"Jou're schoost being lazy, baby," he accused, his Chilean drawl masking any attempts at enunciation.
He was my "date" for a long-awaited Roommate-Night Dinner. The two roommate studs were bringing their lady friends, so I had to find an Other. I chose a friend I've known for many years ... and now he was accusing me of being lazy! I felt like sending him out of the stodgy, but awesome, Columbia/Princeton Club, sans food, wine or my friendship.
I glared back at him, mentally tainting many of our shared memories due to his gall.
While I make it my job to seek out the end of the Interweb at work, wasting away my days on G-chat or writing on this bloggle, I like to think of myself as "selectively focused" -- not lazy.
When I have to write my movie reviews for work, I become a compulsive, self-loathing wreck; quality may not bear witness to that fact, but it's true. I can't sleep and I like to lock myself up in my room, far from others who aren't familiar with my painful writing process.
Or, when I have rare fits of fiction writing -- when I'm trying to kill Lucas Jackson, say -- one can't make me eat or tear me away from my scribbled notes or computer.
Or, when I play wikipedia wars! I'll be damned if I let my bladder get the best of me ... I will find my way from "fleece" to "anus" in fewer clicks than you. A lazier person might not show such discipline to the sport.
So, he was calling me lazy when I told him about my wanting to move to L.A. -- or my considering a move to L.A. He dismissed it right away: a flippant wave of the hand, slight roll of the eyeballs and an unmistakable cluck of the tongue.
But, Dear Friend, I want to work in movies! Sure, I'll write about them 'til I'm blue in the face, but I ... I ... need to be Out There to do it proper! Right??!
Oh, I was just plain wrong, according to this man. Did I remember our trip out to L.A. some six, seven years ago? How awful the place was? How we had fun, but how we thanked our lucky stars to be spending our youth on the better coast?
Well, yes, I do. But ...
(I tend to have friends who like to talk over me.)
And did I realize that more and more production is being done out East? Did I realize that I could find a job out here, without upending my life and being irrational? Did I realize that it's just lazy of me that I haven't been looking? Did I realize that he has a ton of contacts and connections???!
Oh, all these people and their "connections."
So, once again, I've no idea what to do. And the movie gods are no help, either -- I love two movies that are focused on the greatness of these cities. I've recently watched both.
A great Steve Martin in a great scene from "L.A. Story." I need a wise signpost to guide me:
And Woody Allen waxing romantic in "Manhattan."
Despite all the confusion and dismissal of my Life Plans, we had a great night. And now we've planned for Mexican Monday Night at the apartment -- this Lady's in charge of the enchiladas, since I'm brown. So nice to have a happy home life.