The Twang Invasion

Brought to you by The South.

If you walk by my apartment anytime in the next four to five days, expect to hear yelling and arguments and probably some screaming and the way you'll know you are at the right place?  The Twang.

See, it takes over all of us at some point during the weekend.  Some of us are from the south and some of us have daddies from the south.  Not "daddies".  Daddies.  Dirty Bird, You.

Just prepping for this trip, I can feel the twang starting to form in my throat.  So, yes, expect y'alls and things of that sort.

And so you don't feel left out, I'll let you know who'll be in town.

Miss Larkin.  The ringleader.  Itinerary driven.  Claims to be breezy but...well, isn't.  Always has to fly here because none of us are sure where Arkansas is.

Ally "Red".  Lives in Canada.  Is the only woman we know that will rock a bikini on a public street without covering her ass.  Has two adorable boys.  One she kisses sweet and one she kisses very bad.

Miss Aimee. Our newest hot momma. This was Aimee last time we were all together.  Baby Gavin is now viewing Orange County from the outside with his gorgeous momma and dad.  Aimee is the calm to our storm.

Stacia Rae.  Stacia has over 1,000 pictures to choose from but I think this defines her.  Sassy but sweet at the same time.  She should have a tip jar in front of her everywhere she goes.  Terribly entertaining.

D "Sissy".  Our outings tend to be costly to Davina.  Running out of gas and getting towed and all things Car Trauma.  We are crossing all available parts for good car results this time. 

Miss Blue.  Guest appearances by Chris this weekend as time permits.  (See five children.  Further comments needed?  I think not.)





And me.  You have enough pictures of me.  Don't think I won't take a million more this weekend, y'all.

Much love,
Cole

Lessons in Shorts: Short Films, Short Stories and Brief Bursts of Loneliness

Brought to you by all things brief.

You should have seen me. I was sitting there, at The Getty, in a corner of this gorgeous patio area tucked as far back as I could tuck, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It wasn’t the way I imagined things. Nope.

You might think I have this adventuring alone thing all figured out. I don’t. Most of the time, I enjoy it tremendously. Most of the time. Saturday, I didn’t at all.

Nope, again.

The nice thing about loneliness is it is short. It’s a feeling and it goes away. And I have an option to sit in it all moping and lost in my PB&J or break free from it by talking to someone at the next table or watching people or just breathing and enjoying the loveliest view.

I didn’t.  I almost had the welling-of-the-tears in my eyes. But my loneliness was short lived. Sitting there with that sandwich The Boyfriend texted, “Miss you.” I sighed that huge heavy sigh when you feel the heart full of being wanted and missed and replied, “I needed that. Feeling a bit lonely. Not so brave today. Miss you.”

Wrapping up my sandwich and finishing my soda and watching all the pairs of people, I picked up my bag and headed into The East Pavilion.

da Vinci helps.  So does Degas.  So does a text telling you you're missed.  That is the best form of art. 

I suppose it was a bit of a theme this week.  Shorts and all.  Short bursts of loneliness and short films at Newport Beach Film Festival and Selected Shorts at The Getty.  I'm liking the briefness of it all. 

Some Short Lessons

Know Your Audience
You know that leftover sinus cough that takes seven years to go away? It should be named after me. If you’re going to cough during a film festival screening, make sure your cough sounds ultra educated and cultured. If there’s any trucker-side-of-the-roadness to it, they will kick your ass.

Partner in Grief
A Shine of Rainbows has so many beautiful, sweet lessons but my heart was tugged by grief and how it shortens when you allow others to experience it with you.

You Can Leave
Yes, you can. If you don’t like a movie, you can quietly leave. Perhaps during a film screening it’s not the best time but if you’re at the theatre and see something that doesn’t impress you, then simply walk out gracefully. Don’t waste another minute in a moment that does not feed your brain or your heart or your innards. Especially your innards.

Hellos Help
I was Friend Dumped twice this weekend. Drinks Friday night and a little outing Saturday. Looking back, it was exactly as it should be and allowed me to experience the painful quiet of not engaging with people. In the middle of Friday night tears, it hit me how many footsteps walk past a homeless man every single day without even a head nod in his direction. That pains me in deep ways. How long must his day be without the engagement of even a stranger.

Fit People In
The Getty did a program of Selected Shorts and one of the stories was, "Things We Knew When the House Caught Fire" by David Drury, read by Keith Szarabajka. Drury’s short delves into a family that completely doesn’t fit into a neighborhood and the neighborhood's attempt to get them out.

We will spend our lives trying to be in and accepted and chosen and picked and on THAT team. How much easier to fit people in ahead of time and not make them do cartwheels to be our friends or fit in our neighborhoods or be part of our group. It’s a quick decision to embrace rather than disgrace people.

