Long Time, No Shit

Well, my friend, I am going to start writing on this blog every day. I've been living in D.C. since November 15th, and I haven't done a thing about the rest of my life since then. Auditions - forget about it. I've fallen into the trap of the restaurant industry. I don't blame the restaurant industry - it's the nature of the beast, you know - the restaurant is the center of every restaurant worker's universe, the server unable to penetrate the ranks of the served, drawn inexorably back into the job that has become the center of his existence, thinking of nothing but the restaurant, the squabbles with co-workers, pettiest politics, drawn slowly (at first, then faster) away from his self-respect, ambition, reason for being, and he soon becomes an automaton: the perfect servant, only happy and at his best when he follows perfectly the rules of making others happy.

He waits for the good things in life to happen to him. He hopes, but he only hopes for better shifts, better tips, perhaps a better job at a better restaurant where he can think his own thoughts without the knowledge that they are useless to himself and everyone around him. His hope is both hobble and crutch. Soon after he entered the restaurant, he found quite by accident that if he gave up the notion that he was in control of his life, it became much easier to perform the job he was hired to do. The restaurant and the rules of service are in control. As long as he works in the restaurant, he can only hope to be his own man again.

That's the last four months of my life. But no more. I still work in the restaurant, but I have my ambition back. Soon will come self-respect. My hope - my crutch - was dissolved, but so was my hobble, and I see my life differently now that I feel myself standing at my full height.

So what happened? One of my regulars offered me a job. "You're intelligent and well spoken," he said, "and I think you could really help us launch this new product. You could make some real money, too. We mostly need someone to talk on the phone."

I thought, "Yes - after months of waiting, an opportunity has come my way! Someone recognized me, and how I could benefit them, and now I can make some real money and get my life started."

The opportunity turned out to be a $12-an-hour cold-calling job, trying to sell educational software to school administrators. Great, I got offered a fucking telemarketing job. So I walked out of the interview and went to my car. I sat in the drivers' seat, cursing the situation and thinking to myself what an idiot I'd been to think that good things would happen to me even if I did nothing to make them happen. I had been bullshitting myself, coasting along on arrogance, thinking I was so great that I didn't have to work for what I want in life, or even know what I want in life.

Then something dawned on me that I'd heard from a million different mouths - I am in control of my life. Up, down, left, right, heaven, hell, hell or high water, nothing that happens to me, at least right now, happens to the credit or shame of anyone but me. Which means that I'm responsible for my own life, and if I think that I'm such hot shit, then I'd be the biggest asshole in the world if I let my life go down the tubes while I just sat there.

So, instead of doing nothing, which is what I'd usually do with my day off, I went home, e-mailed a headshot photographer to set up a session next month, and decided to start dieting and going to the gym every day until then. And I'm going to stick with it.

My LSAT review course starts tomorrow night.

I have a shelf full of plays to read. The Leauge Auditions are in June.

Here I go. It's my life, and from now on, I'm running the fucking show.