Cole, 8/15/14:

Hola a todos! 

I hope that everyone is doing great!  As for me, I am overfuckingwhelmed!  But… It’s good overwhelmed.  Crazy, tumultuous, life changing decision kind of overwhelmed, but in the end, I think I made the right decision.  My life has been insanely hectic and chaotic, but by this point, I have pretty much submitted to the fact that my life will always be fueled by whims, passions, desires, and last minute, future altering decisions.  What the hell(?), if at the end of the day I can say that my life is always exciting and never boring, and that is all I can really complain about, well then I acquiesce, and not begrudgingly, but with pleasure.  I would rather have a little dose of insanity than too much placid banality in my life any day!  Keep the white picket fences away from me, or I might just rip off a perfectly painted, pointed slat and smack you in the face with it!  That does not mean that the life decisions I make for myself are ever, in any way, easy in any sense of the word, it just means after much thought, strife, and inner turmoil, I can say with conviction that the conclusions and decisions I have come to are indeed the right ones, no matter what I had to leave behind in order to move forward. 

If you are a follower of this post (and if not, you can easily go back and read all of my prior posts up to this point, and Marge’s as well) you will recall that as of my last post, I was on cloud nine for several reasons, the primary reason being, that I had landed a job for crush and harvest at an epic little boutique winery, here in Paso Robles, California.  I was so giddy and excited about it I couldn’t wipe the smile of my face all day long after the interview, and then again once I had officially had the job offered to me.  I was happy and grateful for a lot of other things as well, but work is my backbone, my sanity, my reason for waking up in the morning, and so finally having one, and not just a job that I could “stomach” but a job I was passionate about and knew I would love had me almost in hysterics.  I was that happy!  The only downside was that it didn’t start straight away.  I had to wait two and a half weeks for my start date, which was August 15th. 

Knowing I had to wait so long to start troubled me, but knowing that there was a light at the end of the tunnel kept me afloat emotionally and also gave me something to look forward to.  I knew I would be able to hold out, I just knew it, though I wasn’t exactly sure how.  But Marge also helped keep my spirits up and she always said to me “honey, if God wanted us to be under a bridge we would be there by now!”  She never made me feel like a burden to her ever.  I am SOOOO grateful for her selfless love and support. 

So a few days later, while contemplating selling a kidney to stay afloat, as if anyone would pay for one of my alcohol-saturated kidneys anyway, or else selling my uterus on the black market to some super wealthy, cannibalistic Swede, I get a call from the temp agency.  They tell me they have a job for me for a solar company, digging ditches, pouring concrete, laying conduit, that sort of thing, but they emphasize that I can’t “take” the job, because I’m promised to the winery.  I laughed and happily agreed.  I was just happy to have work again, and I seriously doubted anything could pry me away from a job I was so thrilled to have, provided I could hold out for the remaining time. 

I roll up the next day to the job and am eager to start work.  The two guys I’m working with stated that they were surprised the temp agency was sending a “chick”, but that they didn’t really care, because the guy they had sent the day before was a total tool, a shitty worker, and had left early because he couldn’t stick it out.  I just laughed and laughed.  They looked at me like I was crazy… until we started to work.  By eleven, the boss had already called to check in once, and then by noon, he showed up at the job site to check on us in person.  By one, he was at the temp agency, saying he wanted to bring me on full time.  The temp agency told him I was taken.  He said he would match the price.  They told him no dice.

The trouble with working for a temp agency, is that they’re kind of like my “pimp”.  I can work for other people, but technically, I am the property of the temp agency, and I can only be a “free agent” again after some five hundred hours at a specific job, or unless the specific job shells out thousands upon thousands of dollars on me to buy me.  I’ve considered trying to sneakily skirt around this issue for other companies that have wanted me before, but I’ve made really good friends with the chicks in the office, and so though I think their policies are horse shit, they didn’t make the rules, I wouldn’t want to lie to them, and I don’t want to get myself and a potential employer in trouble.  It just wouldn’t be worth it.  I’m willing to put in my time.  These days, I’m just happy to have work.  I don’t need to cheat anyone, burn any bridges, or get anyone, especially myself, into any trouble!  