My days don't always turn out the way I plan them but they turn out so much better and I'm committed at this ripe old Pre Middle Age to listen and learn and, most importantly, love.

A good night to you but just a short one.  It's late. 
Cole

Lessons From Mom

Brought to you by the number 8.

My mother died on April 22, 2001.   The first year it stung all the time.  The second year it stung on certain days and most major holidays.  Mother's Day was a bitch.  I remember standing in the kitchen while baking a cake and thinking how absurd it was that I was celebrating this holiday when my mom was dead.  After that, it was certain smells, certain sounds and certain memories.  I'm grateful that the passing of time makes great grief less great. 

I didn't know that the first year.  I wish someone had shown me the grief playbook. 

Nine years later.  Today.  And the morning is not full of sobs but laughter with friends.  And work and life and emails and texts and plans for the weekend and all the sorts of things a Thursday should have in it because it's, well, a Thursday and that's what Thursdays do. 

And even though it's a Thursday and not a THURSDAY.  And even though it's the 22nd and not THE 22ND, it still feels right to share some things I learned along the way from my mom.

1. No shortcuts.
As soon as my mom died, I had a really quick sweet dream.  My mom was leaning against a tree and we reached out to say goodbye to each other.  She started to walk down a long path inside a gate and I went to take, yup, a shortcut.  She looked back and pointed in her direction.  I knew then the road would be long but worth it.  I knew taking the easy way wouldn't be any longer.

2. Give when no one is looking.
My mother was a master at this.  She would put a young Latino kid through the fire academy rather than invest in a new car for herself.  She clothed people without fanfare.  She fed them and listened to them and prayed for them and loved them.  And she gave when she was sure no one was looking.

3. Find your sea.
I go to museums because my mother took me to them.  And she went to the sea because her father took her there.  There are many reasons we find our "place" but whatever you do, find it.  Go to it.  Make it your place and make it a refuge.

4. Have Yes Days
We were little, my brother and I, and my mother took us on a Yes Day.  It went horrible.  We went camping at the beach and locked the keys in the trunk of the car and it was not our greatest adventure, but still, it was an adventure.  And, the fact that it stands out to this day, there's something very YES about that.

5. Have a carnival in your backyard.
Rio Lempa Drive in Hacienda Heights was THE place to live.  My mother was a teacher and a really creative one and threw a bad ass carnival which probably speaks to me being an event director now.  So, this carnival had booths and games and I wish I was older and could remember more of it.  I do know that my best friend Audra Dial wore a dress and I had on jeans and wanted to go inside and change but was so glad I didn't since I ended up sliding down the dirt hill at the end of the day. 

Remember, I like being with the boys. 

The point is.  You can do things small or you can have a carnival in your backyard.  Live really big like that, you know? 

6. Something physical.  Something artistic.  Something educational.  Something cultural.
That was the rule.  And I'm not sure she spelled it out as clearly as that all the time but that was the deal.  We had to play an instrument and if we didn't do that then we had to participate in a performing art of some sort.  And the grades had to kick ass.  And then there had to be a sport.  And she brought in the cultural piece on the side with trips and music and such.  I am balanced in my want of these things today because of my mom.

God.  She was pretty cool, huh?

7. Write.  Draw.  Sing.  Act. 
Dance, Little Girl.  And sing, Darling Girl.  And Direct, Sweet Boy.  If these are your dreams then...do them!  My mother was a writer, a very quiet one.  And maybe she never wanted to do anything big with her words but still, she wrote anyway.  A piece for you, well, for us but for you.

November 1984 (written in my Spanish class, recalling the morning)

Mis Ninos -

You are my celebration,

In the early hours

Of my morning

I see you sleeping -

   And I hear a song.

For every day is a gift

And I will

Sound a quiet bell

Light a single candle

And thank my Lord

That you are safe

   And you are here.

-Michele Esperon-Harmonson

Much love to you this April 22, this very sweet April 22,
My mom's daughter

Lessons in Baseball

Brought to you by Milo the Party Bus Limo Shuttle Driver Guy. 

It was a really busy week.  I mentioned that didn't I?  Almost flat tire earlier in the week, huge party that was supposed to be a SORT OF huge party on Wednesday and then this weekend was The Experience.  See, I'm an event director and you know that but sometimes we don't just have parties on site but we take residents off site for little, yah, experiences. 

It's not that terrible of a job to get to go to a Dodger Game, is it?

A couple lessons learned on the third base side:

1. If you tell people to use the restroom before they get on the party bus, they won't. 

2. There's a Chevron off the 5 freeway at Washington with a nice bathroom. 

Eight people can use it really fast.  It helps when you say firmly, "go directly to the restroom, make no purchases, you have four minutes and no more beer until we get to the damn game!"

