The film is for a Matador Equipment contest. The prize is $100,000, which is not exactly small potatoes. More than that, though, it is the first time I have tried to take what I do here, the stories, the voice, the way I see the world, and translate it into something visual.

I taught myself iMovie. I taught myself how to film myself without feeling ridiculous. I taught myself how to edit video, smooth transitions, layer B-roll, clean up audio, mix music, export files, and somehow keep all of it under two minutes.

I have spent the last several days flying the plane and building it at the same time. Mind you, I’m type - A, highly competitive, and a perfectionist. So, it had to be the absolute best that I was capable of making because I believe with my entire soul that I can be an expert at anything.

But honestly? I needed a break.

So Friday night, I got out in these Houston streets and went to happy hour at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. I wandered through the Louvre fashion exhibit, became a member, and reminded myself that life exists outside my laptop.

I was supposed to go back Saturday night for another event, but I was tired and stayed home instead. I am trying to honor my social and emotional energy. I am getting out when I can. And when I can’t, I don’t force it.

Then Sunday morning, at 7 a.m., I was at the Houston Arboretum & Nature Center with my tripod, trying to teach myself yet another thing I’d never done before.

I filmed all of the A-roll for my Matador video there.

And I fell in love with the place immediately.

It is quiet and green and somehow feels tucked away from the rest of the city. It reminded me of how much I loved the National Arboretum in DC, where I used to go a few times a week. This one is close to me too. I have a feeling I am going to become a regular.

At one point, I hiked out to the Meadow Pond, which is apparently where the alligators live. Or, at least where the signs informing you not to feed the alligators live. I kept seeing movement in the water and immediately went from “what a peaceful morning in nature” to “hold up, there are alligators in here?” in about three seconds. I did not take a picture because I was too focused on filming, and also because I suddenly felt the need to get up out of there. Apparently this is just a normal Houston experience.

Then Sunday afternoon, because a girl needs a break, I went to the Sunday Jazz series at Discovery Green.

The evening began with The Culture Society Orchestra, a Houston group that takes hip-hop and reimagines it through live instrumentation. Yes, I was swag surfing with an orchestral beat on a Sunday afternoon. Then came Cimafunk, an Afro-Cuban artist whose music somehow felt like jazz, funk, soul, and joy all at once. I didn’t understand a single word, but my body knew how to move to it.

And somewhere in the middle of it, I realized how much I had missed this.

Not the live music. I had that in spades in LA. I missed being around Black people.

After ten years in Los Angeles, I had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by Black families, Black couples, Black joy, Black people just existing. I had forgotten what it felt like to blend into the crowd instead of standing out in it.

Houston has given me that in ways I did not even realize I was missing.

I am trying to make new friends. I am trying to get settled in this city. So far, I have mostly just been getting out there, by myself, and seeing what happens.

This weekend, what happened was that I realized I can be happy here. I do not have to perform a version of myself here. I can just be me.

And last night, after eight straight hours at my computer, I finished what is very likely the final version of the film.

I am so damn proud of myself. If I do say so myself.

Not because it is perfect. It isn’t. That admission took a lot for me to admit because I still have no idea what I’m doing half the time.

I am certain there are 25-year-olds on YouTube who could have done this in an afternoon.

But I did it anyway.

At 53 years old, I taught myself an entirely new medium in a week because there was something I wanted, and because I am finally at a point in my life where I am no longer willing to leave things on the table.

That feels worth documenting.

The YouTube launch did not happen yesterday because I was so focused on making this film. The Maldives essays will continue. The YouTube channel is coming, just not quite yet.

It turns out building a new thing takes longer than I wanted it to. But maybe that is the story too. Not the polished launch, but the messy, exhilarating, slightly terrifying middle where you are becoming someone new and you have no choice but to keep going.

You know, The Distance Between.

This afternoon, I’ll share the film.

For this morning, I just wanted to mark this moment.

A week ago, I didn’t know how to do any of this.

Now I do.

Let me tell you a story about how my meticulously engineered system for moving across the country collided with a fundamental law of the universe: entropy.

