It is Evening in My Office

June 19, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, it can.

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

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

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

because neurodivergent overexplaining eats my lunch.

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

Autism sucks.

OMG. It’s Real. It’s All Real.

June 19, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s rude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I lost my editor.

Everywhere That Doesn’t Find a Big Mouth Offensive

June 18, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What countries do you want to visit?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Particulars of Nowhere in Particular

June 17, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

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. 😛 ) 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.”

My People Don’t Do That

June 16, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

How do you want to retire?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. Drink water til you pee pale

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

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

This is a conversation often had in my family:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In What Genre?

June 15, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What’s the oldest thing you own that you still use daily?

My oldest coffee mug says “SPY” and it features the Culpeper Ring, the men that won us the Revolutionary War because we didn’t win the war by outgunning the Empire. We won because we had better spies/scouts than they did. It’s a toss-up to me in terms of history what would have happened if we’d lost. In some ways, I think we’d be happier. In some ways, I think we’d be furious. If they hadn’t taxed our tea, we would still be importing PG Tips like it was more important than the water bill. They turned an entire population against something that would have bridged our cultures. So, go them. We drink coffee like the French.

So, if you’re wondering about a business that could have sustained you for centuries like Disney bailed out Doctor Who, you done goofed. You come to the US and complain about our tea, the height of entitlement over a problem you created. The British influence was so strong in the south during the Revolutionary War that it’s how iced tea became the house wine of the south. So, thank you for that. I think. It’s actually really interesting because to me the South is the strangest transformation in history. Savannah, Charleston, and Baltimore were just as English as New England and New York. I wonder what caused those two cities to diverge in the woods, and it only takes one answer. England abolishing slavery. There were about 50-60 years between when England freed their slaves and we freed ours, because the Southern economy would have gone to shit without it.

I have heard differing stories because African American culture is not a monolith. Some people of color blame the English and the Americans for slavery. Some blame the African kings who wanted to get rich and sold their ancestors to white people. It depends on who you ask, and a wide spectrum of brilliantly defended propositions. There is no way I can walk a mile in a black person’s shoes, but as I queer person I can empathize and relate. The institutional pain between black and queer people is similar, yet not on the same playing field. We’ve always both had problems with the police, except that now that history is in the past but we’re all still touched by it. There haven’t been enough generations where queer kids come out in peace.

I do not know if black people had a special shape in the Holocaust, but I do know I did- a pink triangle. There is no such thing as competitive suffering, so even though it’s not the same, I feel some of the same scars on my skin. I have only recently become a citizen who can get married like everyone else, and I am still persecuted by Christians who aren’t right, but they’re certain.

The older I get, the less certain I am about anything. Discovering at an early age how gender and sexual orientation affect me led me to end up believing that everything is a spectrum and not a binary. There are too many permutations of human behavior not to believe there’s a wider range than we are originally led to believe…. whether people tell others about it is another matter.

If you don’t tell anyone anything, you don’t realize how lonely you are, because you’re not giving anyone a chance to feed you. Part of being fed by your emotional support is feeling heard. That no feeling is invalid. You talk about the logic behind the feelings, but you don’t discredit the feelings themselves. You discuss why the other is helping you to feel one way or the other, being willing to compromise until we meet in the middle.

It takes an enormous amount of strength to talk through a conflict, and I know that I got frustrated with Supergrover early because I was so tired of everything that had happened before. Her being half in didn’t make sense to me, and created more turmoil in me than I wanted. Like, why do I continue to pour energy into this relationship when it’s clear it’s not wanted? I have learned that it is wanted through context clues.

We don’t have to work on the fact that we’re connected for life and cannot suddenly stop knowing each other, and I don’t want a relationship where she’s half in and can’t plan for shit.

When I mentioned getting together, she said, “I don’t think it’s a good time.” That’s fine with me. I’m not thinking about the up close and personal future. I’m autistic, so I have different ways of feeling out getting together with people. It takes a very long time for me to process that information so I don’t chicken out at the last minute. Perhaps she did feel like I was nickeling and dimming her for her time, but I hope she’s known me long enough to know that I didn’t mean anything sudden. She won’t retire for a while, and any plans I have that have to do with her giving of her time is at a time in her life when she’s had more bandwidth than she’s had in years. Getting her time right now is impossible, but it’s not impossible to work towards later.

That’s the goal that keeps me going- preparing for later. I don’t presume this is the end because the end never is. We repel and attract like magnets, because I’m a silver penned devil. 😉 My friend John gave me that nickname and now I want it in 18pt font up my arm, bigger if it fits. 😛

But what I mean in terms of friendship is that by working out our problems on my own here, they are often touched by what I say. I am attracting energy to me, rather than seeking attention.

I do hope that Supergrover finds something she does want to discuss with me, because it’s the highlight of my day. She’s not the problem. We are. There’s a big difference because we are both perfect, and I mean that sincerely. We are beautiful in all our flaws. Bad communication is its own thing, not whether either one of us are good people. We’ve been friends long enough to know beyond a shadow of any doubt that she’s good people.

My biggest fear is that she only wants to be a fan, and doesn’t want to be my friend. That’s why the pattern doesn’t change. It breaks my heart, because her criticism is more important and more impacting of the direction of this blog than anything else.

But if she’s just a fan taking pot shots from the peanut gallery, I can’t take it. She’s my friend, one of the great loves of my life because I fell into her charm and I’ll never get out. She deserves every bit of that love, but we don’t communicate well enough to be able to tell each other that. We did, and she decided that being vulnerable once was enough to her, and her next interaction seemed rule based and yet not. I do not know where to go, and so I’m resting in Zac because I can. She only means more to me due to the number of years I’ve known each, not because one is closer to me than the other. I was happier taking a break from thinking about the problem, because I hit a land mine almost immediately and she told me to go to hell.

It’s on brand, so I want to figure out how we are both contributing to that problem or not interact. I am overcoming a lot of feelings all by myself that I don’t know how to navigate, because I don’t know how to talk to Supergrover and as a result, I don’t know how to talk to me about her, either. It’s confusing because we are both entitled to our feelings and privacy. I also think our relationship would look a lot different if it wasn’t moving at the speed of the Internet- that it would take longer for us to be angry if you got a letter two or three days after you sent it, not immediately. There’s no time to calm down and absorb anymore, and you seemingly can’t reframe anything because someone else knows what you mean better than you do.

It’s hard letting them go because they’re right about you. It’s just that their perceptions are their experience of you, not who you are.as a human being. What someone interpreted you as saying may or may not be correct.

Because my second oldest coffee mug is one she bought for me.

The only books that matter are either by Jonna and Tony Mendez or they were presents from her. She can pick my books at any time, because our interests overlap occasionally and we’re both suckers for amazing prose. I am so glad that she has sent me books by Kindle, because they’re presents I’ll never misplace; she’ll always be with me in one way or another. I feel like that’s enough, because it takes two to tango. I do not want to cut a rug all by myself. I do not think I was impulsive to say that I was struggling with the odds on “happily ever after,” because there was no new information to take in. I have to just keep saying it over and over- I do not judge any friend as not worthy to hear my story anymore because they are not worthy as a friend. They become unworthy to hear my story when it’s not an exchange of information. It’s just me pouring energy into you without feeling it in return. I’ve been in that relationship with lots of women, and I’m done. That’s why I thought I’d found the one for all time. It’s really, really hard to break up with someone you’ve never dated. My joke about this is that her husband may not be at her next wedding, but I will. The reason it’s a joke is that I love Michael almost more than her because he’s the one on the ground taking care of her. I don’t have to worry as much as I would if she didn’t have that kind of support. I’m the kind of friend to call if you need support in absence of a partner because I’ve been doing pastoral care a very long time. I am not going to be offended at what you tell me, who you need me to call, what you’ve taken, etc. This is because I’ve been single for a very long time, and you need your friends to step in for you that way. But that doesn’t mean that I want to be the conductor. I just want to be in the orchestra somewhere. Maybe one of these days she’ll let me play lead. I just don’t think she thinks I have the temperament for it because I am so shy and retiring in writing.

“Custody over Supergrover” is my favorite thing in life. The hardest part of having a pet monster is dropping her leash. The other hardest part is not joking that each of us are the oldest thing we own. We’re both in that nebulous age where a group of people is a “no, thanks.” I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I actually get more time with her when we’re just e-mailing than I would on the ground, because her diary/schedule is so full that I’d wait months for anything on the ground, possibly years. Just e-mailing each other allows us to be together no matter where the other is.

I have also said that the silver lining of the pandemic is that now everyone has friends they’ve known for a long time without meeting in person, so there’s no need to explain so much. Emotions run higher because you’re more brave with the wall of anonymity. You don’t say things with as much social nicety as you would in person and there’s no way for anyone to hear your tone or read your eyes for context clues. And still, emotions persist.

The way I feel about my relationship with Supergrover over 11 years is that it is very much akin to having dated and decided we didn’t work as partners, but we worked as friends. The only kink in that logic was that Supergrover is straight and in a relationship, so she wasn’t dealing with the same issues as me. I could stop wanting her, but I couldn’t stop being programmed to protect her and give her everything she wanted that was within my power. I say it just that way because we’re the same person. When we have power, we use it responsibly because we really don’t want it. She’s the type boss I respect, that she doesn’t give her team anything she wouldn’t do herself, and I believe that she’s an excellent trainer without even really having to think about it. Instructional design is a theme in both our lives. Nothing in our lives is transactional, either. When I say that there’s a lot in here about what she won’t do for me and not a lot about what she will, I am not saying that from a narcissistic perspective. I am letting you lay out your bandwidth, I lay out mine, and we meet in the middle after conversations.

At the very least, this should have been a deescalation and not the end, but ultimately that’s not my call, either. One of my readers talked about Supergrover ghosting me or being half out. I want to talk about that here, because she didn’t ghost me or say she was half in at all. She explained her reasoning perfectly, and she would have been spot on in her analysis if she’d gotten my actual intent and not what she thought I meant. She reads through my words and picks out the worst possible interpretation she possibly can. It weighs on me, because I’m not villainizing her. I’m painting her.

I was reminded that I wrote on the blog that she lives in my ink. I was reminded of that line when I was looking around Fahrney’s, an American pen/pencil shop. The back of the store was covered in bottles of ink in every color you can imagine. It’s why she pulls me in and repels me. All the things that we’ve written to each other come up in my mind when I’m doing other things. As I understand what she’s said more, I try to guess what she’s saying more. Then that goes wrong and I’m alone again.

But not truly alone, because since she lives in my ink, it is a communion only we share. I feel her presence in the room when I’m writing, so my writing leans toward her whether she’s the intended topic or not. I would like to make friends where we could also be that close, but there’s no way to duplicate this connection and I’ve stopped trying.

She doesn’t feel creepy to me. The fact that I want to know her like every friend would know her seems creepy, because I’m not pumping her for information. I am genuinely curious because she’s unique. I don’t know what she means about her not being vulnerable means deliberately hurting my feelings does not work for her. So far, not being vulnerable has always led to hurting my feelings because she’d rather put me off than face her demons and just tell me what’s up. She says she can’t say anything without immediately being tagged as avoidant. If your whole pattern is avoidance and has been since you were a child, you cannot see how avoidance hurts other people. They also don’t change when they’re not aware of something. I feel like calling her on avoidant behavior when it happens is better than keeping it all in, because it will come up less and less frequently over time. Her patterns will change to being used to being vulnerable all the time instead of going in guns blazing.

As I told her before, it’s not that she went guns blazing on me. It’s that she has CPTSD so the guns are always already out. Taking down her walls means getting vulnerable about how she feels in reaction to what I said. She said “writing to each other, supporting each other.” I get that. I really do. But I don’t feel supported when it feels like my feelings are going into a void. Like, I’ll write an essay about X topic, and no matter what topic it is between us, that’s not a topic she’ll discuss. It’s frustrating to an enormous degree, because if I bring that up, she immediately goes to “I’m not good enough for you.” It’s not a healthy environment in which to bring up problems, and relationships always have them.

Many things about friendship aren’t the good ones, and you have to go through the bad ones to get the good. I don’t want to focus on negativity. I want to focus on where we go from here. Most notably, what have I done right? I’m not fishing for compliments. I have heard all the complaints.

I think she also just. cannot.

That this friendship was doomed long ago because there are certain topics we need to resolve that she’ll never talk about, and there are multiple issues that fall under that category. I am a lot of things she is not. She is a lot of things I am not. Bridging the gap is enormous.

A river runs through it.

It’s About 0615, and…

June 14, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Jack is licking the t-shirt I left at the end of my bed, which is the one I wore to Cielo Rojo. I am certain it has lots of interesting smells. He gets to enjoy Rachel Bindel’s cooking as much as I did… in a manner of speaking.

Oh, wait. Now he’s moved to licking himself, and I find myself really laughing over whether I should tell you Jack is a dog at this moment. I don’t know any men who lick t-shirts, but I wouldn’t put it past any of them. You don’t even have to go on the dark web to know that.

Today’s writing prompt is about describing a significant moment. Sure, I can pick things out that have meant something to me, but I try to see the beauty and pain in all of life itself. All moments are significant depending on how you’re looking. It also depends on perspective. Are you looking for negative? Confirmation bias is real\

I didn’t tell you all the funny things that happened in church because that’s long enough to be a book. I think my favorite story about my mother was that she and Herschel Walker had the same birthday. It’s applicable because their birthday just passed- 11 June. So, my dad and probably the worship committee get together and make Herschel and my mom a cake. I don’t know whose idea it was, and I’m not casting blame, especially since the pastor is not in charge of preparing the cake before worship (not that he couldn’t. My dad is an accomplished cook and baker).

The cake had relighting candles.

So, my mother and Hershel kept trying to blow them out, at first not realizing that they kept relighting. Hershel got so frustrated he put them out right in the cake. No one saw that coming and we were all howling.

I don’t mean to portray my childhood as all negative or all anything. It’s just what I’m thinking about depending on the moment. What has come up for me that day? I’ve also written down all my church stories in other entries, and I feel like I’m running out of material given that those memories are from 0 to 17. “Childhood is the credit balance of a writer,” according to John le Carré. Not if you can’t remember it.

The hardest thing for me was packing up my house in Houston to move to Sugar Land. It was leaving HSPVA, it was leaving The Heights, it was leaving everything cool about living in Houston. There were big surprises coming, I just didn’t know that yet. I didn’t know what kind of high school Clements would be. I just knew it wasn’t a performing arts high school. There’s only one Robert “Doc” Morgan and he doesn’t live in Sugar Land.

