What am I waiting for...?

One of the few questions I have always, no matter what, been able to ask myself. My ability to hold back and analyze the situation, to stall and stammer, to stand stock still like a boring piece of human art, has been honed and developed into a veritable matrix of motionlessness.

I'm a writer. What do I write? Beyond this, not too much. My song lyrics have a half life of about two years, then they get recycled. My stories get to around page 5, and my dialogue drops off after a handful of exchanges.

I'm an actor. What do I do? The occasional community theatre piece. Paid? Yes, I went from 8 years of getting nothing to just over one year of getting around $150 per show. By the year 2034, I'll be able to pay my rent. That is, if it doesn't go up before then.

I'm a comedian. Do I have a routine? Can I tell jokes? Can I demonstrate it in any way? Not really. If you stick around long enough for me to be comfortable, I may do some muppet voices, or throw myself around a bit. Loose fruit means juggling, but if I get self-conscious, that's it.

I'm a musician. Can I read music? No. Can I sit and play you a song? Perhaps. Can I take requests? No. Unless you request something I wrote. Can I sit and jam? A little riff in 'E'? No. I don't know what that means. Can I hear it and just get by? Yes, but once I find the note, it's the only note I'll likely play.

I'm a dishwasher. Ahh, now we're getting closer to the heart of it. Dishwashing is the only job I ever left and came back to...twice. I washed before and after getting a college degree. In fact, the restaurant is still there. My mother sees the owners from time to time. They left me a standing offer and you know, I may yet take them up on it again. Does that sound ridiculous? It would to me if I weren't completely jaded with the work-a-day world. Consider...have you ever seen the movie 'The Razor's Edge'? An early 80's Bill Murray venture, one he stubbornly insisted on, at a time when the film executives were trying to rope him into more caddyshacks and meatballses. There is a scene where Bill Murray comes upon a man in India who is washing dishes on a boat. He wants a ride, and asks the man who owns the boat. The man says he does. In fact, he owns all the boats in this particular area. Bill asks why he is washing his own dishes. The man tells him that a better question would be 'what is your intention in washing those dishes?' He explains that his intention is to think. Washing dishes is a behaviour that frees him up to do that. I've come to find that I agree.

Let's consider some artists and thinkers of impact who also washed dishes:
Woody Guthrie
Ludwig Wittgenstein
Andy Kaufman
I suppose I should be content to have the brilliance of Wittgenstein's toenail, or the inventive humor of Kaufman's ear lobe, or the songwriting ability of Guthrie's left kneecap. But you know, I still probably wouldn't.

Anyway, I'm fully aware that Adam was cursed to work the land and to not have an especially easy time of it, and I respect the ethic that must accompany such labor. I'm descended primarily from farmers, you see. But I'll say this--sitting in front of a computer all day, regardless of whether it's mindless and frees me up to think, does not a worthwhile activity make. And considering the value corporate America places upon it's work force these days, I'm starting to really miss the old wash basin.

If there happens to be any restaurant manager reading this, and you're looking to pay someone $100 a day to do a deeply contemplative and bang-up job of cleaning your wares, do drop a comment.