3. Don't let the obvious stun you. 

It stuns me that a bathroom break is needed from Orange County to Downtown LA.  It shouldn't.  I'll regret saying this once my bladder starts to weaken, won't I?

4. Know your limit.

If you drink so many cans of beer that you get lost in the parking lot, that's too many.

5. There is right and there is wrong.

Doing The Wave has never been, isn't and will never be appropriate.  Snarky Brother with a strong finger point says, "It distracts from the game."  I agree.

6. There is wronger.

See number 5 for beachballs.

7. First everythings are important.

First games are important.  Capture them in picture.  Zed went to his first Dodger game today and was decked out in blue and his parents were Dodger Proud.  They couldn't stop taking pictures and that's exactly how it should be when your baby has a first.  And even if you're a grown up, all pre middle age and all, and having some firsts of your own, you don't have to stop taking pictures either.  Nope, you don't.

8. Having "texters" helps open the closed doors. 

This morning The Boyfriend texted to say good morning and to remind me to wear sunscreen.  I didn't.  I'm rebellious like that.  And Snarky Brother texted to tell me to dress in cool clothing.  As if anything I'd wear wouldn't be cool.  Oh, you know...weather and all.  And having men in my life that give a damn is so damn cool and opens the heart in such an easy way.  Sigh.  I like that very much.  Almost enough to listen to them. 

9. Wait for your pitch. 

Bottom of the eighth and down 1-0.  And then Manny Ramirez comes up to the plate.  And two strikes and he's not freaking out.  Cause you know if it was me and it was the bottom of the eighth inning and all the pressure was on me and I had two strikes I'd be sweating.  No.  He waits for his pitch and it's a homerun and the score is now 2-1.  And we win.  You don't have to play at anyone else's pace.  You can keep your own and you know the pitch that is for you and the one that isn't.  And don't let anyone talk you into swinging at a ball.  You are too smart for that.

10. Work in your passion.

We were walking out of the stadium tonight and I was rounding everyone up and having to use a bit of a mom/julie the cruise director voice when someone said, "I could never do your job!"  You aren't supposed to.  You're supposed to do your job and I'm supposed to do mine and when we're both working in our passions they don't really feel like jobs, do they?  I had the best time today even reminding grown ass adults, "make sure you use the restroom before getting on the shuttle (and drinking another 18 beers)!"

11. Listen

Milo The Party Shuttle Limo Bus Driver had much to say this afternoon.  I happened to be the lucky listener sitting in the front next to him. Now, I'm sure he would have stayed quiet if I had asked but he wanted to talk about travel and history and art and all the things I love so it was fine.  Sometimes, listen.  Don't talk.  Listen.  He didn't really ask anything of me and I could have been anyone really but I nodded and reacted and that made him happy.  All people need sometimes is your ear.  Both of them is even better. 

I came to pick up the tickets for today's game earlier in the week and stopped just beneath the stairs where I once walked with my Pop.  I still remember the ash from his cigarette hitting my arm in a way that wasn't really serious just a memory.  I looked up the stairs and although my Pop is long since gone, all those memories were and still are on those stairs.  Sure, maybe they belong in some stronger form to my brothers since they went to so many more games but I have my firsts, too.  And I'm making new firsts.  Finding new places sometimes and finding old places again in new ways.  And in many ways realizing I weave them together as best I can.  I like the old and the new and don't much plan on choosing one over the other. 

Much love from Chavez Ravine,

Cole

Lessons in a Village

I should have known this morning when my power steering was out...again!  It wasn't the power steering at all.  It was my flat front tire that I drove, oh, shall we say, miles and miles and miles on all day long?  That one.

And then it happened.  I pulled up at Smart and Final to stock up on booze (for a party, hold the judgement) and this lady gave me the dirtiest Orange County look I'd seen since, umm, yesterday.  I rolled down my window to give her one back.  Okay, I didn't.  I rolled down my window to ask what her problem was and she said, "Your tire has like THIS MUCH air in it!"

THIS MUCH meant not so much.  Emphasis on the lower case. 

I drove to Chevron and put air in it as two men watched me.  Ahh, gentlemen.  You must not have sisters or internal organs...that beat.  And then I started madly looking for some auto garage that would still be open at 7:30 at night.

There aren't many in Orange County in case you were wondering. 

I drove halfway to Walmart and then realized it was closed and then called around for the nearest Pep Boys and it was one street over which would have been so easy if I was not a complete moron with directions.  Translation: I ended up back on the freeway headed south when I should have gone north and wasted more of the precious air in my flattening tire.

Grrr.

I learned something this evening.  It takes a village to raise me.  Well, it takes a village for me to get a flat tire unflattened, fixed, normalized, drive worthy. 