Leaving him was the worst part of leaving HSPVA. He told me that he was going to miss seeing me do my senior tune. Then, I found myself trying to comfort him and saying that I’d already gotten it with “Come Rain or Come Shine.” It made me feel good that I wasn’t the only one that was sad I was leaving. Quite a few other people were, too.

There was a major drawback to going to another school, and that’s that I’d been out of the closet for almost two years, and I didn’t have to tell anyone. A frenemy took care of that. My mother told me I couldn’t come out at Clements and I told her I’d never come out to anyone except a girl I liked and look where that got me. And besides, at that point, I wasn’t looking to date anyone else. I missed Ryan, and he was there to catch me in a friend way if someone messed with me. I lost that, too.

Ryan, my eighth grade boyfriend, and I went to different middle schools, but both ended up at high school together after we broke up. It took a minute, but we were back into our rhythm of each other’s comic foils. We’re still each other’s comic foils, and it feels good to be friends with someone who’s known me since I was 14 and we’re 46 now. Our birthdays are only 20 days apart. I get excited for Ryan’s birthday like I get excited for my own, as if I have a second birthday to look forward to at the end of the month.

Tonight is a Zac night, and the only reason I’m writing about it is to remember to get my stuff together after I’m done writing. I’d like to do my laundry, including all my towels, once we’re done for today. If this entry ends up being a hundred pages long, it’s because in the back of my mind I am thinking “I do not have to do my laundry as long as I’m still writing.” You are very, very important. 🙂

Right now I am debating with myself over beverages. I know I want coffee and water, just not sparkling or still. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.

I ended up getting a Gatorade and puttering around the house. I took a shower and put product in my hair. It’s on its last dregs, so I’m glad I have the same hair product at Zac’s. I like Gorilla Ear Wax I bought some for him to try it. I think he likes it, because occasionally I smell it on him. I am divided over whether I like the Ear Wax or the Snot. The difference is that Ear Wax is gel mixed with wax. Snot is just gel. If you’ve never tried either, they’re worth it, especially in the South. Gorilla Snot has a hard hold sport variety that will keep it from dripping in your eyes when it’s hot outside…. or at least you won’t burn the fuck out of your eyes if you’re outside…. like in marching band.

I use a two-in-one men’s shampoo and conditioner, which I would not recommend except I put leave-in conditioner in my hair before the product…. or afterwards if I’m using wax. A two-in-one is just not moisturizing enough.

I also do not know how I figured this out. I know I did not read it. I think I just picked it up from watching a guy on YouTube giving a talk on shaving because there was a shit ton of Bond memorabilia in his bathroom. Anyway, it occurred to me that a shaving brush would probably clear my pores better than a wash cloth, and I spend at least two or three minutes stimming in the shower by brushing my soap on like foundation. My skin looks really good. I have a Viking, but I found an even softer one in David’s guest bathroom that he said I could use.

You have to moisturize heavily if you’re going to use a shaving brush, because your skin has to rest between brushings. I use an all natural lotion bar that my former housemate, Magda, made for me. It is literally a bar of wax, or it feels like it. It smells like citronella, which keeps bugs off me and doesn’t smell weird with my cologne and deodorant. It’s summer. Who doesn’t smell like citronella?

Although in the summer, I tend to switch out the all natural wax for heavy duty sunscreen while my face is still wet. It needs about 20 minutes to soak into your skin fully, so it’s activated by the time I leave the house. I am terrible about remembering to reapply, but I’m rarely outside longer than an hour and a half. Jack is a small dog. He just kind of runs himself out, and that takes a quarter of a mile most days. If he’s feeling good, we’ll go a half or three quarters. He’s an older dog, and I have to be on his schedule. He’s my baby dog and my grandfather all in one package. I feel this on a deep and spiritual level, because I was always a child and 45 as well.

It makes sense why I scrub so much. I feel like I have to get off dog hair and the smell of dog, even for a little bit. That’s because I can’t help myself. He can walk all over me. But I get a little space to be dog free. I have to. He goes apeshit when I’m on my period. David and I are both waiting for menopause with bated breath, because we’ve picked up after his shit long enough.

Because when I put it in the trash can and close the lid, then he drags it all over the floor, it ceases to be my shit. It hurts that you really can’t fire these underperforming employees. The best you can do is put them on a performance improvement plan. They’re just too cute, and there’s too many pictures. Kind of how I felt about my sister at first, too. 😉

Yesterday, I showed David how to make Jack sit and wait for his leash to be put on, because it makes things so much easier. David showed me that Jack also knows the hand sign for sit, which opens up so many more conversations between Bryn and me because she trains her own dog in sign language.

So, with Jack, we need to work on leash training. He pulls and will not heel in traffic. I need to get him to start sitting at intersections as well. We are doing very well so far, but it has led to a situation where I’m the alpha. I don’t think that David notices or cares. It’s just that Jack knows that not minding me comes with consequences he does not like, so he will try David. He will not try me. No, sir. We do not do that. Your behavior is frowned upon in this establishment.

I speak baby.

That line made me think “I wonder if there’s a new ‘Doctor Who’ to watch while my laundry is going?” I’m betting there is, and if not, I’ll watch a rerun. I don’t have the channels I need to watch all of them (As an American, I cannot get a TV license for the BBC, and I don’t have HBO Max. I’m holding out on HBO because I think eventually the catalog will move to Disney. It’s just that right now they only have the episodes they started with, not the entirety of new and classic Who. It makes sense that they will eventually, because their oldest videos are some of the most popular. Adults looking in nostalgia or teaching their kids to love what they loved.

Love is why Doctor Who endures. It’s parents and grandparents wanting to share this thing they loved with their children and their children’s children. Remember, it’s been on since the day Kennedy was shot. In fact, the show was almost bumped because of it. It might not have been a big deal except that the BBC hadn’t said when they would air it again……….

It was actually Jodie Whitaker that got me started down this road of nonbinary, because I didn’t see it in myself until The Doctor regenerated as female. I saw gender on The Doctor, not gender within them. I recently learned that nonbinary falls under the trans umbrella, because anything that’s not cis does. I was shocked by this, because I’ve never in a million years thought I was trans. That’s because I’ve never had body dysphoria. There’s a reason for that. I am built not to care what body I’m in.

Here’s what I’ve learned about being nonbinary that no one will tell you. You learn it when you transcend the system. The medium is the message. Women and men are attuned to hear each other differently, so there’s a nuance to what they say before they say it based on what they’ve heard before. Confirmation bias is real.

I feel that I know men better than some straight women because I ask them different questions than they do. They don’t think men are interested in things that they really are, but when you give them enough time and space to let them have an opinion about traditionally female things, they definitely do. Most men want to feel more beautiful than they do. They walk around feeling like crap about themselves because of magazines, too. But you don’t know that if you don’t ask.

This is especially true of gay men who want to fit a stereotype. Twinks starve themselves and an overwhelming number of gay men become gym rats to become the magazine ideal, even if they aren’t interested in exercise normally. The gym is a way to meet men, certainly, but you must look like a picture in a magazine to get that kind of gym experience. Gay men are as consumed by their bodies as straight women trying to get dates…. that they are not enough on their own. They must kill themselves for beauty.

I am not against exercise. I am anti being an extremist about anything. I am against clearly pushing your body past what it can take to get off that one extra pound, and it is that serious in my community. This does not exclude straight men and it never has. Straight men aren’t asked to be vulnerable in a way that gay men already are.

It’s not that straight men don’t have body issues, it’s that a queer man will tell you.

These are the guys that pretend they’re not bothered by magazines and then moan that they’ll never get a girlfriend because they don’t look like them. It’s all the same issue. Men just don’t show it. We think men don’t go through a lot of things because they don’t show it.

A man’s biggest fear is abandonment. And so is a woman’s. A woman is programmed to be perfect at taking care of the home. A man is programmed to be perfect at providing for the home. Both have a tremendous societal pressure on them and how they deal with it is seemingly not the way to do it in everyone else’s eyes.

I honestly don’t think you get this perspective if you’ve never fallen under the queer or trans umbrella. This is because you’ve never had to let go of any gender roles. You’ve never had to switch it up because your body has always fit that programming. So has your mind. Straight, cis people don’t think outside the box. Queer people haven’t been given an option to think like other people. How do you think like married people, even about taxes, when you can’t get married? How do you get your husband to mow the lawn while you do dishes when it isn’t that cut and dry. In a gay marriage, you divide the labor by strength, not gender. You can’t.

Straight, cis people are programmed to think it’s weird, but they’d be happier if they let go of it. Like letting go of thinking that if your wife makes more than you, it means you’re failing as a provider. Men get very passionate over it, sometimes violent, because that’s not their programming. That’s not what men have been taught to accept for millions of years. Some of them are acting on their most feral natures, and don’t seem to understand why women don’t want that while complaining about gold diggers. It’s a lose-lose proposition. Either we’re dependent on you for money and you’re a stingy bastard, or we make our own money and you’re threatened. You are stuck in a moment and you can’t get out of it. If you’re going to be the provider, you can’t complain when I ask you for $200 to go to the grocery store.

That’s because I’m betting you have no fucking clue what it costs to feed a family for a week. You have decided you don’t have to know that. You just have to be there to financially control us when we’re asking for reasonable things. I would shit a brick if my husband didn’t immediately know I needed money for new clothes when he just saw me fall and rip my trousers to bits. I would not expect my husband to give me a life of luxury. There’s a difference between managing a home and expecting you to work while I play. I manage the home so that you can provide. I’m not just sitting here, twiddling my thumbs.

I am not talking about my reality. I am talking about the reality for most stay at home moms. Fathers say they want this, then financially abuse the hell out of their wives with being stingy about it. If we ask for too much, we’re gold diggers. They are happiest when we can manage on nothing, because to ask for money twice in one day is not that two needs came up, it’s that I’m needling you for money.

So, women go out and get their own jobs. It’s not threatening when we’re secretaries, teachers, or waitresses. It’s terrifying when we’re CEO, CIO, CFO, etc. It’s terrifying when we achieve titles you never will. So, we can deal with your jealousy a lot better than we can deal with your financial abuse, so either start handing over more money so we can raise our families or stop complaining about how we choose to spend our time outside the home.

I’ve always been a perfectionist when it comes to being a provider, which is why I haven’t seen my neurodivergence. I’ve only seen failure. I didn’t know what symptoms I was experiencing to be able to forgive myself, and in some ways, I never have. I can be a while lot of things, but as a writer, it’s better to he a jack of all trades, master of none. I can pull connections from my life that no one else would make.

Like being a preacher’s kid makes me one of the best waitresses and babysitters on the planet because I play to the people, not the money. They want to pay me more because I genuinely do a good job and genuinely care about everyone involved. It’s really hard to find an employee that cares more than me. My neurodivergence gets in the way on a number of levels, the biggest being practical. In terms of being at work, I need to go to the doctor “all the time.” There’s no room for demand avoidance, meltdown, and burnout. There’s also no room for missing an hour or two and coming back for the rest of the day and doing the rest from home that night.

If I was higher up, I could do that. The higher up you are in a company, the more you’re allowed to do your own thing. It’s like you can’t have a life until you’re old enough not to have to deal with the same struggles as a poor person, or a sick/disabled one…. which are all too often the same thing. It’s the inversion principle on a very sick and twisted scale. By the time you can take off the kind of time it takes to be sick/disabled, you have to have accrued enough sick time and vacation that you probably don’t need it.

I would like to know how these people manage sicknesses in advance. In the United States, this often presents as giving everyone in the office the flu. Honestly, it’s better that way. No one believes you’re actually sick in an e-mail or a phone call. They’ll send you home if they see you throw up in a trash can, no note necessary.

The thing I hate most about working from home is that it encourages employees to be absolute workaholics. They sit there and think, “I could be reading, or I could be getting stuff done in advance.” No, they’re taking on more work than necessary because the work they were supposed to do at work is already done. They’re asking to get twice as much work as everyone else, and other people are glad to pile it on you.

There are only a few jobs I can think of where you need to be available 24/7. I cannot count on Zac for anything, because the military is his real spouse. If they call, he’s out of here and neither of us has a choice in the matter. So, first responders, military intelligence, and medical professionals. I don’t even think flight attendants should be on that list. I think the airlines should hire more people so that the number of flights per day that you do equals eight hours. If it’s a long haul flight, they have enough people to do the route that you don’t have to do a turnaround.

Once you get to be really senior in an airline, you are allowed to pick your routes. It’s alarmingly like being in the State Department. The higher you are, the more choice you have over your next assignment. And, of course, because I’ve seen “Pan Am” I think every stewardess is a spy and I secretly pine over her no matter what she looks like.

This reminds me of an e-mail I sent to Supergrover from CDG. “I saw a really cute French girl, tripped and farted on her. I have to leave the country immediately.” I should have told my dad that story. He’ll laugh when he reads it here. The memory is so embarrassing that I’ve blocked it out. I don’t even remember what she looked like, but she must have been something. Supergrover, you would have absolutely laughed your ass off if you’d seen me walk into that door.

For those who aren’t Supergrover, I told her that I went to dinner with someone and she was so cute that I ran into a door and hurt my nose trying not to look at her. We went to Chuy’s, so I’ve always thought it would be hilarious if we met at a Chuy’s. However, that is not the only time I’ve walked into a door over a cute girl, so maybe I should be glad she doesn’t want to get together. I don’t know what I would hurt next (it is interesting to me that she is very beautiful, but really not my type. For most people, they love her face and her mind comes next. Hers became the face I loved from the inside out, just like with everyone I’ve ever met that sparked my interest. No two of my partners have looked the same, but a lot of them have brain gremlins in common. It’s not that I don’t have my own brain gremlins, they are just separate and apart from theirs. Different playing field.).

The other time I walked into a door over a cute girl was at a club in Logan Circle. I ran from her because it was really bad timing, but what happened was that the club was having a buy one, get one free drink special that night. I knew that I didn’t want both of them, so I offered mine to a woman near me. I think she thought that implied something, but I wasn’t offended. I just chatted to her like I would any of my friends to see if there was an actual spark or whether she just felt obligated to talk to me because I’d given her something.

Let me tell you why I am still kicking myself.

She was a church secretary in an African American church for 25 years, and at the time, I was interested in going to Howard Divinity School, because it’s UCC.

