Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Propping Chairs Under Doorknobs: The "Real" Job
Propping Chairs Under Doorknobs: The "Real" Job: Remember how I said this wouldn't become a wedding blog? Well, it didn't! It just died. This blog was like Old Yeller, if Old Yeller...
The "Real" Job
Remember how I said this wouldn't become a wedding blog? Well, it didn't! It just died. This blog was like Old Yeller, if Old Yeller could talk and saw "Nah, man. I'm not a wedding blog! You don't have to take me out back. I thought we was tight!"
I've never read Old Yeller.
But, like a zombie beagle ascending from the grave, here we are again. Just me, my thoughts on things, and you--dedicated reader, who somehow found this blog while trying to look up a vegan cookie recipe on Pinterest.
I love how when artists talk about people who have left the industry, it's like they are talking about someone who has developed a terminal disease. "Remember that actress who was in Blacklight Theatre's production of The Crucible and that commercial for Shop Rite with the ethnically ambiguous family? I heard she went into marketing for a tech start-up..." Pause here for dramatic effect, tsks, and silent head shaking and crossing ourselves.
We're not sad, not really. In fact, we're probably trying to hide our feeling of slight superiority, because goddamn it, we're still here! Still holdin' on! They may have a steady paycheck and health insurance, but we have our passion and dedication! It doesn't even matter to us if they like their new jobs. They couldn't possibly, right? I mean, they're total sell-outs. That look of contentment and pleasant demeanor? They probably just ate a donut.
Right before I began freelancing as an actor, an actor-friend of mine (meaning she was a friend and an actor, not that she was someone I hired to act as my friend. Though for the record, I'm not above that.) wished me luck, and said "I just haven't figured out how to make it work." She meant life as an artist. "What's to figure out?" I thought, "You get a job at Starbucks, you audition your butt off, you get a show as often as you can, and you live out your days sipping coffee and advising young artists on how to be artists while sounding a lot like Dame Maggie Smith or Dame Judi Dench. Either way, you should be British, by then. Like, honorarily British, for all your theatrical knowledge."
The next year, while working seven jobs, an accountant-friend of mine (see above explanation. And I hope he would do my taxes for free.), said "You're an actor? That's awesome. I really admire people who pursue what they love." I was living off of my savings, my parents were paying for my health insurance, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually been in a show. I did not feel admirable.
My question is, must it always be one or the other? Must we be sitting in an attic somewhere, wearing pants with patches on them, clutching an old afghan around our shoulders to keep out the chill, while staring out at the cold streets of the city, and eating stale bread to create our art? Must we feel empty inside and fall asleep in online meetings where there are literally buttons you press to express your emotions (press the clap button to praise someone! press the lol button for the laughing smiley face!) and take our only joy from our lunch breaks to have a "successful" career and support our families? Yesterday, I heard someone say, "At work? Or in real life?" What!? Most people work 40 hours a week, on a slow week. That's a quarter of your life--that's not real? Do you go into the Matrix from 9-5 everyday?
Where is the balance? Regarding my career, someone recently said "Kristen used to be an actress, but I think she's giving that up." Why? Because I have a steady job? Do these things have to be mutually exclusive? I laughed it off, of course, because I'm an American, and we laugh at things that make us uncomfortable. But I wanted to shout out "Never!" and then surf into a crushing wave like Patrick Swayze at the end of point break. Let's all just stop worrying so much about what other people decide to do and agree that we don't have to be one or the other. We don't have to be an artist and be poor, we don't have to be office employees and dislike our work, we don't have to be mothers and not be leaders in our career fields, we don't have to be fathers and not be equal contributors in the home. I guess we don't really have to be anything.
I've never read Old Yeller.
But, like a zombie beagle ascending from the grave, here we are again. Just me, my thoughts on things, and you--dedicated reader, who somehow found this blog while trying to look up a vegan cookie recipe on Pinterest.
I love how when artists talk about people who have left the industry, it's like they are talking about someone who has developed a terminal disease. "Remember that actress who was in Blacklight Theatre's production of The Crucible and that commercial for Shop Rite with the ethnically ambiguous family? I heard she went into marketing for a tech start-up..." Pause here for dramatic effect, tsks, and silent head shaking and crossing ourselves.
We're not sad, not really. In fact, we're probably trying to hide our feeling of slight superiority, because goddamn it, we're still here! Still holdin' on! They may have a steady paycheck and health insurance, but we have our passion and dedication! It doesn't even matter to us if they like their new jobs. They couldn't possibly, right? I mean, they're total sell-outs. That look of contentment and pleasant demeanor? They probably just ate a donut.
Right before I began freelancing as an actor, an actor-friend of mine (meaning she was a friend and an actor, not that she was someone I hired to act as my friend. Though for the record, I'm not above that.) wished me luck, and said "I just haven't figured out how to make it work." She meant life as an artist. "What's to figure out?" I thought, "You get a job at Starbucks, you audition your butt off, you get a show as often as you can, and you live out your days sipping coffee and advising young artists on how to be artists while sounding a lot like Dame Maggie Smith or Dame Judi Dench. Either way, you should be British, by then. Like, honorarily British, for all your theatrical knowledge."
The next year, while working seven jobs, an accountant-friend of mine (see above explanation. And I hope he would do my taxes for free.), said "You're an actor? That's awesome. I really admire people who pursue what they love." I was living off of my savings, my parents were paying for my health insurance, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually been in a show. I did not feel admirable.
My question is, must it always be one or the other? Must we be sitting in an attic somewhere, wearing pants with patches on them, clutching an old afghan around our shoulders to keep out the chill, while staring out at the cold streets of the city, and eating stale bread to create our art? Must we feel empty inside and fall asleep in online meetings where there are literally buttons you press to express your emotions (press the clap button to praise someone! press the lol button for the laughing smiley face!) and take our only joy from our lunch breaks to have a "successful" career and support our families? Yesterday, I heard someone say, "At work? Or in real life?" What!? Most people work 40 hours a week, on a slow week. That's a quarter of your life--that's not real? Do you go into the Matrix from 9-5 everyday?
Where is the balance? Regarding my career, someone recently said "Kristen used to be an actress, but I think she's giving that up." Why? Because I have a steady job? Do these things have to be mutually exclusive? I laughed it off, of course, because I'm an American, and we laugh at things that make us uncomfortable. But I wanted to shout out "Never!" and then surf into a crushing wave like Patrick Swayze at the end of point break. Let's all just stop worrying so much about what other people decide to do and agree that we don't have to be one or the other. We don't have to be an artist and be poor, we don't have to be office employees and dislike our work, we don't have to be mothers and not be leaders in our career fields, we don't have to be fathers and not be equal contributors in the home. I guess we don't really have to be anything.
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