Today, I received a text from our old pal and former Stargate Executive Producer/Writer, former Bored to Death Supervising Producer/Writer, and former former L.A. Complex Executive Producer/Writer (and occasional Director) Martin Gero who was inquiring about the status of my projects. As many of you know, I’ve been in a holding pattern since, oh, George Bush Sr. held office. At first, we were told we’d hear something in January. Then February. Then March. And so on. And so on. The last time my agent inquired, he was told that they had passed on everything they didn’t like which meant we were still very much in contention and would hear word sometime in early June.
Which, incidentally, is about when Paul and I plan to be in L.A. looking for work. Now I’m not saying I’m dubious about the prospect of finally hearing word soon, but let’s just say I can foresee a future blog entry going something like: “Well, still no word but by agent tells me they will absolutely, positively have a decision next week. It’ll be the best Christmas gift ever!”. So we’ll be hedging our bets by heading down to scout the L.A. area in advance of our big move. As I mentioned in a previous entry, it turns out I actually have more friends in Los Angeles than I do here in Vancouver, so that should make the transition a lot easier. As will the pizza oven Martin built into his backyard. And then there are all the new friends I’ll be making: co-workers, neighbors, Ricky Gervais. I really look forward to comparing it to Vancouver which has a bit of a rep for being a tough place to make friends. It’s not so much that Vancouverites are unfriendly as they are quite satisfied in their existing cliques and not interviewing for openings. Toronto, on the other hand, I found downright cold, both figuratively and literally. Of course both cities compare unfavorably to my hometown of Montreal, the party capital of Canada. I’m curious as to how all of you feel your respective hometowns compare. Should I reconsider and think about writing from San Antonio? Gainesville? Kalamazoo?
Anyway, Martin and I texted back and forth until, finally, my phone rang. ”This is ridiculous,”said Martin. ”What are we? Teenagers?”
True and, to be honest, when I first heard about texting, I wondered what all the fuss was about. Why take the time to write out a message when you can just phone someone up and tell them what you want to say. But it wasn’t until much later that I discovered the truly impersonal nature of texting – and fell in love. I mean, why talk to someone unless you absolutely have to? Conversations are fraught with pitfalls like awkward lulls and tedious tangents.
“True,”Martin conceded. ”For instance, if I was talking to you on the phone and suddenly hung up, that would be considered rude. But if I just stopped texting, you’d probably think ‘Damn, he must be busy!”.
It’s all so easy now. Too easy. You’d think the quick convenience of getting email on your cell phone would be a good thing but, in truth, all it really achieves is it allows you more free time to obsessively check your cell phone for emails. And so today, as little experiment, I’ve decided not to check my email until I’ve racked up (a randomly selected) 21 unread messages in queue. It’s 7:00 p.m. and I’m at 13. Wonder what I’m missing out on? Well, I’ll tell you what I’m not missing out on: shopping for olive oil, walking the dogs, and filing! For one day, I am free of the shackles of modern technology.
Free and intensely curious.