Brunch with Anderson Cooper
I’ve never been much of a writer. It’s one of those things that I feel I could be good at if I really tried, and that thought alone is enough.
I tend to do that a lot, not just with writing, but with art and acting, and pretty much everything I put my mind to.. for the second it’s actually on it. Perhaps that’s myself selling myself short, or some sort of attention deficit disorder. Regardless it is the reason I can feel extremely happy at times, yet terribly depressed or disappointed at another.
Is it just me or does everyone grow up with standards? And for some reason, somewhere along the way, I fear mine have grown out of reach. Yet something inside, a feeling so deep I feel it in my core, tells me that everything everywhere is within some sort of reach. You just need to want it.. and not in an inspirational way, but in the calm down and devise a plan.
I know that feeling in my core is real. And I felt it three this past week. Once was last night when I stumbled into Gallagher’s Pub in Huntington Beach and heard an Irish band playing that I found out this morning was called The Galway Hooker Band. It’s the first mp3 cd I’ve ever bought. There’s a violinist in the band with a sound so moving I feel as if my core wants to tear away from my body and create itself into its own being just to dance with me. And dance I did, just like my favorite scene in Titanic when Jack and Rose are dancing with the poor folk downstairs. Rich with life. I just feel really good listening to that style of music. I love to travel and it felt like that moment when you take in the Opera House in Sydney for the first time, or the Angkor Wat in Cambodian, or the Flatiron Building in New York. Something moves you, hugs your eyes and takes your breath. It’s a connection I have with Ireland I have yet to explore. I’d imagine it’s the same feeling I will get in the future when I put on a suit, nice shoes, and take an elevator in a high rise to my office. An indescribable feeling of rude accomplishment.
Another time was when I visited the city of Boston this past week and it was not like I pictured it. It is a real city, not sold by the faces of aspiring actors or famous buildings. It is a culmination of my favorite parts of my favorites American cities. Blue skies and near water like Seattle, clean like downtown LA, cultured like SF, historic like DC, and established like NYC. Perhaps I’m blinded with the self-comfort that Boston will welcome me for the next three years as I pursue my JD at Boston University. But that core feeling inside is assuring me that in three years, I am going to be a better man.
Now the third time actually came first out of the three and it requires some background. So being out of school, I have a lot of “free” time. And I’m constantly asked what I do with that time and I don’t quite understand why I don’t like answering it. But in truth, I feel great to actually have time to do what others may call nothing. One of those things I do that has become routine is running 2 miles bedside on my treadmill every morning. While doing so, I discovered Anderson Cooper’s new syndicated talk show. He is someone I thought I recognized and would like to say I knew of, but within the past few months have grown to really admire. I don’t really understand why I feel I need to know him. But I do. It’s that core feeling again. Anderson Cooper isn’t a celebrity for what makes most people famous, he just does his job. Perhaps that’s why, or maybe it’s how he carries himself and how genuinely nice he is. I went to his tv show taping during my visit to NYC this past week and during any break he had, he’d ask his producers if he could have a quick Q&A with his audience members. That’s not fame getting to his head, that’s a reminder that he is human being, just like you and me.. there is no feeling of separation between you and the celebrity. For some reason I don’t like being around celebrities, maybe it’s jealousy I’m not famous myself, but human beings are human and should not be treated as above anyone else. Yet, Anderson Cooper was someone I was glad to shake hands with.
It’s deranged really. Short of an obsession, or perhaps borderline. You try to find connections between you and the subject. In this case I ponder that according to Buddha, I may possibly be Anderson Cooper’s brother’s reincarnation who committed suicide in 1988, the year I was conceived. Maybe that would explain why I was born into this world questioning it. Also, Anderson was 21 when his brother passed away at age 23. My brother is 21 and I turned 23 the day I met Anderson. Perhaps that handshake was more than a handshake, but a reconnection for Anderson vicariously through myself that he was not aware of. When a normal person admires a celebrity, seeing them live is often enough and actually meeting them is more than you can ask for. A signature or a photo is the prize of conquest. But then what?
(I am terribly afraid of heights, but that only pushes me to jump. I saw cliff divers a couple weeks ago and they jumped what seemed like 3 to 4 stories. Just looking over the edge has my core shaking, but it’s that same core that tells me I’ll be back there in the summer, when the waters are warmer.. to jump.)
It’s that same feeling that tells me I need to be friends with Anderson Cooper. Not today or tomorrow, but perhaps one day in the future if he ever retires and is no longer in the media. I can call him up and converse with him over brunch.
