Last night I got a phone call from my old college friend Eric. Eric brews his own beer and wanted to know where he can ship it to me. This is how Eric is. And we've picked up conversation where we left off. It's strange how much detail I can remember about our last talk. Even more so, the details are rather insignificant. Such as the fact that he changed out smokers (for a stainless steel one). Keep in mind, the last time I saw him, I was drunk off my ass (on beer he made).
So Eric and I got to reminisce of the good old days. And folks, I can't remember much. But it didn't matter. Because we can still crack wise with each other. It really made me miss how authentic people are. My cynicism is so deep rooted now, I forget there are people in this world that are homespun and sincere (I mean, who thinks to call someone to send home crafted beer). Eric has two young daughters. One is 7 years old. The other 2. The two year old was awake (2AM Ohio time) meandering around the house, exploring. Whilst the 7 is probably crashed out. This is a really calm image. Just a child walking around. Soaking in the world at that hour. Something I did when I was that age. Curiosity is such a rare commodity. Most people know too much, too little or don't care.
Anyway, back to my point. Eric is what I may've been had I stayed in Ohio. A farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with a wife and kids and pets. Building a chicken coop in the backyard. Generally looking at the yard. Wondering what to occupy my time. He crafts his own beer. I do photography. He's got a man cave he built just to craft beer. I've got my darkroom. It's what we do. I respect the guy so much, even though, he will tell me my life seems infinitely more interesting. The truth being...maybe I feared that that was the life I would've gotten. I've met Eric's wife. A generous, beautiful midwesterner. College educated. Does random projects and has a strong interest in raising a kid. That's how I imagined Becky and I would've been. Probably still in her wheelhouse (as she has two now). But I'm so far removed from it, it may as well be Oz. I really enjoyed talking to Eric. For whatever reason, last night was more important than he realized. I'm not feeling myself lately. And maybe just talking to an old friend maybe reminded me a part of who I was. It's hard to feel anything at all. And it was good to laugh at how young and dumb we were once.
I miss having a straight forward conversation with people like that. Out here, it's different. Something is slightly askew with how we communicate here. It's not awful, just different. Not to say, also that it's some down home hospitality. Eric's no hokel. Far from it. He's a very forward thinking super conscientious person. Made even more odd that he grew up around jocks and farmers.
I get the feeling that's the reason why people are weirded out when you try to strike up a conversation here in Los Angeles. You try so hard to want to fulfill a need, that you reach out. And what comes out is just total vomit. No one has roots here, so why bother. No one cares about others plights or interest. So why bother. I've learned to adapt here. Have made some really solid friends who've shared their feelings, hopes, dreams, fear, sadness. Yet...we're still somewhat removed.
Everyone wants to feel important. The most gracious thing you can do for a person is to make that person the most important person. That mean that you genuinely absorb their words. Bounce back their own thoughts, NEVER referring back to yourself. This is a very common business thing. Make that person feel important. People LOVE talking about themselves. The lesson here is that you will find people treating you differently. They will want to be near you. They will want to give you jobs. Or goods. Or sex. I can't believe it's taken me this long to come to this realization...you make other people feel like the center of the universe, there is nothing they won't give you.
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