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Just Say Hi Anjelica

How do you feel when you are alone? Are you consciously and painfully aware that you have no friends? Do you imagine people want to know why you stand there alone? Does your attempt look like a thoughtful, independent professional, not an eternal miracle, seem to be artificial and make you cringe? The following true stories may change the way you deal with unpleasant moments.

On the eve of my twelfth birthday, during a glorious vacation in Florida, my brother Jim watched me staring at my toes at a local youth club and realized his pain in pain. Unfortunately, I was completely ignored by other happy children.

He asked: “What’s the matter, Fatsiniello?” (I’m so thin that it’s a big joke to call me fat.) Haha.

I sighed and replied, “It’s okay.”

Jim has a typical insight. He said, “Go find the loneliest person in the room, walk over to them and say “Hi.” “He nodded in the direction of a little girl at the table in the distance.

“Order hello.” He ordered.

Walking to her table was ashamed of everyone, because my three brothers set up 1 million times for comedy entertainment.

The girl stared at me like a frightened rabbit, her stiff head twisted. I choked, “Hi.”

Like the double rainbow after the black storm, her smile is beautiful. Her shoulders fell, and she smiled and said why she didn’t know the people here. I looked back at Jim, Jim told you smugly, but he also seemed very happy. During the Florida vacation, that girl and I were best friends, and because of her, I had a lot of fun. In the company of a friend by my side, I survived, became more interesting, bolder, danced in the club, and even let myself be semi-hypnotized by the visiting magician.

I have another chance to try the “Just say Hi” technique. I worked as an assistant to Emmy Award-winning Alexander Singer (Alexander Singer) and served in the Directors’ Dialogue held by the Los Angeles Directors Guild. My job includes providing assistance during meetings and nervously inviting directors including Warren Beatty to attend the meeting. I also received a special allowance-a one-way ticket for the Queen Mary ocean liner seminar.

I arrived at seven o’clock in the morning, hoping to be spotted by a ship full of directors. I listened to several lectures, watched a few movies, and then all the participants met for lunch in the large dining room. Almost everyone is a man, and they seem to know each other very well. They gathered quickly and filled the table. I feel self-conscious, a bit like the last standing on a music chair. Then, I saw a beautiful woman sitting alone at the table on the podium, and I remembered “say hello”. She stared at her dining environment and seemed to lose her mind.

“Hi,” I proposed.

As if awakened, she looked up at me. She was exotic and beautiful, and when she turned her head, her black silky hair shifted. Her slight smile was welcome and allowed me to join her. Thirty minutes later, I fully recovered from the “last standing” crisis. I chatted easily and intimately with her, only two strangers could. She began to reveal to me her concern about her sick father and talked about “Jack” many times. I nodded sympathetically because I had no real connection with anyone in the room, so I still pretended to be myself.

Then, the speaker was introduced and walked slowly to the podium. He was wearing a navy blue velvet tracksuit, looking fragile and scrawny. He talked about his father, Walter, and his lifelong filmmaking experience. Many times, John Houston stopped coughing and tried to hold his breath. But he will stand tall and start again. The audience salivated, applause quickly deafening, and then applauded. Mr. Houston waved goodbye, avoiding a group of directors, who swarmed in, stroking his tall frame or trembling hand.

My new friend said: “Come on, let us get out of here.”

I walked along Mary’s tall and slender frame along the long corridor deep in Queen Mary’s private floor, away from the noise and crowds, and I don’t know where we are going. She opened a door and entered a beautifully furnished cabin. Our spokesperson John Houston sat on the sofa, his jacket untied and a thin white T-shirt revealed. I immediately knew who she had been talking about in the past hour. At the same time, I broke the nail of my high heels and stumbled into the cabin. I have always been a good entrance. I learned to laugh easily and amuse myself for an embarrassing moment. When I lifted my broken heel, we all laughed together.

“Give it to me,” said the deep husky voice.

Mr. Houston stretched out his big hand to buy my shoes. I am here with Anjelica, the beautiful daughter of John Huston, when our greatest director was playing with my shoes. Now he is in a private residential area, and he is coughing longer and longer. When her father was gasping for breath, Anjelica’s face showed all her caring, admiration and sadness. I want to know briefly that I will see an elegant lady like this in Jack Nicholson, who knew nothing about him at the time, except for his bad news and the sadness of mentioning his name. Still lead her. The elders in Houston would regroup soon after coughing, and began to tease us, practice sparring, and alternately criticize and comment with critical jabs, so severe that we ignored him with a smile and just enjoyed him. I missed the workshop, but the care could have been reduced. Surprisingly, John Huston even repaired my shoes after a few drops on the coffee table. Finally, Mr. Houston said that he needed a rest, and Angelica whispered that she would see you later.

I joined the director and media team for the next seminar. Who of them would like to be invited into the private world of superstar Anjelica Huston and her famous father? To this day, I am still surprised. No director found me that day, but I found a charming man and his daughter. I also learned that when shyness or the threat of self-awareness threatens you, please say “Hi” and a new world will open in front of you.

(Wireimage.com)