Monday, June 12, 2006

Donuts and Dr. Phlox

So I'm at a training session today on how to teach "Studio", a class for students who struggle with reading. It's a dumb program, but there is some useable material in its core, and fortunately for the first time, we have a lecturer who has a brain in his head, so today hasn't been so bad. These things are usually abysmal, but they come with free bagels and a day away from the kids where the sub is no doubt ignoring the five hundred pages of work you left as an assignment and showing the class Shrek 2 in Spanish.

Just so you know, if you ever want to lure a teacher into a dark room and steal her brain, offer free food. We'd follow it like a breadcrumb trail, although donuts work better than bread. In fact, I'd put up a teacher's capacity for chowing down on donuts up against a cop's any day, but only if they're free.

John Billingsley goes to my gym. I've seen him there several times, and each time really wanted to say hi and how much I admire his work. The other day he got on the ellyptical machine right next to me. I kept mum. I like to say that I don't talk to actors at the gym because I don't want to interrupr their workout, but the truth is that I'm a big chicken. I don't want to say something to a minor celebrity and come out looking like an idiot. Because I will.

But I suppose I'll have to get over that, because it's kind of necessary for what I want. I didn't say anything to John Bilingsley because I was afraid of looking like an ass. But what if by saying something to him, I opened up an opportunity? We're supposed to constantly be taking advantage of networking opportunities to help our writing careers, right? But it's just so unseemly. Because in reality, there is no unselfish reason to talk to a celebrity, minor or not. It would make me feel good to know that I know who he is, but I doubt he wants a sweaty dork at the gym to bother him while he's trying to watch Without a Trace on that tiny TV over the treadmills. Then again, I'm hotter than most dorks. Maybe he'd be flattered. But I'll never know because I'm a big old chicken.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous1:39 AM

    I've got a feeling John Bilingsley is dying for someone, anyone, to recognize him AND say they admire his work.

    Who knows, you guys could become fast friends and your degrees from Kevin Bacon could be reduced by one.

    Just be sure to ask how his two cats and his wife Bonita are doing, in that order.



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