You’ll Regret This…. Or Else (Maybe I Will)


Little Teghan


I have mentioned that I once worked the drive-thru at a doughnut shop for four days. I don’t know why I took that job. It was full time, 4am to noon. I already had a full time job that was from 2pm to 10pm, so I had clearly lost my mind that week. I was nineteen years old at the time, and not filled with a ton of motivation. It doesn’t matter. On the fourth day, I went into the manager’s office for a little chat about how this might be the wrong fit for me. He kind of agreed.

I had a little time before heading to my more glamorous job as a Meijer Shoe Department Clerk, so I figured I would just get there early and hang out in the employee break room. I climbed into my 1979 Plymouth Horizon (that’s right) and left that doughnut shop for the last time. It was great. I turned left out of the parking lot and stopped at the light- a little embarrassed at the horrible noise my brakes had been making the past week every time I stopped. Oh, well. I was too broke to fix that…. maybe quitting my job was premature? At least I didn’t have to leave the house at 3:30 in the morning anymore.

I was almost excited to get to my other job. If you have been paying attention to these things I write, you may recall that this was a job where I could perfect my skills of taking naps without getting caught. It was a skill I most likely acquired on this particular week. But as I was walking into the store, a man in a truck pulled up next to me and tried to get my attention.  Continue reading

Lies…. or Just Good Storytelling?


Teghan Church


This one isn’t about autism, but it is about blogging. And liars…. (but I added a few cute pictures of Teghan, anyway).

I have never preferred writing fiction. Not that I can’t, it’s just not what I am best at. It is easier for me to find an interesting angle in a true story than to create an angle and develop a false story around it. If that makes sense. The good news is, the stories I tell are extremely accurate- though often analytical.

Some people are the opposite of this. They might tell true stories, but they find it easier to make up an interesting plot twist rather than work out true angles that make an ordinary situation seem less….ordinary. I am not criticizing. We go with our instincts. And good fiction writers are the best writers. They create the stories we love most. Some of the most amazing true stories I read online make me forget that I know it was embellished a bit- and that can be a good thing. We are often fooled, but it doesn’t always matter. Once in a while it does.

I once got into an argument with a priest over a blog. Considering how few real disputes I have actually had in my adult life with anyone, it seems like a particularly strange thing to have happened to me. Most of my disputes are on behalf of other people. All of them have been work-related. Including this one.  Continue reading

In Case I Forget to Say Thank You


Facebook is a strange human experiment in friendship.

In some ways it really shines. It keeps me in touch with family members, who I may otherwise have let too much time pass without contact. It keeps me in the loop of my friends from Illinois since moving back to Michigan (and with the ones who have also spread elsewhere throughout the country and world). It allows me to meet new people from all walks of life and make connections that were never before possible.

It also changes the natural course of things as we knew it. If you are of a certain age, that is. Suddenly friends who had drifted out of our lives are there again. Which is great….and weird. Because some of these familiar strangers, whose children I have never even met, know some of my deepest secrets. Some of these now casual acquaintances once knew me better than I knew myself, and it went both ways. You know who you are.

And then there are the misunderstandings and expectations of each other. Some people like to share in this type of platform, and others do not. Some people like to watch it all unfold from their secret little corner. Some of us take risks, seek approval, or hold our own approval up as some kind of prize to be won. Some of us care, and others- not so much.  Continue reading