Sunday, March 2, 2014

Get Your "Be's" and "Something's" Right.


    A lot of the time I wonder what it would be like to “be something.” As a young person living in Los Angeles I often think about what it would be like to be a writer. Or an actor. Or a director. Or a waiter. Well actually not that last one considering my managers are looking to promote me in the coming months and I’m pretty sure I’m going to get a sense of what that’s like very soon. But the point is we all aspire to “be something,” and we are told from a very early age that we must “be something.” Something big. Something prestigious. Something that makes a lot of money. Making all the hot girls we lusted after in high school wishing they would have gone to see that movie with us or let us take them to prom or, oh I dunno, be a way better boyfriend then that jerk Stephen, who we all know was cheating on you with Krista in the dark room of Mr. Alpers photography class, Carly!

But I digress…

     To “be something” is an aspect of life we all strive for even if we don’t fully realize it. However, some people do realize it and they try their hardest to “be” that “something.” But what most people fail to realize is that they strive for the wrong “be.” You see their “be’s” are far too small and trivial in the grander scheme of things, even though they might seem grand themselves, rarely resulting in the “something” they wanted. Take me for instance. I want to “be” George Clooney in hopes that the “something” I get in return is millions of dollars in movie deals and the endless attention of attractive females from around the world. But that’s just not gunna happen.
 

     Speaking of Hollywood, most people there want to “be” famous in the hopes that the “something” they get in return is self-satisfaction and confidence. Allow me to get slightly dark for a moment as I present you a short list of “self-satisfied” famous people:

Kurt Cobain: Self Inflicted Suicide

Philip Seymour Hoffamn: Heroin Overdose

Mama Cass: Death by Ham Sandwhich…? (And also a bad eating disorder).

     The list goes on and on and gravitates to sadder passing’s than “death by deli meat.”  Sure there are a lot of famous people who did find the qualities they were looking for. But none of these people found the self-satisfaction, confidence, or happiness they were seeking through fame.

     People also seek happiness when a person wants to “be” in a relationship, looking for the “something” that is love, trust, and intimacy. At this I ask you a question. How many drunken, spur of the moment Las Vegas marriages don’t end in annulment? Your times up. The answer is none. They all end in annulment. Sometimes even divorce. Which is pretty much the same thing so I don’t see why we have to use a fancy term like “annulment” to describe it.

But I digress…

     The point of all this is that people tend to mix up there “be’s” and “something’s” and there’s a simple way to fix this problem. Just reverse your “something’s” to “be’s”. For instance, if you want to “be” happy then the “something” you get in return will be a loving, trustful, intimate relationship. You should want to “be” confident and self-satisfied and the “something” you’ll get in return is a confidence and sense of self that you’re actually worth something. And if you want “something” like George Clooney then… Well it doesn’t really work for the last example but you get my point.

     So try and get your “be’s” and “something’s” right way round. Think bigger with your “be’s” in hopes for broader “something’s” It’ll help give you a clearer vision of what you want to do with your life. I’m currently working on a “be” myself right now. Well, let me make that a little bit clearer. I’m working on “be-ing myself.” The “something’s” I’m hoping for in return are pretty much all of the above; happiness, confidence, and success.

And a life like George Clooney’s.
 
God, that guy’s got it good.


 
 

Saturday, March 1, 2014

An Open Love Letter To... Ilana Wexler Of "Broad City"


Disclaimer: You might want to watch Broad City before reading.

To my sweet Ilana,

     I have just finished watching all 6 episodes of your amazing new series and I must say, I believe we are soul mates. The moment I watched you unashamedly pull a small baggie of weed out of your "va-hen-ya" I knew you were a woman who not only possessed the raw intelligence it takes to literally outsmart the diligent police force of NYC, but a type of resourcefulness that a lesser woman wouldn't have even thought of, causing them to simply put their weed in their purse or a lesser orifice. Never have I been so turned on by a woman nonchalantly leaving work and her responsibilities. You are a wild mare that simply cannot be tamed. The sight of you stealing your lame bosses office supplies drove me to a cold then simultaneously hot sweat. How I desperately wanted to be the calculator snuggled up against your braless (that's right, I've noticed) bosom.

 

     Your confidence and sex appeal is unmatched as well my wonderful Wexler. Never before have I seen a girl wear what was described as "a napkin" to her place of work and rock it so hard that I not only want to set my table with it, but place my silverware all up on it. You reckless abandon makes my heart pound with desire. Your drive and willingness to do whatever it takes to get Lil' Wayne tickets is like a sexy beacon of light guiding the lost ship that is my desire to you. How I longed for you to awkwardly clean my apartment (in men's boxer briefs) as I watched from afar, probably doing some creepy stuff off camera.


    But what I admire about you the most my sweet, fro haired, Jewish goddess, is your love for your best friend Abbi. Never before have I seen such a loyal friendship and never before has it gotten me so... So... Aroused. I will gladly go butt to butt with a male friend to perform the "Arch De Triumph" on you and Abbi if it is your hearts desire.

 
    But perhaps this intense friendship is why our love could never work, let alone last. It's obvious that you are a free spirit floating in the wind, a spirit that only answers to one very cliché and racist depiction of a Native American Shaman who calls it when it needs some weed or someone to help them find their lost cell phone after a crazy night at some shitty dive bar. And that Shaman is Abbi and I fully respect that relationship.
 

 
So it is here where I will let you go my dazzlingly daring and divine deity. Go. Be with Abbi, for she makes you whole. Makes you who you are. Make you Ilana.
 
