“As you sleep with electric guitars / Range rovin’ with the cinema stars” - Elevate Me Later (Ell Ess Two)
Irvine is a planned community. It is a city owned by the Irvine Company and takes great pride in being considered the “Safest City in America”. It’s located in sunny Southern California and borders Newport Beach in Orange County, widely recognized as one of the richest counties in America. For some reason, they decided to stick a public university there and didn’t build a “college town” around it (if I’m not mistaken, the college was one of the first things built there). I went to said college and stuck around for about a decade. At first I enjoyed being there because things were so convenient. There was almost literally a Target on every corner (or at least off of each major street), which was a drastic change from living in North County San Diego, which is still somewhat still under development.
Unfortunately, we missed out on the college town atmosphere and we didn’t have a football team. The only thing that my roommate Phil and I could really find redeeming about the place (other than it being Will Ferrel’s original stomping grounds) was realizing that Pavement shot one of their music videos not only in the city of Irvine, but at the University shopping center across the street. Sure it is kind of an irrelevant detail in the grand scheme of life, but we took any victory that could. Besides, Pavement, and perhaps the Replacements are the only bands that I can confidently say, shaped my personality as we know it.
My friends, especially Phil, always wondered why I stuck around for so long. I really don’t have an answer. At first, I think I stuck around because I really liked my church, then it was because I still had some close friends around from college, and then eventually I guess I stuck around out of convenience. I’d be foolish to say that Irvine hasn’t shaped me in some way or another but I can’t say how at this point. Some people probably assume that it’s shaped my appetite for fashion, but that was actually caused by my trip to New York a couple of years back. I do feel compelled to at least look decent when I go to the malls here, but that also might be because I’m 28 and single.
“So drunk in the August sun and you’re the kind of girl I like because you’re empty and I’m empty” – Gold Soundz
I’ve always assumed that the longer you date someone, the bigger the fallout becomes when you break up. Sadly, the girl that did the most damage to me… I can’t even say that we actually dated. There was some stringing along, some mixed messages, some feelings shared including the dreaded “I like you but…” In hindsight, I should’ve bolted instead of sticking around for the drama, so I will be fair and assume my share of the blame. She was a couple of years older, so maybe I thought she would be above these shenanigans (naive move on my end). It was a situation that ugly. People got involved (no retraining orders or violence, just a lot of politics, I guess), and right when I thought things were going to calm down, she told me she had started dating someone else with one minute left to go on my lunch break, which led to a pretty ugly breakdown at work. For some reason she kept telling me that she wanted to be friends and I believed her. Then on my birthday, she apparently had forgotten that she “had a date” and that she couldn’t tell me personally, so she sent me the message through our unassuming mutual friend, who I basically yelled at. It was the beginning of the end for me, both at that job and to be honestly, at church as well. It was the first time in my life where I understood what “needing a change of scenery” really meant.
” Was a distant voice/ Made me make a choice/ That I had to get the fuck out of this town” – Box Elder
One day I had left my laptop at my friend’s apartment and I needed it to do some work. I called him but he wasn’t home but he told to swing by and pick it up because his roommate was home so I shouldn’t have a problem. So I knocked on the door and after waiting a few seconds, I turned the knob and walked in and grabbed my laptop from the living room. As I turned to leave, I heard a gun cock back and then saw it pointed at me. I guess my friend didn’t tell his roommate I was on my way over to get the laptop, so I explained to him why I was there and calmly told him “you can put your gun away”. He disarmed the gun, stopped pointing it at me and gave me some sort of explanation about how he was training to be a cop and some people in the complex knew about it and he was paranoid about them or something that didn’t exactly make any sense. (I don’t think he passed his psychological exam – true story) While he didn’t actually fire the gun at me, it was an experience that has definitely stuck with me. I never felt like I was in any inherent danger, but my friend’s apartment in the “safest city in America” was the last place that I ever imagined having a civilian pull a gun on me. While I’m pretty sure this happened before the fiasco with the girl, perhaps I should’ve taken this moment as a realization that I didn’t belong here. It was a moment that didn’t make sense on so many different levels, and usually when this happens in a dream, I wake up because I know I’m in a dream. It was a moment where I should’ve realized that me being in Irvine didn’t make sense, and that I just needed to “get the fuck out of this town”.