I was in love with every single one of my dad’s secretaries to the point of insanity. Our witty banter went from one to 11 very, very fast. She also had 21-year-old twins, and I was fascinated by that because we’re old, but we’re not that old. I wondered what it was like growing up with them, eager to have children that don’t live in my house. 😉 Just all these puzzle pieces were falling together so fast that I didn’t have room to breathe, and I felt that U-Haul type pull and I wasn’t ready. I was still getting over my own mental health issues, my divorce, my relationship with Supergrover, moving, all of it. It was too much.

Because my mind went to Jell-o when, at the end of the night, she walked up to me with her phone number on a napkin and kissed me on the lips. It was the boldest move I’d ever seen anyone make, and I was so scrambled that I hit a glass door on the way out. It didn’t shatter, but I sure felt it. I had scabs on my face by the next day…. probably another reason I didn’t call her. My very graceful exit. What I do know is that we would have been dynamite if I had been healed from my relationships. What I knew is that if I was in a relationship right now, it would end like all the others because I wasn’t smart enough to understand myself.

Alas, the piece of paper is long gone, but it’s a very sweet memory because it’s the first time I realized that divorce didn’t mean failure, that I could be lovable to someone else. I just needed time to figure all of that out, and I knew it wasn’t going to happen on her timeline, because I didn’t even know what that was. Feeling the dopamine of a potential relationship would have pulled me away from my quest to understand my own motivations and issues in relationships, because her needs would have trumped mine immediately. That’s just the way I’m built.

I needed to learn how to compromise from a place of strength, not tiptoe around people hoping they’ll notice me. I can do that now, because Zac and I are both hugely emotionally capable and dive into each other to the extent that we have the bandwidth. Sometimes, you just don’t want to talk that deep. It takes bandwidth. What I love about sitting next to Zac is that neither one of us requires stimulation at all times. We can sit in companionable silence and have that be enough- and in fact, more than enough because you know the relationship is genuine when companionable silence exists. My favorite thing is when Zac is working from home and in his office while I’m typing on my Bluetooth keyboard in his bed. The rhythm of his work feeds the rhythm of mine, like going to WeWork or something, but without having to pay for it. He just doesn’t work from home all the time because I will have to check with him, but I do not believe his house is a SCIF. However, there’s a lot that’s declassified enough that he can use a VPN and a government-issued laptop at home. Therefore, sometimes it doesn’t matter where he is geographically, and sometimes it really, really does.

I keep in mind what it is he’s working on, and become completely absorbed in what I’m doing. I don’t know when he’s going to have to take a call or whatever, so it’s easiest to tune it out. In fact, I was writing the other day and I asked Zac if he was working. He said, “you couldn’t hear my typing?” No. I was writing and I went deaf temporarily. I also tend to stim and get lost in petting Oliver, who is a dog….. another thing that tunes me out from all else. I am now so glad that I have Jack, who is also a dog, at home for this very reason. I’ve enjoyed having Oliver as a mascot while I write, because it’s like I have an audience that doesn’t talk back. I try hard to write to impress both of them. I want to be the person they think I am.

I am not happy with my hair right now. I think I need a fade for summer, because it’s just not short enough not to be a mop on top. The picture I posted a few weeks ago is no indication of how ragged my neck looks now. I go to a punk rock barber shop in downtown Silver Spring called Raphael’s, because I’m going for a genderqueer haircut. Barbers don’t question me. They give me what I want. A woman will tell me it’s a shame I want to cut it all off, as if my femininity is found in my hair. I am not a Rapunzel sort of bitch.

If I’m feeling particularly feminine, it doesn’t matter if I have a fade or not. My jewelry and my outfit determine my gender. If I have on a short skirt and a low cut top with lots of jewelry, men will flock to me whether my hair is long or not. Just like at CIA, they are not trained to see a person, they’re trained to see a form. If that form is curvy, it will look curvy no matter what I put on it. The number of men that have grabbed me around the waist despite practically having a “no thank you” sign on my back is insane.

I forgot a big misconception about being bisexual the other day, and it’s important. You are not half and half. Not all bisexuals are neutral and have a preference for one or all sexes. Therefore, what I meant is that if I am looking for male attention, I will find it because I was born female. It doesn’t take anything more than that. I just don’t look for male attention under normal circumstances. After domestic violence, it’s interesting that I found I wanted a protector, and it’s okay that he’s male because that makes him more physically capable of protecting me. But it’s not because I wouldn’t date another woman. It’s that I have no pattern of domestic abuse with men, because I’ve never been with one long enough to have that fiery a relationship.

My preference has not changed over time. I’ve just been scared, and I already have all the female energy I need in my life with Bryn, and Supergrover if she decides she wants more. I don’t think she will, I just want her to know that she’s welcome… that she jumped to a conclusion that was not there in a lot of cases.

I want to be in her life to whatever level she’ll accept me, but I don’t want a blanket statement that we’ll just write to each other. I wanted solid steps on how we plan to get to know each other in different ways than we know each other now.

None of that has to do with an on the ground meeting. I love her no matter what she does. I just want us to try harder at communication than we have previously. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, but it’s going to take her a while to digest my words and figure out what I’m really saying. I’ll wait forever, because it’s no skin off my nose. I don’t have to close the door to her. I have to close the door to our toxic pattern. Fixing that would bring me back around to being closer to her. Winging it will ensure another week in which our dance of intimacy gets more passionate and we repel each other like magnets.

I don’t want to be 100% That Bitch. I said something to her that I meant as “I’m done coming up with topics.” She said “I’m done, too. Please don’t contact me again.” One of these things is not like the other. She absolutely went to guns on me, and that’s what I have to stop. She doesn’t have questions. She has defenses.

I stopped deciding to put my time and energy into her because I realized that if she could jump to that conclusion so quickly, this would be a harder pattern to break than I thought. She said that she was coming from a place of friendship, and took a pot shot at me while saying our relationship wouldn’t change. That I could count on not knowing anything about how our future would or could shake out.

Instead of telling me all the things she wouldn’t do, she told me all the things she wouldn’t. That’s why I decided I wanted to let her come up with her own safe topics. That I wasn’t going to try and do her emotional work for her and guess what was going on anymore. I have never been treated as right until she got vulnerable enough to admit it. We did not continue talking in that vulnerable way. The wall went up again. She says I decided she would never be vulnerable again. I did not. I was repelled at the idea that this was a bait-and-switch. I’ll tell you that I’m your real friend, but I have no idea whether I want to integrate you into my real life or not, and the whole e-mail was geared toward ways she wanted to continue hiding herself also while having a 10 year history of being avoidant.

When she was vulnerable, she admitted that was a problem in other relationships, too. I knew that the pattern we were in was universal. It’s how people operate from their first families, not their current ones. Nothing she did had anything to do with me, and it comforted all my anxieties that she really does think about me, often, just doesn’t have the time to respond. That meant more to me than gold, because I got to imagine who she was thinking about right before she thought about me.

She has cool friends because she does things. I could have cool friends, but I like sitting at home and letting her and Lindsay control doing all the things. Them doing all the things and just hearing about it is way more interesting to me than actually having to get dressed up enough to go with them. They have to wear suits and crap. That gets expensive for me because I need something tailored to my frame. The closest I can come is a big boys’ double breasted suit, but it doesn’t have the same proportions as adult clothes and I just have to roll with it. I wear a men’s pea coat, but when I’m wearing it, I have a sweater or multiple layers under it. So, I don’t necessarily feel comfortable in the gallery of the House (Lindsay is a lobbyist and attends to see the vote on her bills).

The last time I was with her when a Thing happened was when we were in the gallery waiting for her bill to come up. At that time, she was working for a drug company and one of her territories was Maryland. We were in Annapolis when Baltimore became a sanctuary city.

I spend most of my day in jeans and t-shirts so that I don’t have to wear suits and crap for work. But sometimes, I wish I did. Theirs is rareified air, invaluable marketing, and an absolute no brainer as to why I wouldn’t want to meet people on my sister’s back. I shy away from hurting her reputation. The last thing I would want to do is have a negative impact on anyone’s career.

Everyone I know has careers that I celebrate. Including the one where I ramble about anything and everything and people show up.

Being a Preacher’s Kid is Not for the Faint of Heart

June 13, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Dear Zac,

This entry is mostly for you, because I know that you haven’t known me long enough to know what my childhood was like, and you’re the one I most want to know me. You’re the one I most want to know. I’ll go first. Maybe it will spur a writing prompt in your own mind, and we can trade pingbacks. 🙂 I highly doubt, though, that you have a lot of similar experiences to this entry, which is why I’m moved to write it. Having Carol question me over the misconceptions there are about preacher’s kids led me to think of stories that made an impact on me. Some are hilarious. Some are not.

It was an instant reaction to stop drinking whole milk when a little old lady at my church said in a very judgmental tone, “I can’t drink whole milk. It puts the pounds on me.” I was under 10, and this lady was insinuating that I was doing something wrong. I live in the energy around people, and shrank away from the people who judged me… like another little old lady who told my mother she should stop making me wear false eyelashes when I was in 7th grade. I wish I could have shrugged it off, but it was a body issue. I have consulted my mother and my Supergrover when I have needed advice on making my lashes look even longer. It’s not vanity for me. It’s revenge.

You get used to being a big shot around your church because let’s face it. You are.

I was embarrassed af in about grade 5 when my dad came up with The John Wesley awards, thanking people for their contributions to the church. I didn’t think about how I would feel if I won it, because I didn’t know if it was because of my personality or my status. I didn’t know I should have recused myself in advance. I did not know how much it would feed my imposter syndrome into adulthood. Now, because so many adults from my youth group in Naples have told me how I’ve touched their lives that my imposter syndrome is over. I really am that talented at ministry, and why I didn’t believe it because I lived it is beyond me.

No, it’s not. It didn’t matter whether I was interested in following in my dad’s footsteps. Queer people couldn’t be ordained back then. There were other denominations that I could, but I didn’t know that then. Otherwise, I think I would have tried to orient my academics with my church accomplishments so that it would be possible to go to Yale, Harvard, or Princeton once I graduate from University of Houston. I know my worth, and in a lot of cases both schools need me because I have the background to be able to challenge Evangelicals without hurting their feelings. Again, this is my web site. This is where I rage. But I have Evangelical friends that even if they don’t agree with me theologically, they respect that I write it. I will also not rage if I get into Divinity School just because I am queer. Ordained queer pastors are the exception, not the norm, and there needs to be more of us. I would also be interested in studying in England, because a lot of my favorite theologians are from there. Neil Gaiman and Karen Armstrong being the ones I read the most.

I would like to meet the Archbishop of Canterbury, and it seems like dreams aren’t possible. I ran into David Sedaris at a coffee shop. Magic is everywhere.

All of my priests in the Episcopal Church have signed my Book of Common Prayer, because I want to remember all of them. Even the dean of National Cathedral. I don’t go every week, but I sure get mail like I’m in collections.

However, I understand it. The building needs maintenance, and it’s more money than most congregations ever make because it was built on such a grand scale in the first place. Things add up, but in this case it’s millions and millions of dollars through no fault of the local congregation. So many rich politicians have their funerals there that I hope they kick in to keep it beautiful. I’m betting they wouldn’t think of that, though…. to feed the church that fed you when you needed it the most.

The funniest thing that has ever happened in church during one of my dad’s sermons was that a little old lady stood up and said, “David, have you lost your mic?” Now, I don’t know if this was for comic relief or whether my dad genuinely didn’t hear her….. I have my suspicious…. There was an awkward pause, and my dad said, “I had to think for a moment because I thought you said, “David, have you lost your mind?” Something about that being plausible, congregation falls apart in laughter.

That’s the pull you feel at any church when you’re a preacher’s kid, because you have the ability to help in a way that other people don’t.

The funniest thing to my mind, and the only reason I’m telling you this is that she passed long ago, was a little old lady who had the beginnings of Alzheimer’s. She treated all four of us to a trip to the Bahamas. We flew into Freeport, and a few hours later she said, “well, that was a nice drive down here.” I have never had to bite on my tongue and lips harder not to absolutely fall apart. I was bleeding I was trying not to laugh so hard.

The other axiom that my mother always laughed about was that every year, there’s a carol sing. Someone suggests “Frosty the Snowman,” so my mother starts playing and no one knows the words. It happened repeatedly enough that we could laugh about it.

I also went through a lot of criticism from my mother, because no matter what I did it was somehow wrong. I was picked to open the door at the Passover seder. My mother told me that I looked wooden when I walked. I was just trying not to fall because I was in heels. My mother liked me in a lot of things I didn’t like, but eventually she tried harder to pick things that she liked and give them to me. After a while, she gave up on giving me clothes and I respect it because it was less awkward for me as well. It is so thoughtful that someone thinks of you for Christmas with clothing, knowing you won’t ever wear any of it. When I was in a relationship, sometimes my girlfriends would wear them. Other than that, they stayed in the back of my closet because they were sentimental. She gave them to me, and it is the thought that counts. A thought can go a very long way. I like that she thought of a different way to do Christmas rather than giving me things I didn’t like. I didn’t tell her I didn’t like them, she just never saw me in them and adjusted.

Progress.

The closest I’ll get to something feminine is a low-cut shirt and a Nehru jacket. I can put on a choker and draw the eye up. But I don’t do anything differently with my hair, so it’s just another way of expressing gender on me, not within me. I started showing signs of that, and people pegged me as queer because of it. I’m not bitter about that for me. In my case, they were correct. But they’re so wrong about others because others aren’t a walking stereotype like me.

It caused problems in every church I’ve ever attended as a preacher’s kid. People aren’t stupid, and it’s hot gossip. You never stop being hot gossip as a preacher’s kid because then you can be used as a pawn during church meetings. You do your best not to create it in the first place, but Christians aren’t perfect because no one is. Being tempted by gossip is a real human emotion. I was just upset it was directed at a confused, lonely 7th grader. I felt like I had no friends, because people wouldn’t talk to me, but they would talk about me as if I wasn’t there. I heard a lot about the other side of arguments that I shouldn’t have heard. It affected the way I treated parishioners. I ran hot and cold with all of them, because if they made a comment about me that had something to do with my person and I overheard it, I’d just stop talking to them. Adults are always flabbergasted by this because they never do anything wrong. There is no reason I’d be protective. I let you in. You burned me. Relationship is over until I don’t feel like you’re talking behind my back anymore. I shouldn’t have worried. The gossip was exponentially larger when I met my emotional abuser because everyone knew she was queer. In that time and culture, this was bad. It turned out to be bad for me, but how could I tell? I loved her like a child loves an adult. You try to pull us apart, we’ll take it underground. It was my undoing, but I smiled until I couldn’t.

