Shake, Rattle and Roll (Under the Nearest Desk)

I will never, ever, ever get used to earthquakes. 

I was at work when it hit today — at first the tremors were very mild, but they kept going… and growing.  As the building began to really sway and I thought to myself, “Oh, shit,” my boss called out from his office, “Get under your desk,” which I promptly did, dignity be damned.  Then, as the shaking got worse, he said, “Okay, let’s go.”  We took off down the nearby stairwell, but by the time we hit the street (along with seemingly everyone else in Encino), the quake was over.  I pulled out my cell to call the Missus when she beat me to it, saying that our place shook and a few little things fell off some shelves (in particular, a couple of stormtrooper action figures, which I’d like to think did the Wilhelm as they plummeted to the floor), but she and the Peanut were okay.

I know that all the hoopla in the media today might seem a little ridiculous in the eyes of non-Californian individuals — after all, nobody got hurt, nothing got ruined aside from possibly several thousand pairs of underwear.  But thing is, you don’t actually know that when you’re in the middle of it, especially a strong one like this; for all you know, this is the Big One and the ceiling is within two seconds of falling and turning you into a king-sized serving of Hamburger Helper.

So — do you have to move to LA to break into the film business?  In my opinion and my experience, it certainly helps.  Just realize that out here, the only thing more volatile than your career (or any actors you end up befriending, rooming with or getting served by in any given restaurant, come to think of it) is the ground beneath your very feet.  When it comes to Hollywood — both the city and the industry — just when you think you’re standing tall, something’s almost always ready to knock you on your ass.

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