Category Archives: Friends

this title is so long it could be an old-school Fall Out Boy song

I’ve been meaning to write this post since last year, when I went through each and every post on my blog since 2020. My motivation was partly curiosity, vanity–to remove anything I don’t want any the Internet any longer–and practical–to free up space and remove dead links. During the process, I deleted about half of my 1200 posts, so I accomplished the latter two goals with ease. I left up some posts but changed some pretty cringeworthy internet lingo du jour.

As for my curiosity, I was pleasantly surprised. I was expecting mostly site updates–and there were plenty of those–and a lot of not-always-teenaged angst, depression, and anxiety. So much of my life felt so very dark for a long time. And while I saw some posts of that type, there were far fewer than I expected. Maybe I hadn’t written during some of those tough times. Perhaps my memory is clouded by my strong feelings and things were better than they felt.

At the very least, I was surprised by the sheer quantity of posts mentioning–or speaking to (Hi Ben!)–my friends. And so many of those people are still in my life. I was–and am–so very loved, and I feel incredibly grateful for that. I’ve known many of my close friends for over two decades, and I realize how uncommon this is and how lucky I am. I especially felt grateful after my divorce, when I returned home to so many open arms, even from those who rightfully had reasons to feel frustrated with me. I had a new lease of life and was the best version of Cole I ever had been, and I felt like my loved ones had stuck by me through the times when I was at my worst. Perhaps I was more redeemable than I had realized.

I had a similar feeling while going through my blog posts. As a person in my mid-thirties, I felt sympathy and compassion for the younger person who wrote those words, not (secondhand) embarrassment. It was a much-needed reminder during a difficult time in my life that I had value, so much that people have remained in my life for over 20 years. I wrote about parties with Ashley, who I recently shopped and hiked with, and road trips with Oli, who sends me a message about how much they miss me as soon as they return home to Minneapolis after a weekend together. I could write half a dozen of sentences like the two previous ones. Going through my blog posts was for me, I imagine, like pouring through old photo albums for some people.

Yet the exercise was bittersweet. For as many people who will be my lifelong ride-or-die friends, there were a seemingly equal number who were significant enough to write about at the time, were only blips on the radar of my life. Some people, mostly Internet friends, I struggle to remember at all. Multiple people have since passed.

And there is no way to go through 20 years of your own blog posts without seeing the evolution of the Internet and all its trends. My first blog was on Blogger, and I hand-coded my layouts, after all! It was an evolution to move to SSI, then PHP and WordPress, and the countless site update posts showed just how much I enjoyed the tasks and projects I created for myself along the way (and may be undertaking again…).

But the Internet isn’t what it once was and never will be again. Something, perhaps nameless, is long gone. I can–and do–lament with some of my friends, but I will miss the particular feelings of creation, potential, and community, among others, that I could only achieve at certain points in time. After all, going through my blog posts would be a wholly different endeavor in 20 years due to changes in quality and quantity. On the other hand, I’m likely experiencing something at this point in time–whether my life in general or as I type these words–over which I will feel nostalgia at some point in the future, so at least I have that to look forward to!

Funny how looking backward can make you look forward, too.

Today, I am thinking about the ways I think and communicate and the relationship between the two. If I’m honest, it’s not all great. A lot of it is not-so-great, despite some of the strides forward I’ve made in my life. So this post is a way for me to organize those thoughts without forcing others to be my therapist and also a way for me to be accountable (especially as certain people will read it and inevitably talk to me about it -cough-ben-cough-) without using others as my therapist (-cough-sorrymatt&ashe-cough-). Also, I apparently want to blog like 16-year-old Cole, but maybe it’ll be helpful.

It will for sure be helpful if you’re familiar with the Ask vs Guess model. It’s not entirely applicable, at least not to me, but it’s useful to think about our unwritten communication rules and analyze whether they do us any good. At the very least, it’s beneficial to remember that others made not abide by or even recognize those rules. Be flexible, I guess.

So here are the ways I’m not flexible.

I’m mostly a participant in guess culture–except when I’m not, heh. I think it’s rude or uncouth to be direct in certain ways. Asking for favors (or even questions in general)? Directly talking about yourself without making an effort to inquire about someone else? As Stephanie Tanner says:

I’m hoping that interjecting a little humor lets me keep things light because it’s so easy to go from “I’m not perfect” to “I’m a fucking unlovable monster” and let my anxiety take the wheel. I have no chill. But if you’re reading this, you know that (this example of my inflexibility was totes accidental).

So where was I? Being forward almost seems vulgar. It just isn’t.what.you.do in polite society. We can avoid the rough unpleasant edges if we’re more suggestive than forward. It would make everyone’s life better if we all followed those rules.