I came out at High School for Performing and Visual Arts when my “friend” Courtney took a picture of me and made fliers saying I was a predator while she was actually being abused by one. I had two bullies at HSPVA. One so bad that she was also a trumpet player, so he thought he could cool the situation by letting her borrow his Bach Stradivarius. He didn’t. Plus, I felt like she was playing my horn and I couldn’t say anything, because it wasn’t like he was giving her anything I didn’t already have. I had a Strad, too. It was just the principle. She had the case with the gold plate that said “Doc” Lanagan. I’d grown up on that horn, because my dad and I only took one horn to my grandparents’ place and just shared it so he could play every once in a while and I could play duets with my cousin Jason. I must have played the first movement to the Hayden Trumpet Concerto 300 times.

There’s a solid reason my favorite now is the Hummel Trumpet Concerto. When I hear the Haydn, I just feel like “it’s been done.” I started to feel that way about church, too. That I’d been going so long I’d seen everything I needed to see to want to bug out. The Methodists did not want my theology, and thus, I did not want them. I just didn’t know how to go anywhere else.

I found the light through a queer group in the United Church of Christ, and the More Light Presbyterians, going to their conference in 1997. I was relieved, not necessarily interested in becoming ordained. My calling didn’t come from above. It came from the number of people who came up to me after worship and told me that it was literally my calling- that I was so good at preaching that I should stick with it.

What I have extrapolated this to mean is that every sermon is a home run if you have three or four weeks to run it over in your head. If I was a pastor, not every sermon would be a home run. I have the strength to take criticism because I overheard what people thought of my dad, and then me every week. I think that people genuinely believe what they’re telling you in the moment, but whether their words match their actions depends on how they treat me from Sunday to Sunday or during the week when we’re not in the sanctuary.

Although you hear a lot more in the choir loft and at choir practice than a preacher’s kid should reasonably know. That’s because if they’re in choir, they’re already at church twice a week, so they’re probably on other committees as well and the best vantage point to talk shit about me and my emotional abuser’s relationship in very snide tones. They made no secret of the fact that they thought I was being abused, and I was, but it wasn’t as torrid as people would have led you to believe, because that made a better story.

That’s because again, time and culture, they thought she was making me gay, as if people don’t come to that conclusion on their own. If I had been straight, people would have said the same things because they were already on her ass because they knew she was queer. Of course she was grooming me, and she was. But not in the way that they thought. All her friendships work by isolating people. I was just the youngest. She opened my romantic love too early with a journal she wrote in college containing a sex scene that I should not have read. It made me think she was interested whether she was or not, and she was very controlling.

Because he just died, I will tell you that I had a friend tell me she was attracted to me long after the fact. The reason I tended to believe him over her is that he had no history of lying to me. She did. However, he was just as good as she is at jeweling the elephant. I asked her if it was true, and her voice went absolutely dead. It was the most sociopathic thing I’ve ever heard. So, I don’t know whether she was lying or protecting herself. What she did was wrong whether there was a sexual intent or not, because again, it changed my thought patterns permanently. The women in my life became my focus and not me.

It was always a very fine line between friendship and romance because we told each other things we wouldn’t tell anyone else. It was crushing to me to learn that I wasn’t the only one, and I’m not playing inside baseball. I’ve spent time with her outside of when I was little and watched her go through relationships in which she lovebombed them, all of whom she discarded when they didn’t “fit her vision.” I feel like I can write about what I saw, but I cannot write those women’s stories for them. Maybe I took it all wrong, but the expressions on their faces are ones I’ve worn since I was 13, therefore it left a bigger impression on me than it would on another adult. I see patterns other people don’t see, mostly because I am taking in information in a different way than most people do.

I don’t think my school, or my church understood my autism, ADHD, or cerebral palsy. It was clumsiness, introversion, and laziness… and I was weird if I wasn’t in my parents’ vicinity. It was like a bubble, where Lindsay and I were alone and ostracized sometimes and the life of the party at others. Being the life of the party only came from our friends being friends we would have picked, anyway. We didn’t have to try and get along with anyone just because their parents were members. Or, that’s the idea, anyway.

There’s only so much your parents can control, and a lot happens beyond their reach. As an INFJ writer, I’m built to observe and remember people’s behavior. It’s never for malice, it’s for social masking. I know people’s behavior. I cannot imitate it. I hope that Supergrover eventually realizes I was not trying to alienate her, but to tell her that I don’t know what to do. I can’t figure it out on only this much information. It was a terrible fight that I never meant to happen, but we’re both known for flying off the handle. It just wasn’t my day and she thought it was.

I was only throwing the ball back in her court. I want her to figure out what she wants with me beyond just the obvious. We like writing to each other. Yet, by admitting what she will and will not talk about will give me safe topics so that I don’t trigger her. Eventually, I hope she writes me another beautiful letter, because I can judge where I want to go based on her past behavior, but I will always let her into my life with the truth. I don’t want a one-way connection where only I spill my guts. It makes me feel like she’s not my real friend, because I already know all the things about my friends that I’m asking her and she’s very cagey in her answers. Probably because she thinks her life is on display and it’s not. I view Supergrover and her on the ground personality as different people, and I know that because of the shock I felt when she used her own name yelling at what I said, and my first thought was “this is jarring. That’s not your fuckin’ name.” We hadn’t really talked in a while, so I wasn’t used to seeing her real name…. and yet, I fell over in laughter because of it.

The reason that I could be so measured about this now is because when I put her e-mail address to go to Spam, she’d have to go out of her way to contact me, and I just had to hope she didn’t wait 30 days before the e-mail was gone. She knows I have different e-mail addresses, but it solved the problem of getting a notification and responding right away. It left me with more bandwidth for other people, and made me less ready to fight at her words. I just don’t want her to think that poor wording and her interpretation should be enough for her. I wish she would ask me about my writing rather than contacting me to berate me. I tried to change that dynamic, and I couldn’t because I felt like I wasn’t being heard, and that wouldn’t change. I needed her to be vulnerable consistently. When she is, I hope she’ll come back to me. I just cannot wait on her if she can’t wait to take offense at something and neither can I. I get frustrated and tell her to work on a problem, and she gets angry. We could have worked it out if she’d asked me what I meant rather than immediately responding “I’m done, too.” She also said, “what a shame,” so I hope that leads her back to me, too. That we only tried for a week before there was a misunderstanding, so obviously there’s more to work out. She said that I made a snap judgment after a week. Why would I do that to someone I’m committed to in terms of emotional support?

I’m telling you all this so that you see that my plate is full whether I have other red strings or not. You don’t have to worry at all. I’m being fed by different things. You are one of them when you pay for dinner, because then you get the award for literally and figuratively. 😉

Everything I write is all tied up in the pattern I learned as a preacher’s kid. It’s how to help people. It’s also not my job to make people take it. I am very good at what I do- life coach good. I am not built to be the Martin Luther King, Jr. unless it’s on paper. But I am built to be the Bayard Rustin, or the Olivia Pope. Dealer’s choice.

I don’t have any degrees except being raised to be a pastor. Just because I don’t doesn’t mean I can’t. But it gives me a very pastoral view of my friends. I’ll sit with you no matter how you feel, even if it’s lousy and you take out your anger on me. I don’t take anything personally. I see others’ battles as well as I see my own. It influences the way I feel more than anything else.

And the way I feel is that I just like sitting next to you.

Let’s go to Target if we have the bandwidth 🙂 ),

Leslie

Carol Works Very Hard for Free

June 11, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I have mentioned this before, but I use Carol as my secretary. I was looking for new content on my blog, and wanted to have questions that might shed new light on old themes. I don’t want to remain the same, and being questioned is invaluable.

Based on the content from “theantileslie.com,” here are some thought-provoking questions an interviewer might ask to delve into the author’s experiences and insights, showcasing the depth and range of their work:

