the short end of the long truth

The other day, the sun came out and the entire city was drenched by the warm glow of a February sun. The snow began to melt, leaving behind grungy-looking snow, and allowed all green and human life to finally come out of its winter hiding place. It was a sure sign, that the city streets and sidewalks would soon be filled with people. And maybe this time, with everything and everyone out in the open, it would be much easier to meet people, unlike my previous experience.

I walked down North Avenue and headed west to the lake, also known as Lake Michigan. It was such a perfect day. I could already see myself sipping an insulated cup of white mocha while walking down the path that followed the river and having one of those worldly intellectual thoughts that are usually reserved for the hero of a critically acclaimed, Hollywood movie. So, I made a quick stop at Alterra, a local coffee shop, housed in the historic Milwaukee River Flushing Station. That's when some random guy told me they knew I wasn't from around here. I didn't know whether this was a compliment or a diss, but I was rocking out my new vintage, navy blue peacoat I picked up in Chicago, so I knew I looked good, either way.

His name was Sydney and he was a speech and linguistics major and when he heard me say "milk" instead of "melk" like so many Milwaukee-ians do, he knew I wasn't from around these parts. I agreed and told him "Wis-can-sin" was not my home of origin and we just started talking. Apart from having a degree in linguistics, he was also a bakery manager for a locally owned supermarket and a budding Hollywood screenwriter.

The last one totally made me roll my eyes, too. One opinion published in a local newspaper, and soon everyone thinks they're a writer destined for Hollywood. But as it turns out, Sydney actually was. He started writing a story about a guy named Helmut, that he met online through a dare, who in the course of four months changed his life altogether. They never met in person, since they were cities, almost world's apart, but they ended up becoming best friends, before Helmut died of pancreatic cancer. Before he died, Helmut told Sydney a story worthy of an Aaron Spelling soap opera: his mother was a prostitute and because of her busy and odd hours, he became a father to his baby sister, who died when she was only nine and then, when his mother was no longer of an attractive and desirable age, she allowed her landlord/lover to have his way with Helmut in lieu of rent, before the landlord/lover became angry and hung her to death in the bathroom, before he himself was shot to death by Helmut who witnessed the whole thing and did it out of self-defense, before the police unloaded their guns into his body, which resulted in a blotched surgery that may or may not have resulted to his cancer. I counted at least a dozen bewildered looks from customers who passed by, as Sydney told his story.

At first, Sydney wrote the story for himself. Then he shared it with friends who in turned shared it with their friends. Before long, the story made its way to an agent who immediately got in touch with Sydney and suggested he sell his story to a movie studio, before turning it into a book. Twelve film directors and three screenwriters later, Sydney was a mere touch away from finally having his story put onto the silver screen, but like all things in the glamorous world of Hollywood, these things take time.

I, of course, took everything he said, with a proverbial grain of salt, because who can really believe everything they hear? Take me, for example. You know my old boss, Alice? The one whose husband, Azten was arrested last March for allegedly being involved in a double homicide, so while he waited in jail for a trial, she was busy raising two daughters and gave birth to their first baby boy five months later, before she stiffed me out my paychecks, purposely ruined my credit and ultimately laid me off right before the holidays, all because she refused to stop living the costly lifestyle she had become accustomed to? Yeah, that one? Well, believe it and the update:

Azten was found guilty. On both counts of murder. A friend of a friend who was the present sheriff in the courtroom told me, officials played recorded phone calls that had Azten telling Alice what her alibi should be and what their friend's alibi's should be. Guess both Azten and Alice didn't know prison phone calls were personal. But the pieces fell even before then, during a climatic moment when Azten's mistress took the stand and gave the exact alibi, verbatim, that Azten told Alice to tell their friend. Even if he was innocent, the fact that Azten had people lie on oath for him, with undeniable evidence, was enough for the judge to give him two life terms for each murder, with the possibility of parole after a twenty five year period. His life is over. Even if he does get out after twenty five years, he'll be over 60 years old, with a damaging record that will most likely prevent him from holding a substantial job position and his family, especially his son, will never recognize him as an outstanding father.

But besides the incriminating phone records, there was also the blatant fact that the flower shop his wife ran and that I used to work for, was actually a front for his real-life drug business. No joke. A small part came out during the trial, but was thrown out for irrelevance in the shootings. And though it was small, it was still big to me. All at once, I remembered that there were a few shady characters from time to time that came in asking for Azten or Alice, but then again, the flower shop was located downtown, which is home to some of the most colorful characters a city could ever have. But shady enough to be involved with drugs? Sure, I joked about it with friends when we had roses flown in specifically from Brazil, but who knew the jokes held some truth?

how to succeed in friendship without really trying

When it comes to making new friends, it's not so different or outside the realm of dating. In both scenarios, you're dealing with the same thing; you're meeting new people, hoping to find a common interest that will allow you to forge a relationship with that person and have them in your life for a period of time. The only difference is, you hope to go home with one of them, at the end of the night. Well, maybe both, but as Harry and Sally once showed us, it's never a good idea to sleep with friends. And if someone like Manuel Uribe, the world's heaviest man, can find someone, then so should I.

