Too sexy for this blog. Too sexy for my shoes. No longer need this muse.
Too sexy.
Right Said Foot is pretty darned busy these days.
And busy doing what you love to do is definitely sexy. During these past few weeks, despite all my complaining and moaning and introspection and haberdashery---okay, no haberdashery, I just like that word and never get the chance to use it---but somehow, I accidentally laid the groundwork for about six different projects. All of them exciting. All of them highly promising. And all of them need to be done yesterday.
Somehow, getting things done never seemed easier.
It’s like waiting tables. As any waitress will tell you, you actually give better service when you’re busy. On a slow day, you can actually forget that you HAVE tables.
Like today.
More than once today, I actually forgot I had tables. When nothing’s going on, your mind starts to wander. I was in the kitchen, happily whipping up some homemade pickles when I suddenly remembered, “Oh, I have a table out there. Table 16. I wonder if they need anything.”
It’s not that I was ignoring them or lazily chatting away on my cell phone. I was just so bored, I forgot there was something actually going on out there.
But give me ten tables on a busy Saturday night and watch we work it, baby.
It's like they say, "If you need something done, give it to a busy person."
It's the same way with artists. Particularly actors. If they’re not working in their field, they don’t know what to do with themselves. They get depressed and start to wonder what they're doing with their lives. They become Table 16. They forget about themselves.
Most people with 9-to-5 jobs don’t understand this. Most of them LOVE to get away from their jobs. Their daily grind. I’ve done those jobs. Answering phones till you wanted to slit your wrist in a warm bath. Sitting there typing boring letters just trying to keep yourself awake till your next coffee break. Looking forward to Tuesdays because that’s the day the distributer brings in free donuts. Mmmm---donuts.
How do you people do those jobs? Day in and day out? With nothing to look forward to except donuts on Tuesdays? Sure, I hate my job---but I hate your job even more.
Nine-to-five types often think of artists types as lazy. Too lazy to get a REAL job. But frankly, most artist-types are the least lazy people I know. Not only do they work full-time meaningless waitress, retail and temp jobs---but they spend a huge portion of their free time working on an entirely separate career. It's like having TWO full-time jobs. They even juggle relationships, friends and family into the mix. Not to mention laundry.
When struggling writers go home after an eight-hour shift, they don’t curl up on the sofa and watch prime-time TV for three hours. They write. And if you think writing isn’t physically exhausting, I suggest you try sitting down in front of a computer for five hours and begin a novel. You’ll see what I mean.
I can’t think of many artist-types who started out immediately getting paid for their work. There was Mozart. Shirley Temple. And a handful of other child performers. But that's about it.
Artists go thru a long (sometimes VERY long) period where they have to learn and grow. In addition to the studies every other kid is subjected to---they’re studying to become the best at whatever it is that they do. When other kids are out playing, they’re sitting in front of the piano. When their college friends are going to parties, they’re rehearsing a play. When their pals from work are all going down to the corner bar for Happy Hour and darts---they’re back home working on their screenplay.
And then, we have to try to get someone to notice what we do. That's almost a THIRD job.
It’s not that we don’t want to be out with friends---we’d just rather be cutting our shitty job to do it and not our REAL job---our art.
Well, maybe it’s not art. Maybe it’s just polka dancing. Or quilting. Or singing in a Top Forty Band. But it’s what we really want to do.
For years, we love it so much, we do it for free. How many of you 9-to-5ers would go in and do taxes for free on your off-day?
Nine-to-fivers can be cruel to waitstaff, retail people and the temp in their office. At best, they pity them. At worst, they take out their frustrations on the poor lowly, unskilled worker.
But, as one of those lowly, unskilled workers, I’m here to tell you a few things---we DO have skills. Skills you only wish you had. And we work WAY harder than you. You wish you had our work ethic. And most of us are WAY more intelligent than you. And FAR nicer---that’s why we don’t bother to correct you when you order a glass of Merlot and pronounce the “T”. We also tend to have more friends, better relationships, more happiness, and WAY more fun!
We also have more hope for the future than you will ever have. Unlike you, we haven’t given up.
Most of you just dream of winning the lottery.
Good luck with that.
We pity you.
And if you leave us a shitty tip, we belittle you behind your back, as well.
Tonight, people were all pretty darned nice. That is, the few that we had.
But tonight, I waited on a couple of guys who sat around discussing the goings-on back at the office. I don’t know what they did for a living. But it sounded pretty boring. If I had to take a guess, I’d say Car Insurance.
Yawn.
How do you wind up in car insurance? My god.
None of them seemed happy. None of them even smiled. And all of them looked waxy and dead.
But despite the fact that they were only the second table I’d had in two hours---I was happy.
“How do you say ‘happy’ in Bangla?” I asked one of the busboys.
“Shu-ki,” he replied.
At my job, I was learning Bengali. I was making homemade pickles. I was discussing the latest exhibit at The Armory with the bartender. I was tap dancing with my manager.
After work, I was going to a theatre/writers group. And when I got home that night, I was going to gather my props for a film shoot on Friday. I was going to email the producer for my sketch show next month. I was going to look over some footage I’d shot. I was going to write my blog.
And I was waiting to hear about some interesting things going on that just might get me out of the restaurant business for good.
I actually have a decent shot at winning my lottery.
I wonder what the car insurance guys did after they left?
Actually, I don’t.
It was probably pretty boring.
And I’m too sexy. I'm busy working.
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