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Mentorship August 16, 2017
Finding pieces of comfort in a bigger world.
I was provided so many opportunities through the ENTITY mentorship program. I expanded my writing portfolio like a real, professional writer, went to the ballet like a fancy, cultured grownup, hell, I even flew a plane like an elite, pretentious billionaire.
I got to be so many people I never dreamed of being: a networker, a filmmaker, a designer. All of that was incredible. But the moments that stuck out to me were when I was my most authentic self, doing my most characteristic things.
We were taken to the Broad Museum in L.A.. It’s pronounced like “road” instead of the actual word “broad,” in case you were wondering. I carpooled with a fellow mentee, a new friend of mine, Kyleigh. On the way, we joked about how sad it was for struggling screenwriters that the “Emoji Movie” was releasing and billboards for it were around every corner. What a cruel reminder.
We arrived at the museum, where everything was contemporary and whimsical. I have always loved museums, so this ENTITY outing peaked my interest more than most.
Kyleigh and I joined the tour, promising each other that we would be each other’s shameless photographers or muses for our imminent Instagram posts. This is the kind of friendship everyone needs to strive for.
I did end up posting a photo of myself casually laughing in front of the Jeff Koons blue balloon dog.
When our tour ended, Kyleigh and I shuffled out of the beautifully architectured doors of the building, ready to head back to the office and part ways for the weekend.
“Are you hungry?” broke me out of my focus to leave.
“I mean, always.”
And we were off.
She drove and I furiously checked my map for “food near me.”
“Oh, I know this area,” she said, “the Last Bookstore is around here.”
Books are my love language. “Do you want to go?”
“Sure!” she agreed.
And at another turn, we had a new destination.
Spontaneous bookstore trips aren’t dramatic, riveting or scandalous. They don’t make for particularly interesting stories to people who do real spontaneous things, but it made me happy. It was a new friend and an old favorite, mixing a twinge of excitement with the comforts of home.
We parked and noticed an abandoned, fenced off park with benches looking off in the distance of the city. “That’s the bench from ‘500 Days of Summer,’” Kyleigh remarked.
“Really?” I turned my head for another look.
“I’m not really sure,” she admitted, “but it looks just like it.”
“It does,” I agreed, “just more sketchy and sad. How long has that movie been out? When was it made?”
We immediately researched the film, the bench scene, and spent a little extra time gazing at Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s face. We discovered that it was in fact the bench from that quirky 2009 rom-com, but the park has since been left to rot. We had to get to it.
We walked up flights of stairs, flagged down security guards, and hopped a fence, but we made it, avoiding all of the dirty needles on the ground. “Joseph Gordon-Levitt, where you at?” was the eternal question.
A whole eight minutes were spent there, taking photos and comparing our view with the original (there was now a billboard that read: “Stop getting screwed,” and I’m still not sure what was being advertised with that). But with the right angles and filters, it was almost picturesque. It was at least a memorable moment.
And with another hop over the fence, we left, just in time for more movie fans to trespass and other drug users to congregate.
We still had to look at books. And we did. For hours. We were so engrossed, we forgot that our original plan was to eat. We browsed and discussed how we both keep writing beginnings of novels, but never got around to finishing any of them. We shared what our favorite movie, music and book genres were and what we aspired to be in the future. It was simple, yet soul-filling.
I didn’t need to have an outrageous schedule. I didn’t need to be wowed by the riches of what well-to-do businesswomen had to offer. I didn’t need to be pushed into a circle of fake connections in order to network. I was just myself with another young woman like myself of whom, outside of the program, I wouldn’t otherwise know.