To manage my move across the country, I used Notion to create a “Houston Command Center.” Within the Houston Command Center, I developed three separate databases. They were labeled Tasks Tracker, Item Inventory and Route, and Box and Container Log. It was an absolute work of art … if, like me, you geek out about such things.

But to actually build it from scratch, I had to first teach myself how to use Notion. So, I consumed untold amounts of content by watching YouTube videos and reading various blogs.

Building systems that can survive a logistics audit used to be part of my professional life.

My bespoke system included key data fields. There were room assignments, priority levels for unpacking, and even a check box to indicate when a box was fully packed and sealed. And, because I’m fancy, I made sure to link the Item Inventory database to the Box and Container Log database. This allowed me to quickly know that my pink Le Creuset Dutch oven was in Box #7 and would ship via a POD, versus my car, versus the Gulfstream.

I then started the long process of sorting, purging, and carefully packing the items of my life into dozens of boxes. I even used wardrobe boxes to hold my carefully hung clothes. This allowed me to both save time on packing and unpacking, and keep them wrinkle-free.

Fast forward one month. Due to challenges with logistics earlier in the day, it wasn’t until 9 p.m. that the movers could unload my POD. I found myself tired, but needing to manage a flurry of activity which lasted ninety-minutes and left my head spinning. In the end, I was standing in my new kitchen looking at a hodge-podge of boxes and furniture which filled my living room to the brim.

The moving guys didn’t give a damn about my elegant system. They simply wanted to finish the job and go home. They paid no attention to the labels. There was no sorting of the boxes by room. My priority system was meaningless to them. Did the box make it into the apartment? Yes? Then shut up and pay me.

I began sifting through the warehouse of boxes in my living room to dig out some sheets for the bed. As I pushed a bathroom box to the side, and scooted the heavy kitchen box to the left, I bumped smack dab into one of the large wardrobe boxes.

It was delivered UPSIDE DOWN!

All of my carefully hung clothes were crumpled at what was now the bottom of the box. Adding insult to injury, the shoe boxes that were packed under the hanging clothes were now sitting on top of my fancy dresses.

I shook my head and just laughed to keep from crying.

The next morning I awoke, physically tired, but mentally clear. Looking back, I know that creating the Houston Command Center was my attempt at exerting some control over the absolute chaos that was my life at the time.

I was living in a staged home for months while waiting for it to sell. Then, with escrow opened, I quickly needed to pack and coordinate a multi-stage move which coincided with multiple pre-planned trips. All of this had to be completed within four weeks that also included international travel. It was insane.

Now in Houston, I opened the first box I saw. At this point, the priority assignment no longer mattered to me either. I had no idea what was in said box.

In fact, the box showed me that my system had actually broken down long before the upside down wardrobe box. Entropy had entered the scene back in California. You see, the box that I labeled “clothes” in my inventory system didn’t tell me which clothes. And, Box 38 out of 38? My inventory list said it was full of “Random shit in dining room.” What does that even mean? LOL!

New city, new Nicole. I shrugged my shoulders and decided to head to the store for some provisions.

I was walking through the aisles of Lowe’s Home Improvement looking for a lighter. I needed to ignite the sage I would use to smudge my new home when I noticed a bouquet of beautiful wooden roses. I instantly grabbed a bunch and with my other items, returned to my apartment. My new life in Houston would start with good energy and beauty. Each time I felt a wave of anxiety rising, I would look to the roses for comfort.

The next thing I did was locate my espresso machine. Thankfully, that box was labeled clearly in my inventory list.

Today, I sat sipping a latte amidst unopened boxes and with my items strewn all over.

Chaos may rule the day, but beauty and ritual center me and calm my mind.

**************

Postscript:

For those who are curious, the instinct behind building the Houston Command Center didn’t come out of nowhere. Throughout my career I’ve been the person who identifies complex operational problems, designs systems to address them, and then builds and executes the solutions from start to finish. Creating order out of chaos has long been part of my professional work.

If you ever find yourself facing a problem that needs that kind of thinking, feel free to reach out.

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