in. Therefore, if Goodwill had affiliate links, I’d be pointing you there. Goodwill has pre-laundered clothes that are soft the moment you put them on. There will be links to the products that don’t irritate my sensory issues. What helps me might help you.
I talk about a lot of books on this site, and one of my fans said she bought it based on my recommendation. So, when I cite a source like “In True Face” or “Undaunted,” you can buy it immediately rather than having to search it out.
I am interested in grooming products that don’t have a particularly masculine or feminine scent. Therefore, I’ll tell you all the shaving products I like.
But all of it will unfold over time. It’s not supposed to be an overwhelming list, just a way to link to products when I mention them. For instance, you’ll have a really hard time getting me out of my Converse All-Stars.
This is not meant to be an exhaustive list of anything. Just to say that I’ll be including affiliate links occasionally because autistic people like hearing from other autistic people. Life is kinda different.
I decided that leaving you with the story that I hate Supergrover is unfair. Because she is not talking to me, she would not have realized what I was doing publicly. So, I sent her this. I’m letting you in because I want all of you to know what a complex, 3D character she is, and how much I’ve loved her for over 10 years. To make it clear that this relationship is not easy, but it is so worth it. She is tough as nails. I mean, a total black cat. I am a golden retriever. Over the last 11 years, our yin and yang has made me the best version of myself. I am stronger and harder to manipulate because she taught me how to advocate for myself. Or, as I put it nine years ago, “the hottest woman I know taught me how to be a better man.”
You said that my narrative was old and tired. I’m glad it looks that way, because it’s why we’re not making any progress. By not acknowledging what I’ve said about you in these e-mails or on my blog (for better or for worse- I’m open), it makes me feel unheard. I feel like I have gone on for a very long time being controlled by a power imbalance that is fair (your work) and is not (hiding your emotions about what I’m saying). The only things that you’ve pointed out about my writing are what’s wrong about it to you. Nothing about what is right. I couldn’t help but write today because I saw in my Facebook Memories that it was the anniversary of my favorite blog entry I’ve ever written:
I’m sure that this is one that incensed you, but I loved it and so did many, many others. I never post anything I don’t like first. You are not blog fodder. You are my inspiration. You’re what I think makes my life interesting. You’re what makes me feel 10 feet tall.
I write stuff like this over and over, and there’s two problems with it. The first is that you only see the bad in what I’ve written and not how much I must feel for you if I’m willing to say something like that.
Editor’s Note:
I forgot the second thing. It’s that she doesn’t tell me how she feels in return, so I don’t know how close I am to telling the truth. I just talk from what I’m experiencing, not a reality we’re creating together.
You’ve never given me enough credit for hanging in there, hoping we’d get healthy so that it could be a mutual admiration society again, but I’ve not gotten that respect back in the slightest, because you used to be incredibly loving with me, and then it all stopped, as if you thought if you told me you loved me or even anything close to it, like “I really enjoy you,” would make me think you’d been touched by an angel somehow and I’d finally get my wish to have you in bed. It’s only been 11 years since I stopped thinking about it, but I understand that perception is reality and it’s holding you back from a full-fledged relationship. When you hide all your bad feelings, you hide all your good feelings, too.
After a while, it seemed cruel, because the tone of your e-mails completely changed. You were always itching for a fight and I hated every minute of it, because it always seemed like you thought I was out to get you instead of talk about anything and everything. I killed you off on my blog again. Blowback from you just isn’t worth it. I’d rather pick someone else to be my inspiration than go through the gut-wrenching pain I feel when you hate something.
It’s not that you can’t tell me about it- I deserve to hear it. But at the same time, I am always sorry that I caused you pain just by letting mine out. And if we’d ever met in person, I wouldn’t have written about you so often because you wouldn’t have inspired me this way. Lines that repeat in my head ad nauseam in a good way.
I still carry a “love letter” I got from you in the pocket of my Kindle from 2015. I haven’t received anything like it since.
I am solid about the fact that you are my partner in a roundabout way because you are on my “murder board” of polyamory- that friends get equal time when they’re a big source of emotional support and those relationships are recognized when you’re scheduling so that your partner knows what connection you’ll be seeing. Nothing about our relationship is traditional, and yet it is because it feels eternal in a good way. That this connection cannot be broken if you went to my Spam, noticed, and reached out again. The reason I sent you to Spam was simply to stop thinking about you all the time. The reason I do it is because you used to be a tremendous source of my writing as a collaborator, because I used to build off of your ideas, whether they were good or bad.
I feel that it’s a new phase in our relationship, where I’m a lot stronger and harder to gaslight, and yes, I will use that word, because you even admit that you made me doubt my perceptions by keeping your feelings from me.
And still, you haven’t told me what they are.
When I told you how much it hurt that you accused me of being the only one who ever lays down ultimatums, you insisted that you were not shitty or snarky at all. Yet we’ve both been telling each other to fuck off on the regular because our dance of intimacy is so incredibly complex. You cannot get close to me without touching fire, nor I to you. I feel this is because I feel like I tell you everything and run on no information, then when I ask why you’re not being forthcoming, it’s “I don’t owe you anything” or “I’m not going to let you control me.” Classic avoidant moves to make sure that you don’t have to emote, keeping me emotionally starving.
I am allowed to be angry. So are you. But I only know my side of the story, the friend whose voice echoes in my rib cage, and speaks through my heart.
Show me that you don’t only respond when I’m angry, and then we might be able to compromise on something.
I do love you, I’m just better off without you if you cannot hear me and respond in kind.