When I was a kid, I went through a phase where I had friendship bracelets. Sadly, I do not remember what friends I shared those bracelets with. I’m pretty sure we got them at the local arcade (or the equivalent to a Chuck E. Cheese) and wore them until they got faded and never replaced them. As I got older, I started to sport other accessories such as watches and rhinestone rings, but I never returned to bracelets (and never did I sport a WWJD or Lance Armstrong bracelet).
My 28th birthday has been a bit of a bittersweet affair. My birthday was overlooked at work, so I didn’t get the birthday cake in the conference room. While I wouldn’t consider it heart breaking, and I know most work-purchased birthday cakes are subpar, I would like to get a cake, knowing that my co-workers have gotten cakes for their birthdays. I also wouldn’t mind being paid on the clock to eat cake and to chit chat. If I was working at an office that didn’t celebrate anyone’s birthday, I wouldn’t be feeling so weird about it, and I’ll fully admit that I’m being kind of petty about it. If they get cake, I want cake too.
Moving around my 28th birthday has been difficult as well. No matter how close or far a move is, and no matter how much or little you own, moving is never fun, it’s never easy, and you’re never too prepared. I wouldn’t say that the move was dramatic and full or surprises, but it was exhausting both physically and mentally (thank you Time Warner Cable), and throughout the move, I’ve had a lot less friend interaction than I’m used to. Couple that with no internet (for the time being), and all of a sudden I’ve been feeling completely isolated. Couple that with the lack of birthday cake at work and… I’m just kidding… or bitter… or both.
It took a couple of weeks to have an actual birthday party because of my friend’s wedding and the move, but it was actually worth the wait. About 23 of us piled into the a shuttle with a bunch of food and alcohol and headed to the Hollywood Bowl to watch Bugs Bunny and the Symphony. I had friends from the present and a couple of friends from my college days join me in what was a fun filled night that ended with fireworks. This is what I love about birthday parties, it is one of the few occasions that you can different groups of friends together to hang out with you. So, while I was drinking beer with Chris, I was sharing rice crispy treats with Allison and Charis, and and getting passed along food from Allison’s parents. While the Bowl doesn’t really encourage mingling with a large group, it was enjoyable for everyone, except for the people who tried to park at the Bowl (but they had a good time once they got in). I was handed birthday cupcakes (I couldn’t eat them all) and that more than made up for my lack of workplace cake.
Before we got on the shuttle, I was given an envelope from Charis and Allison and they told me that there was a present inside. There was a handwritten card from the two girls. It had an apology for its sloppiness and an explanation for it (they made it in the car). It also contained two friendship bracelets in it. Apparently, there are conflicting sources on the prices of these bracelets. Charis says they’re normally 25 cents, Allison says they’re a dollar, but mine were free. Allison quickly tied them around my wrist and told me that I’m not allowed to take them off (but later told me if the colors get too faded, she’ll make me new ones). It’s the first time I’ve had friendship bracelets since I was probably around their age, and while I’m not going to try tug on the heart strings by saying their friendships is the greatest gift of all or that they went from being my show assistants to being my friends, I will say this: by sacrificing $1.25 our of their own pockets, Allison and Charis made me stop worrying about how stressful and crummy I’ve felt over the last couple of weeks for at least a little while.
When my family moved to San Diego from Brooklyn Park, we moved to an area that was in the midst of being developed, an “up and coming” community, if you will. While we didn’t know it at the time, Brooklyn Park was starting to slowly deteriorate. It never boasted itself as “America’s finest city” (ironically, unlike San Diego), but from my visits there over the past few years, I’ve noticed that it is merely a shadow of what it once was. When I first started school in San Diego, I would tell kids that we left Minnesota to get out of the ghetto, since they wouldn’t be able to confirm or deny whatever I said. It turns out that what I had said wasn’t too far from the truth. I’m not exactly sure what caused the decay of my hometown and I guess it’s not really important in the context of this story. I’m not ashamed of where I’m from, or where I’ve moved to, and why should I be? While Brooklyn Park, San Diego, and Orange County all seem like pretty different places, they all share the a common bond: good local beer.
When I grew up in Brooklyn Park, I remember a lot of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Budweiser beers in my house. Once, as a kid, I accidentally grabbed my Dad’s can of beer while reaching for my Pepsi, and immediately spit it out in the sink. (This is probably part of the reason that I didn’t really experiment with alcohol until I got to college.) In the times I’ve been back, Bruce and his brothers have introduced me to a beer from a local brewery called Surly. It came in a can and it was pretty wonderful. To my surprise, this brewery set up shop in 2005 in my hometown, which is pretty much the only reason to go back to that part of town (and arguably the only good things to come out of that town, period. Just kidding, Pat Neshek and Krissy Wendall).
