In Los Angeles there exists a division: “Industry” and “Not.”

Industry people tend to hang with their own sort, as do non-industry people, although the motivations of the two groups are different. The reason industry types want to meet other industry types is because they expect those people can help them somehow. And the reason the non-industry types want to meet other non-industry types is because they are sick of industry types looking for other people to help them somehow.  So prevalent is this dichotomy that one can often find ads for roommates who are” clean, neat, responsible… no actors, writers, etc.”

I don’t blame the Nons. They’re just trying to live a normal life, and it’s not their fault that they’re doing so in a city in which half of the citizens are part of the world’s diversion factory. At the same time, I don’t entirely blame the Industry types, either. They have been cursed with a calling in which a small percent ever succeed, and almost all who do required the help of someone further up. How can they help but be a bit Machiavellian in their socializing?

Still, I always thought that was the way others would act. Not me.

But I caught myself last week, when my new housemate brought home a friend. Sure, I was cordial when first introduced. I probably would have remembered the woman’s name. But it wasn’t until later in the evening when my housemate mentioned that she was an animator that my ears perked up, and suddenly I was asking questions and eventually giving the spiel for my online comedy project. Oops. Guilty.

I need to go meet some doctors and accountants this weekend to redeem myself.

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