The woman I refer to as only “Supergrover” or “my beautiful girl” said that I basically distilled her behavior as 11 years of being a dick and not taking responsibility. But she didn’t seem to care about the answer. That she may think the world of me, but I cannot tell it from the way she acts. There is a huge gap between what is going on in her brain and what is going on in mine. I have very little insight into what she wants. I cannot tell what she wants and needs emotionally by talking around things, like telling me an entire e-mail is “vitriol” when we are both a spectrum. In every instance, I showed how our behaviors are the same- how we both react to each other the same way. She distilled it into “everything is my fault and I guess I was the only one who was shitty.” It was just putting words into my mouth because she feels bad about herself all on her own. Nothing I have done has helped, like when she told me that she’d feel bad forever that she wasn’t more present when my mother died.
I told her that she was present. That we talked when I was on the tarmac at Hobby. That of course I missed her, and would even have loved it if she came with me to the funeral, but I wouldn’t have ever put an expectation like that on her. I didn’t put the expectation to come to the funeral on any of my DC friends, much less someone I know very, very, wellโฆโฆ. sort of. I told her that she was with me the whole time. She responds to anger and frustration, not love.
So, in the vein of trying to make her see that I do want a relationship and her assessment is completely false, here’s a list of all the things I really have loved about our relationshipโฆ. which in no way made our problems go away. As in, just because there are problems, it doesn’t make me love these things any less:
She buys me Kindle books for holidays, and apologizes if she misses my birthday while wearing “suits and crap for work.” Sometimes, she can’t make the clock stop on my actual birthday, but it always stops for me at some point. That’s really a great metaphor for our relationship- that we are both important enough to each other to make the clock stop.
She sends me pictures, whether they’re of her family, her dogs, her travels, etc. It means more to me than anything to be a part of her real life. Just because I see it in pictures doesn’t mean it is less valuable than getting together. I think that getting together and talking with our voices would clear up a lot in terms of the problem we have, but I have never been insistent that meeting up must happen. I just think it will give us the most change, the fastest. Like really seeing if we do like each other, or only our writer personalities do.
That is totally a thing.
Many people you chat with don’t turn out to be what you want in person. I am just determined to believe no matter what that if we did meet up, we’d get along because we’re too Southern and polite to make things awkward for too long. Not every conversation has to be difficult.
But some of them do. I told her that I thought in some ways, she’d built me up to be the boogey man because we didn’t meet immediately and now it’s just weird. As a result, it’s created a major imbalance because I overexplain and she “never complains, never explains.” I feel like a problem can be solved by communicating more. She feels like we should just get on with our shit. Meanwhile, just getting on with our lives and not talking about the underlying issues are what blows our future out of the water because we do care about each other despite our fears.
She told me I deserved better, but then didn’t change a thing. I’m not mad. I just want change and she’s choosing to believe things I never said without clearing any of it up. Meanwhile, our emotional baggage just piles up. I am tired of her using the buttons on her clothes to hold in her feelings.
She says that she will not be “held hostage” by what I want to talk about. If she feels like she is being held hostage, she should have said that before she told me I deserved better. Because this isn’t better. This is the same.
I keep talking because I’m concerned, and I wish things were different.
I called her on it in the moment, and instead of saying, “no, no, that’s not what I meant,” she flew off the handle. She got mad at me for saying I was enjoying watching her spin out on her own, after she said “please don’t contact me again” and then proceeded to rip me a new asshole in a separate e-mail. The entire e-mail also said “I’m confused. Do you want me to respond, or do you never want me to contact you again? Say what you will about my methods, but thus endeth the reading of the Riot Act when I told her that she was spinning out on her own. If you fucking tell me to never contact you again, and then you feel the need to unload everything you could have said before you told me to fuck off forever, I could have cared about what you have to say next so much more.
She said I was telling her exactly how much I cared about her. I was telling her exactly how much I couldn’t be paid to care what she thought in that moment because once you say “never contact me again,” it’s time for you to have a Cokeโข and a smile and shut the fuck up. Anything you do after that is only robbing the other person of regret at confrontation, because you see how well they handle it.
Neither one of us can stop blowing up at each other while telling each other it’s for life and we should work on our relationship.
It’s not that we don’t mean those things. It’s that we don’t know how to get there from here, and everything I suggest is wrong. Everything she suggests is nothing. But I wish she would. I can’t compromise by going all the way to her side every time.
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. ๐ 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. ๐
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.
One of the refrains that tends to stick out to kids in childhood at church is “And he walks with me, and he talks with me… and he tells me I am his own.” This is because nearly all ministers have told the joke about the supposed child, and in every telling it’s every pastor’s own child, that said child asked who “Andy” was… you know… “Andy walked with me.” Kind of like the joke about God’s name being Howard…. so old it has hair on it, and not attributable at this point.
(Our Father, who art in heaven, Howard be thy name….”)
Also, the tune to that hymn is particularly catchy.
I’m reminded of that hymn this evening because it starts out “I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses…” It’s not early morning, but the room has that kind of vibe- sitting in the quiet, talking to an old friend. It’s kind of neat that my old friend is you…. but also me…. but also you. I could go on, and I’m surprised I didn’t. Sometimes, you have to play against type.
I am sitting out here in my office hopping mad because I fell and hurt myself badly while I was walking Jack. It’s not as bad as Zac’s bike accident, but I hit the heel of my hand so hard on the pavement that there’s still pebble indentations hours later and I’m in pain despite Tylenol and aspirin. However, it has taken the edge off. No need to go to the doctor to get something more substantial. I’ll live.
