Acting Up

I started writing about some bike riding I was doing the other day when I realized that a critical part of it was something that I hadn't really explained yet. This missive will really set you up to properly enjoy tomorrow's. To begin with, (and do forgive me if I'm mistaken and I have written elements of this before), a while back I got an agent to represent me in my acting endeavors. Needless to say, this was a delightful development that will hopefully mean great things.

I really was fortunate the way it worked out. Suffice it to say that the two most relevant factors for me were having a really unique look and going out to do things. They say that 90 percent of life is just showing up, and to an extent I have found that to be true. Some amount of actual ability is useful. In any event, it's been fun learning the ropes of being a professional. There remains a lot of mystery in it for me, but I've gotten my "acting legs".

Homework? Drone Work

I don't miss school too much (the firewall from the real world aside). To be honest, a substantial amount of the best learning I did came well outside any formal bounds. All of the very picayune stuff that had little future application came in schools. You tell me when you do sentence diagrams these days. I know I don't, but I like to think I can put together a sentence without one. In any case, I don't love doing anything that makes me feel like I'm back in school.

Sometimes I find myself doing something that feels like homework. I'll get some kind of request to submit one thing or another in writing, and I don't jump for joy, although I love writing. I don't care much for technical writing or reports. I dislike anything that smacks of clerical work. I'm bad with details, and that's all that it is. When one of these things comes up, I do my best, but I'm not smiling. There's just relief to be done with it, and further relief that it passed muster.

After One Dispute, Another

I may as well note that the grocery store strike I was so afraid of yesterday did not materialize, and a new labor deal appears to have been agreed upon. At such times I am less relieved about dodging a bullet and more angry at the notion that maybe I was meant to be scared into submission or compliance. In any case, that's over, and I can write about something less freighted with negative feelings and more fun. It's lucky that just such a thing came up.

I had just gotten home relatively late. One roommate and I were talking, and being considerate of our third roommate, we were talking as softly as we have ever managed. I was starting to wash a pot in order to cook something. A faint noise got my interlocutor's attention, and he went to the balcony to figure out what it was. Moments later, the other roommate emerged from his room (and, I assume, his slumber) to also investigate. They both went out to the balcony.

Stricken

Did I talk about the grocery store workers' strike that may still be happening here in California? I know that I spoke with positive hope for a work stoppage in the NFL, as well as the NBA. Those are frivolous things, and as much as I like them, life would have continued on. Not so with garbage collection, as  my father explained to me once, nor with grocery store workers. I imagined that my local grocery store would limp along with hastily-trained scabs, but now I understand that may not be so.

I had been less than happy about the notion of crossing a picket line for food. I figured that if that were the case, I would shop elsewhere in solidarity for the duration. I have learned now that my resolve may never be put to the test, as a plan has been declared by management to simply close down the stores. Apparently scab-run stores lost piles of money during the last strike. That's all well and good. As I said, I was leaning towards not shopping at the affected stores anyway.

What Dignity This?

In that great game 'Oregon Trail', the best job one could have seemed to be banker. Each one did have its outstanding features, but for my money, you couldn't beat banker. I guess that what set it apart were the intangibles. There's an air of class, sophistication and dignity to being a banker. You wear a fine, well-tailored suit and have as your workplace a building with much gravitas to it. That at least is the situation of my imagination.

I believe that is the case for the big time bankers who do not even deal with the public. Of course, those ones are probably in the biggest trouble of all these days, but supposing that we are discussing an honest banker, that's what I'm picturing and admiring. Consider alternately though the banker who is reduced to handling the business of consumers. I still think that it's a dignified position to be a banker in one of those local neighborhood branches. It's good, honest work, though it may not be so lofty.

The Measure Of A Man

I'm a liberal-minded guy when it comes to sketching out the parameters of gender roles. I feel that everyone, XX or XY, deserves an equal shot at whatever they want in society, but even so I cannot shake much of the tradition definition of what makes a man. As I understand the notion, a man is in dereliction of his duties if he does not make a living based on his wits or brawn or both. It's no longer necessarily the case that he carries his wife and family on his back, although it obviously once was and still happens. Men are also understood to be tough, resourceful and resolute. This conventional definition has had some bits stripped away, but is substantially intact if my observations are correct.

I know what I feel, anyway. I feel like more of a man when one or both of two things is happening: firstly, when I am earning a living. When I am engaged in good and honest work and getting paid for it, I swell with some amount of pride at the knowledge that I am pulling my own weight. Be it politically correct or not, I feel like a man when I am entirely self-sufficient. That's not really accurate anymore since for longer than I've been alive women have been managing the same feat with great aplomb, but I can't help feelings. I can only mitigate the unfortunate ones.

catch-up

Lot of activity over the last few days. Thursday I had a speech at Toastmasters. I did a speech on how my previous speech didn't go very well. It seemed to be well received, as I won best speaker. Friday I toiled as a digitizer for a cable tv show. Saturday I was at a Toastmasters training event all day. Sunday was just church. Today I had to go and return the tape deck I used Friday, then I had improv. It was a great class, and then I found out that I was bumped up to the second level in the program, of which there are three before one can be put in one of the big groups. After that, we went to a bar in the arts district near my apartment. It was a good night, and a good weekend. Tomorrow night is my movie night group's first event. That will be followed by a string of additional significant events, to be reviewed at a later date.

Working hard

Some people will try to tell you that jobs don't get harder than the back-breaking labor of ditch-digging or the selfless sacrifice of the armed forces. Surely they don't know of video editing. I find that it leaves me with precious little time and energy for such worthy pursuits as blogging. Still, I soldier on.

Although I imagine not so many people know it, today is an election day here in Los Angeles. I get an automatic mail ballot, but with the aforementioned work on my mind, I neglected to send it off in time. I was therefore compelled to deliver it to my polling place in person.

There's something special about the polling place. What we do there, the people and the things we see when we go. That's separate from the sacred task of self-determination. Anyway, if you see me, be sure to comment on my "I voted" sticker.