Apparently “The Boss” at the solar company was not on the same page.  As soon as I got back to the shop on my second day after work, he wanted to conspire.  He wanted me to join the crew full time, and he wanted me to do it without the temp agency.  If the temp agency was actually a pimp, he would probably have some broken legs, but the temp agency is a (oddly somehow) respectable business and I just had to be straight with him.  I told him I loved the work, loved the crew I was working with (how could I not?  They were funny as fuck, dope as shit, and laughed when I would scold them for trying to pawn off “girl work” for me to do!  Then there was the day The Boss told me my Dickies were too stained, and I needed to wear something more appropriate.  I told the guys he didn’t like my pants because they were covered with caulk, which sparked an hour long conversation filled with caulk puns and jokes, especially after I pointed out that while my pants were black with white caulk, another guy on another crew wore light pants with black caulk, and that was somehow ok, so I said The Boss obviously preferred black caulk to white caulk, and the crew I was working with was in tears, dying of laughter!  That sparked a scenario where we were all working at Home Depot, on the loud speaker, announcing that a lady left her bag full of caulk at the check out, and could anyone find the lady who needed a couple of big bags of black caulk, knee deep in caulk, boxes of caulk, etc, etc.) but that I needed to do things right because I didn’t want to burn bridges or get anyone in trouble.  He said he understood, but he was still trying to coerce me. 

The following Monday, after the mandatory safety meeting, a little more coercion, and being given two freshly pressed, official, solar company t-shirts, I was starting to think that maybe leaving this company that wanted me full time to work for a winery that would only use me temporarily and then dispose of me was a bad idea.  I was put on another crew, this time to set solar panels up on roofs, to get to know every angle of the business, as The Boss put it, and to get me exposed and acclimated to every part of the company.  Fuck, I even got to fire up the forklift and load trucks.  I felt like I belonged somewhere again.  I got along famously with the three people I had worked with thus far, I had been given company shirts, keys to the forklift, some “authority”, and I was not only respected, but appreciated, and even revered.  Of course people still looked at me like a chick, because I have tits, but there was respect in people’s eyes, and it waxed after my second week, once I graduated to roofs.  Shit, I even started to think of some of my co-workers as “lazy”, to a certain degree, but once I got in with a crew, I knew which rules could be broken, especially after a scorching hot day, on a client’s roof, and they “forcefully” coerced us to have beers with them…

The crews were awesome, the days were hot, the sweat would be dripping off my body, face, eyelids, whatever, but it felt so fucking great to be working again, to be appreciated, and to feel like I belonged and fit in with a crew, if not several.  By the second day on a roof, it wasn’t like being “on a roof”.  It was just walking.  No fall protection, a tube of black caulk (AKA rain buster) in each of my pockets, Caulking gun in one hand, hammer in another, nails in my pockets, impact gun, installing flashing, learning how to wire solar panels, run wire, and connect AC to a box.  It was fucking badass!  Filthy, disgusting, sweltering, badass motherfucking shit, with a crew that had me in stitches all day long, and I returned the sarcasm, filth, and witty comebacks as best I could.  By the forth day, “sodas” had become a regular thing, and we were banging out jobs left and right.  One or two days on a roof.  One or two days on a ground rack, and then back on a roof.  We had become somewhat synchronized, and didn’t need to communicate much more than a casual jest or sarcastic remark.

By the end of the second week, I was a commodity going quickly off the market.  The Boss wanted to keep me.  He offered to pay me more than the winery, and I was smitten, not just with the crews, but with the work.  Marge understood completely when I told her my plight.  She and I both love to work hard, aren’t afraid of physical labor, and love to get down and dirty.  She, as with several of my friends, agreed that I should shun the temporary winery gig and stay on with the solar company.  I thought it made the most sense, but I was still conflicted. 

While I do love being respected for how hard I work, and even sometimes shocking a placid, mundane, frigid society that I still believe needs to be woken up and slapped around a bit, I wasn’t entirely sure I was making the right “life choice” for myself.  I felt like I was being sawed in half with a rusty hacksaw.  I mean, how does one choose between a solid, full time, well paying job for the long term, for something that could very well be only temporary, but that I was so excited with when the job was first offered to me? I felt passionate about working for a winery, and not just any winery, but an incredible, tight nit, super green, environmentally conscious winery who makes amazing wines, and with a staff that made me feel like family?  Then again, how do I say no to company that also made me feel like family, had shirts made for me, also made me feel welcome, appreciated, accepted, and was fighting tooth and nail against the temp agency to steal me from the winery?  After two years of solid, constipation, reeking motherfucking shit of no real, plausible, awesome job, (aside from the brief interlude when I was helping my bosses from the nuke plant) do I just piss gasoline on an awesome opportunity for full time work at a fucking fabulous local solar instillation company and set that bridge aflame for a job at a winery that could very well dispose of me once crush and harvest is over and, come late November or early December I’m in the same, anxiety-inducing state of having no stable income again?  The decision seemed like a no brainer to my rational mind, but to my true self, to my soul, my passions, and my tempestuous heart, nothing was clear.  Everything was foggy and distorted.  The brain and the heart were at odds.  I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to call my “mommy”.

