I haven't posted in a while because I have been working a tremendous amount lately, but hey, got to do what I can to put coffee on the table.
My mind has been consumed with clothes and steak. I come home every night either thinking about jeans or covered butter. Trust me folks, it takes a long time to get rid of that stench. My dreams at night usually consist of work related things, and always end up with me making some stupid mistake and getting yelled at by customers. I wake up with relief knowing it didn't actually happen (yet).
Now besides the nightmares, recent debates, rogue clowns, and Halloween approaching, I realized something else pretty scary: I have done nothing in the past two weeks of what I truly love. I haven't kept up with submitting for auditions, preparing new materials, writing, or even reading books/plays. How am I going to keep growing as an artist if I keep putting that part of my life on hold?
I'll tell you why: money. I'm stuck in the mundane because I am desperately trying to play catch-up with my debt. I work seven days a week, and it is still not enough. Us millennials are being slapped in the face with debt and rejection. With or without a degree it is almost impossible to get/keep a steady job. Even with a college degree, I rarely hear of people getting jobs in their field. So many of the people I know had to go back home to live with their parents because, like me, they can't afford to pay rent.
Now the reason for my rant is not to get pity. It is just to show acknowledgement that this is happening- raise awareness ya know. If you are reading this and in the same boat, share this post. You are not alone. I am right here with you and you are in my prayers at night. To others reading this, thinking it isn't a big deal or there are bigger problems in the world, remember that everyone is entitled to their own form of struggle and pain- not really asking for sympathy, just some empathy over here.
So to sum this all this up:
"I know it's bad kid, I got your back kid." - B. Burnham
OH and PS: Now that it is getting cold, people are coming in for pants. School pants. THE SAGA NEVER ENDS. *shivers*
Til next time,
Saturday, October 8, 2016
A classic Friday night at a steak house. Parties are coming in and out, pretty packed, and we even get up to a forty-five minute wait. Once things calm down a bit, a party of three gentlemen walk in. Now when I say "calm down," I mean every single table/booth is occupied, just no wait in the lobby. The three men approach me, the hostess, naturally.
One of the men in a sand colored jacket mumbles, "Table for Briggs."
Can't really hear him. Restaurants are not the place to mumble. I ask, "I'm sorry, Sir, what was that?"
"BRIGGS. B-R-I-G-G-S. THREE."
Eeek okay. Check board- nothing open. I'm not really surprised though, like I said, busy Friday. So I tell him about the ten-fifteen minute wait while we wait for things to clear up.
Wooo he's pissed. He says something about waiting in the car, and one of the younger gentlemen waits for the pager. I explain again that I'm sorry, but I'll go check around. He thanks me, and I give the place a quick looksy. A BOOTH JUST GOT UP! I wipe it down and then run back to the younger man as he is about to join those waiting in the car.
"Excuse me! I actually have a booth for you towards the back if that's okay!"
"Thank you so much for doing this for us. I really appreciate it," he says with sincerity.
No biggie- just doing my job. The others come back inside, and I take then to their booth. They thank me again. Now, Hostess-Natalie is just a heighten version of myself so extra smiles and quirkiness when I throw this one at them:
"A quick fifteen minutes there- ehh???! Now I hope yas enjoy your dinner!" Goonish laugh and then I nudge Mr. Grumpy Gills in the sand jacket with my elbow. He mumbles something, and I think gives me a pity laugh.
And that "Mr. Grumpy Gills " in the sand jacket was Mr. Bernie Sanders.
I'm sorry Bernie, for potentiality putting you on a fifteen minute wait. Didn't recognize ya- you are a lot taller in person.
Til next time,