Hollywood Sigh

Last night, my parents came to my hood for dinner. Rushed for time, I pulled Ago off yelp.com, because my dad wanted to eat Italian food.

Going to Ago was emblematic of how I feel about LA. Robert DeNiro is a part owner of Ago. We had no trouble getting last minute reservations, because eating at 7:30 is food Siberia in LA. When we got there, my jaw dropped at the prices, but my parents shrugged it off as an adventure. The food was good, but the place was scene-y, dark and loud. I had the distinct feeling, squinting at my menu, and straining to hear my dad, that we had a "bad" table, only because it was not inherently obvious to me which were the good tables. Then, we saw a group of 7 come in, which included Robert Downey, Jr., and the Mac guy from the the Mac v. PC commercials.

I found it so hard to enjoy my overpriced pasta and chianti when considering how this place made me feel. Was it a feather in LA cap? What if the people at my work ever stop talking about Kraft, and start talking about Ago, would I be smug about have the skinny on the place? Why do I need to build a cool roster, anyway? Why can't I just eat dinner and enjoy the food? Why did I put on heels? Why did I feel like I needed to wear heels? Why did I hope no one would judge me on my "so last season" wedges (in fact, try "soo two years ago," when I bought the shoes)?

I think I come off as very neurotic at times, and in my defense, I don't think I am. Simply, my favorite past time is "what does this mean?"

And I think living in LA means vague celebrity connections and the chic and sheer veneer of in-ness, and the constant and small insecurity of being in the "right" place with the "right" stuff shrouding your physical and existential human form.