Maybe some people, sometimes.

Except it’s infinitely useful or preferable to be direct in some situations. It saves time and energy. And there are a whole bunch of people whose lives would only be made worse by trying to live up to the standards of guess-culture. And if I expect people to suggest what I want, I’m putting the onus and energy on them. Trust me, it even sounds ridiculous when I type it.

On top of that, guessers can seem disingenuous or manipulative by others. I know that it’s “rude” to ask directly, but she thinks my hinting is manipulative or dishonest because she doesn’t know or believe that you just.can’t.do. that.

Compromise, am I right?

It might seem positive that I am sometimes an asker or prefer others to be–if you ignore the fact that the ways in which I am inconsistent tend to be self-serving. I’m annoyed when he doesn’t answer directly but wouldn’t do the same myself.

And I can become resentful when I feel like I can’t speak up about things because of unwritten rules that say there has to be a perfect way or time (hint: there never is). So I only say those things when slamming the metaphorical door. And I am shocked, shocked when others say things that I would never say because you just.don’t.do.that.

While the unwritten rules in my head tell me to abide by guess culture, but it also allows me to save face–at least, I feel like it should. Maybe that’s an aspect of guess-culture. Maybe it’s just me. Either way, being direct can sometimes make me feel so self-conscious, embarrassed almost. I can feel like this super uncool dork for saying what I’m thinking, even when I’m talking to people who ostensibly care about me a lot, want me in their lives, and wouldn’t judge me even if I were a little uncool. But it’s all so intimidating.

Prescribing to guess culture feels like a way to help me avoid that potential fallout. But you know what’s coming, right? A sort of fallout I never expected that’s probably worse and entirely avoidable.

Being healthily direct is something I need to work on, then. And I’m glad to say it’s better–with some people and in some situations. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t take time (or that I wish I could make everyone else adapt instead, haha). I have to force myself not just to change but to be direct because it feels so uncomfortable.

So this is me forcing myself to be direct. Not just with myself or any one person but with any stranger who might stumble across this blog post.

I think it’s good for me. I think it will be good for me to continue blogging more regularly as I tackle certain issues and not expect those around me to listen as I process every thought in an attempt to uncover all my insecurities and prove that I’m doing the work. Because that’s me trying to make my problems into “our” problems, and it’s pretty selfish.

But you, dear blog, exist, and this is exactly the sort of thing you can help with.

So, see you next time (not a Kwik Trip reference… or is it?)

I’ve been thinking a lot about the way I communicate with people. Those interactions have left something to be desired, for all parties, I’m sure.

I find myself being short with people. I haven’t had the energy to pretend that I am okay with someone consistently cutting me off or failing to even inquire how I am. I think I have desire to speak to people but am struggling, and it’s even worse when they don’t give me the opportunity. Perhaps I want my conversations to slow down a bit.

One thing that makes this difficult is that I don’t go to work or school and see a bunch of people on a daily basis. If I have a conversation with someone, it might be the first – or only – conversation I have with a person that day. I may have a lot to say, so I throw it all at them because I just happen to see them. Perhaps I am inundating people with things that they don’t care about, even if I do. There are things I enjoy and discover on my own that I want to bring into my interactions with others.

Yet, I feel like my roles in these conversations in passive. And I much prefer being engaged in conversation, Rapt attention to a deep conversation is more my stride, which is why I am only further disappointed by conversations that only seem to scratch the surface. Where’s the real stuff, bro?

Because of this, I find myself so disappointed, mostly with friends. And I feel bad, not because I am guilty over judging them but because there’s disappointment everywhere I turn. It’s so frustrating. I would prefer to be happy.

Of course, every conversation is a two-way street. I am not without fault here. I think that while giving myself permission not to pretend that I’m not slighted in conversation sounds like it will use less effort, but it only leaves me focused on what others are doing wrong. It’s a lose-lose.

I should probably just cut people slack for being imperfect. We all are. People have their own lives. Some people are especially busy. Plus, we live in a world where we interrupt one another on a frequent basis, and not every conversation will be thrilling or even pleasant.

Maybe I should discuss these things with people so they know where I’m coming from. Although, that might only open me up to more frustrating if nothing changes. And I seem to be struggling with suggesting change in a constructive manner, unsurprisingly. I may be lacking thoughtfulness just like others. And I’m sure I assume I am better in these situations than others are. It’s what we humans do, after all.

And now this human, having come to no useful conclusions, is signing off.

