In Hollywood, the only thing that’s free is advice. I have received more life advice on this trip than I have at my entire time at Colorado College.  What turns out to be costly is time. A lot of people we have had the pleasure of meeting are extremely busy, and the biggest sacrifice they make for us is their time. As students trying to understand the world of Hollywood, we are given a special kind of access in a space where donated time meets good advice. Because many of the people we are meeting are alumni of Colorado College, we also have the advantage of an established trust and understanding. You know you are in a unique position when you can bond with an agent about living in the same hall in Slocum or share the story of your favorite block break with a TV producer you just met. We all share a common love for CC that transcends age and success.

Last week our clan of 10 was fortunate enough to find ourselves in a room full of time, advice and CC pride. This past Thursday, we stepped out of the van clad in our dress-to-impress best. We walked through the elegant doorway of the Paley Center for Media, grabbed an official name tag and entered a party full of Colorado College Alumni, all of whom are currently working and living in Hollywood. The crowd ranged from the most successful CC alums to former students who had taken “On Location: Hollywood” and decided to try out Los Angeles for themselves. The keynote speaker was Neal Baer (MD), a pediatrician and TV writer with an impressive and eclectic resume that floored me.  Again we were given a unique access to advice, and as Baer spoke about the way his interest in writing and interest in medicine grew and evolved, I thought about the emerging themes in the advice we had been given over the past few weeks.

What I realized is that the best advice we received was vulnerable. The advice that stuck with me most came from people who didn’t shy away from doubt or failure, but in fact embraced those moments as valuable learning experiences. I also was struck with how many people pressed the point “pursue what makes you happy.”  This advice may seem obvious, but I think it is something that is easy to forget in the environment of Los Angeles.

Lastly, I found that good advice sometimes comes in the form of a story. At its best, Los Angeles is a land of storytellers. The storytellers we have encountered shared with us their assorted paths from their time as a Colorado College student all the way to where they are now. We heard stories of cars breaking down, auditions and projects bombed, and embarrassing and hilarious side jobs. No speed bumps and uncertainties were omitted, and no false narrative of consecutive success was painted. There is no one right way to get into doing what you love. There is no one right way to be successful. There is no way to know what kind of person you’ll end up being. And after hearing all this advice, these truths are far less scary than they used to seem.  I am more inclined to trust the process.

Today in our meeting with prolific voice actor Dee Bradley Baker, he shared his own story about being a fresh CC graduate, and finished it all by saying “you don’t know who you are yet.” Even CC alums who had only been in Los Angeles a few years were clear on this point — you cannot anticipate how things will turn out even a year from now, but what you can do is pursue what makes you happy. Below I share with you a photo of a group of young people, dressed to impress, who don’t know who they are yet. And not only is that okay, it’s pretty damn exciting.

Despite the odds, all twelve of us made it to the Oakwood’s North Clubhouse at 10am this morning.  Despite seemingly unending cross country road trips, we all got into the van and braved L.A. traffic for the first time.  Despite jet lag from a 13 hour time difference, we walked around the historic Bradbury and strolled the aisles of Million Dollar Theater, imagining the three-piece suits and fur coats of old Hollywood walking the same aisles. Despite arriving at 4am the night before, we kept up pace as we walked around the oldest building in Los Angeles and navigated crowded Olvera Street, well earned churros in hand. The circumstances were stacked against us being a happy, cohesive group.  But in the spirit of embracing the whirlwind that is the block plan, we all had a blast.

In the first hour of class, our professor Dylan Nelson pointed out that the model of the block plan is great preparation for the world of filmmaking. You focus on one thing for a concentrated period of time and pour all of yourself into it until the project ends. Working long hours in filmmaking blocks, I have realized that this is the model that works best for me. I think that’s part of why our clan of twelve kept our enthusiasm in spite of our travel exhaustion. Creative energy keeps us going. So many of the places we visited have inspired countless filmmakers, and the creative possibilities were palpable. For instance, there is a vacant diner called “Johnnie’s” in a prime real estate area of L.A. that’s sole purpose is to serve as a filming location.  This empty shell of a space is completely fake, and yet it has helped define what we think of when we imagine an old school diner. Johnnie’s has been home to Reservoir Dogs, The Big Lebowski and countless others.  Spaces like the Bradbury and Union Station also offer that feeling of infinite possibility.  I love that there are spaces in L.A. that just sit and wait for someone to do something beautiful with them. And I love that the people of L.A. respond. In short, I get why L.A. attracts creatives.

It has always been safer for me to hate Los Angeles.  While touring at USC and Occidental a few years ago, I remember being disenchanted with the place – the airport, the smog, the never ending sprawl. I developed an image in my head that everyone who moved to Los Angeles was delusional and desperate to be famous. I realize now that this image made me more comfortable. I decided to devalue L.A. before it could devalue me. Los Angeles was the popular kid I always wanted to sit with in the cafeteria but dreaded would reject me.  So with reluctance, I admit the following: I already love Los Angeles.  What I realized today is that the cool kids’ table is far less scary when it’s filled with a bunch of passionate collaborators.