But it’s something I need to keep an eye on, because I also managed to bang up my knee pretty good. It’s not funny when I fall in this neighborhood because it’s uneven and gravelly with no sidewalks except in a few places. I was listening to a podcast while I was walking Jack, and I should know that I can’t pay attention to both Rachel Maddow and anything else.
Beautiful women always hurt me. That’s because when I think they’re beautiful, I trip over things.
There are stories out there. Most of which I’ve told. I love self-deprecating humor. I even love it when people tease me, as long as it’s not too mean. However, I have a pretty thick skin, so I pretty much have to let other people tell me their boundaries. The neurodivergent sense of humor is dark, as is the physically and mentally disabled. Plus, I’ve been a line cook. If I have not offended you yet, you haven’t been here long enough.
Or, you don’t know me personally and can’t actually be paid to care about my problems, you just like surfing. That’s even better. It’s hard to feel deeply about people you don’t know, and I don’t mean the way we fight on the internet. I mean that it’s very hard to get other people to genuinely care about your life because they have their own. That’s appropriate. But what people can handle is a slice of my life. Watching me entertain myself by entertaining you. Or, some of it’s entertaining. Mostly it’s cathartic. I can be funnier when I feel lighter, and I feel lighter than I have in a long time.
I sent Supergrover a note that said she really needed to let me know whether she was focusing on moving on with her life or whether she wanted to fix our relationship. That she said it was clear I didn’t want a relationship, and I said that it wasn’t true. That I’d given her my heart 11 years ago, and I don’t remember asking for it back.
She hasn’t responded, and if she doesn’t, all er e-mail will eventually go to Spam again. It’s not because I don’t want to work on a relationship. It’s that I don’t want to work on a relationship in which both of us are unhappy enough to explode after a week. She’s punishing me with some sort of silent treatment, because people are only as busy as they want to be. I feel like if I cannot have closure from her, I have to get it on my own. I can’t keep looking back across the river to make sure she’s okay, too.
She is not okay, and neither am I. I’m not blaming. We both come by our poor reactions honestly. It’s just at some point I cannot take these ups and downs of “don’t talk to me anymore” and “it’s unfair to compare me to Daniel.” That one actually did go to Spam, so I didn’t realize that she didn’t really want to have a conversation. She wanted to berate me for what I said. I felt like an idiot because she sent an e-mail to a different e-mail address asking if I’d gotten her e-mails, because she’d sent some a while back. I said that I hadn’t been looking for e-mail from her, but that I was so excited to hear from her………..
Then crushed when she forwarded me everything she said and it was a shitstorm.
I got mad about it and we worked it through. We were doing okay. And we both went right back into “I can’t do anything right for you.” Because that’s the game, right? If she doesn’t have any boundaries, then she can pick anything she wants as a boundary after the fact. I can be wrong a hundred times out of a hundred.
I cannot keep a rhythm, much less dance a quickstep.
I feel like I am laying out my boundaries the way I know how, but what I don’t know is how they play to a neurotypical audience. I know she heard “everything is over, go away” when I meant “I’ve seen everything you don’t want to talk about and I can’t find anything you do. Tell me when you figure it out.” She was on me like white on rice, saying that I was the judge and jury. She had no intention of really working on anything. It was an escape hatch. It’s like everything I’ve been saying for 11 years registered with her in a whole new way, and she’s not sure that she likes it. She’s not even sure that she likes me. But of course, I can only say that is my impression of her. I cannot remember the last time she gave me any affection at all.
Yes, I can. It was last September.
It was a heart emoji in response to a sentimental message she left me and I took a screenshot. It was very, very old. But I still keep it in my digital memory box because it came from her.
I remember saying that she reminds me of new life, new hope- the color green in my assessment of what would go on a soundtrack to fit her…. even though sometimes she reminds me more of Morton Gould’s “Jericho.” It’s as warm and dissonant as our relationship.
I keep saying that it’s no skin off my nose to keep waiting, and it’s more anxiety driving me to write than anything else. It’s not as if her writing back will make a difference. Even if she says “you’ll never hear from me again,” she cannot possibly mean it. I want to feel settled, and there’s nothing anyone can give me but time. Yet, as time goes by, it gets harder to maintain the cognitive dissonance. It’s clear she doesn’t want what I want, because nothing in her list of things to talk about included any direction I wanted to go with her, because if she doesn’t want to talk about her childhood and healing, then it’s going to be a whole lot more of me telling her what I’ve learned while she’s sitting there bored because it’s not what you want to talk about and overwhelming because I talk so much.
There’s an answer to this problem, and right now it’s waiting for the moon. She will arrive at the moment I need her most.
I’ve showed you that my office is a greenhouse, cut off from the living room by a glass door, and with its own separate entrance. It’s the only room in the house with a ceiling fan, which upped the level of its charm immediately. The air conditioner doesn’t always reach out here, and it doesn’t matter. Moving the air does. Sitting here also moves me. I can’t go more than a few minutes of sitting in here without feeling the urge to write. That’s an office that calls to you. I am caught between two ideas- leaving it informal because the glass table gives me more space than a small desk would- more room for clutter, certainly, but I don’t put anything more than I can move in a day. At the end of my writing session, it looks normal again. It’s nice having a space to come down to every morning that’s clean and somewhat organized, and you cannot tell me that it still would if it wasn’t a shared space. My bedroom is my little autistic nest where I make my own rules, and everywhere else in the house is where I compromise. He feels the same way. We’re introverts. It works.