Anyone who knows me on a personal level knows that I do not really get along with my parents, nor do I communicate with them on any sort of consistent basis, even though they live about 30 minutes away.  Despite the fact that I do not get along with my parents, think they are kind of judgmental assholes, and we disagree on everything(!), from their religion, to my tattoos, and politics (among many, MANY other things) I do still love and respect them, because they are my parents.  We may not always agree, and in fact, never do, but I will love them with all my heart until my dying day, and then some.  I get my best and worst qualities from them, how could I not love them?!!!

I won’t lie.  When I called my “mommy”, it was more or less a courtesy call.  I had already had my mind made up.  I was going to stay on and do the solar thing.  The winery was enticing, to be sure, but all I really cared about at the time was a full time job.  It had just been a while since I had spoken to my mother and I wanted to make her feel like her input was needed or important or whatever.  When I made the call, I had already had it made up in my mind that her take on the situation would not in the slightest bit matter.

I had had several opinions from several friends and people who mattered in my life, however, once I spoke to mommy, my opinion changed.  What she said sort of blew my mind, not because of what she said, necessarily, but because it came from her.  I have not felt loved or respected in any way from my mother for a very long time, but what she said changed the way I felt about her, and our conversation somewhat mended our extremely tenuous relationship.  She said, more or less- “Cole, with your life experience, languages, and passion for food and wine, I think the winery is a better fit for you.  It could open up so many doors and windows, so many opportunities.  I know it’s only temporary, but this could turn into something huge for you.  I say take it.  You always find a way to land on your feet.” 

Mind. Blown. 

I mean, not really, but coming from my mother, that was pretty significant for me.  I could feel her admiration for my ability to adjust, adapt, and adhere to life’s changes and challenges.  I know that in the end, parents just want their children to succeed, be taken care of, and be “safe”.  She knew how much having a full time job meant to me, but in this scenario, she wasn’t scared for me, nor did she want me to take the “safe”, easy way out and just have a secure job.  She wanted me to take the risk because she knew that, no matter what the outcome, I would be ok.  A few days later, when I told her I had really appreciated her advice, and had decided to take the winery job, she told me that she and my father were proud of me.  I haven’t heard or felt that my parents were proud of me in probably about a decade.  And what were they proud of?  They were proud that I shunned an awesome, secure job for something that wasn’t secure at all, but that might have the potential to turn into something big, and that I had the courage to just take the leap and hope that it would turn into something.  Wow.  Just, wow.  To any reader who does not know me or know my parents or my relationship with them, this probably does not seem all that amazing, but believe me, it is.

The next day, riding in the work truck with my co-workers, I got a similar affirmation.  The hippie guy who was my age just said he was really bummed to see me go.  I had been working with the same crew for quite a while, and we got along really well and worked great together.  I was really sad to go too, and knew I would miss them so much, but by that point, my mind was made up.  Life decisions are incredibly difficult, especially when you can’t really be sure what the outcome of your decisions will be.  All you can really know it that it will alter the course of your life, for better, or for worse. 

When we stopped at a coffee joint so the hippie guy could shit, the older, married guy on the crew said to me something like this- “Cole, you’re young, you’re free, you’re single, you don’t have a family, and you seem to have a somewhat restless soul.  I’m going to be sad to see you go, but if I were in your shoes, I would do the winery gig.  If you stay here with us, a year from now, you’ll still be doing the exact same thing, just installing solar panels.  But will that really make you happy?  It’s like you said, you can go to other countries and do harvests there.  You speak French, you speak Spanish, and you could really go anywhere.  We don’t want to lose you, but I think you’re making the right decision for you.”  My heart swelled, and it ached.  My stomach was in knots.  How do you leave working with people like this, people I hardly knew but were genuine, sincere, selfless, and really cared about who I was as a person, and just wanted the best for me even it meant we would probably never cross paths again? 