I took a lot of your guys' advice and decided to just put myself out there, fully and completely. I was going to go to a pub and just sit there all day, despite having to inhale copious amounts of second hand smoke, because, really, what's the use of breathing good, clean, fresh air, if you have to do it all alone? I even had a day picked out: Friday, a day when people are looking to unwind and welcome a stress-free, relaxing weekend.

They say the key to finding someone or something you really want, is prospecting. Good business people know that and that's why they're so successful. So, by implementing my new business strategy, I was ready to go out and find some strangers who were a drink, a laugh, and an inappropriate touch away from being a friend.

But then, my plans at the very last minute, when my manager, Blu, asked Gwen and I to take a trip out to the Windy City, Chicago, and pick up some items for the store. Being only 95 miles away, the drive wasn't that long, but neither was the day. There was so much to do, so much to see, and not enough time to do it all. But we did manage to squeeze in a drive-by to the Harpo Studios and enjoy an entire large Chicago- style deep dish pizza at the world-famous, Lou Malnati's Pizzeria. And while enjoying the city that brought us all that jazz, I used my business strategy to talk to everyone and ended up getting a phone number to hang out later that night. Of course, I wouldn't use it, because I'm looking for more local friends, but at least I was on the right track.

That night, it snowed. And in the morning, a sparkling blanket of white snow welcomed everyone in Milwaukee, starting off one of the most cheesiest and romantically inclined day of the year on a high note. Anything and everything seemed possible. Like making a new friend. And that's just what I did as I made my way through the city. And while walking through my new neighborhood, someone approached me. Guess she saw a possible friend in the making.

Turns out, she wasn't. Her name was Brihanna and somehow, with tears in her eyes and runny mucas in her nose, she told me she had just had her boyfriend arrested for kicking and going all Chris Brown on her and had absolutely no means of getting back home to her two-year-old. She offered to sell me her cell phone for money, but I haven't carried cash since Visa foolishly allowed me into their Platinum Status club. So, instead I asked her if she wanted to go to KFC and talk about it. Normally, KFC wouldn't be my first choice in comfort food, but it was just down the street and chicken fried in 11 herbs and spices did sound good.

After chicken and chatting, I made a new friend. A drama queen, but a friend nonetheless. I left Brihanna with $10 and my email and told her I hoped she found her way back home. A couple hours later, Gwen came home and I was so excited to tell her about finding a new friend. But Gwen wasn't interested in my story, because some random girl came out of an alleyway, crying and telling her that she just had her boyfriend arrested for kicking and going all Chris Brown on her and had absolutely no means of getting back home to her two-year-old. She even offered Gwen, her cell phone for money...and that's when I knew I befriended a crackhead. After moving here, we were told by people that the area of town we moved into, Riverwest, used to be an old crack neighborhood, but was now up and coming with artists and musicians. Guess, they all haven't moved out yet and I guess I'll keep on looking.

you don't got a friend in me

When you decide to move to a new city and leave behind everything and everyone you know, the hardest thing to do isn't finding out who has the best late night Chinese food or finding out where the hottest place to be on Saturday night is. No. The hardest thing to do is making new friends.

Sure, I don't really need new friends, since my old friends back home will always be there for me, but it's not the same when you can only talk to them through a web cam or the phone. As a society, we need human interaction. Yes, to the non-socializers, being able to be alone with one's thoughts has immense appeal, but it's not enough to survive and grow as a person.

The only thing is, I don't know how to make a new friend. Before, in the past, I made new friends through school, work, that sorta thing. And before then, it was even easier when you just had to go up someone on the playground and tell them they would be your "best-est friend". But now, as an adult? It just gets harder. Especially in a city like Milwaukee.

During my brief stint of living here, I've come to the conclusion that there are two types of people living in this city. People that were born here and continue to live here and the people who moved to live here. The latter are really friendly and open to meeting new people, but the former, who are friendly as well, are very clique-y and their friendliness is just for show. For them, it seems that their lives are set. As if they've accepted that along with their native friends, they were born into the cold, will live in the cold and die with the cold.

My suspicions were confirmed, last Saturday night when my roommate Gwen and I went to the über edgy sports bar, Zim's, a sports bar that had every one of its plasma flat screen TV's on mute, so as not to disturb the pulsating club music playing through the sound system. It was there that we met Christy, a thirtysomething friend of a friend that knew Gwen. Christy moved to the city over a decade ago, when she decided to follow her heart and marry her college sweetheart, which resulted in a baby girl and a divorce. Gwen gave us the low down of the city, from how low the crime rate has dropped, to where to get the best sushi. It was a crash course in Milwaukee 101, which even included my theory of Milwaukee natives and non-natives.Turns out I was right.

