I’ve been living in LA for the past few months trying to do… something… I’m not exactly sure what that is. I’ve gone to “general” meetings and pitched TV shows and ideas to production companies. I had a meeting on the Sony lot in Culver City last week. I was so excited and nervous, like, almost puking nervous. The meeting had been postponed twice which just allowed me more time to panic about what I was going to talk about. When I got to the front gate the security guard asked for my ID. Somehow I forgot my ID. How the FUCK could I forget my ID? What is wrong with me? I started crying, and begged the guy to let me through. He asked if I had anything else with my name on it and I miraculously still had my Art Center ID. What a great start to this meeting. I valet my car and ask for directions to where I’m going. “Walk through there, turn left, make a quick right, walk all the way back then make a left, keep walking until you see another building then make a right.” What? I was so nervous that all I heard coming out of his mouth was “Blah blah blah right left you’re gonna fuck this up blah blah…” So I just start walking. I look at a map. I cannot grasp what the symbols mean. I think I’m having a panic attack. It’s 85 degrees. I’m wearing heels that I can barely walk in and my favorite Rodarte skirt. At least I look good, right?
I pretend like I know where I’m going. I see a pinkberry, I contemplate getting yogurt and just leaving because there’s no way the people I’m meeting are going to be interested in anything I have to say, right? Maybe they just want to meet me because I’m a model and could care less about what I write? Can you tell I have zero insecurities? I stare at a map and I can feel my eyes tearing up. It’s 3:00 and my meeting is at 3:00. Fuck. I hear a voice to my left:
“Yo lady, you lost?” I look over and see my new best friend on a golf cart. He looks exactly like JB Smoove.
“Where you going? I’ll give you a ride.”
I frantically say: “Oh wow, really? I’m going to the Judy Garland building.”
“Hop on!” he yells.
We talk about the weather. Did you know that at any given time there are 10,597 conversations about the weather happening around the world? ENOUGH ABOUT THE FUCKING WEATHER. Although it was very nice that day.
“You going to an audition pretty lady?”
“Nope, I’m trying to be a writer.”
“Pretty AND smart? I’d hire you in a second!”
“Well thank you, let’s hope the people I’m meeting are equally as enthusiastic.”
We arrive at the building a few minutes later.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, miss, I hope all your dreams come true.”
“Thank you, Lee.”
Little moments of pure pleasurable human interaction like I had with Lee that day make me happy to be alive. I was no longer nervous and I felt completely content with everything happening in my life. I enter the building and talk to the receptionist. She tells me to have a seat. A few moments later she tells me she likes my shoes and asks if I’m a model. We talk about shoes and how we both love New York. The guy I’m there to meet comes down and tells me to follow him into his office. I tell him about my life and my love for Seinfeld and Breaking Bad. It was oddly comfortable talking to him despite the fact that I was nearly having a panic attack a few minutes prior. We talk about the modeling world and what I really want to be doing with my life. I throw in a few bulimia jokes and do my George Costanza impression. It’s gold, Jerry, gold!
I leave after an hour feeling very confident. That’s unusual because every meeting prior to this one I would leave feeling like a complete piece of shit, wishing I had said more. Have I finally reached a point in my life where I’m good at talking to people? Probably not. I attribute my momentary confidence to Lee, man I love that guy.