Life is funny. None of us can predict where we will go, or how we'll get there. It doesn't matter how much money and influence you have, you can never be completely secure. From Donald Trump to the scuzziest grocery cart pushing homeless bum on Hollywood Boulevard, we're all sort of in the same boat. We just plod along, moving toward the best life possible. If "best life possible" sounds too vague, well, it's a big can of worms. It can be different for everyone.
The other day I was watching "Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star" starring David Spade. Yeah, I didn't have much else to do. Or, actually, I had a lot of other things I should have been doing. But, the whole movie is about a failed Hollywood acting career. The interesting thing about it was the portrayal of life as a Hollywood actor. It was sad and funny, all at the same time. The life of a starving artist. Starving, yet blessed. Because, not many Americans are genuinely starving. I was just starving according to my spoiled suburban roots. Actually, I gained weight in California because there were so many fantastic places to eat in Cali.
So, where am I going with all this? I don't know. I feel like I'm grasping in the dark to articulate feelings of a past life in Hollywood, that now feels like a dream of distant people and images. Could I have done more? Did I miss meeting the right casting director by five minutes one day? Could I have worked harder while I was there?
I can't answer most of those questions. All I know is, I did what I could when I was there. I worked the smartest way I knew how. And, while I didn't become the next Ted Danson, at least I was successful in the sense that I kept my wits about me. And I ate. And I learned a lot. And made life-long friends. And saw Eric Estrada. And transvestites. And a Kiss cover band. What more could you ask for? I would be spoiled and foolish to consider my time in L.A. a failure.
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