Ordinary People

George Clooney. Ah, George. The things that I have said about you over the years. When I lived in New York, I would joke that I would meet you and you would see me and drop to one knee to propose. When I was moving to L.A., I would say how I would meet you on set one day, and you and I would become very close public friends but secretly date. When I got a job in the industry, I declared that it was only a matter of time before we were working together and often, like you and the Coen Brothers, but hopefully more like you and the Ocean's Eleven crew because that seemed like more fun. And when you moved your production office into my building, I silently plotted how to get a job as your head of development/personal assistant. And then, dear George, I saw you on the elevator and it was...depressingly ordinary. You are, it seems, just another human being. On a Blackberry. *sigh*

Like lots of boys and girls out there, I wanted nothing but a glamorous life that gave me things like money, prestige, fame, and accolades. Really, is that a lot? And I got involved in a lot of glamorous jobs. Probably none more than the one I currently have. Yet, the funny thing about this job is that I still don't consider it glamorous enough. And there are plenty of people who would agree with me because (A) it's TV movies and those are just ridiculous, and (B) I don't work with people like George Clooney. Because, really, unless you're invited to Julia's New Mexico ranch or George's Lake Cuomo villa, you're really not "in" the glamorous business, are you? You didn't really make it, did you? Everyone's a critic -- including me. There are times when I don't feel like I've "made it" because I'm not hobnobbing with George. And maybe if I could just meet George than that would be the pixie dust to transport my life from overweight, movie-of-the-week go-to gal to the Overnight Sensation That You Absolutely Must Know! But the thing is, even if I did reach across the elevator and tap him, nothing was going to happen other than, more than likely, him looking at me in surprise and confusion, and - let's face it -- disappointment that I recognized him and bothered him, nothing was really going to happen anyway. Mostly because people at George's level are wary of people at my level, because people at my level want people at George's level to pull them up beside them. "I anoint you as the next Overnight Sensation That Everyone Absolutely Must Know!" Not to say that it doesn't happen, it does on , and that's the problem. It leads people to believe that if they work it just right, it'll happen to them. "Hi, George, my name is Callafornia and I work on the 3rd floor in development. If you ever need anything just let me know." *Wink!*

My elevator experience with Mr. Clooney only solidified what I've known for awhile now, that when George sees me, he's not going to propose, befriend me, or even give me a job. He's going to look right through me on the way to his next meeting, while secretly hoping that I don't recognize him or at the very least, to please not bother him. And it was in that moment of finally seeing him, of being in touching distance, really, that I knew I was really over the glamour of the glamorous life. I'm not saying that I didn't forget to breathe for two seconds (I did), but when the surprise wore off, we were still travelling in an elevator and nothing magical was happening and so... well, nothing. And isn't that just a downer?

What I will say is this: it's more fun for me to make up crazy stories about famous people than to actually meet them. And when I do have my slight brushes with fame, it's funnier when I retell the story because then I can put a spin on it. I don't take it seriously...and none of my friends do either. We're all in on the joke at the end of the day, and believe it or not, that means more to me than a two-minute elevator ride with the biggest movie star on planet earth.

Sorry, George.