It's Wednesday. I'm at my Girlfriend's kitchen table (my makeshift desk when I stay here), our breakfast a thing of the recent past, the coffee waning. Purposefully I place a pillow on the back of the chair as for lumbar support. I cross my legs: right leg pendulously swinging over left knee, left leg firmly planted on the ground. And as I begin, one thing is clear: my left testicle is awkwardly compromised in my casual positioning, my insouciant posturing.
And here, we...go!
Last night at work (restaurant work for those lacking my autobiography, server, fine-dining restaurant) I, despite emanating a slew of pleasantries and generally being an affable fellow, found myself voicing a pointedly dour opinion, "I fucking hate this place!" to my coworker towards the end of the evening. What sent me over the composed-person edge was our lack of business: this means less money and almost worse equates to us sitting around with various objects and body parts crammed up our asses. And me, at 29 years of age, I for the most part have a handle on the duel identities of artist and indentured servant. But, and apparently this is a deal-breaker for somnambulists and other delicate folk: I just can't be complacent or not vocalize when we're in the middle of a seemingly unnecessary shitstorm. And I do, I vocalize the shit out of showing up for work, standing around all evening, and then having the privilege/obligation to wait on some oblivious fucking people, who want to dine in an empty restaurant, further drawing out my evening in both time and now, lack of funds.
So what? This is your job isn't it? No one put a gun to your head to do this, right? Be humble in victory and graceful in defeat, isn't that what they say?
Well: fuck all of you, fuck you right in your ear. Because again, let's extricate ourselves that people, like myself are cognizant of these vocational platitudes. And so, for putting it out there, the absurdity of our situation, I'm deemed as NEGATIVE. For those that don't have the pleasure of knowing my real-time, living and breathing self, I've found through experience that my energy/disposition is one that, when my magic wand is waved, either embolden/enlighten/energize or bring-every-motherfucker's demeanor down. I prefer to use my powers for good, and being cognizant of this fact, if I'm methodically pointing out the bogusness of a situation I do it in a way where I've extricated myself, and the nuclear reactor of kinetic energy I can transpose on everyone else, and merely powerpoint-presentation the faults I see. But, I admit, I broke a little bit yesterday. And my coworker, sarah, immediately slapped me with sanctions for being a negative-nancy.
Here's my issue -- and finally -- my point: complacency is evil, and seductive, a cancer that pragmatists and other normally capable fellows often fall victim too. No shit we're in an economic disaster and I'm lucky to have a job. I know these things! But the premise of not questioning your situation, in hopes it should improve, that we can do better, is completely FUCKED. Even as a 3-time college dropout (last time I simply couldn't afford it, and was earning all A's) if I didn't question a myriad of situations both personal/professional, both aesthetic/pragmatic, I'd have nothing -- I can't even deal with the notion of where I'd be. I pity these people in their microcosms, pointer-fingers lodged in their ears, "Oh no, no! Don't bring that point to light, I need to get through my day, I'm fragile, this is all I can take!"
And now, in the ultra-paradoxical phase, I turn the interrogation lamp on myself. With the conviction and borderline sanctimoniousness I've released, where, oh where is this conviction for my true work, for my writing, my screenwriting, my acting. And friends, I hold nothing back, there's a myriad of situations-to-be-improved, and yes, I've improved and I'm ready to do battle on these mediums, here I am: still bitching about Restaurant Maladies, still working (or rather I STOPPED working around my birthday LAST month) with an Unfinished Screenplay (a damn good one) all tagged and boarded above my desk, still with NO agent w/r/t acting (and subsequently less/no work), still NOT using my potential, still holding back, yet here I am, telling others to shed these sorry clothes and get out into the world.
How did I fall into such an absurd and torpid quandary...is anyone out there?
-m
No comments:
Post a Comment