Tobias Fünke stops working as a psychiatrist to become an actor. A bad actor. In a family meeting to figure out how to make them seem like less of a disaster, the family's publicist says that he needs to give up the ridiculous quest to become an actor and get his medical license back. Tobias says, "I'm just waiting for the universe to give me a sign", at which point, Michael drops airplane tickets in Tobias' lap so he can appeal his suspension from medical practice in Boston. Tobias says, "Any sign." He totally missed the sign that didn't match with the one he was looking for.
I'm afraid I may not notice a sign like that in my quest to be more employed than I currently am. You'll let me know if I miss it, won't you?
But while we're on the subject, Saturday was interesting for me. I dropped off the girls and thought I'd like to go somewhere and write. So I drove around, stopping at places I thought would have internet access. I didn't feel like paying for it and I didn't feel like jumping through a bunch of hoops to log in, so I drove back to the mall to wait. And then I felt really stupid.
Since when does writing require an internet connection? Or even electricity?
I pulled out my notebook and pen and took some notes on what I saw at the mall. There was a girl in full ballet gear, walking slowly around the mall to practice her deportment. Sparkly costume, slippers, tights, hair in a bun, arms and feet in position. The whole 9 yards. Brave kid and mean teacher. That's what I thought about that. Had it been less obvious what I was doing, I would have taken a picture of it for you, gentle reader. (I always thought that was an obnoxious phrase to read. I don't like to think of myself as a gentle reader. I like to imagine that I'm mentally tearing through the book, but whatever. It was from a different time.)
And there was a couple who looked like they belonged more at an airport or a train station than the mall. Matching outfits, matching fanny packs and baseball caps, matching rolling suitcases, matching Walkman cassette players. It was a little disorienting, remembering I was at the mall, not an airport terminal and that it was actually 2008 instead of 1992. With the ubiquity of iPods and other mp3 players, it's totally anachronous to see someone walking around with even a portable CD player. And those aren't that old, comparatively, to say nothing of seeing someone walk around with a tape player. Anyway, those were just a couple of the interesting people I saw.
I've noticed that I don't usually take notes on those people who are trying to get noticed. For example, the kids who hang around Hot Topic with their spikes and black makeup don't get a second glance from me. I'm more interested with the people who are the real nonconformists. The people who look like they could blend right in if they didn't wear matching t-shirts and cargo pants to the mall, dragging their luggage behind them. The people who've just got that one thing that obviously sets them apart just a little bit and they don't fit in with the group of people who think they're different, when they are just part of another big group of people who wear black makeup and spiked belts and dog collars. The real nonconformists make more interesting characters because they're more likely to have some hidden talent or secret to keep than others. Of course, there could be some great secrets in anyone. That's what makes it so much fun to learn about other people.
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