As I type this, I am feeling pretty good. I am listening to music and connecting to it in a way that I haven’t been able to do in a while. Unlike my previous posts, in which I discussed some of the difficulties life decided to throw at me this summer, this post will be more upbeat.

I am especially happy because I’ve been able to achieve my daily step goals these last two days for the first time in weeks? Months? I thought I had twisted or perhaps sprained my ankle and tried to take it easy, but it didn’t really get better. Ther another day I happened upon a description of Plantar Fasciitis and realized it sounds exactly like my issue (shooting pain and stiffness when waking up or after sitting down). I decided that trying some of those stretches won’t hurt even if that’s not my issue. It’s been only two days, but I already feel better. Not perfect but much better.

Since this pain started around the time I got some new shoes, I decided to buy a different style than I usually buy (it’s new shoe buying time, anyway). Hopefully, I’ll be at minimal pain and maximum mobility in no times. Which is good because I’m not digging this weight gain or my inability to play Ingress like a boss. Ha! The endorphins are also much needed after such a trying summer.

I no longer find myself crying (read: sobbing) all the time over my friend who passed. I will miss him forever and occasionally tear up, but I don’t feel the need to stay inside a blanket fort and avoid my life. He would appreciate me getting on with it, anyway. Part of this is because I have a house guest, and it’s a bit of a distraction.

My friend’s death really cast a pallor on all my other summer activities. Sure, I saw the eclipse, heard Adam Lambert + Queen in concert, enjoyed John Mulaney’s standup in person, had a story published in a zine that I have yet to open, visited a plethora of museums and traveled to or through nearly a dozen states.. but it all just paled in comparison. It was so difficult for me to enjoy the fact that I had done any of that.

It didn’t help that it all involved being in so many cars, trains or buses! While I will likely take at least three more road trips before the year wraps up, I had to slow down my pace so I wasn’t so exhausted and depressed.

Once I finish Halloween decor this week (boy, am I behind!), things in my life will begin to look more normal. I am going to pass up hosting my own party to save money and effort, but I am excited about my costume no matter where I wear it!

I’m even managing to catch up on writing reviews, entering giveaways, and email communications (including pitches to companies, which I haven’t done at all this year!).

But, first, I must hack some portals!

I am 31 years old. According to many, I am strong. I have my shit together compared to many that I know, and I’ve managed to make a way for myself that confuses and, perhaps, intimidates most people.

But this has been a trying summer. It started out fine if not busy. It quickly went downhill as my friend Collin’s health declined. His death was hard. I knew it would be. But it was harder than I imagined.

When people ask, I’ll tell them that, but I’m not sure they realize what it means. It means that there are days when I find myself crying a dozen times. Of course, there are days when I don’t cry at all. And there are no days when I don’t also laugh or bring a smile to someone else’s days. But there’s never a day that I forget, and I don’t think there’s been a day since his passing when I felt entirely myself.

I am not alone in this. Although, sometimes I feel more alone than I would like. I’ve also felt a little less safe than I would like to, you know, emotionally. Now, I am not one to decry that those who need safe spaces are weaker than. But it’s never something I thought I would need myself. As it turns out, it might be.

So I made myself a blanket fort. At first it was a silly idea, perhaps encouraged by the silliness of a new friend. I considered it and even joked about it my mother, who encouraged me to build a blanket fort.

To be honest, I can’t ever remember doing it as a child, so I began to plan it out (like kids do that! lol). It became a distraction as I dragged kitchen chairs into my living room. And I built a thing.

Blanket fort 1.0 wasn’t the best. I could sit in it, but it was small. I decided to renovate. Soon enough, I had a larger space I could lie in, and my cats could explore. It wasn’t entirely comfortable because I was on the floor.

After a couple hours in my newly-expanded blanket fort (and one roof caving in CATastrophe), I wondered if I could fit my air mattress in it. The fort was slightly more narrow than my mattress, but I squeezed it in there successfully.

It was starting to feel plush. And comfortable. Safe. Phantom crawled in next to my frequently. Goliath took longer to warm up to the idea. He was nearby, but he didn’t join me until after I fell asleep last night and the temperature had dropped quite a bit.

Yes, the whole thing was silly and childish. But it was more than that. It was a needed break from my routine, both my daily and mental routine. It was carefree and silly. And while I can’t say I didn’t shed a tear while in my blanket fort, I can also say that it felt good to be in.

Now, I wouldn’t want to need a security blank or a security blanket fort to get through life, and I don’t. I spent a day being silly, reading and playing games from within the comfort and confines of a malleable, semi-permanent living structure (as I coined it in a Facebook life even update). I slept there.

Then, I woke up and took down the “walls” and returned to my normal life feeling a little bit better and a lot more like myself.