The Player or the Pissy Queen

[When the universe yells at me this loudly, it behooves me to listen and take action. Yesterday, as I was covering an unexpected shift (grumble, grumble) at work, I met a recent Player in San Francisco's roiling political game. This summer, I intend to write an article for my school's law journal about that very game, and after telling the Player that I'd just finished my first year of law school, the Player told me TWICE that I should call him if he can do anything to help. His insight would provide tremendous material for the article, and it couldn't hurt, career-wise, to know him.]

[Then again, my second semi-celebrity interaction of the shift was with a certain has-been Star Search champ/Pissy Queen who's building a smokin' second career in cabaret. After dealing with him for the past week or so, I suddenly realized how much this person reminds me of our ex-roommate/John's ex-best-friend Patrick, and wondered which professional acquaintanceship (the Player or the Pissy Queen) will actually affect my future. It's my instinct to be nice to everyone if possible, usually because it's just more pleasant; it amazes me how many people find being pleasant an alien(ating) experience.]

[Then I had to laugh at the "it's all about me" turn my thoughts took: am I budding Player myself, or what? Just keep that sense of humor about the whole thing, Huntington.]

[Last thought: even in the relative backwater of San Francisco, it is possible to interact with, or at least spot, semi-famous people on a pretty regular basis. What must it be like to live in London, New York, or Los Angeles? And when does it stop being novel?]

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