I just spent an excessive and unnecessary amount of time this morning reading Vanity Fair's cover story on "Bright Young Hollywood."
Now I feel awkward, jealous, spiteful, and somewhat disgusted with myself, the publication, and the profiled youths. Not surprising.
I live vicariously through others. Who doesn't, but oftentimes I am concerned I take this daydream-like fascination in celebrity or fictional television characters to unhealthy levels. For example:
1. My high school (and yes, current) obsession with The X-Files. I don't need to elaborate here, and I probably shouldn't as it will only freak you out further (if that's possible). But I was deeply invested in that show and especially in the platonic or not platonic relationship of Mulder and Scully.
2. My college obsession with Alias. I loved this show. Watched the entire series beginning to end, fantasized marrying Michael Vartan, and totally thought I could make a kick-ass spy.
3. My college obsession with Grey's Anatomy. This actually peaked post-college when I wasn't doing much of anything and had a lot of time to kill watching episodes over and over and over again. I still love the show but with less fervor. It's lost some of the magic. I've moved on to other things.
4. My current obsession and love/hate feelings for The Hills. This doesn't even come close to my actual obsessions for the first three, because I don't devote much time outside of watching it (during which I often have to leave the room after I become quite infuriated with the inane dialogue and sheer stupidity) to thinking about it. Yes, I did spend time thinking about the other ones. Pathetic? Sure.
5. My forever love for Friends. This would be the only show that I own every season of, and have seen multiple times over, yet always laugh at every joke as if it were the first time I heard it. I absolutely love Friends. Ross and Rachel? Them too. He's her lobster!
There's so many more... Weeds, Lost, Family Guy, The West Wing, Friday Night Lights... I didn't even touch on Battlestar Galactica or Arrested Development.
Yeah okay, so it's no surprise I just wasted some quality work time browsing the up and coming bright, shining lights of Hollywood stars-to-be, and simultaneously imagined what it might be like to live one of their semi-charmed lives (because mine's so terrible, natch).
You know, after living in Los Angeles for some time I keep thinking what I really need is to take a week and go to somewhere very remote and completely lose touch with reality, in order to get a reality check. I am headed to Martha's Vineyard tonight, although I am not sure a wealthy, conservative, summer island off the coast of Massachusetts counts. Actually, one agent recently told me that Martha's Vineyard is apparently the new hot destination for the Hollywood elite. Wonderful. I just can't escape.