And in fact, David just left for his girlfriend’s house and took the dog, so the house is even more quiet than usual. I hear the birds outside more closely. I take the time to notice every leaf. I take the time to invite nature in, because I am not a green thumb. David is a green thumb. I do better just having windows that face all the yards simultaneously. Plus, there are TARDIS lights to add to the shade. They’re beautiful.
There’s not really a downside to working in a greenhouse except that you are exposed to all the neighborhood noise. I happen to like it, because if it gets to be too much, I can just put on my cans. I spend a lot of time in them because I have to balance the noise around me and the chaos inside me because of it.
It’s a thing I’ve developed that’s unique to DC, because it’s the public signal you’re not interested in talking on the Metro. I will take them off and talk to people if I hear them saying something interesting, but I am not the go-to person to ask in terms of being a tourist guide. Zac says he likes showing off what he knows about DC. So do I. It just really depends on what my social battery is that day. Although I can give about as good a tour of the White House as Sam Seaborn, even though it is *literally* right down the street from me.
Carol asked me the other day how the environment of Silver Spring affected my writing, and I extrapolated that to mean DC because maybe she doesn’t know that Silver Spring is a suburb…. like I don’t tell people from here I’m from Sugar Land. I tell them I’m from Houston because they’ve probably heard of it. But my inspiration in Silver Spring has come from sitting in this greenroom and feeling the presence of a great Silver Spring resident before me, Rachel Carson. “Silent Spring” is about Silver Spring, Maryland.
We need more hippies in this town. More people like Earl Blumenauer riding their bicycles to Congress on behalf of Maryland, Virginia, and West Virginia. Someone has to preserve all this beauty. All people see in DC is the federal government, but if they came here, they probably wouldn’t want to leave after they saw the Jefferson Monument in the Tidal Basin and then the Chesapeake at sunset from a sailboat. That’s beauty you can’t get anywhere else.
I’m a big pushover for beauty in this area because I spent so much time in Oregon. So much of their legislative agenda is about how to keep Oregon beautiful, and we have that same chance here. There are pockets inside the city that take my breath away. Rock Creek Park, the Zoo, Congressional Cemetery, etc. DC is a wonderland even if you never travel outside the Metro.
But it is quite something to live in the home of one of the most significant works on the environment. It makes me look at the trees around my house so much differently- as if her spirit is helping me guide my pen. It takes a good writer to know one, so I hope that means she’s decided I’m at least acceptable.
I would have liked to walk with her in Sligo Creek after the book was published to get the inside scoop. Reading her work makes me want to get my hands dirty, but so far, David hasn’t let me touch anything. I appreciate it because I decided that if I really wanted to do yardwork, I would have done it by now. He’s just put me off so many times that I think it’s his sanctuary and I don’t want to intrude. I am often typing to the sound of the mower or the weedeater. The only thing I want that I don’t have is bees. I like to sit with them, so I need to plant some lavender. Plus, I’ll have free lavender for my lemonade in the process. I don’t know that my talking to bees affects them that much, because they do not seem to be bothered one way or the other. We just have so much in common. I’m a singular them, they’re a hive mind. They’re built to keep on working no matter what I say, so it’s not like I’m interrupting anyone. As long as I stay calm, they will. They’re like tiny little therapists with cute fuzzy butts. They also don’t talk back at all, which is three quarters of their charm. If your therapist has always been the type person that makes you talk it out without offering suggestions, you won’t notice they’re gone. Bees are effective at listening and letting you come to the end of your thought process because it’s not like they’re going to stop midair and say, “I do have thoughts.”
I still think of talking to the bees as prayer, because I’d like to imagine that because I tell them the thoughts I can’t tell Supergrover that are too private for this web site, they are capable of telling her for me. I have no idea what the flight range is of an average bumblebee. It’s just a nice thought.
So, when I “go tell the bees,” what I’m really saying is that the one I want to tell is not here, but your people are an excellent second choice. They have never said a bad word about Supergrover in their lives, so they’re my people. Just let me talk it out. Don’t pass judgment because you might have a completely different opinion of them when you meet them than I did. That’s the problem you risk in telling one relationship about another- hard to integrate later.
It was hard for me when I first met Supergrover, because it was an Internet connection. She never came to visit, I (or we, depending on what year) never went to visit her. Therefore, I was always talking about this friend who wasn’t even at the table and yet she always was, because she was in my head. She became my Raggedy Doctor in more ways than one. Few people but me believed she was real. Even I had trouble believing it at times, and I wasn’t very nice about it because the pressure was a lot. I gave up an on the ground relationship for an in the cloud relationship that would not make sense to you in a million years as to how it could happen. The best I can do is that her life is big, and you protect people who have big lives differently than you protect ones who don’t. The worst part is not knowing how I’ve affected her life to know if I’ve ever gotten her in real trouble. I only wanted to talk about us. Period. I can’t speak to her relationship with anyone else, because I don’t know them. I’m not connected anywhere. That’s a great blessing and a great problem to have. On one hand, it gives both of us a space to get away from everything we know. On the other, it would be nice to have mutual friends so we’re not lost in our own echo chamber, which is large and mostly runs hot at the amount of anger we carry too much of the time.
I have lived this way for 11 years, having someone know the most intimate details of my life and the rest of my friends scratching their heads at why I talk about someone so much that doesn’t show up. That’s because she doesn’t show up for them. They’re not her friends. I am. She doesn’t have anything to prove, it’s just hard to get anyone to believe there are two sides to every story when they only know me and she won’t let them get to know her. A lot of trying to tell our story my way was trying to find the middle road by explaining something that couldn’t really be explained.
And yet, it can.