Which makes sense, if you think about the people Gwen and I have met. There's, Sara, who grew up in Michigan and went to the University of Arizona for her bachelor's degree in Child Pyschology. There's Adam, who grew up in Atlanta and attended college with Sara at the U of A, and his girlfriend Beth, who grew up in Boston and now studies law at the University of Wisconsin. Then, there's the infamous Jack, who grew up in Milwaukee and went to school in Atlanta with a friend who knows Adam, but recently moved back to Milwaukee to work for his father's advertising company. Out of all our new friends, guess which one is the least friendliest?

Sure, Jack and Gwen share a recent history of a one-night stand gone horribly wrong (on Gwen's part, anyways), which could explain the cold shoulder and the slim possibilty of Jack becoming our friend. However, a week after bumping their uglies together, Jack started texting Gwen. Short, simple texts, with an occasional phone call that asked how her day was going, how work was going, yada, yada, yada. The text messages then evolved into future plans, like asking Gwen out for dinner or just to hang out, but each and every time, Jack cancels, saying "a friend dropped by unexpectedly" or "I'm so wiped." And each and every time, Gwen, who puts so much hope and emotion into each and every text message, becomes devastatingly crushed.

So, now, I am on a quest to find some new friends, preferably ones that aren't drama. The only problem, is, how? I'm not working yet, since the store isn't open yet, it's too late to sign up for classes at the university and too cold to meet anyone on the street. Craigslist? M seeking M/W, platonically?

...and the drama continues

So if dealing with a roommate who doesn't understand the concept of a one-night stand isn't enough drama, there's the case of the clueless boss.

Her name is Blu and according to my friend Hadassah, she is the black sheep of the Lightyear family. The Lightyear family has had a long tradition of being one of the wealthiest families back home in Tucson with coffee and business real estate enterprises. Their oldest daughter Blu, who used to be a Wicca-practicing, lesbian, left Tucson 10 years ago to Milwaukee, her family's original home. Since then, she's stopped practicing magic and lesbianism and married a advertising web developer guy named Reese, with whom she has two kids.

Back in Tucson, Blu used to work at Buffalo Exchange, a retail clothing store that bought new, gently used, and vintage clothing from people and resold it in their store. She had always loved the concept of the store and knew it would be a big hit in a college city like Milwaukee. So, with her friend Flower, Blu decided to open up a used clothing/consignment store. Originally, she decided to go to a bank and take out a small business loan. But then, her grandfather, the patriarch of the elusive Lightyear family caught wind of her business plan and decided to help out as a silent partner.

He helped out so much, in fact, that his "voice" became louder and the store project became a personal project, one that the whole family could get involved. Blu's concept of a funky, one-of-a-kind retail store became lost and the whole project became commercial, with Susan, Blu's interior decorator sister, spending close to $19,000 in lighting alone. Yeah. $19,000.

Blu took a giant step back and watched her dream store become into something else. Something, she just could not be a part of. I asked Blu why she stayed so quiet and didn't go to her grandfather to tell him he was taking over more than a silent partner should. That's when she revealed to me and Gwen that her Grandfather was broke. He had filed for personal and business bankruptcy and only had about $20,000 left to his name. The Lightyear dynasty was slowly coming to an end. The reason Blu's grandfather had taken so much interest in the store was because he had decided he didn't want to end his life with a series of failures. All the businesses he had created his whole life were now gone and if he could end with one last hurrah, maybe he wouldn't be such a failure after all.

So, Gwen and I decided to encourage Blu to take a stand against her grandfather. We told her, that if the store didn't have a spirit, there would be no way it would flourish. It's my personal belief, that in order for a small business to be successful, you have to believe whole heartedly in what you're selling. All your time and energy is crucial in the first few months, because if a business doesn't have heart or passion, then it's just a building full of stuff, that will go nowhere.

Now, Gwen and I regret our decision.

After having a series of conversations with her grandfather, Blu has fully stepped back into the store project and has seem to forgotten about me and Gwen. On several occassions, she has left my name out when talking to Gwen about setting up a work schedule, while standing in front of me. She's even went out and hired a new employee, because she looked "so artsy and cool." I was told, that since the store is just starting out, it would only have five employees, but now, with this sixth member, I hope it doesn't mean cut hours. The biggest blow came, when she questioned me about my fashion choice selections, as if reading GQ was so passe and How to Make Clothes Out of Hemp 101 was in. She even talked to Gwen about relocating her in three months to open up a new store in Madison, Wisconsin or even Atlanta, Georgia which has stressed Gwen out even more, because she feels as if Blu is trying to phase her out of the store as a manager of the store. Considering the fact that we both moved across the country, leaving behind everyone and everything we know, it's a little scary.

The way Blu acts and says things, is very mind boggling. Hadassah says, her brain isn't all there since the drug usage she did in her teens affected the way she thinks today. She assured me, the fact that the grandfather took over, was a sign that everyone in the Lightyear family knew she couldn't pull off running a successful business. That's why they sent me and Gwen. She assured me, Gwen and I needn't worry and that we would still have jobs. But if that's true, why do I still have this uneasy feeling in my stomach? I already dealt with one employer who filed for bankruptcy, and we all know how that turned out. I'm just wondering if this is my sign to leave or my chance to show my courage?