why don't you get a real job

my friend alissa was my roommate in my early years in the city. we lived in a tiny two bedroom with roaches two blocks away from the nice part of morningside heights.

she was a college graduate- a bachelors in something serious and ordinary. her father a doctor. she wanted to be an actress. so here she was in nyc. casting after casting. bit part after bit part.

every morning she woke up at 8am like she had an office job. she would make her coffee then plug away at her computer sending out submissions and headshots and scheduling and confirming auditions.

then she would pack up a huge duffel with her gym clothes and her hideous work uniform and head out.

she waited tables at caroline's comedy club. it was a tacky club in a tacky part of town. maybe she didn't know any better- maybe it was the first job she found when she came to the city and just stuck with it. but i really don't think she cared- her 'job', how she payed her bills didn't matter to her.

she was an actress.

this was when i was still unsure of it all.

i had the gall to make the move out here to new york. and i knew exactly what i wanted to do.

but i was scared.

brought up by stereo-typical korean parents that raise you up to be one thing. well educated to be well paid. that was all there was to life. you go to school. you get good grades. you become a doctor, lawyer or non-descript business person. you wear chanel. you drive mercedes. the only other option was to starve yourself. get plastic surgery. marry doctor, lawyer or non-descript business person. then wear chanel and drive mercedes.

i was torn. one part of me felt i should just go back into working in fashion. claw my way into the showrooms and shmooze my way up to the pr dept. but i knew i couldn't do it. build my life to bullshit around with people that make me want to vomit so i can wear pretty things.

the other part of me wanted to do it. really do it. free myself from all of my inhibitions and let myself flow creatively. that sounds so gay. but that's all i've ever wanted to do. dance like a mad woman. sweat dripping so hard it smears my eye-brows. write and sing out at the top of my lungs what i am too embarrassed to speak. and act out in ways that are unfit for everyday mundane life. it's all i ever think about. even now. although now-

i do dance.

well, i got a call back to tour with some latina pop singer who just signed with a major. who cares if they never called me back after the call back.

and i do write and sing. so what if it's about booty hang and wanting to ride guys faces like a bicycle seat. and so what if it's just to a club of fifteen.

and i do act. well, i was in a music video for about 30 seconds.

i used to wonder about alissa. she had a really good education. she came from a rich family.

yet she spent five evenings a week in servitude. wearing a boxy electric blue long sleeved button down.

then one day she made this statement. it changed me. i don't even remember why or how it came up. i think i was smoking weed in the afternoon and watching something on vh1 while she was stuffing her gym clothes into her bag, getting ready to take off for the day. i must have asked her how she does it, how she stays so disciplined.

she frantically spat out,

"I DON'T CARE IF I AM A FUCKING WAITRESS UNTIL I AM 80. AS LONG AS I GET TO ACT"

here's to you alissa.

i still question myself sometimes.

i went back home recently. all my old friends from back in the day, they talk about their mortgages and their 9 to 5's. insurance and investments. i can sense some of their judgements. but i'm not defensive like i used to be.

i smirk inside.

i get to see some cool shit waiting on people they only read about.

i get to taste some cool shit they only see on the food network.

i wake up at noon and walk around the corner to have brunch on a sidewalk with my out of work actress roommate.

i get to wear tiaras and ruffled panties on a stage.

and i will never. ever be confined to a cubicle.