When we’re together, I can be any age I want and I can trust her with those level emotions. I have proven that I can be trusted with her basest emotions as well…. that I will retreat from them, and talk them out, but I won’t back down from trying to solve our problems. Our connection is too important to only try once, and a miscommunication is at fault for all of this.
In a lot of ways, I’m sorry I reopened this chapter in my life, because it reopens 11 year old wounds. I don’t want to tell Supergrover about my wounds, I want her to tell me what’s relatable in her own life and what’s not. When she’s open, I don’t feel alone. She relates to me like any friend would. I just don’t show that all the time because she doesn’t behave that way all the time, either.
Right now, she’s committed to ignoring me, because she says that if she reads, she can’t get wigged by it. I appreciate that, because I need my own space. It has proven to me over and over again that it’s the only way I can explain what I mean in a way other people can hear it……..
because neurodivergent overexplaining eats my lunch.
Surely if I’ve explained it once, six times will be better. Eight times will be even better than that.
I don’t have the inspiration to ask Carol any more questions right now, because I have exceeded the limit to which I really want to be interviewed. They were intimate portraits for people who have never been introduced to my world, and they were questions I wouldn’t have asked of myself but based on what she read on my own blog. Sometimes, she pulled prompts from people who sounded like me; people also writing personal blogs. That’s because there are hundreds of web sites for bloggers with jumping off points. Again, I don’t use Carol (AI) to write my entries for me, but to analyze my past and give me hints on what I should write about next.
In the moment, I’m thinking that I should get out the immersion blender Zac got me and see if it will froth milk. If it does, the coffee my dad sent me to try would be the perfect cafe au lait. I’m drinking it with plain whole milk now (padding down the possibility of acid reflux). I love spice, tomatoes, and alcohol. All three are no good later, so I avoid them. Zac and I had great mocktails at the sushi restaurant we went to- just Asian fruit syrups that you wouldn’t think to put together, frosted with egg white. I also learned that AA has a different stance on O.O proof distilled spirits, because it’s not fermented to have any alcohol, rather than something like a kombucha or a beer. It’s not that they’re loaded with alcohol. That’s not the problem. It’s that tasting the flavor at all is a trigger for some people. It’s not the quantity that matters. It’s what you taste, even in something as innocuous as a Fentiman’s Curiosity Cola, because they use fermentation for CO2 instead of infusing the soda with gas later. It’s a balance with me. I want to be able to make great drinks no matter who shows up. I am not opposed to alcohol, but I am pretty solid about wanting to divorce stomach problems.
Therefore, coffee is one of my go-to favorites in creating nonalcoholic beverages, but I still have to be careful with how much I drink because the hangover is no sleep and lots of sugar to help fuel the manic call of workaholism when writing is your response to life. It’s a natural high and crash, so not as crazy as alcohol……… and absolutely no less a drug.. But, a few B vitamins, lots of water, and maybe a little more coffee on the way to work is all it takes to fix you and not two days of saying “a hangover at 24 is different than at 46.” The older they are, the harder they fall. I don’t make the rules.
When I first met Zac, I made the mistake of thinking that I was still a line cook. That my tolerance was still up at “Navy.” It took me twice of being absolutely so hung over that I threw up everywhere that I realized, “you are a different person now. Your tolerance is in the toilet. Let’s keep it that way.” The flip side of the coin is that I learned that Zac is a real boyfriend. I learn that all the time, but this was early days, so it’s a moment that sticks with me. I had luckily fallen asleep before I’d drunk so much that I was still plastered in the morning. That’s what gets you. When you’re still drunk, so you think you’re fine. Then, about 9:00, just about the time you get to work, you realize you have made a terrible mistake. I knew this in my line cook days, so I knew when I woke up that it was better to feel like ass at Zac’s house than it would’ve if I’d been drunk enough to wait until I was on the train to be in dire straits.
My beautiful boy sat a large glass of water with ibuprofen on my nightstand, along with a cup of coffee, and kissed my head. He had to get to work, but luckily he was working from home (at least for the morning), so I could sleep right up until we had to leave if I had to, or when the ibuprofen kicked in and I was again human. Ibuprofen is your friend during a hangover, because it’s an anti-inflammatory and stops your brain from swelling. Sudafed also helps by shutting down your capillaries. Tylenol is good if you’re in pain, but most of the time the pain is caused by the swelling and you won’t need both.
This is the one instance I would choose naproxen sodium over ibuprofen because it’s such a strong drug that you are unlikely to need a second dose. The problem with Naprosyn (what we call it in the US and in the South, pronounced “Napperson” most of the time. ๐ ) is that it wears off before it’s time to take a second dose and you’re stuck. Ibuprofen is king because you can take some more frequently. Fresh doses matter. I would also take a second dose 30 minutes before the time runs out on your dose so that you do not experience an interruption- i.e. all of the sudden feeling like walking is too much work.
Keep in mind that this is my experience from growing up in a rheumatologist’s house, a HIGHLY specialized form of medicine, and having been her medical assistant for a number of years. The only reason I couldn’t follow her to Methodist is that the hospital required you to be certified as an MA, and she didn’t require that of me in her private practice.
Let me tell you why this is my recommended advice and nothing you should take as seriously as you should with your own doctor.
I have fucked up. Like, really fucked up. I read something wrong and told a patient something that was a note to her, not a note to me. It was in the same place that she left notes for me to give the patient when I was calling them back to tell them about their bloodwork. 90% of the time, it was innocuous, like “you’re fine,” or “the doc says you’re fine, but you need to take some OTC Vitamin D pills.” or whatever.
