Flakiness. (A rant.)


Some days, I really get annoyed at LA.

Flakiness, so widely accepted and doled out in heaping portions, is abominable. It seems to wreak havoc with no end in sight, and, is no less infuriating, frustrating, and disrespectful than its first infraction upon my initial migration into Angeleno territory.

I have no patience for flakiness. I’ve dropped a lot of the all-talk-and-no-action poseurs in the past couple years; perhaps you flip a switch when you’re leaving your 20s behind and the games that go with it. I’m past it. Time is precious; you can’t let it pass with unleashed abandon by the vultures of malleable loyalties that feast and run before honoring a commitment – if making any, at all.

Perhaps it is so inherently irksome because it stems from selfishness: not sticking to your word, never making a full commitment to anything; something else better may come along so it’s best to keep your options open and do what’s best for you.  When did it become so acceptable? I see flakiness as a reflection of character. What do actions and inactions amount to but an extension of one’s personality?


I take networking with a coarse grain of sea salt – the parties with its Hollywood minglings – everyone at the soiree is checking over your shoulder for who ELSE is at the party that they should be talking to in order to further their career.

I hate breaking plans.  I hate it when meetings and dinners get rescheduled for the 3rd time – it makes you question why we’re trying so hard anyway when the other parties involved may not be so motivated. I passionately attest that people will make time for the people and the things in life that are most important to them, no matter what. Alternatively, I love making plans.  There is a beauty in delicious anticipation, the weeks leading up to my dinner reservation at Starry Kitchen Nights, or the agonizing wait for the tickets I booked for Aziz Ansari’s show at the Orpheum.

To echo the words of a certain downtown LA pastor, I wish people would value “what you know” instead of “who you know” in this town. “Who you know” doesn’t tell me about who you are, the challenges that you’ve faced in life, the lessons you’ve learned, your values, character, and sense of self. Neither does a person’s job title.

Time is the most valuable thing anyone can give me.  And, the most valuable thing I could give to anyone else. If you can’t even give me your time, then, ughhh. Be gone, you.

The only good flakiness there is rests upon the crusts of confections found at a patisserie that I shouldn’t be eating but probably will, anyway.  At the very least, to comfort my frustration from the flakiness of people around me.  Maybe flaky people should just have pastries on them – and hand them out as peace offerings to their victims in advance of forthcoming offenses.



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