 
 
 
P.S. Just know that my penis is the pinkest of penis' and you're really missin' out on that.

 
Love,
Cole.



Thursday, February 27, 2014

Depression... (Featuring The Stars Of HBO's True Detective.)

    What's a good angsty young adult blog if the topic of depression isn't brought up? I'll tell you readers, it's not a very good one at all. Which is why I'm gunna put down this carton of Cherry Garcia, actually get out of my bed, and remove all the once happy pictures of my Ex with her eyes crossed out on my wall and write!
 
(FYI: I guess I get depressed like a girl in her 20's...?)
(Another FYI: I do not have an Ex so don't worry there's no weird death shrine to some innocent girl on my bedroom wall, just a poster of Bob Dylan. But that son of a bitch also broke my heart...)
   
    My depression didn't fully kick in until recently and luckily it only lasted a short amount of time. But while it did last it really sucked. I wanted to do something with somebody but at the same time I didn't want to see any of my friends nor did I want to leave my house. I wanted to write stuff but couldn't manage to open my laptop to do anything other than watch binge watch True Detective (spoiler alert: Matty McConaughey's character stands up in the fifth episode!)

 
 
    When I was getting out it was to go to work, which I was starting to become resentful and angry of in a very aggressive way. I had just been promoted to a new position, Restaurant Assistant (Thank you, thank you, hold your applause), and it was not as smooth a transition as I thought it would be, meaning it was a living nightmare. In three days I single handedly backed up the entire kitchen, failed to deliver full orders, and accidently made promises to customers I could not keep. Learning the hard way that when you tell someone their order of 13 burgers will be done in a mere fifteen minutes, they really do expect it in fifteen minutes. For a hot second I considered quitting my job stating it was too stressful and I had never asked to be promoted in the first place so why were the doing this to me. Outside of work things weren't getting much better. I tried going to a local bar to hangout with some friends but when I saw the huge line of people waiting to get in I angrily decided that the bar was "stupid" and called it a night. I wallowed home, tried my best to watch the latest episode of True Detective (spoiler alert: It was Harrelson's character who got up this time), and went to bed.

 
    For a hot second I thought about maybe seeing a psychiatrist and by "thought" I mean thought about how I could not afford to see one. And by "psychiatrist" I meant a friend who would be willing to sit and listen to me bitch about my life for a solid 45 minutes. So that's what I did. I called up my best friend to hangout hoping to subtly work our conversation into the direction of my depression but before I could even ask her how her day was she told me, and it turns out it wasn't that good. She had woken up in a panic for absolutely no reason. She then proceeded to pace around her house and in between staring in the mirror compulsively picking her face and opening up her fridge 47 times she had come to the conclusion that she was hungry. When she decided to make herself a pizza she simultaneously decided to not make said pizza. But then she decided to make it again. Then not make it. Then pick her face. Finally, she made the executive decision to leave her house, as it was far too stressful for her after she realized her rent was due and that she "had not accomplished anything significant since college". So after one more face pick she managed to get herself in her car and drive to my place. And this was all before lunch time...
 
    "I don't know what it is Cole. I guess I'm just freaking out. I have all this anxiety but I'm also kinda depressed..." She stated. I decided to keep my own depression under wraps for a bit longer figuring I didn't need to add to her level of anxiety. We settled on a place to eat (Portos for all you local North Hollywoodians) and told another mutual friend, who was also very hungry, to meet us there. After ordering some potatoes balls (the freakin' best things ever) we all sat down and quickly noticed our friend was not very talkative. Further questioning revealed that his graduation date from college was quickly approaching and he had no job opportunities lined up for him outside of school. His parents had also informed him that he was soon to be financially independent, something he was definitely not ready for nor was he expecting. His roommate of three years was moving in with his girlfriend and leaving him on his own. And to top it off the new apartment he seriously loved and was looking to move into had been snatched out from under him mere minutes after he left the open house.
 
    "I'm sorry I'm being like this guys. honestly I've just been really depressed," He said to the very out of place smile on our faces. "We have too!" We reassured him, "SO DEPRESSED!" Turns out that what me and my friends were experience is that well known thing (rumor) in the male community when a group of girls who spend enough time together all get their period at the same time, only with like, ya know, depression. So we all talked about how shitty we'd been feeling and how surprised, and impressed, we were with each other's abilities to keep it so inconspicuous. Afterwards we ended up feeling a lot better about ourselves and life in general.
   
    So the point of all this, because trust me I've been writing towards one, is that everyone gets depressed. Mainly because everyone's got their own shit to be depressed about. and that's totally okay. Don't be scared of it or immediately think you need help. I'm sure a lot of people are going to disagree with me but I think being depressed is a sign that you're, oh I dunno, alive. People feel things. Good things, bad things, sad things, and mad things. Let yourself live through them because the ways in which you handle all those feelings is how you learn about yourself. Like me for instance. I learned that nothing goes better with my depression than a hardboiled crime mini-series set in the deep south (spoiler alert: Everyone stands up in the season finale). I also learned to handle my depression better. Because convincing myself that I was going to get fired from my new job before I even walked through the door was definitely not a good way to counter my sour feelings about it. Neither was calling a perfectly respectable establishment "stupid" before I even had the chance to get inside. So be depressed. It's okay. But don't feed into it. It's easier said than done but trust me, the only feeling more extreme than depression is the feeling of knowing you took control of it and came out the other end a much happier person.

      ALSO BE SURE TO WATCH SEASON 2 OF TRUE DETECTIVE STARTING SUMMER 2015!