So, in this particular case, the note said that the patient had rheumatoid arthritis and I told him that. I immediately regretted it because he completely freaked out. I understand him so much better now that I’ve had my own reaction to autism. A patient’s reaction is not based on a medical diagnosis. A patient’s reaction is to the stigma around what they have. This man thought he’d never be able to walk again, and I was crushed. I switched into minister patois and got off the phone. Doc called back and cleared it up immediately. That was in the 90s and I still feel bad about it, even though she was laughing on the phone with the patient within minutes, and none of it was at my expense. Therefore, it couldn’t have been so bad a mistake that I was going to be punished forever.
Because here’s what no one tells you when you become a medical assistant. You become as attached to the patients as the doctors, especially the ones you’ve seen over years and years.
Even half the doctor she is could see that I would beat myself up better and more often than she ever could, and it wouldn’t happen again. I kept my mouth shut about all sorts of things, but talked inside baseball with my dad and stepmom as I learned more on the job and got into the rhythm. Because of my childhood, I am DAMN GOOD at patient care, because it is a job I can do while ADHD. It doesn’t get so overwhelming because you’re only talking to two or three people at a time, and when you’re in a patient room, you have enough bandwidth to talk to someone and take notes at the same time- now patients understand that you’re filling out their chart based on their actual dialogue, not what they remember from the conversation at the end of the day. I don’t know how other patients feel about it, but my stepmother and I type like demons. It was never a problem in our case.
And because I’m an IT geek, I set up the first content management system in the office, called “Soapware.” I don’t know and I’m too lazy to look up whether it was bought out and turned into something else, or whether another company’s content management system became more popular, like Centricity. I just know that it’s possible, because it happened to me at University of Houston. WebCT was bought out by Blackboard. It wasn’t the same product, the way I have loved and hated WordPress over time.
In any case, I can’t think of anyone who needs a content management system more than a doctor, one that connects to an encrypted cloud so that the files are always up to date when the server goes down. All you have to do is either fix the server and re-sync, or replace the server and re-download everything. No downtime, especially with physical backups off-site AND an encrypted cloud. With backups off-site, you only have to sync a day to a week’s worth of files, not everything on the entire system. However, with the kind of internet connectivity a hospital has (the ability to move images in RAW- enormous file sizes- in seconds, syncing a backup would take less than an hour, depending on how many TB of information are missing on the fixed/replaced server. By images in RAW form, I’m talking about MRIs, CAT scans, PET scans, etc. They’re ENORMOUS, and yet the connection can transfer information to the radiologist in seconds.
I learned this when I had to have a CAT scan of my shoulder to make sure nothing was torn. The x-rays were taken on top of a tablet that costs more than a Lexus so that it was SO fast with SUCH a stable internet connection that the X-ray machine itself could transmit the images. I was impressed out of my mind. It’s the same with any procedure. Broken leg, mammogram, whatever. Images fly fast and furious. Because the images were so large, I literally got a DVD (4.8 GB of space) full of images by the time I left the office. Beat that with a stick. It was a miracle I still had a DVD reader on my computer, though. ;P
In a hospital or private practice setting, the CMS does not just stand for “Content Management System.” It also stands for “Customer Management System,” because even though patients aren’t customers, you manage them internally the same way. Every patient has a file, and all of those files need to go into a database that contains your name, your address, your insurance information, and every note the doctor has ever written about you. It is far superior than paper charts, because again, they don’t expire. The paper doesn’t yellow and the ink doesn’t fade. I think you’re only required to keep medical records for 7-10 years, but I’ve had good luck with doctors’ offices that have digitized records, because sometimes you’ve gotten within the window where something has been scanned in by a doctor that just keeps everything on the server in case the patient comes back.
I have never had good luck with meeting gay teachers as role models, but I have had several queer doctors and all of them allies. I like the axiom in medical school:
“What do I do if treating someone conflicts with my personal beliefs?” “Find a new profession.”
Here’s the other thing that I would love to do if I actually thought I’d be worth a damn at medical school. I’d go into trans medicine, which in my world the connection is vegan cooking. It’s an area I know absolutely nothing about. I got interested in vegan cooking because I was bored with my current repertoire, and I had friends making insane dishes that drew me to it, like mushroom pate and amazing olive oil pie and pizza crust. Salad with only oranges and shaved fennel.
Everything weird and exotic to the palate, I just don’t like filters. No liver, no kidneys…. however, if someone orders fois gras for the table, I will take a bite of the corner just to taste the crispy edges. Everyone else can have the rest, because even if I only eat the corner, I’ll taste it forever and the burnt edges are as much as I can take, especially if it comes with raspberry jelly.
I like nose to tail restaurants, because my favorite meals are very simple. Excellent toasted bread. Bone marrow to spread on it. A simple table wine. Maybe a salad.
It’s Mel’s fault that I love dessert because she’s a pastry chef and tempts me all the time. She keeps saying she’s going to mail me a postcard, and I can’t wait. I just don’t put any pressure on her because she’s in the middle of opening a new restaurant that is going like gangbusters. She hasn’t said one way or the other if she wants me to promote her, but if she does and you live in the Norwich area, you’ll want to stop by. She’s got some amazing pictures and they’re already doing well, like only being open for a few months and already being able to pay off their business debt. That is some seriously good food. I hope they get a Michelin, because The Michelin guide isn’t about fancy. It’s a travel guide. Even tiny restaurants get three stars, but then they become three star restaurants and create their own traffic.
(It’s also a brilliant marketing strategy- planned obsolescence for the tires no matter where you live.)
