Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Being a Lame-o in Los Angeles

I apologize in advance for the fact that this blog is slowly transforming into a journal (of a seemingly 13-year-old girl) detailing my "wacky adventures" as a "struggling writer" in Los Angeles. That clearly wasn't my original intent, not that I ever actually had any intent when I hit some buttons on my computer and made this blog.

Let's just say that now that I've emerged from the darkest corner of the California Lutheran University library and into the "real world," I can say that it is not pretty out there, folks. (Well, technically it is, especially if you take the 101 through Agoura Hills.) What The O.C.'s Sandy Cohen said about LA is 100% accurate: "The town will steal your soul." I had to turn to my current best friend, Wikipedia, to tell me that a soul is "the incorporeal essence of a person, living thing or object." I'm not a big believer in incorporeal essences, but LA does have a way of manipulating your view of yourself and the world around you. Why? Because everyone here is hipper than you. YES, EVEN YOU.

Once one realizes that everyone else is hipper than oneself, the result is crazy, awkward, erratic behavior in a pathetic attempt to assimilate into the hipper-than-thou culture. For example, the other day MY FRIEND met some girl (whom MY FRIEND will probably associate with again in the future) and when the girl went to shake MY FRIEND's hand during the goodbyes, MY FRIEND insisted on giving her an Obama-style fist bump. What the eff, friend?! Giving someone a fist bump instead of a handshake does not make anyone awesome! It just comes off as a) lame, b) weird or c) a sad effort to come off as "quirky" like that crazy Jess chick on New Girl. How do I know this? Because this move was not well-received. In fact, I saw it on the news later that night: "STRANGE GIRL IN DRESS INTENDED FOR 1950s HOUSEWIVES ATTEMPTS TO SOCIALIZE." (As a retired journalist, I'd say that's a pretty crappy headline btw.)

So how does one navigate this strange world filled with people who are smarter, funnier and prettier than oneself? I suppose one could pretend to be smarter, funnier and prettier than all them other folks ("fake it till you make it," they say), but that requires nonexistent acting skills. Another option is to just embrace one's weirdness. No one's ever actually been killed by awkwardness, right? I mean, Michael Cera somehow managed to get famous. Maybe using weirdness to one's advantage is the secret to success. I have a dream that one day everyone will bump fists when parting ways. Down with the handshakes! (They spread too many germs, anyway.)

And if all else fails, there's nothing wrong with giving yourself a pep talk a la Jack Donaghy:

Just do it! Is it in you?! I'm lovin' it!

Gotta go! I have a soul waiting to get stolen!