The next day, when I told my boss that while I was incredibly sorry to have to go, I had given my word to the winery, and I needed to keep my word, he gave me the FATTEST guilt trip ever!  If I was a cryer, I would most definitely have broken down into tears, but I have a rule against crying at work, crying in front of other people, and even just crying in general.  I don’t like it.  I have an aversion to tears.  To make matters even worse, he went around to every single person, as each crew was loading up their truck for the day, and kept saying “we’re losing our rock star.”  Or “our rock star is leaving us.”  The train reaction ensued and everyone began to make me feel even worse.  I was glad to be wearing sunglasses, because it was becoming increasingly difficult to look people in the eyes and answer their questions.  I mean, of course I felt bad!  I felt horrible!  But how do you explain your decision making process to these people?  You can’t.  So all you do is apologize, look super pathetic, feel guilty as hell, and keep your head up. 

As for the Rapist and I, I don’t know.  It’s an odd sensation.  Almost euphoric.  I do still love him, and wish the best for him, but I’m still not speaking to him, and I think it’s best to keep it that way.  I finally realized how wrong for each other we truly were.  He should settle down and embrace his cute little life.  As for me, I still have mountains to climb.  I think it’s great though that I hold no animosity toward him whatsoever, would gladly smile at him if we ran into each other, and will always remember the good times we had together.  Perhaps it was the age difference, or perhaps it was because we were just too different, but that ship indeed caught flame and sank.  It’s comforting to know though, that these little vessels are still there, on the floor of the sea, thriving in a different sort of way, becoming coral reefs or another wonderful habitation for another life form.  The love does not die, it reallocates itself, and it’s a beautiful thing. 

Right now, I just need to be alone and focus on me, and it’s ok.  It is also a beautiful thing.  Everything seems beautiful to me these days, and I find myself smiling for no reason, accepting things as they are and dealing with them gracefully.  If something occurs that I don’t want to deal with, I drive out to Turkey Flats and fire off a few boxes of shells with my 12 gauge.  I should probably name her.  She and I are becoming very close.  So maybe in a way I chose to do both of the things I said I would do when I separated from my ex-husband.  I said at the time that I would either move back to Europe, or go full on red neck.  By why should I have to choose one or the other?  Why not do both?  Work harvests here, do the redneck thing, save up money, and then go work a harvest in another country.  People have always said I’m a walking contradiction anyway, and if the shoe fits…   

  


     

Did I make the right decision?  I don’t know.  I would like to say yes, I do think it was the right decision for me, but how can I know for sure?  It’s still too early to tell.  For the me who wants to be a writer, the me who thinks I should live life to its fullest, to the me that craves adventure, passion, exciting and inspired emotional tumult, to the me who believes in living life on a whim, taking things as they are and dealing with the consequences later, to the me that doesn’t want to have to think about retirement or a 401K, or who knows how knee deep in shit I’ll be one day, to the me that loves Henry Miller, Anais Nin, Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, to the me that simply wants to be me, to the me that hates society, to the me that loves to stir the pot and piss people off, to the me that thinks Americans are too boring and prudish and need to wake the fuck up and shake things up a bit, to dance like no one is watching, sing like no one is listening, speed like a motherfucker with my middle finger out, listen to metal, fire my 12 gauge, drink whiskey, IPA’s, read, write, love my dog, hang out with my friends, and believe that while, yes, responsibility is incredibly important, I only have a limited number of years on this earth, and I could die at any moment, and on my death bed, if I am lucky enough to have one, I just want to be able to say that I fucking lived, and not for “the man”, but for myself! 

To that me, I would have to say “yes.  You made the right decision.  Now go kick some fucking ass so you can thrive and succeed, because if you don’t, your dumb broke ass is screwed!”          

    

So while my parents nod their heads in approval and expect me to become some sort of international wine pimp, and many of my friends shake their heads in disapproval, knowing that I fucked off an epic job opportunity, I will listen to music that inspires me, and remember the way I felt when I was running down the stairs of my apartment in Barcelona, to catch the metro to go to class, not knowing what my future held, exactly, but knowing that I would be ok, no matter what…

                   


Some of my nostalgic Barca songs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Epd7W75JHo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_i1xk07o4g

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-zZkbcF4fA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saxTw8yUF80

And... the song that inspired me so much because it even rhymed when translated into Spanish!  "A kick in the teeth is good for some, a kiss with a fist is better than none"= "una patada en los dientes es bueno para algunos, un beso con el puño es major que ninguno."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SmxVCM39j4

Yep.  I'm out of the "closet".  Fuck the haters!  This is me...      

Have a great week everyone!  And remember, always be true to yourself!!!

Besos, y besos, y besos........