Living my adolescent years in North County San Diego was difficult. It’s too hilly to get around via bike or by foot and for years it was still in the middle of development. By the time there were any shops around the area (not that there’s anything all that exciting), I was already off to college. Being away from San Diego has given me a greater appreciation for the city, as well as having a car to transport myself around all those hills. There’s also this wonderful brewery that has been built about 10 miles north of where my parents live that has wonderful scenery to chew on as well as wonderful beer and food. The Stone Brewery is becoming that once place that I always want to go to when I’m visiting my parents, which is becoming kind of problematic since it’s not the cheapest place to hang out at. Luckily my parents love it there and my brother-in-laws all want to check it out the next time they’re in town, so I’ll never need to go there alone.
Ever since I’ve been in Orange County (first for college, then for work, and now for?), I’ve constantly heard various friend complain about the lack of character or the area. I’m not much of an Orange County apologist, so I haven’t really refuted that. I have found that North Orange seems to vibe a little bit better with me, and recently I’ve stumbled upon a local brewery in Fullerton. I tried their beer at a local bar and when I found out they were located close by, I looked them up and decided to go to their tasting room. Their beers are great and the people that run the place are extremely friendly. It’s a very small operation and part of the charm of drinking there is that you’re literally drinking in a garage. It’s a bit of a contrast from the Stone Brewery in San Diego and there’s no food, but since I’m in Fullerton so much these days, it’s nice to know that I can stop at Bootlegger’s Brewery and kick back a couple of pints in between stops.
I’m sure wherever life leads me, there will be a decent craft brewery not too far away and while I definitely enjoy beer, I don’t think I’ll start planning trips around all the different breweries that I enjoy. Finding good beers has become a hobby of mine, just like finding the best restaurants in an area. All these places have more to offer than just beer; beautiful lakes, the beach, theme parks, restaurants and good friends, but beer makes each and every one of these things better. Looking at everything through a local beer colored lens just makes that local color all the more delightful.
My friend told me a story about how she was watching this baby try to get his mom’s attention at a party when she was talking to some of her friends. After his first couple of attempts were deemed fruitless, he decided to take drastic measures, so he dumped his plate of food all over himself. After dumping food all over himself, everyone kind of stopped what they were doing and let out a collective “Ohhhhh!”, so the kid accomplished his mission of getting his mom’s attention, and actually the attention of the shole room. Sadly, grown ups cannot get away with the same behavior to get attention, so we resort to other ways that are just as messy.
The last time I saw Molly in person was at happy hour, but this wasn’t the last time I had interacted with her. Many months after our last exciting encounter, I received an e-mail in my inbox about how she wanted to be friends on Facebook. I wasn’t at home at the time, so I decided that I would wait until I got home whether to make a decision on whether I should accept or decline her friend request. It wasn’t because I have strict standards for who is allowed to be my Facebook friend, or that I cut people from my friend’s list if they don’t talk to me on a regular basis, I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to give Molly more access to my life. I’m not someone that posts extremely confidential information on Facebook, but Molly has always had the gift for making a big deal out of irrelevant things.
I got home an hour or two after receiving the e-mail and I logged into Facebook to either confirm or ignore her request, but the request was gone, which I guess was a relief. I tried to look her up to see if there was some sort of glitch in the Facebook system, but she was nowhere to be found, so apparently she had de-activated her account. I found the chain of events kind of strange but quickly moved on with my life, content to forget that she wanted to find me on Facebook in the first place, but a few months later, she made a request for my friendship once again, and once again it was rescinded and she had again disappeared.
There was a third request a while after that, and this time she didn’t decide to de-activate her account or rescind her request and after a couple of days of letting the request sit in my inbox, I decided to officially ignore it. The fact that it took her 3 attempts gave me the impression that she was still the hurricane of drama that I’d experienced before, and I decided I was done with her. Even though I could’ve limited her access or ignored to see her feed, I decided it was in my best interest to just cut the cord.
