Perhaps the main reason I posted my rant yesterday on my travails of LA traffic was because they had so drained me of the creative that had nourished me previously in the day. After dashing out my Iron Lady post, I just couldn’t focus. And that lack of focus caused me to wonder about the town I now call home and the industry I once aspired to join.
My first thought was about the nature of inspiration–how, for example, the movie Falling Down came to be. Had a writer, delayed on his way to a meeting, thought to just turn off his car and just storm away? Perhaps he related that thought to a producer. And that fellow said he had experienced the same thing. The story grew from there, with that experience, being stuck in traffic, becoming the spark that ignites all a man’s festering frustrations.
My second thought related to the woman I had seen the previous day, throwing a temper tantrum at a gas station. Did she work in the industry? Had she been so frustrated by traffic? Had it turned her creative energies from imagination into aggravation? Could traffic account for the decline of originality in Hollywood? (On a personal note, I love driving cross country because there’s something about traveling the open road which fosters creativity; stop-and-go traffic, on the other hand, seems to have the exact opposite effect.)
Finally, as I cooled down, I thought of LA traffic as a metaphor for life. Sometimes you’re stuck in what Dr. Seuss dubbed “The Waiting Pace“. And you make yourself better equipped to face the frustrations in life in the attitude you adopt to facing the frustration of waiting in LA traffic where your life seems on hold — and opportunities seemingly distant and difficult to reach.