Tonight's Village

Walmart Lady That Hung Up On Me

She meant well, really she did.  I called to see if their service department was open and she didn't tell me just transferred me.  I called back one more time and asked in my "firm voice".  She apologized and said they closed 10 minutes ago.

Miss Chloe

I was supposed to be at Taco Tuesday tonight but have an assistant who does amazing play by play via text.  Miss Chloe stayed at the event therefore allowing me to deal with the tire.  I love text.  I hear the event was "omg awesome".

Pep Boys

My heroes.  They took the car.  They found her in urgent need of repair.  They fixed her.  I'm in auto store love with this place. 

Mimi's Cafe

I had to kill time while the car was being fixed and had three choices: Mimi's Cafe, Jack in the Box or stop by the liquor store which happens to be the one that guy owns that held me captive that one night.  Mimi's it is.  The host called me Miss.  I loved him.  My server called me ma'am.  Seven times.  I don't love him. I don't love him at all.  Not even a little.  And he has the worst hair anyone in the world has ever had, well except for that one guy that used to work at WFS that got the plugs and needed the desk fan cause he sweat so much.  Still, I don't love him at all. 

People, Twitter People

You.  You followed along on my adventure.  You commented.  You made snarky remarks and you laughed and you told me other places nearby to eat dinner.  And what that really means is that you, dear friends, cared.  Whether you live close or far, you cared and that is just huge in the hugest way something can be huge. 

The Boy

I didn't need to text him a big, "Help!"  I was okay.  I had someone tell me the tire was flat.  I had someone to fix it.  I had somewhere to go to eat dinner.  I had people to chat with while I waited.  And when I came home he texted after reading the whole adventure, "Oh, baby.  Just seeing car drama.  Wish I could fix.  Sending kisses to my independent super girl."

And that's what I needed as soon as I got home.  I needed, I wanted to be loved on. 

You, you are my community.  All of you.  And sometimes I know you and sometimes you are strangers and sometimes I adore you and sometimes I think you are giving me dirty looks when really, really you are helping me. 

It took a village to raise me tonight.  Huh?  This independent super girl can do much on her own but loves having you all along for the journey. 

Putting my cape away for the night,

Cole

Lessons in Filters

Sitting at Nordstrom Café the other day waiting for my lunch and there is a family of three waiting for their meal. It’s a mom and a grandma and a daughter and the daughter is wearing pink. Of course she is, she’s the daughter and she’s about seven and that’s what seven year old daughters and granddaughters do.

They wear pink.

I wish we could wear more pink. I’m gonna wear more pink. I’ll be the one in Irvine wearing pink this weekend.

So, Sweet Little Girl is sitting there and her grandma starts caressing her long brown locks and SLG SHOUTS out, “you could do that all day because that feels so good and I like that.”

Rare. The SLG Brain is. It says what it feels and what it doesn’t feel and what it likes and what it doesn’t like and shares and gives and shouts and wants and has pleasure and pain and just, well, experiences.

I miss The SLG Brain in all its excess and unfilteredness. I despise having to say all the proper things and the right things and the yes things and the no things and the things people want to hear instead of the things I want to tell them or the things that are deep inside my brain.

Like, “Oh, you could do that all day because that feels good and I like that.”

Or, “I need you.”

Or, “please be my friend because I think you would be a great friend and I promise not to be atrocious on Tuesdays and most Thursdays and only on Fridays.”

Sweet Little Girl Brain. Sweet most of the time. Sharp nearly all of the time. Unfiltered excessively always in the best way.

Much love,
Cole

Lessons in Compassion Over Content

I suck.  I admit it.  I'm selfish and the world is all about me when it should be all about you, and you, and sometimes, yes, you.  And today was another example of me being the me I don't want to be.

I had lunch at Lola Gaspar in Downtown Santa Ana and went back to my car to check emails and hot, dirty texts (my favorite) and was running madly through the 32 emails that came through from the moment I tasted honeycomb butter with my tortilla til opening the car door when it happened.  It.  You know?  The moment when you realize you are a selfish bastard. 

I looked over not more than ten feet away and a homeless woman was going through a trash bin looking for things that a homeless person looks for to get through their day.  That.  That moment.  That visual should have been the first thing my eyes gravitated to when I arrived at my car.

It wasn't.  That makes me Friday sad and a little pre-sad for Tuesday.  With my limited Spanish which is even rockier when I feel like an ass, I asked her if she would like a jacket as I reached into the trunk of my car. 

She held the jacket up and asked, "Is this for woman?"  I smiled, nodded and realized even when you're homeless, especially when you're homeless you need to have choices when everything else seems so out of control.

Step away from the emails and the work and the head being buried in content over compassion every once in awhile.  I'd venture to say I already had my Friday Happy Hour.

Much love this fine Friday-day,

Cole