Five Star Friday's 274th Edition Is Brought to You By Armistead Maupin
This week's Five Star Friday is brought to you by a mother's mental illness, getting off your ass, leukemia, the importance of LGBTQ representation in public, fear and Philip Seymour Hoffman, attempts to understand autism, a recovering anorexic, Microsoft's way forward, two that were three, and Armistead Maupin:
The world changes in direct proportion to the number of people willing to be honest about their lives.
- Armistead Maupin -
She talked about running away a lot. Whenever my dad or I would joke about the application of nutmeg on a helping of sweet potatoes, she would say, all of a sudden, “I’m running away.” She would shake her head. And then she would elaborate: “I’m going to pack my things.” But she wouldn’t go anywhere. She would just stand there, bottom lip vibrating, holding one of those large sharp spoons made to cut casseroles. And we’d sit there, laughing, while her face got red and she turned around and started to wash the spoon.
Whatever your life has been up to now…. leave it behind. Seriously. Wash your hands of it. It’s done. It’s gone. It’s past. It’s done. That still leaves you exactly where you are… which, isn’t much to stand on. And guess what. That’s fine. You have a shit job. Fine. You can’t get bands to give you a second thought. No problem. Whatever. It’s all good. It’s where you are but it isn’t where you’ll end. You’re living your story. Every great story starts at the bottom.
The cruel thing about losing my child just three and a half years into parenting him is that it can at times feel like he was a figment of my imagination, like his existence was the best and worst dream I ever had.
I couldn't see myself in the gay characters I encountered, so I denied it in myself. If either of young Brett's two heroes, Chandler Bing from "Friends" or Xander Harris from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," had come out as gay, things would have been a lot different for me. But instead I just related to Chandler because everyone assumed he was gay the same way they assumed I was, and then I watched him marry a woman and become a lot less funny. I assumed that was my trajectory, deadening sense of humor and all.
Philip Seymour Hoffman had 23 years in recovery, and heroin still killed him. I have barely two years. And I am afraid.
I suspect that a travel guide for Italy won’t help you in the mountains of Nepal just as one account of autism can’t possibly help you understand ‘what it’s like’ to have autism. One single guidebook for autism will only ever give you insight into one single person’s experience.
It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be alright. The words buried under my tongue like little hopefuls. They are always there, waiting in the wings. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry in my mouth, fraying in the back of my throat, choking in my spit. It’s going to be alright buried in my gums.
Satya Nadella needs to find Microsoft’s new “a computer on every desk and in every home running Microsoft software”. Here’s my stab at it: Microsoft services, sending data to and from every networked device in the world. The next ubiquity isn’t running on every device, it’s talking to every device.
My anxiety-stricken daughter, who rarely speaks to anyone, told this woman that she and her brother are six and the nice lady exclaimed at how fun it must be to have a twin.
I let the comment go because I can do that now but McKenna corrected her, telling her they are triplets. And when she asked where the other one was, my daughter explained that her sister is in her heart so she can bring her everywhere.
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