Dangerous Compassions


“I dropped my computer on my chin,” I told Ming.

“Aw!” he said.

“Will you feel sorry for me?”

“I feel sorry for you,” he said.

“Writing injury!” I said, touching my chin. “I think I’m ok.  What’s a chin for, anyway?  To look cute?  To hold my jaw on?”

Ming mumbled something in the kitchen.

“The only thing I value my chin for is showing my that my dad is probably my real dad.”

“Hmm,” Ming said, maybe disapproving.

“Both with this chin cleft,” I said.  “What?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“You’re making disapproving noises,” I said.  Yeah, I’ve bothered many people over the years with dad speculation.  I know what sacrosanct means!

I remember telling someone, when I was a teenager, that his dad could have been the pool guy.  He really didn’t like that.

“What?  It’s true!  No one knows who their dad really is, usually,” can be unwelcome.  I’ve been thinking about paternity since I was way too young.

“Are you my real parents?” was a main question on my mind since I was four or so, about both of my parents.  I think that’s a symptom of something–I’m going to do myself a favor and not look that up.


One of the most important compliments I’ve ever received was circa 1994 when I was told by a teacher I respected that I’m an iconoclast.  I looked it up in the dictionary, and have been thinking about it ever since.  My initial response was–icons are really pretty, so why would I bust them?

But I get the idea, what an iconoclast can be.  Nowadays I consider autism and how seeing the world in a weird way can be a feature, not a bug.  Visionary vs deviant.  Truth seer vs freak.


I heard this They Might Be Giants song “The Communists Have the Music” the other day, and woke up with it in my head this morning.

I find it funny and played it for Ming.  His learning disability means he can’t understand lyrics in songs, so he called up the lyrics on his phone, to read as the song played.  He likes it too.

Yeah, I was listening to David Rovics on youtube the other day, and youtube went all “revolutionary music for Laura-Marie.”  Song after song played for me, that interested me, as I cooked foods.  I had never complimented an algorithm before.  Nicely played.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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