For a little more than two weeks now I have been getting up and heading into an office job in the heart of New York City. It meant giving my notice to The New York Transit Museum, which was a very difficult thing to contemplate, and it also meant giving up some of my freedom to head into auditions at a whim, and to consider myself a "gypsy". The decision made for a fidgety Easter weekend as I mulled over their offer of a 40 hour work week and their added benefit of working with my audition schedule. What was their to ponder?
I worried that this job would keep me from auditioning, keep me from creating. I feared that the stress of the day would keep me from pursuing other goals in the evening as I'd prefer to just zone out and relax. I worried that this money would make me complacent, and that before I knew it I would be doing a job I could easily be doing in Austin, near my family, for less rent. I did, and do not want this to happen.
I took a lot of risks coming here. I left a job, my family, left my dog in the care of that family, and upon getting here joined the union, which has taken me out of the running for all of the theatre I was doing in Austin. I subsequently lost a close friendship (though one could argue that was due to more complex issues and was likely to come to a head at some point anyway) and have put myself through the experience of and culture shock of New York City, re-establishing a social, work and creative life. I could not let those things have happened for nothing, nor was I ready to give up this soon in the game. Is that what taking this job was, in effect?
The other side of that argument was that this job offering was a blessing that would provide a steady income allowing me to remain here longer and pursue my goals at a workplace that feels like home, with people who had, in just a few days, shown an overwhelming amount of appreciation, agreed to work with my auditions, and had taken enough time to truly consider this fact of my life that I didn't feel like they would be shocked when an audition came up. Plus, because I'd been up front with them from the beginning I could be both loyal to the company, and to my other pursuits. If it truly doesn't work out? As long as I conduct myself professionally, I lose nothing, and gain some funds and some contacts. How could this be a bad thing?
After three days of careful consideration, and consulting with trusted friends, I took the position. And the strange thing is that now, having less free time, I am doing more creatively than I was before. Why? Because that time has suddenly become more valuable, and so I cherish it more and manage it much better.
I've continued working on my writing project, have looked into a couple of night classes about the acting business, and have auditioned for two Broadway shows.
In this spirit, I give you a clip from a very flawed, but very pleasurable film: Inside Daisy Clover, which begins at 2:09.
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