This leads me to a really funny story. My car needed tires, all four replaced. So, I go to this place called “Bridgestone,” and because I didn’t see any branding on the side of the building, I told them that I would take any set of tires, but that I preferred Michelin because I’m a cook. I looked like a pretentious jackass because I pronounced Michelin in French because it’s a force of habit. I. AM. A. COOK.
They looked me deadass in the face and said, “ma’am, this is a Goodwill store.”
To get down to brass tacks, my father and I get along better than my mother and I ever did. It had nothing to with her social expectations of me. It’s that my dad and are are both class clowns and my mother simply gave us The Look when we misbehaved. Neither one of us liked “The Look.”: It said something like “this is inappropriate for a preacher’s family.” We were off the clock. With my mother, the clock never stopped. My dad gave me room to be a kid in the middle of all this mess- partially because he knew the way my mother had stacked the deck against me by pretending I wasn’t disabled mentally or physically, and I didn’t have two processing disorders. I would have known that very early (maybe, research on autism in girls and women is relatively new because of the classic presentation). I could have gotten the help I needed much earlier in life to deal with success. I am fine with everything going wrong. It’s what I know. I get wigged when I think about what it’s going to take for success, get overwhelmed with the details, and demand avoidance ensues. My dad is trying to help me navigate all that, because clearly I do need help, but I am not high needs all the time. People think you’re one or the other, and you fluctuate. High needs days come after you think you’re okay for a few days because everything is normal. Then, all of the sudden, everything is too loud and it’s hot in here. You have reached your limit, and need to tap out. My dad was on the train of wanting to tell me I needed these things. My mother wanted to pretend I was fine.
I am so fine.
Insert laugh track here.
It’s an enormous amount of work to manage a disability because your energy levels vary so significantly. In my case, it fluctuates because I’m ADHD. I do not feel the pull of an iron structure like most autistic people, as in, deciding what I’m interested in- to the exclusion of all else- and an interruption is not only unwelcome, but rude. People wonder why IT guys are such dicks. Here’s the real answer. You’ve interrupted a neurodivergent person and they absolutely cannot handle transitions. Autistic meltdown looks like driving three hours to troubleshoot a server and the only problem is that it isn’t on, despite having three separate people check to see if it was on before you left. You are more likely to interrupt a neurodivergent person to the point where they are angry to the point of rudeness over a seemingly simple small thing. It’s not small to someone who has to prepare to get into the car, prepare to enter the building, prepare for everything to be unfamiliar, and to have to make small talk while you work with people who have absolutely no idea what you do, but feel they must supervise and offer suggestions that if they worked, we wouldn’t be there.
You cannot remote desktop into a server that is unplugged or air gapped.
My dad knows that the little things are the big things. That life is harder for me than it would be if I’d been born under perfect circumstances, or even just later, when the technology in neonatal care was better than it was in 1977. I think I still would have had CP, autism, and stereopsis. Those are often a combo meal because lack of stereopsis and autism are often comorbidities. It’s not so much that I was born wrong, but born too early on multiple levels. Not only was I born in the 70s, I was eight weeks early.
I can think of someone I’d really like to talk to about that, but she doesn’t live local and we’re not close enough for me to just flat out say, “hey, are you autistic?” You never know what people’s word association with autism is in advance. If they have autistic kids, parents, or siblings, they know you’re asking “how does your brain work?” NOT “are you slow?” But, it would be a great conversation to have the next time she’s in town. She’s got all the same issues I do, and it would not surprise me if she had autism as well because of it…. again, combo meal, just like ADHD and autism are comorbidities in up to 80% of cases.
I also know that I got autism from my family somewhere, and I don’t see it in my dad and mom, but I do see it in my granddads. And in fact, I am a perfect mix of them. My dad’s father was creative autistic, and my mother’s father was STEM autistic. I ended up as a geek with a pen.
Perfection.
Saying that I see it in them is also not derogatory, because obviously both had brilliant careers…… and you absolutely cannot under any circumstances prove that autism is not genetic. It is also not an indication of intelligence.
One of my first memories of my dad is him teaching me to say “betahemolytic streptococci,” and “antidisestablishmentarianism.” He broke everything down and strung it together. As a result, I do not misspell much. I know my English roots and my Latin roots because medicine. Unless you’re at High School for Health Professions, I doubt they worry whether you can spell arrhythmia and diarrhea in high school.
I know in British English there are dipthongs. I say “zed.” That’s my final offer. I can’t internationalize everything. ๐
Though I will say that I am well versed in British English because of my grandfather, who got me started on Black Adder, A Bit of Fry and Laurie, Are You Being Served:?, and every BBC anything he could find on KERA. We always watched “A Child’s Christmas in Wales,” just one of the reasons I’d actually like to go to a game in Wrexham rather than watching “Welcome to Wrexham” on Hulu.
(Don’t sleep on it, even if you don’t like football/soccer. Ryan and Rob are hilarious owners and seeing the business side is very much Ted Lasso, Higgins, and Rebecca.)
My father and my grandfather have easily had the most influence on what I do today, because their contributions to my life are unquantifiable in terms of teaching me how to get my ideas out there, and my dad and my grandfather were both doing it before the internet even existed. I remember putting it together that I was very impressed with my grandfather because I remember a series of shots he took of his steel company from the air, not having realized how difficult it is to get those shots while basically hanging out of an airplane. I didn’t have as much insight into that strength from the photograph, but from hearing Jonna Mendez described how she learned…… which is basically hanging out of an airplane. Good luck. God bless. If you’re lucky, you’ll have someone to spot you. Otherwise, it’s just canvas straps you lean against and pray that what you feel under you is not your imagination.