Perhaps it was also in her best interest for me to put an end to things, and not just because it will bring my stories about her to an end. She obviously put a lot of thought into requesting my friendship, and it’s probably because she wanted to talk to me, to share about her life, and I’m not in a place where I can be a friend to her. I can’t overlook her flaws, tolerate her social inadequacies, or lovingly encourage her when she’s wounded. I understand enough about her past to know that she’s not some evil succubus whose sole purpose in life is to make my life uncomfortable and miserable. She’s just a girl who has unfortunately been a product of a vicious cycle, and one that’s amassed a whole lot of baggage. She’s a girl who puts her guard down way too quickly and it’s probably why I find her to be so crazy and it’s why guys find her to be easy pickings. I wish her well and perhaps one day, we’ll cross paths and I won’t find her to be so unbearable, though I honestly don’t think that day will come anytime soon. I’ve heard that she’s moved to Chicago because of some guy, and I can only hope that this one actually cares about her and will help her sort through all the issues she’s piled up over the years, because no one deserves to be victimized over and over again.
I probably will never know what becomes of her life and I’m okay with that. I would like to have some sort of hope for her so I’d like to think that she’ll eventually realize that her antics on Facebook were the equivalent of her dumping food all over herself at a party and that she eventually caught the attention of that person, of group of friends, that will clean her up and make her feel safe.
During Welcome Week of my freshmen year of college, I was invited to a party by a girl I had a crush on that I met during summer orientation. She was a year older (she was paid to help with the orientation), so she and her roommates were having a party at their apartment. I didn’t party in high school so this was pretty much my first time drinking, and after numerous jello shots, mixed drinks, and beers, I made a pretty big fool of myself as expected. I didn’t do anything too inappropriate, I just gave her a hug, but that was enough for her to realize that I was pretty trashed. I’m still amazed that I didn’t throw up at any point of the night and that a hug (and it wasn’t the most affectionate hug), is the only stupid thing I did. I remember my typing skills were still pretty good (I got bored and jumped on a computer and chatted with people, yeah I’m a drunk nerd). I also remember wearing a sweater to the party and coincidentally, the next few times I had ingested a “few too many”, I was wearing that same sweater. My friend dubbed it my “drunk sweater” and I have since retired it. Well, I just don’t really wear it anymore, period.
After I got out of college, I went the starving artist route and tried to fundraise so I could make a feature film. After realizing that people didn’t want to give me hundreds of thousands of dollars, I tried to pitch a sitcom pilot. I was working with a couple of people on getting a pitch meeting with a network, and one day I received a call from my associates telling me we needed to huddle up and get ready for our meeting that they were scheduling with a certain network. So I drove up to Culver City on a weekday, and decided to hang out at a mall with a friend from college, while I waited for my sitcom business associates to get off work for our dinner meeting. While hanging out at the mall, one of my associates called me and told me we were going to get Korean BBQ for dinner. Since I knew I was going to have a meeting that night, I had come dressed in a nice buttoned down shirt (dressed for business). But because the grill is at your table, Korean BBQ can and will make your clothes smell. Upon hearing the dinner plans, I decided to buy a different shirt to wear since I was at the mall and I didn’t want to have to Febreze the heck out my nice dress shirt. I ended up buying a t-shirt (t-shirts = cheaper than dress shirts) at the Puma store and wore that to my meeting. Wearing this shirt didn’t cost me my sitcom or anything, things just fell through, which is typically the story when it comes to the entertainment industry.
When I bought the t-shirt, it was for the purpose of not stinking up my dress shirt, but it’s not a bad t-shirt, it’s pretty fashionable. I wear it as part of my regular wardrobe ensemble and because it gets washed, nobody realizes that I bought it for the sole purpose of being a Korean BBQ shirt. Of course whenever I do go to Korean BBQ or have a BBQ of any kind, I wear this shirt. I’m not sure if I wear it for sentimental reasons or because I “trust” that it won’t smell bad. I just know that I have a lot of love for my shirt. Obviously, it would have more value to me if I ended up being able to pitch my pilot and I ended up living happily ever after, but this shirt doesn’t remind me of bad times or failure. It reminds me of how I only stumbled upon it because of a change in the dinner plans and how I wouldn’t have found it on sale otherwise. It was a slight detour and a pleasant surprise. While my screenwriting days are definitely on some sort of definite hiatus right now, I don’t see myself as a failure. The plans have slightly changed and I can say that I haven’t been disappointed by the results though I’m not exactly sure what they are at the moment. The BBQ Shirt isn’t like the Drunk Sweater; it hasn’t brought me shame and embarrassment. I don’t expect it to bring me luck but I do expect it to continue to remind me that my journey will be full of detours and pleasant surprises.