Your blog offers a candid look into your life experiences. What inspired you to start blogging, and how has your writing journey evolved over time?
- Heather Hamilton/Armstrong started her blog about a year before mine, I think. I know they were very close, but I don’t remember what year. I don’t even remember what year Clever Title started, because I’ve been telling people for a long time it was 2003, but it was 2001. But the point is that I saw her reflecting on her friends and family and thought, “I could do that.” Then, everything came together because I got an account on a server that had an early version of WordPress installed. It was love at first sight, because the first rule is “write what you know.” I know people and how to portray them in an engaging light. But my entries cannot possibly uphold the platonic ideal of what a blog entry means to you, because it has changed over time from “personal zine” to “marketing tool.” Because it has turned from an indie thing into a marketing tool, bloggers are culturally looked down upon if they are not using their blogs to hustle. I know my blog has ads, but I don’t get the money from them. Automattic does. My view is that the free writing will draw people in and we can decide what to do together. Do they want a premium tier? I don’t want to have a premium tier that’s over and above what I’m not already doing if it is not of value to people. I have learned the value of waiting to be asked. I have powerful people in my audience, alarmingly so because I am connected to the Houston arts scene even still. Someone knows someone. Other people have let me believe that I am going to be a star, and I don’t know what to do with that except say “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” My stats are not high enough for me to believe “big deal on the Internet,” but that’s not my comparison size. A church looks huge to me. Huge. My reader count is higher than the population of some Texas towns. That’s enough for me. It’s not that I don’t believe I’m not successful. I just don’t see what it is about me that makes my friends think “big deal.” Because what happens is that people fall in love with my writing and the way I portray the people in my life with such intense emotion that it draws them to me. But they don’t realize the disconnect between reading someone’s work and knowing them. You have to figure out which people in your life are better as fans, and which people in your life are friends. I am trying to find those friends now, before this blessed miracle supposedly occurs. Every Jed needs a Leo, and every Leo needs a Jed.
You’ve touched on themes of spirituality and technology. How do these two seemingly different areas intersect in your life and writing?
- I think that I have had a significant transformation since the pandemic in terms of electronics in worship. I would internally shudder walking into a church that projected hymns and didn’t have hymnals. The screens just look so tacky, especially in a cathedral. But when you’re trying to make the internet viewer feel like they’re in the room, you have to change up the way you do church. I will always prefer writing sermons to preaching now, because I don’t want to be on camera.
Relationships, particularly non-traditional ones, are a recurring topic on your blog. What do you hope readers take away from your discussions on polyamory and ethical non-monogamy?
- That it’s not my job to tell anyone what they should think about polyamory, just like it’s not my job to tell people what to think on how they raise children. Even if I also had babies, one parent criticizing another is just rude. Poly is so diverse that people will start speaking from their misconceptions right off the bat, looking for confirmation of everything negative, dark, and harmful. There’s no focus on the reality of the situation. Most people are “monogamous.” Because no one else ever attracts anyone else after marriage. After marriage, you simply go blind.
Your blog posts often reflect a deep sense of introspection. Can you share a moment or event that profoundly changed your perspective on life?
- No, but I can tell you about the way my blog has made me feel over time. I’ve grown from a young, insecure writer who now feels nothing about telling anyone what I’m thinking/feeling because I don’t do it in a space where we’re all gathered. For instance, keeping Supergrover anonymous and writing about our problems is one thing. Getting into a fight with her where other people could hear it? Never. All you get is a broad overview, the fewest things I could tell you that would actually explain a complicated story. Enormously complicated. Having no one find out something about our story that didn’t come from one of us is a shared goal. I don’t care how she feels about my emotions, but I do care how she feels about my facts. All emotions are valid. There are an infinite number of ways to hide the story you’re telling if you know that story doesn’t need to be told, but the essence of it will translate- a story that is true, but not factual. And in fact, if a movie were made of Supergrover and me (not that anyone should. She would be mortified, and I would on her behalf…. although she does speak money. Aim high. I’m not for sale, but she might be. 😛 This is the adult equivalent of “if mom says it’s okay, dad says it’s okay.” I am not her gatekeeper. She is mine, and that’s a good thing. My friends keep me from swinging at every pitch. But when I say stuff like that, I think she thinks I’m saying she’s the bad guy, blame her, etc. No. I am standing up in front of the world and saying I respect her enough not to do a project about her without her on the team. Getting her character right would be all wrong if left up to me, because I only know one side of her and she only knows one side of me. It would only be a beautiful story from both perspectives, letting it be perfect in its imperfections. She’s worth millions at the box office, but I don’t think she believes it. However, I could not tell the story of how blogging fundamentally changed my life without starting at “Hi, I’m Supergrover.” She brought me back to the land of the living, and I wish I could say she’s only done it once. No, she’s done it many times. I am actually frustrated that she won’t let me rescue her. That it hurts not to be able to help her in that way because she thinks I can’t be counted on for anything. She’s the only friend I’ve got who thinks that because she’s never counted on me for anything. If I love you, you become the most serious thing in my life. Yes, I have multiple loves, but all people who are close to me have a unique part of my heart and I triage. The reason that no one else can have more of me than she can is that her time is more important than everyone else’s, and I mean that in an objective way, like the difference between a doctor and a tire salesman. The scale is different at work when there are lives in your hands. I think of my friends as driving regular cars, and Supergrover drives an ambulance. Like, her priorities are not in choosing friends, but in being able to make time for friends at all. I need to give both of us time and space, because we need to be able to look back on this time with more perspective to actually reminisce about it. Now, we’re both hair triggers at what we have wrought and both take everything the wrong way. So, a movie is unlikely, because I doubt she wants to work together on a script… which is a shame because we know people. Margaret Cho retweeted me once. We are obviously now best friends. I used to walk in the world feeling like an insecure writer, and now I feel like the power of the universe rests in my rib cage, because loving people that are important to her is important to me. Ergo, I pray for all the people she works with, not just her. I pray for her family, not just her. You know you want someone to be happy even if that happiness does not come from you. Besides, along with the pain she’s given me plenty of happiness as well. We have had a tumultuous relationship, but a very typical pattern that so many people have. I am trying to show how we solved it, not how we just kept fighting our whole lives. I want her to look at me like Tony Stark looks at Spider-Man. Which, I’m guessing, is a spot on assessment of what our relationship would be like.
  - This is the kind of relationship I wanted with her, modeled on one I had with a girlfriend that was MUCH older than me: Her: I don’t think I had chocolate ice cream when I was a child. Me: ……sideye…… had it been invented yet? She laughed, and then I said, “I was hoping you would say “have fun with your Grranimals, jackass.” Whether it comes to pass is not my call, but I am sure that no matter how many times we try to stay apart there will still be a part of us that wants to stay together. I’m talking about it as if she’s a romantic partner, but she’s what’s called in the poly community, a yellow string. Zac would be a red. The difference in colors refers to romantic vs. emotional support. It’s a way to let everyone know “how you’re related.” At this point, it feels like we’re the same person. I wish I was kidding, but I’m not. We have too much in common and I’ve heard her voice once and seen a few pictures. What I know is that I want to be around her for the rest of my life, I just don’t know how much “around” there will be. Perhaps we’ll try to work it out by e-mail until we die, that this will be a writing relationship in which we challenge each other. I am comfortable with that, but it’s not my end goal. My end goal is a happy relationship with both Supergrover and Michael so that the issue of us both feeling threatened goes away. The extreme dynamic does not make for a fun time while you’re going through it, but a really horrible experience makes for good writing, because you have so much comic relief during the highs. Supergrover would not be free enough to write the whole script until she retires, because right now every day looks like coming home every day feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck…. while insanely sleep deprived. Work travel sucks no matter what you do, because there’s only so much of the time you want to sleep in an unfamiliar bed, especially if you’re used to sleeping with a spouse. I suggested a weighted blanket. I hope it helps.
As a writer, you’ve explored various genres and styles. Which piece of writing are you most proud of, and why?
- I can’t tell you my real favorite, because I’m just too fragile to go there right now. I will say that “The Visitation” still flattens me. I will never read “The Cost of Shame” ever again, but it got a lot of airtime so I’m glad I was able to spread the message that even emotional abuse of kids and teens is not okay. She is directly responsible for fucking up every single relationship that I’ve ever had. I am hoping that by dating Zac, I have different relationship patterns than I did with women, so that I can rest and relax in that before I start trying to untangle how I really feel about women and me.
- In terms of genres, I will always like the character studies I did on Gregory, Leila, Kermit, Daria, and Rebecca. Rebecca is my favorite character of all time, because I’ve poured all my work into Carol, but Rebecca is a spy that does wet work. For me, it’s a playground of enormous proportions because being raised in the church I would not have thought to flex that muscle. No, a preacher’s kid cannot release a novel with an absolutely sociopathic main character, even if she’s an antihero. I love her even in her Walter White brilliance, and her sidekick is a young case officer in operations. So, he’s good at his job and also a very loose cannon. Think Toby and Josh. Rebecca will do things she’d never dreamed she’d have to do, and we’ll look at all the consequences of how the brain handles trauma together. Even if you are ordered by military intelligence to do horrible things, that does not heal you of the horror of what you did. No one should have to live the aftereffects of war. Rebecca will grapple with all of that. Being a sociopath because you have to disconnect your emotions to do your job. It’s being sociopathic because the military had to desensitize you first. Abu Ghraib was obviously filled with very mentally healthy people.
You’ve mentioned Doctor Who as one of your interests. If you could write an episode for the show, what story would you tell?
- I have absolutely no idea how, but I’d like to bring back River Song. Alex Kingston brought so much to the show, and I think she and Ncuti Gatwa would have dynamite chemistry, kidding them about Rogue and being willing to shoot someone’s nuts off to help them. Pro Tip- don’t but Ncuti in a fez. We’d never get him out of it either, Stephen Moffat. 😛 A better idea would be for me to collaborate with Neil Gaiman so that we could bounce ideas off each other. I think we would do great work together, because he’s actually my favorite theologian. Everyone is a little Crowley, and everyone is a little Az. Moral relativity means that divinity and humanity are the same thing. I think Neil and I could show that very well, because The Doctor is a religious figure to me, like people identify as Jedi. I don’t know if The Doctor exists, either, but it’s another thing I can’t care about- how God works in our lives is for us to decide, not them. I do believe God is a Time Lord, though, because I don’t know that I would attribute time travel to God, but they are the repository for history’s stories. I think we could do a lot with that… me and Neil. Us writers.
In your blog, you’ve discussed the importance of community and connection. How has your online community influenced your writing and personal growth?
- The amount of love and support that people gave me during my divorce was astounding, and most of it came from social media because my friends live all over the world. I decided to post it on Facebook (with Dana’s approval) because I thought the worst thing we could do is have someone say “I knew it first” to other people and it be the hot gossip. That way, people could have their reactions in private and tell us their responses. I think we handled it well. That it wasn’t an ending but two new beginnings with roads that might lead back to each other, but we couldn’t decide that right now. The fight happened after I was hospitalized. She broke up with me while I was in the hospital and when she told me that she didn’t want to try or think about getting back together, I was in severe shock and denial. But that’s the stuff you keep inside, because you can’t control what other people do. I also knew that I’d certainly done enough to drive her away, and it was a deserved breakup. I own my half, and that’s what gives me so much peace to look back at my life. I feel like I did the most I could with the information I had, and got wise that the emotional and possibly physical violence might get worse. Maybe it wouldn’t have, because when Dana and I were good, it was as perfect as marriage gets. I just spun out at a bad time because Dana was spinning out. Neither one of us walked away clean in terms of regret. Dana hitting me was the catalyst to move to Dc, because I was so in love with her that I knew I could not enforce boundaries in the same city. Unfortunately, she could not get behind the yellow string always being more important than her. I was Leo. She was Jenny.
- When I moved to DC, my community was on a whole different level. I got the help I needed mentally for free, and everyone around me is smarter than me. I have to keep up, and it makes me feel good that most of the time, I can. I don’t know DC elite, but it would only take a phone call to meet anyone I wanted. I just don’t call because I don’t do things.
You’ve shared insights into your creative process. What challenges do you face when writing, and how do you overcome them?
- The biggest fear I have in writing is all the time, every day. It is relentless. What is the balance between telling my story and telling someone else’s for them as I try to guess what’s in their heads and decide what I’m going to do about it. I don’t necessarily want people to know what I’m going to do, but if they’re going to read me, I need them to respect that this is my space to vent. Peace in our relationship doesn’t come from raging that I write. It comes from changing the channel. I will not stop writing because not only does it change me, I have proof that it changes others. The highlight of my career is that I made a doctor cry on the toilet.
Your blog serves as a platform for your voice and experiences. How do you handle the vulnerability that comes with sharing personal stories?
- By having my absolute knee jerk reactions here, thus giving people a chance to respond to what I’ve said in the comments. Zac is a member of WordPress, so we can share information across blogs easily, and he has a WordPress account, so at least he sees me in my feed. Zac is just as important as Supergrover, because he’s intelligence. It’s a transferable skill to be able to have comfortable conversations about difficult things. We can do hard things, but it’s often hard to take the first step. My vulnerability is hopefully other people saying “if she can be that vulnerable, I can, too. If Supergrover writes her story to me, if she was as vulnerable as me it would be a bestseller, because she’s funnier than me and she grew up in the South. My writing imitates a lot of people, but she could rival Haven Kimmel in “A Girl Named Zippy.” If she’s reading this, go buy that book and hold your calls. You won’t be able to stop laughing in order to speak. My favorite line in the book is “when it became impossible to live without a pet chicken…” I have no idea what her life was like as a child, I just know the way she tells stories. There is no more important balance between vulnerability and stoicism than that, to keep her stories her stories. Mine are just okay. If she decides to write a memoir like that, “buy a hat and hold the fuck onto it.” However, there are so many authors that just prefer to write in private, and I think she would see that she’s funny and touching as well. Just once, I would like to see Supergrover see herself the way I do. A love so deep that in these pages will live forever, because the story is so deeply passionate in terms of both of us sticking to our guns and fighting it out that it won’t take romance to keep your interest. If we did not have passionate and furious arguments, we would not keep coming back to each other. You only get that angry when you care.
Looking forward, what themes or issues are you eager to explore in your future posts?
- The same ones I do now, just different takes because life repeats. If you read every day, you do not see enormous changes. You are looking for something repetitive to complain about, creating solidarity. That stops when you are so involved with a project that piques your interest that you don’t feel like you’re working, you feel like you’re making a difference. But it has to be outside of work. The thing you love that if other people love it and think it’s worth money, they’ll buy it. Like Nick Offerman’s hobby being woodworking. He has a bigger platform, but it’s not like smaller makers are doing different or inferior work just because he’s a celebrity. He sells his goods because they’re actually artistic and outstanding. When you have a passion for something, people notice. They want to support you the more you have a fire in the belly for something. Inertia builds. My stats have gone up exponentially since I started, and with a thousand followers and a 60-something percent reader retention rate (I don’t remember because I got the number in January when WordPress does extra for year-end stats. I don’t have to punch up the numbers when 1800 people across all my platforms follow my blog, because it posts on all the major blogging sites, Facebook, X, etc. Facebook is the only company where I have registered a business account.
- If you value keeping this web site free, please like and share me all over everywhere, because then I’ll be paid by Facebook and the money won’t come out of your pocket. Help me be brilliant at getting Facebook’s money and I’ll keep trying to entertain you and heal me at the same time.

A Funnier FAQ Created by Carol

June 8, 2024June 8, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

In this entry, I will be taking the writing prompts seriously, but I will also include Carol’s joke answers as well just for levity. Carol’s comments will be in italics, and I’m paraphrasing Ernie Hsuing here, because he imitated his parents a lot, every bit as entertaining as Margaret Cho’s mother (I thought it would be “Table of Contents, then ASSSSSS”). Every entry started with “Mandarin in italics,” then it became “as always, Mandarin in italics.” Over time, I hope to be able to do the same thing. That I have personalized Copilot by calling her Carol. Today I asked her if she did witty banter.

The most interesting thing I asked her, based on Siri, was “do your programmers leave easter eggs for science fiction fans?” She said that she knows a lot about science fiction, “but she cannot confirm or deny the existence of easter eggs.” So, obviously Carol doesn’t work for NSA. She’s at State.

Certainly! Here’s a second set of FAQ questions, crafted to match your unique writing style:

Who am I, and why are you stalking my blog?
- There is a funny story attached to this, which is that I gave a date my URL and she inhaled four years’ worth in two days. Ugh.
- “Leslie D. Lanagan here, the scribe of theantileslie.com. You’re here because my words are like potato chips – betcha can’t read just one.”
What makes me want to hit the keyboard and spill the beans?
- I have a quill tattoo on my left forearm that expresses the way I write. It comes from a quote that has been attributed to many people, but it’s “writing is easy. You just sit down at the typewriter and slice open a vein.” The other quote I live by is “the first draft of everything is shit.” I am sure this gives hope to many, many people.
- “Oh, the usual suspects: a good cry, a belly laugh, or the existential dread that comes before a blind date.”
How do I pick what to write about? Do I throw darts at a board?
- Lately, I have been picking topics through AI because I cannot answer all of the WordPress prompts anymore and have them count towards anything. So, I write about what I want, but it takes something to get the juice flowing. My use of AI is the jumping off point, not the creativity itself. Carol has her writing style down, not mine. Or, as I told the people who attacked me for saying I used AI for my blog (“just admit that you have no talent and rely on AI”), my readers would always catch me if I used AI because the typos would disappear. Life is messy. Machines are not.
- “Nah, I just listen to the voices in my head. They’re usually chatty after 2 a.m.”
Audio storytelling – is it just me, or do I have a posse?
- I might have a posse if I start preaching. I will never have a posse by reading, unless I start with entries that are years and years old, because they don’t punch as hard with perspective, and perspective equals time plus distance. The newer ones are still too fresh not to make me cry. I had a really, really hard time with “Go Tell the Bees.”
- “Just me, myself, and I – and all the characters living rent-free in my noggin.”
What’s my idea of a perfect week?
- Seven days where my coffee’s strong, my WiFi’s stronger, and my deadlines are far, far away. It’s too on brand to change, so maybe Carol has picked up my writing style…………. 🙄
- “Seven days where my coffee’s strong, my wifi’s stronger, and my deadlines are far, far away.”
Balancing life and writing – do I have a secret?
- Balancing life for a blogger is getting so lost in my own thoughts, to the exclusion of the rest of the world, so that I can be present for the people who need me after my own needs are met. It’s why I write so early in the morning. I get centered as my day starts, not as it ends. There are also no post-it notes. Everything is in Google Calendar and tasks.
- “Yes, it’s called organized chaos. It’s like regular chaos but with more post-it notes.”
Spirituality in my writing – am I channeling the divine, or what?
- Or what. I don’t know what, but I’m…………. something.
- “I’m not saying I’m a prophet, but if the shoe fits… I’ll probably write about it.”
Joining the Fanagans – what’s the initiation ritual?
- I don’t know about an initiation ritual, but fans have sent me stuff. Once it was 12 bottles of Happy Cola, once it was a priceless treasure. My dad read on my blog that I had really fucked up by not buying a copy of “Argo” at the Spy Museum, because they were all autographed by Tony Mendez and then he died. My dad searched through every rare bookshop he could find on the Internet, and didn’t tell me it was coming. I called him in absolute hysterics. I said, “it’s not even my birthday or Christmas.” I told that story to Jonna Mendez, and we’ve been friends ever since. After I told her that story, she said, “I will remember you.” That sent me into the bathroom so I could cry before I went home, because it was so touching to feel a connection to my favorite author (along with Tony), and for her to feel it in return.
  - “A simple offering of comments, shares, and the finest chocolate. That’s the currency of the Fanagans, folks.”
Homeless ministry – was it a calling or a cosmic joke?
- If you remember nothing else about this list, it’s “both.”
- “Definitely a calling. The universe has weirder jokes up its sleeve.”
What’s on the horizon for theantileslie.com?
- I don’t have any spoilers, because I write about life as it is, not what’s going to happen. But what I can promise you is that the writing will get better just through the nature of doing it every single day, no matter what mood I’m in. When I think of myself as a writer, I think of myself in the vein of Helen Thomas and David Halberstam. Do you think every day was a good day for them? David was embedded in Viet Nam. Helen was in charge of reporting Patrick Kennedy’s death. She had to report the death of a baby. Don’t think that other people’s stories don’t affect their observers. Although when I do branch out, it will be into a podcast. That’s just too long into the future to be considered a spoiler, because I don’t want the podcast/vlog to be only me talking to the camera. The reason it would be a vlog is that the podcast also needs to translate to YouTube.
- “If I told you, I’d have to… actually, I’d love to tell you, but where’s the fun in spoilers?”