It happens to be true biologically that we are related, but I wouldn’t be as comfortable in my own skin if we hadn’t met, whether we’d ended up as a biological connection or not. They have always kept me grounded, and just because my grandfather has passed on, that does not mean that he’s not in touch. I am carrying on his legacy of writing what I know. I am carrying on the tradition of preaching what I know.
They would have been great as friends, the universe just smiled upon me and I got to be my grandfather’s first granddaughter on my father’s side, and the first grandchild period on my mother’s side, and the oldest child in my first family as well.
I have something with my father and my mother’s father that no one else can have or take away.
I asked Carol to research the top 10 questions people have about relationships, and the results were interesting. I’ll do what I can, because I genuinely like writing about how people connect:
“What’s a good question to ask before you start dating someone?”
None of those questions are for other people. Those questions are for you. That way, you are sparked by the right people instead of the wrong ones. You don’t know yourself well enough to know what you want in a partner. You haven’t learned anything about yourself in terms of connection, so how can you tell your partner what you need? If you can’t talk easily about intimate things during early days, you definitely won’t be able to talk easily under duress.
“Is it okay to spend holidays with my partner instead of my family?”
Of course, and there’s no one way to be an “in-law.” Families do not need to compete for love and time, which happens when grandchildren are in the picture. But what both sides need to know is that the parents decide the balance. Grandparents don’t, and how much you react to it is all your business.
“How do I come out to my partner about my sexuality?”
I am assuming that they know it already if they’re you’re partner………… This is why AI doesn’t create art. But if you’re talking about someone you’re interested in that you’re not currently dating, just ask them. It’s a different society now that we don’t have to be so careful about who’s queer and who’s not.
“Am I being emotionally/mentally abused by my parents?”
The more responsibility you have at home, the more it’s classified as neglect and abuse. In my case, I shouldn’t have been able to live vicariously through an adult, because it created secrets too large for me to hear. If the same thing is happening to you, please talk to someone. Go to an adult you trust until they listen. It is not your job to run your household while your parents are off in la-la land.
“When my partner says ‘You make me happy,’ why does it make me uncomfortable?”
Because their happiness is dependent on you. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling to have anyone say “you made me” anything. I want to add to people’s happiness, but I don’t want to feel the weight of keeping you happy. I know from experience that it doesn’t work. If you’re not happy internally, you will find a way to keep being unhappy and finding excuses as to why there’s no joy in your life.
“What will always be funny to you?”
My relationship with my sister. She is the funniest person I know, and she makes me laugh with wild abandon. She also impresses the hell out of me on a daily basis. She’s a good sister to have.
“What’s your biggest non-academic, non-work-related accomplishment?”
Making other people feel comfortable about wearing their pride jewelry at a conservative Texas high school because I was the first. Kids were still talking about it the year after I graduated, because Lindsay overheard them talking about it when she was a freshman.
“How do you manage friendships with the opposite sex without sending the wrong signals?”
I’m bisexual and poly, so I try not to send the wrong signal no matter what gender they are. But since this is from reddit, I’ll social mask the heteronormative bullshit for a minute. In order to really manage friends with the opposite sex, they have to be free to go over to each other’s houses at any time- meaning that most of their face time is in front of their partner so that their partner is actually there to witness the vibe and say, “careful there.” By keeping your partner away from the person, you are creating a divide and conquer. A little place to get away that may or may not interrupt your relationship. The more you isolate, the more threatening it is to your partner. And, let’s face it, some people are going to be jealous no matter what you do.
“What’s the most memorable date you’ve ever been on?”
The funniest one is that I didn’t know the woman was an exterminator, and I didn’t know that it was a date. The first rule of dating women is that you have to tell them explicitly it is a date because I swear to Christ no one ever thinks “date.” She just wants to hang out. There’s no possible way she could like me…. and on and on and on. So, she picks me up and there’s a dozen roses in her hand, so at least I got a clue after I’d gotten ready…. in jeans and a t-shirt. She got really, really passionate about being an exterminator, and it was just a weird conversation all around. I was relieved when it ended, and surprised to learn that there are actually situations in which I am speechless.
“What’s your love language?”
It has changed over time. It has always been words of affirmation/recognition. However, I have learned to see practical things as love as well. It’s not my love language, but it is Supergrover and Zac’s. I compromise and bend, or try as much as I can. But income has never been a thing with any of us, because Supergrover isn’t supporting me and neither is Zac.
Well, I can’t completely say that because Zac will take me anyplace I want to go no matter the cost- but it’s a gift, not a financial dependence. I like cooking, he likes going out to eat. So, it’s no problem to pay for both of us because he’d rather pay for me to be able to share his experiences. I haven’t even cooked for him. I’ve cooked when he wasn’t there, and that’s fun, too. He has a lot of cool shit he’s not using, like a near perfect chef’s knife. So perfect I feel like she’s cheating on me when she’s with him (all knives are female, like ships). Am I jealous that Zac has other partners? No. I am jealous of his kitchen.
Last night we went out for sushi and then got ice cream. I had a scoop of banana with frozen mango and strawberry, and a scoop of dark chocolate that said it had a whole lot of things, but I only really remember the marshmallow. I love ice cream with marshmallows, like Rocky Road. It’s the texture difference, like Chocolate Pudding Therapy at Ben & Jerry’s.
This morning on the way to the train, we stopped for pastries and coffee at a Swiss bakery, where I got a cafe au lait, a croissant, a lemon custard and blueberry Danish, and some long-awaited sour gummy Smurfs…. which I just opened about three minutes ago. ๐