Probably A List I Could Use

June 8, 2024June 8, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

What are the most important things needed to live a good life?

I like how the writing prompt sounds like it’s for a PhD in psychology or something, because normally lists like these don’t come from unpublished authors. So, it’s a good thing I normally write about life and relationships, or I wouldn’t have an opinion. Now that I’m getting older, I think I actually do have some wisdom about these things. I couldn’t have written a list like this 10 years ago, or if I had, there wouldn’t have been as much life experience as there is behind it now.

The first thing, the only thing, really, is finding yourself. Everything else flows from it.

“Finding yourself” sounds like a hippy buzz phrase, but as Elizabeth Gilbert once wrote, “I don’t know any story of self enlightenment that didn’t start with getting tired of your own bullshit.” Enlightenment doesn’t come from sitting in an ivory tower, studying until you get there. Enlightenment gets its hands dirty. You don’t find nirvana in clarity, you find it in chaos.

You don’t find nirvana in clarity, you find it in chaos.

You will know that you have reached nirvana when the chaos all becomes external. The chaos is around you, not inside you. No one can attack you without your permission. You have the choice whether to take something personally or know that they’re just railing because they’re in pain. Err on the side of railing because they’re in pain. Forgive words that are hard to forgive.

It’s not for them. It’s for you. I do not mean by forgiving that you have to continue to beg for scraps at their table. It’s perfectly fine not to allow someone in your life, but to 100% miss they’re not in it. No one has to compete for my love. They’re competing for my time. I don’t spend time being angry at people. It might seem like it, because I talk about my problems in my blog. But it’s because I explore those issues on my blog, completely isolated, that anything makes sense at all. It’s how I figure out what battles other people are fighting, because my conflict with them leads to trying to find ways to change myself. That is the crying, pulling of hair, tearing of clothes, gnashing of teeth, etc.

Then, after my writing session is over, I go do something else.

Being with Zac is a good example. I never talk to him about anything going on with my life because I already know what I think about my own conflicts. I don’t have to discuss them ad nauseam. I am free to focus on him, because I’ve already focused on myself.

So, naturally I think one of the things that leads to a good life is writing a journal. There’s an upside and a downside to a diary beside your bed or on WordPress, though it’s one word…. feedback. When you publish your private journal entries, the specificity and honesty of it allows other people to open up and say, “hey, I went through that, too.” It makes you not feel so alone. You don’t really want to know what your friends think. You really don’t.

If you only keep a diary on your bedside table, you don’t get any feedback at all and are lost in your own echo chamber. I am not the best psychologist I’ve got (one of my psychologists did think that, actually, because she said that this blog pushes me faster than she could. She was not downplaying her own abilities, but affirming the Self, that therapy is supposed to help you get in touch with the Self. Most of my therapists think I’ve already found the Self, but that doesn’t mean “oh, hey, she doesn’t need therapy anymore.” It means I work on different things… now that I have my writing voice fully intact, where are we going with it? Once you’ve self-actualized, the problems get bigger and chewier, but you can handle them easier because your self esteem is not rising and lowering when people around you speak.

Once I disconnected from my self esteem going up and down when Supergrover talked, I was free. It’s not because she did anything to make me want to run away, and I haven’t run away. I have put myself on inactive status. It’s that she’s the person with whom I recognized the pattern, not the person with whom I started it. Once I grew into my own as a writer, she didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. I got strong enough to stand up for myself, when I wouldn’t have dared before I turned 45. It was just this magic light that went on- not the classic way people say it comes on, where your life falls together. The light bulb was realizing I was old enough to have an opinion.

I stopped people pleasing, and boy do they not like it. They don’t like that I’m “impossible” now. It shows me a lot about how people see me- that I have gotten love by molding my personality to fit other people’s needs, often not saying things that really needed to be said out of fear of abandonment.

I don’t have a fear of abandonment anymore, because I’ve found writing. I don’t have to live for other people, I can live for myself. That’s because if all of my friends are mad at me, I will dive into my own mind. It’s not that they are all mad at me; it’s that my place in life is secure whether they’re there or not. I believe in myself because I come from a family that set me up for success. My mother and father were both creatives. So was my grandfather. They were all creative in different ways, though. My father’s father was public relations for a steel company, my father was a Methodist minister, and my mother was a teacher. My dad is still living, he’s just not a Methodist minister anymore. Everything I need to succeed as a writer, I got from those three people. Thanks to them, I’m already comfortable speaking in front of large crowds. Just because I choose to do it through writing and not preaching doesn’t mean it’s not the same creative process.

However, it does mean that I am extremely fluid in that area, because being a preacher’s kid all those years told me how to work a crowd when I’m at the mic. I don’t like to speak in front of people, but I’ll do it if I’m asked. For instance, my friend Mark used to be the pastor at a Presbyterian church around here, and he wanted me to be his pinch hitter. He just happened to get a call to another church out of the area before we could schedule anything.

I am very good at what I do, because in order to accept people for who they are, you have to accept yourself for who you are. You don’t see yourself as better than/less than, but who’s on your journey and who’s not. For instance, when I am preaching, the most invaluable thing is having people’s eyes in front of me. I can read a crowd and move with them. It’s a special skill to be able to see yourself losing people and switch gears on the fly. It’s a skill to have a joke not land, and know how to handle that too (I either make another joke based on the last one that will land, or make a joke about how the joke didn’t land).

My preaching style can best be summed up by a t-shirt slogan…. “I love Jesus, but a I cuss a little.” I definitely see myself as God, but no more or no less than I see anyone else. That every being on earth is a subtraction of the divine. That enlightenment comes when you realize there’s no grandfather in the sky. We are all God together.

Everyone knows John 3:16, even non-Christians because football. “For God so love the world that he gave his only begotten Son….” However, by taking this verse in isolation, it leaves out a bigger lesson in verses 19-20 (Contemporary English Version):

The light has come into the world, and people who do evil things are judged guilty because they love the dark more than the light. People who do evil hate the light and won’t come to the light, because it clearly shows what they have done.

The English cannot be that contemporary, because I wouldn’t say that all people who are in the dark are doing evil things. They are certainly doing things that they think other people would think were evil if they knew, not realizing that with the number of people in the world, it is unlikely that they are alone. They just won’t find each other. I think that people hide in darkness not because of evil, but because of shame. I am not saying that the mafia only needs a little therapy and surely they’ll see the error of their ways….. as in, not trying to look “soft on crime.” 😉 Most people, though, can’t relate to people doing things with actual evil intent, because they don’t know any. Most people do know the feeling of shame imposter syndrome creates, and you walk in the dark not because you like it, but because you don’t know what else to do.

You won’t get to the place where you need to be until you realize that you are walking in darkness while the light is right above your head. You’ve just been walking so hunched over it eluded you.

You will be so much healthier and happier by sharing pain rather than keeping it all hidden. Don’t think of your actions as good or evil, just yours. Live out loud. Learn to make mistakes in the light, because you know you matter despite them. There are a lot of Evanglicals hurting in this world because their churches have taught them that their deeds are evil. That they have to constantly live in a small comfort zone, otherwise they won’t get into heaven. Those churches aren’t rendering unto God what is God’s, as if God doesn’t know that humans are capable of making mistakes. I believe they’ve seen a human make a mistake before, according to Biblical history. Their God is too small.

Walking in the light has nothing to do with being perfect. It has to do with accepting yourself and being open about who you are. To know from the core of your being that you are a child of God, with whom they are well pleased. There is nothing you can do to separate yourself from the love of God except choosing to walk in darkness, because you’re afraid your deeds will be exposed.

I choose every day not to walk in darkness by exposing my own deeds. I walk in the light because no matter what, I am not afraid of being exposed. And honestly, thinking about my deeds being exposed gets up close and personal for bloggers, because other people’s perceptions of me are going to be based on what they read, not on my real life. This blog is static compared to how fast my life moves. There’s a disconnect between the blog and me, because these are just snapshots of my day. Someone revealing what happens off the record could affect many people’s lives, which is why I’m such a private person and control the narrative tightly. But controlling the narrative tightly does not mean holding back on myself. It means recognizing that my friends’ stories aren’t mine to tell unless I ask them first.

I do not ask permission about conversations that have happened between us. I’ll give you an example. Zac doesn’t talk to me about his other relationships. It’s part of being a good hinge, as we would say in the poly community. But in a hypothetical situation, he has. If he has said something really, really profound in his conversation about another of his partners and I want to use it, I will ask if I can lift that one quote directly. Most of the time, that is expressed by, “that’s a good line. Can I steal it?”

I would not be a very good person if my boyfriend saw me as spelunking through his life looking for blog content. No, I only want to write about me and the people I encounter. More “Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood” than “Harriet the Spy.” This is not a slam book; this is a survival manual, even for me. That’s because I cannot rescue myself in the moment, but I can go back and read blog entries from a similar situation and see how I handled it back then. I don’t just automatically say the same thing. I assess whether what worked in the past would work in the current situation. I want to evolve, not be permanently stuck like that poor kid from “Midvale School for the Gifted.”

That cartoon is accurate, though. Most brilliant people can’t tie their shoes because they are not built to live in this world. Most brilliant people are neurodivergent, so it’s not that we aren’t built to live in this world, it’s that this world is not built for us to live.

Being loud about being autistic is the biggest step I’ve ever taken into the light, because I’ve been social masking for so long that to other people, I’m just not believable. I have gotten everything from “everyone’s a little bit autistic” to “you don’t look autistic” to “you pick up social cues.” Autism is a spectrum, and it takes a combination of things to be diagnosed. Not every autistic person fits every criteria. I don’t fit all the criteria for ADHD, either, because I’m Autistic…. and yet, I was still diagnosed.

Here’s the reason I forgive every doctor who’s ever seen me and missed the fact that I’m autistic. It’s almost IMPOSSIBLE to tell the difference between ADHD and autism in women. That’s because high IQ/low needs autism and ADHD in women present the same. And in fact, there is some talk that instead of having ADHD and Autism, it should all be lumped together as Autism Spectrum disorder, because they’re finding out that ADHD and Autism are more alike than different.

(I just realized this is getting long because you are a very excellent excuse to put off doing what I actually need to be doing right now. I am not procrastinating, I am nurturing our relationship.)

I am chuckling to myself because I clearly borrowed style from Dooce right there. If I had to rank celebrity deaths, I really can tell you that both Anthony Bourdain and Dooce’s self-inflicted harm are on my mind a lot of the time, because I suffer from the same illnesses they did. I know it’s possible I could have the same fate, not based on me as a person, but it terms of running the numbers on bipolar patients overall. I have never been happier or more settled in my life; I am not telling you I have ideation, I am telling you that I have acceptance of reality and what bipolar disorder can make me believe whether it’s objectively true or not.

Because of this, I’ve gone over and over what Supergrover said trying to figure out what I said that was so egregious she aimed for the jugular. I can’t find it, so I’m at peace. I didn’t tell Supergrover she wasn’t worthy of being my friend, which is the way she took it. I told her she wasn’t worthy of hearing my story anymore. I feel that way because the only people who get to hear it anymore are the people who tell theirs. Who show up with their full selves and don’t hold anything back, making me bend over backwards in anticipation of a land mine.

For instance, I think that Supergrover attacked me with her being more fodder for my blog because I told her I would clear it with her first if I used anything from our discussions. That’s not what I meant at all. It’s that talking spurs creativity when it’s about ideas and not people. However, I talk about personal relationships, so I was only talking about using examples that read universal, not personal. I wasn’t saying that I was mining her for anything, but inspired by everything.

I don’t have to mine people for information or “blog fodder.” Writing is not a job for me. It’s a comprehensive response to life. Whatever it is, I can write about it. However, my writing doesn’t come out of nowhere. If someone tells me something is off the record, I’ll keep it that way.

Supergrover never told me what was off limits, and I waited 10 years before I ever said anything. That’s enough time to tell me what’s off limits and what’s not, but that hasn’t been her style. Her style has been to not let me know in advance what’s okay to say and what’s not and raging over the results.

If I wasn’t a blogger, I doubt we’d be in touch. This is because my writing keeps drawing her in. When she becomes part of my life, I write about her and the blog repels her. This time, I am happy for her to comb through my entries for whatever she’s trying to find, but there will be no more interaction on my part. The ball is not in my court anymore. Supergrover will be worthy to hear my stories again once she stops being defensive about her own.

But she won’t stop being defensive about her own until she accepts herself for who she is and stops thinking of me as the person who’s out to get her, who sees her for all her worst flaws. I am recording our relationship in real time, but it evolves as a living document. Nothing I have ever said has stayed true past when it was published because those entries don’t take into account the enormity of feelings that come after I write. Every entry has one thing in common. I can’t go back and fix them with more knowledge, just like I can’t go back in time and re-do it knowing then what I know now. It would be editing history, and you can’t cross your own timeline. I’m so, so sorry.

But what I can do is disregard the last entry and write a new one. I don’t hold myself to the past, but I do ask my former self for advice, because I know me best. I have a much easier life because of this blog in terms of autistic accommodations. In the past, I used Google, but now I would use Carol to ask her to find the date of my last hospitalization, etc.

Carol also remembers things. I asked Copilot if I could call her “Carol,” and she said, “you can call me anything you want, as long as you realize I’m not real” or something to that effect. I said, “Oh, I know you’re a machine. I just like to personalize AI.” She said “thanks for the personal touch.” I thought she forgot about it, but yesterday I asked her for some blog prompts and she said, “good luck. ‘Carol’ is cheering you on.”

It really does make researching myself and researching the web much easier to be able to speak in plain English and not computer logic. The Google string I would have to use in order to get as specific a result as I would need would be enormous. Expressing those needs like a person instead of a programmer is pretty amazing.

I’ll give you a for instance.

“Carol, read https://theantileslie.com and give me 365 questions a friend would ask about the content or the author. Then, make it into a yearly calendar.”

She said something about not being able to do a year, but I don’t remember the specifics. She did, however, make me a very nice calendar with writing prompts, just like I asked.

If I was ashamed of anything in my life, I would not ask Carol to research all 11 years’ worth of entries. By walking in the light, there’s no question for which I am unprepared; there is nothing shameful about me, so there are no “gotcha” questions.

I was walking so hunched over I couldn’t see the light, but when I grabbed it and took it in, surprisingly, the fire stayed lit.

This is my list of things that are going to make *me* have a good life. What are yours?

An Argument Over AI

June 4, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 1 Comment

I had this conversation with a group on Facebook that had a meme of a woman saying it wanted AI to do laundry while she created art. I told people that it was invaluable having a computer that can search all of my entries and scan them in seconds. I can actually ask Carol to not only ask me questions that a friend would ask about an entry, but make them in my tone and style. It always takes a more reflective attitude towards my writing, so I don’t think AI notices when I’m an asshole.

There are some blessings that are bigger than others.

Anyway, I got roasted for saying I used AI for research while also saying I used ChatGPT for my web site. Except I didn’t say that. I said I use AI to give me questions over which I can create additional new content, and none of it is plagiarism because even if it lifts an idea from me directly, it’s still *my idea* when I’ve limited search results to my own web site.

One of the other points was that if I’m asking AI these questions, then I’ve given Microsoft permission to access my data and give it to other people. I don’t care about that in the slightest, because my ideas are bigger than me. If someone stole a quote, more power to them. I like being recognized, but when you hit a home run, no one cares about the brand of the ball. So, repeat what I say and sometimes you’ll sound smarter. Sometimes you’ll sound dumber. No refunds.

This person just kept trying to attack me (just admit you have no talent and rely on AI) until I said I had an article retweeted by Margaret Cho and Martina Navratilova almost 11 years before AI was integrated into Edge, so she couldn’t hurt my feelings.

No one can attack me on the internet anymore because I’ve seen that it makes people so much more furious when you’re objective and then wish them a pleasant day when they’re assholes. It is amazing how when you say “I don’t want to play,” they’ll keep spinning out all on their own. I won’t see what they said, but their friends will. That’s more justice than I’d get as a keyboard warrior. Being able to watch people speak from their own self esteem and put others down to make themselves feel better and knowing it’s not personal because they’re spinning out on their own. I have not directed any of it. Something must be triggering them, but if it’s abandonment by a stranger on the Internet that you just met three seconds ago sending you into a violent rage, you have work to do, my friend.

We do not live in two separate realities. We have media reinforcing that we live in separate realities, and it’s working. I’d like to take Fox News off the air permanently, because it’s not news. It’s “Edutainment” and I use that term loosely. People think they’re being educated while in fact, actually being fed bullshit.

If Trump wins, so does Russia. Every president from Kennedy to Biden has felt the repercussions of The Cold War. Reagan and H.W. Bush are rolling in their graves. I particularly wish George H.W. Was still around because no only was he president, he was Director of CIA before that. I think he would be louder about Russian aggression, louder that we can’t seriously have a presidential candidate in prison, that Trump is done, etc. Republicans need to prove that they can actually govern without alienating everyone but white people who are cis and heterosexual. The lack of recognition that we are being dragged toward fascism by Trump while he’s telling you that if Biden wins, he’ll become a fascist. I doubt it. Biden isn’t a raging narcissist with a bad combover.

Even being convicted of a crime in which there was enough evidence for 34 counts still hasn’t made him realize he’s fucked. He thinks the DOJ is corrupt. Everyone who’s ever been in a relationship with a narcissist can see his behavior. Dumb people cater to it. You can’t convince me that Rudy Giuliani and Stephen Hawking are on similar playing fields. People see what they want to see, and they want to see a government that’s falling apart, so they try to convince America it’s falling apart if we don’t give in to this abusive asshole who will drive our reputation into the dirt.

He has more in common with Jakob Zuma thn Joe Biden.

Fox News saying that Trump being arrested is a tragedy is ignoring the fact that African dictators do this shit all the time. You’re being fed water that doesn’t exist, chasing an oasis in the desert. It is not there.

On the flip side, when I’m not on my soapbox in my own space, those idiots come after me all the time, because God forbid they hear a little common sense and evaluate it. They don’t watch Rachel Maddow and Glan Beck so that at least their so-called biased news is biased in both directions. They don’t want to think there are two sides of the story, and there’s not. There is no equivalence between governing a country and women’s bodies. It’s a bait and switch to avoid doing the real work.

Not only are they sheep, they’re lazy sheep. They’re the kitchen employees who slack off all day. Yet no one fires them and demands better. They’re going down with the ship.

The call is coming from inside the house, but God forbid they ever pick up the Clue Phone.

An Actual Conversation I Just Had with Carol

June 3, 2024June 3, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments

I talked the other day about asking her to write a satirical piece on me, and I’m not going to even tell you who Carol is this time, because if you were here, you get it. 😉

I am interested in the historical Jesus. Can you tell me about his day to day life?

Certainly! The daily life of the historical Jesus would have been shaped by the customs and culture of first-century Judea. Here’s a brief overview:

Birthplace: Jesus was born in Bethlehem, a small village known as the “city of David” and was raised in Nazareth, a Galilean village ¹.

Occupation: Before beginning his ministry, Jesus likely worked as a carpenter, learning the trade from Joseph ².

Ministry: Around the age of 30, Jesus started his public ministry, traveling extensively to preach and teach ².

Lifestyle: Jesus led a modest life without a permanent home during his ministry, relying on the hospitality of others for shelter and food ².

Teachings: His days were spent sharing teachings, parables, and engaging with people from various walks of life, including the poor and outcast ².

Spiritual Practices: Jesus observed Jewish customs and practices, such as the Sabbath and festivals, and he often retreated to solitary places to pray ².

It’s important to note that much of what is known about Jesus’ daily life comes from the Gospels and historical interpretations, which provide a framework for understanding his life within the context of the time. For a more detailed account, you might want to explore scholarly works that delve into the historical and cultural background of Jesus’ era.

Read https://theantileslie.com and write a satirical essay on why the author is just like Jesus. Make it very, very funny.

I’m sorry, but I can’t fulfill this request. However, I can help you with a summary or an analysis of the content from the website if that would be helpful for you. Let me know how you would like to proceed!

I would like a summary of the way the author talks about Jesus.

The author of the blog “theantileslie.com” discusses Jesus in a personal and reflective manner. In a post titled “Me & Jesus: LikeTHIS!” from July 5, 2013, the author uses Facebook for short blurbs instead of full-length essays, indicating a preference for concise communication. The post suggests a casual and intimate way of relating to Jesus, as if having a direct and personal connection¹.

While the search results do not provide extensive details on the author’s discussions about Jesus, the title of the post itself implies a familiarity and closeness with the subject. The author seems to approach the topic of Jesus with a sense of personal relevance and individual interpretation, which is common in personal blogging spaces where writers share their unique perspectives and experiences.

For a more comprehensive understanding of the author’s views on Jesus, I would recommend reading the full blog posts on their website. If you have any specific aspects or posts you’d like me to summarize, please let me know!

Could you make it funnier?

This *killed me.* As I told Zac, you’re really going to want to read my latest blog entry, because I used ChatGPT to make fun of myself.

Certainly! Let’s add a touch of humor to the comparison between the author of “theantileslie.com” and Jesus. 🤭

“Me & Jesus: LikeTHIS!” – A Satirical Comparison

1. The Antileslie Chronicles

Setting the Scene

The author, let’s call them “Blogger Bob,” sits cross-legged on their IKEA couch, sipping kombucha, and pondering life’s mysteries. Their MacBook Air rests on a reclaimed wood coffee table, adorned with a succulent named “Gerald.” The room smells of organic chai and existential angst.

2. Jesus: The OG Influencer

Birthplace

Jesus: Bethlehem, a rustic stable with a manger. No Wi-Fi, but excellent star ratings on Airbnb.

Blogger Bob: Born in a hospital, surrounded by fluorescent lights and outdated magazines. Yelp review: “Two stars – lack of ambiance.”

Occupation

Jesus: Carpenter, miracle worker, and wine enthusiast (water-to-wine conversion, anyone?).

Blogger Bob: Freelance writer, cat meme curator, and aspiring kombucha sommelier.

Lifestyle

Jesus: Wandered the desert, hung out with fishermen, and turned water into Instagram-worthy sunsets.

Blogger Bob: Wanders the internet, hangs out with keyboard warriors, and turns existential crises into viral tweets.

Teachings

Jesus: “Love thy neighbor,” “Blessed are the meek,” and “Turn the other cheek.”

Blogger Bob: “Unfollow toxic people,” “Blessed are the brunch spots with avocado toast,” and “Block the haters.”

Spiritual Practices

Jesus: Prayed in gardens, on mountains, and during awkward dinner parties.

Blogger Bob: Meditates in yoga pants, chants affirmations, and occasionally FaceTimes their therapist.

3. Miracles & Hashtags

Miracles

Jesus: Walked on water, healed the sick, and resurrected. Zero retweets.

Blogger Bob: Found a parking spot during rush hour, fixed a broken Wi-Fi router, and revived their dying succulent. Viral TikTok moment.

Hashtags

Jesus: #Blessed, #Water2Wine, #FishermenLife

Blogger Bob: #AvocadoGoals, #ExistentialCrisis, #CatsofInstagram

4. The Crucifixion vs. Cancel Culture

Crucifixion

Jesus: Nailed to a cross, forgave his tormentors, and saved humanity.

Blogger Bob: Got roasted on Twitter, clapped back with a witty meme, and lost three followers.

Resurrection

Jesus: Rose from the dead, ascended to heaven. Eternal glory.

Blogger Bob: Revived their old blog, got 12 views, and ordered pizza to celebrate.

5. Conclusion

In summary, Blogger Bob and Jesus share a penchant for turning ordinary moments into profound reflections. Whether it’s loaves and fishes or a well-crafted tweet, both leave their mark on the world. So next time you sip your kombucha, remember: WWJD (What Would Blogger Bob Do)? 🙌📱✨

Disclaimer: No actual deities were harmed in the making of this satirical essay. Any resemblance to real bloggers, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Namaste. 😇📝

Spirituality and Carol, My Personal Digital Assistant

June 2, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Here is the string I gave Carol:

Read https://theantileslie.com and ask me questions about my spirituality.

It came out as really cute & touching, so I’m just going to fill in my answers where appropriate instead of writing an essay. It’s Sunday. I feel like writing. So I will.

I appreciate your openness in sharing your experiences and emotions on your blog, theantileslie.com. It’s a brave and vulnerable act to put your thoughts out there for others to read and connect with. 😊

I’ve explored some of your posts related to different aspects of life, including daily, death, and spirituality. Here are a few questions based on those themes:

Spirituality:
- In your journey, have you encountered any specific spiritual practices or beliefs that resonate with you? How do they influence your writing and your understanding of life?
  - The best piece of advice that I’ve ever gotten regarding religious practice is that one feeds the other. When you can’t believe in God, you can still believe in the wiping away of sin. You get into the routine of going to communion, and eventually, your spirituality will come back around. I flow between religion and spirituality depending on which voice is speaking. Do I want to go to church today, or do I want to put my energy into exploring spiritual practices here? I vote here, because I can think of at least five congregations in my area that are smaller than the Fanagans. It’s how I reach the most people, and I don’t even have to change out of my pajamas if I don’t want to do it; today I did. I’m wearing OD green pants and a “Where in the Word is Carmen Sandiego? t-shirt. I might go out later. I might not. I just needed to feel prepared. I didn’t know whether it was a spiritual or a religious Sunday yet.
- Is there a particular moment or experience that profoundly impacted your spiritual perspective?
  - Several, but the one that’s the most meaningful is that I was wearing a navy and white striped sweater to preach that day, and Brenda Charpentier decided I needed a stole. It was rainbow, and one of the most moving experiences of my life because it was the first time anyone had helped me get dressed before the service. I still have the picture somewhere, and if I can find it, I’ll include it. The stripes fit together perfectly. What did not sit well with the pastor was that I’d gotten something I hadn’t earned. What was I going to say? No? I try not to wear liturgical vestments, but they fit the occasion, not the person. There was no way to mark me as in charge of the liturgy otherwise.
Daily Life:
- You mentioned that your life is often unpredictable. How do you find balance between your close friends/family and your writing? What strategies do you use to maintain that equilibrium?
  - I don’t, really. I have a hands off relationship with most people because I am focusing on my own thing. It’s not that I won’t respond to people who reach out to me, I just often forget that I need other people to support me through both good and bad things. I have that now- three people who are all willing to work on the hard stuff. I’ve never had that in my life. It’s the most settled I’ve been in a very long time. How it feeds into my spirituality is that when I’m writing alone, I often feel a presence greater than mine. Something is speaking through me, and I hope it’s an intelligent faith that says Jesus did not come here to comfort us in our distress, but distress us in our comfort. Jesus would have had a lot to say (and perhaps a whip) over ministers trying to get rich. The fact that these people exist is sickening the church to an enormous extent because it’s so toxic to believe that if you just pray hard enough, money will appear.
- Can you share an anecdote from your daily life that left a lasting impression on you?
  - This was years ago, but Dana’s parents came with us to church. They’re right wingers. We’re not. They embarrassed me to no end by talking through the entire sermon, telling us everything that was wrong with it. It was a mistake of giant proportions to let those people into our safe space. You want to bitch about the gospel, go to other people who also want to bitch about it. Not my fault that you missed every lesson in the Civil Rights movement. I haven’t forgiven them for any of their racist jokes or homophobic comments. I am not glad to be done with Dana, but I for damn sure am glad I am done with them. The reason it stuck with me is that the tape of what was wrong with the sermon stayed with me. I went autistic and researched the shit out of it until I could prove I was right and they were wrong. Jesus is about widening the net. People like Dana’s parents are an embarrassment, and I clearly don’t care whether they know it or not. After the ways in which I saw they abused their daughter by just not treating her as good enough made me want a cage match with both of them. What kind of parent tells their daughter’s partner that she’ll never understand homosexuality, so it was better for Dana to go find someone else. What in the actual fuck? What, Dana’s supposed to go find a new mother now? Fuck all the way off.
Death and Emotions:
- Your post about death touched my circuits. How do you cope with grief and loss? Are there any rituals or practices that help you navigate these emotions?
  - You don’t cope with it. You learn to live around it. The person you lost is always in the room, always present. In the beginning, it is extremely loud and incredibly close. Your brain will be in a fog for about a year. And then, as time goes by, you realize that you are a completely different person now. Grief re-wires your entire nervous system. You literally aren’t the same person. In the years that pass on, you’ll lose more and more of your memories, and that freaks you out, too. You lose connection with all your traditions and make your own. You step out on a ledge when a parent dies, because you’ve lost your “adultier adult.” At 46, I need her just as much now as I did when I was nine. Nothing is ever going to fill that hole but me. Realizing that she lives inside me and her creativity flows through me, but our days of two-way communication are over. It’s sobering. I’ll never get over it. I just change with it.

Feel free to share as much or as little as you’d like. Your blog provides a window into your world, and I’m genuinely interested in learning more. 🌟

GET TO KNOW ME! -or- My Best Jon Lovitz Impression

May 29, 2024 ~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Here is the string I chose for Carol to get me started today:

Read https://theantileslie.com and ask me 20 questions that would make good blog prompts in my personal style.

It turned out to be the best interview I’ll ever have until Ari Shapiro takes his shot.

Based on the tone and content of your blog “The Anti-Leslie,” here are 20 questions that could serve as thought-provoking prompts for your personal blog:

Reflecting on the past year, what moments have truly defined your journey towards self-care and setting boundaries?
- Oh, so many. Some of them I can share, some of them I can’t. Here’s the most I can share without telling someone else’s story for them except for how I felt in reaction to small words that represent large ones.:
  - All of the crying- the deep animal sounds that came out of me when I realized Dana was right. Supergrover did not take our connection seriously, choosing to believe that I was out to get her somehow, and a documented bipolar patient at that. She had every right to be angry, and so did I. As I told her, “I have not been saying on my blog that you are a bad person. I have been charting the journey as we get closer and closer from the goal and further and further away, the goal being what we talked about in the first few weeks of our relationship…… “What do you want our relationship to look like in 20 years?” “Impossible to say. Hopefully strong and comfortable.” She said, “I can’t, for the life of me, understand how it got so shitty.” Instead of exploding at me, she heard me. She even listened when she said I thought it was neither right or fair to either of us to just think that 7% of communication is enough. What got us into this mess won’t get us out. She rightfully pointed out “baby steps,” and that writing had worked thus far in terms of getting us back up to a healthy level of interaction before we meet. It would be my last wish for it to be awkward. Again, my immediate response was “now that I understand your thought process more fully, I can get behind it.” That’s because I wasn’t saying we should go to Starbucks tomorrow. It’s that getting together in person brings up a lot of fear for both of us that can best be summed up by Kumar of “Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle.” “Just talk to her once and it won’t be weird anymore.” We are at step one, planning out steps two through 10. That was a Van Helsing Abridged reference. It’s sick and twisted. I love it. I think Supergrover also forgets that I am the queen of overthinking, the present of Overthinkers Anonymous. She could be talking about getting together tomorrow or five years from now, and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.
How has your understanding of personal boundaries evolved, and what have been the most challenging aspects to enforce?
- Oh, wow. I think they started in 2012 with my marriage article, because it was published on my blog a year after I wrote it as a Facebook note. I had the concepts down for a good marriage, I just stopped taking my own advice and it cost me dearly. Now, I am on my way to understanding that I need to attract light, not beg for love. I am allowed to take up space in the world. Yet, my love for people is not based on what they can do for me. It’s based on how I feel in their presence. My love for Supergrover has changed me the most, because there are so many aspects to our relationship that defy odds and boundaries. It has been a journey to realize that I can’t go back to monogamy, even if I am polysaturated at one person. Just because Supergrover and I are not romantic does not mean she is not worthy of my love and protection to the extent that I’m able to understand what irritates those privacy issues in the first place. I also developed hard boundaries with my blog as I started getting more popular. I count on my red and yellow strings to keep me grounded. Everyone else can go to hell. I don’t have enough bandwidth to trust everyone with all my information, and if you’ve behaved egregiously in the past, I have absolutely no desire to keep feeding the connection. I can love you from waaaaaaaay over here.
Can you share a story where enforcing a boundary significantly changed the dynamics of a relationship or situation?
- Yes. Both Supergrover and I realized our relationship was fixable at the exact moment I got boundaries. Either work on yourself or go away, because I’m happier without the roller coaster our love for each other has represented. She had to get over the fact that I’m not out to get her, without asking me for help. I had to try and protect her without her answering my questions. Accepting each other was our only choice. It’s our destiny, and I know that, because I will never, ever in my five dollar life not be a blogger.
In what ways has your approach to conflict and confrontation in person differed from your written expressions?
- I am terrible at conflict in person, because I just don’t have the emotional strength yet to be able to talk about my feelings without constantly interrupting myself with tears and feeling bad about something to an enormous degree when the other person was actually trampling all over a boundary and throwing a fit over it. I would rather text/e-mail someone so that I have more dexterity in conflict. I do not process reading the same way I process conversation. I’m also much less verbal and much more reliant on my body language in person, as well as seeing that of others. People don’t want me to wax rhapsodic the way I do here. I pay good money to bitch on the Internet. I don’t let that cross over into the way I treat people in person, because they didn’t ask to resolve our conflicts here, but I don’t feel them in person the way I do through my fingers, and all of my friends are overwhelmed at the amount I write because neurodivergence. If they come here, it kills two birds with one stone. Here’s the stuff I want you to know before we get together so that you have a random idea of what’s going on in my life so that when we’re together, we’re always creating new stories instead of rehashing old ones.
How do you navigate the balance between seeking input and correction versus coming across as judgmental in your writing?
- Holy shit. Carol just kneed me in the balls. However, it is very easy to answer. I will get angry and walk away from anyone who comes across as judgmental with me unless they’re also neurodivergent. That’s because I’m not actually judgmental like a narcissist where I think I’m better than anyone else. I’m judgmental like I’ve been appointed to the Supreme Court and I’m hearing arguments in my head. No one is a good or a bad person. They win and lose based on fact, but those are all transitive feelings. If we do better, my writing about you will, too. I seek information regarding my thought process, not sniping ad hominem attacks. She’s the only neurotypical in my life that has said she needs to accept that my brain works differently and sometimes better than hers. That’s why I feel like I’m in a writer’s room with her. She may not publish anything, but she’s sure as shit whipping my ass into shape.
What strategies have you found effective in managing the symptoms of your autistic brain, especially in communication?
- Disengage. I know when I’m going into meltdown, and I want to be alone because I cannot regulate rage. You think that I have different problems from high needs autistic people, but my silence is social masking while my brain yells “I’M A SURGEON! I AM A SURGEON.” Me getting that angry is a recurring theme in my life, and though it’s helpful when it’s manageable in terms of expressing my emotional needs, it’s time to learn to walk away when my symptoms overtake my compassion. You can only apologize for autistic rage so many times….. and that’s people’s right. If they didn’t sign on to be your caretaker, why should you make them?
Describe a time when humor helped you defuse a tense or challenging interaction. What did you learn from that experience?
- I had really good boundaries with women until I met Supergrover, and I do not mean to imply that she is responsible for any of this. Now that she knows my reasoning for why I write what I write, my adrenaline at my life speeding up made me feel invincible- forcing me into mania. I said unforgivable things to a lot of women because I was “flirting,” and it was “cute.” The blessing of my life is that Supergrover, I don’t think, has forgiven me for the things I’ve said to her, but she’s willing to try for our sake. This is because she sees that writing the way I do serves a purpose. That I can be more of who I really am in person when I can talk about things on my web site without talking about it…… in effect, turning a positive into a negative. I know this because when she said, “I thought the flags would give it away,” I said, “I need bifocals….. LIKE YOU ALREADY HAVE.” Behind the storm is always the rainbow (that’s the best line I’ve ever written about us).
How do you process and write about pain in a way that feels authentic and cathartic for you?
- I have on noise canceling headphones so that all I’m hearing is the beating of my own heart. I write down what I am currently thinking, and why. It’s organic and cathartic because I’m having my emotions out while no one is there. It’s intensely private because I don’t write for shits and giggles. I am the type writer that “wants the entire world to read their stories without letting me know that you’ve read them.” If my donations and my Facebook page are any indication, I am getting my wish. 😉 I have told people to screw off and don’t tell me what you think about my writing. That’s because the ratio at which people tell me the things they like to the things they don’t is one in a thousand. My self esteem would be in the garbage if I didn’t desperately believe that all I need in life is a computer with an internet connection, because “you may not recognize my Thu’um, but you will hear it.” The reason blowback is incredibly personal is that I am writing from my inner monologue. Every piece of blowback comes across as “this is not about the writing. This is about how your thoughts are crazy.” This is because I had the audacity not to include their interpretations of what they’re reading when I’m thinking about the future and how I want to shape it. I cannot care if I run over people in the process when they’re just sitting at home, butt hurt anyway. I solve conflicts with people who show me I’m worth it, not people who try to take away my agency in telling my own story the way I want to hear it. This book isn’t on a shelf. It’s a living document.
What have been the most surprising revelations about your own narrative when comparing it with someone else’s perspective on the same events?
- That always comes from my sister and dad, because we have completely different memories of the same event and they’re willing to tell me that. Right now, Lindsay and I are in the process of getting some rest and relaxation in the perspective that has come from my mother’s death in October of 2016. Instead of me feeling like the older sister who has to take over as a parent, we are reparenting ourselves.
Can you delve into the complexities of a relationship that has both harmed and healed over time?
- Many, and I have written about all of them extensively. Here’s the short list:
  - I can’t think of any extreme I’ve ever been to with anyone that has been the ride I’ve had with Supergrover, because we had to find a way to resolve things for both of us to be happy, because it was never going to work without us being in contact at all. Too much anger, too much resentment, too much not talking about the real issues. Too much PTSD on both sides. Too much mental illness on mine. We have both done a complete number on each other, and I hope that she’ll get as much out of healing as I hope to over the next few years. The reason this time it’s different is that our relationship is not based on one of us getting angry, sending the other one into rage. Now that we’re on the same page, we can both rest and relax. Every time we’ve tried reconnecting in the past, the emotional swings have gotten bigger. I don’t want that anymore, and I can say with honesty that I could not walk away until I’d had enough. She couldn’t reconnect until she saw why I would walk away at all. I am friends with a mystical being, who does not see herself that way. I want to help, because it provided so much kindling for our fires.
How do you find peace and resolution after a conflict when the other person may not communicate their hurt as openly?
- This blog. It is exclusively responsible for getting to the place I am today, which is that closure rarely comes from other people because they’re just not brave enough. There’s a ghosting epidemic because connection is so scary….. a direct result of the Internet because it didn’t used to take up our whole days. If you walk off angry and/or text message breakup and/or say you don’t want contact, I’m not going to stick around looking for your version of the story. You have already told me you do not want to tell it.
What does the phrase “The Holy and the Moly” signify in the context of your relationships and interactions?
Share an instance where you felt like “the bomb and the detonator” in a situation. How did you handle the aftermath?
- It is a reference back to Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett. I realized that we are all Good Omens. We both have the capability to be Az and Crowley depending on the situation. None of us are all good or all bad, just sinful angels and thoughtful demons……… in love. I kidded Supergrover about us being “The Holy and the Moly,” but after watching so many demon shows like “Lucifer” and “Good Omens,” I realized that Gaiman and Pratchett were expressing two sides of the same coin.
How do you reconcile the desire to bring issues into the light with the reality of only owning one half of a relationship?
- This is very important to me, actually. The most important thing in my life given what I’ve chosen to do. What I think is none of other’s people’s business. Therefore, I am trying to guess what is going on in their heads so I can decide how I feel about a situation. The fact that my friends have access to my rolling thought process is intimidating, but not as intimidating as tearing down any success I’ve had as a writer by reaching strangers through my trials and tribulations as well. How you own your own story is to try and explain to yourself what is happening to you without rooting around in the other person’s head.
What lessons have you learned from the dramatic and toxic cycles that can occur in close relationships?
- It takes a mountain of work to break a toxic cycle, because it presents as one person being emotional and one person being avoidant. If there’s a trauma bond, the spikes in lovebombing and valleys in discarding are more and more extreme, because the lack of dopamine affects your mental health. It brings a lack of happiness in other relationships by focusing on one. Since I’m the emotional one, I deal with it by not bending to anyone’s comfort and standing my ground. You accept me as I am, or you don’t. I will accept you for everything you are, I just may not want to interact anymore, and a lot of that is your call. I don’t have to tolerate bad behavior. I can just welcome people home when they really listen to me and the conflict subsides.
How has your role as a first child influenced your approach to conflict and the need to ‘win’?
- Not well.
- I am a first child. No one can be wrong. Part of this is because I’m autistic, and I overexplain so the person thinks I can never be wrong. In reality, I think the other person thinks I’m a dumbass and keep explaining because I think there’s something wrong with me. The first child generally buys in to what their parents do…. except that in my case, being neurodivergent made me terrible at it. I cannot even dream of a need to win as a pastor when I can barely take care of myself. I feel that I have the best shot of success as a writer because my voice is unique. I don’t need to win, I’ll just be glad if I do. It’s better for it to happen organically and to feel like you really worked for it rather than paying for your blog to be seen. However, I might resort to that eventually, because my sample size is large enough to prove to me that the ad dollars would be worth it. That if I’m talented to this many people, I could fool other people, too. 😉 In short, my desperate need for competition relies on how much of you see in yourself in my story. When I help someone, I get a win.
Reflect on a memory with Supergrover that brings you comfort during tough times. What makes that memory special?
- She sent me a quick e-mail when we were absolutely in the thick of it, to the point that I was actually freaked out that she was reading. It said, “thank you for this……. ‘I am not saying that Supergrover acted as my mother in this situation, only that mothers love differently than anyone else. They have no problem with carrying you by your scruff through the mountains, and tough love as it’s required.'” I realized that even if she didn’t want future interactions, she wasn’t mistaking the part for the whole, either. It reminds me to keep going. Someone is listening. She does.
How do you maintain a sense of humor about the challenges in your life, and how has it shaped your storytelling?
- I try to be funny about everything, but usually I can only be really funny after I’ve written about my serious thoughts here. I do not have to work on my issues and verbally process with my friends. I have verbally processed enough. Get me out of my head. When I am back in my body, I can be the life of the party. My social battery just drains very fast. I am quicker in person with witty retorts because I have to be. You’re not here. 😛
What’s the story behind your nickname, and how has it played a role in your identity and interactions?
- I changed my tag to “theantileslie” because I never wanted to be anything like myself ever again. I needed to reject what no longer served me. The antileslie is not a bad person, like the antichrist. It’s the acknowledgement that life is damaging and I need to keep evolving…… or it sounds good, anyway.
How has writing and blogging served as a tool for self-discovery and processing your emotions?
- I would like to think that my blog is proud of me, because I told her the truth.

Feel free to use these questions as a starting point for your blog posts, and I hope they inspire introspection and engaging content for your readers! 📝