Just the Tip(s)

I am no longer a restaurant manager.

I didn't get fired. I don't think. But I also didn't really quit.

Well, I kind of quit. My coworkers have chosen to describe it as "demoting" myself back to being a server, which is mildly offensive and illogical - my "demoted" salary has increased $100-$200 per week.

That's shocking, right? You would think an increase of responsibility would come with a significant pay raise. I've learned from my PR/Marketing days that this is rarely the case. At least, not in the beginning. It's called paying your dues or you are pretty but have zero qualifications. Actors: think of it like Non-Equity theatre (which I never had to do but heard it was terrible for the rest of you).

Remember the next time you ask to speak to a manager at a restaurant, they are making very little in comparison to the waiter's dignity you just disregarded. Really consider your bitch level before you expect anyone to sympathize.

I'll miss the job. I was good at it. I won't say great at it, because I don't think I was. Mostly I didn't have the mental capacity or patience for learning to be great at it. But I learned an awful lot. For instance, one boss taught me that just because you can be really good at something doesn't mean you should do it. Again, I was not fired.

I would say the most important lesson I learned, which I wish I had learned before 25, is that we really do get only one life. I want that to sound more morbid and less uplifting. Thanks.

I was trying to live two lives. During the day/night/times-I-was-getting-paid, I was this really cool/hip fine-dining career schmoozer who pretended to know what I was doing and sometimes ordered napkins (and only once in an emergency on my last day) waiting for guests to comment on my cheekbones so I could buy them a drink. During the times I wasn't getting paid, I was a writer/actor/singer/dancer. All the time, I was broke.

So, instead of continuing to dream about getting fired or worrying about a baked fish taking longer than expected and continuing to pretend that I had any business running a restaurant at 24, I did everyone a favor and pulled the plug before 25. Was it a quarter life crisis? No. I know this because I have no intentions of living to 100, and I had a quarter life crisis YEARS ago. The piercing didn't last and I almost declared a Gender Studies double major.

Teachers of artists are known for saying, "If you can imagine yourself doing something else, do something else. Life will be much easier."

I can finally say at 25, after having been A LOT of things for what my mom thinks were very short periods of time, I can't imagine myself doing anything else. Not now. Maybe never. Sometimes boys.

Would you like fries with that,

TJB: Making It

nobody is surprised

I'm moving back to NYC.

I planned to write something really extensive, try to justify the move, explain my reasoning...but then I remembered I don't owe you anything.

A lot of people tried to say I didn't give Chicago a fair chance, or that I wanted this so much. I did. How can I just turn around and go back? I'm a fast learner. Since most of my relationships last an average of 3 months, maybe I have a fear of commitment thrown in. Talk to me when I'm 30.

Moving to Chicago was the best decision I ever made. I always said that I loved people who live in Chicago because they actually want to live here. The people in New York feel like they need to live there. I realized I need to live there. I spent so much time telling myself not to look back, but now I realize maybe I was looking in the right direction and moving in the wrong one - like those seats on the train that face backwards. Maybe they know what's up.

Yes, Sonya, I can hear you. "You suck at moving to New York!" Hey, third time's a charm, right?

Chicago, consider this my two weeks notice.

New York, I wish I knew how to quit you.

This time we make it,

TJB: Making It

more like MEsus

While everybody else was thinking of the three days Jesus spent in the tomb before he rose, I was thinking about the 3 months I've spent in Chicago trying to do the same.

Hi. Happy Easter.

It has now been a quarter of a year since I began my second chance in the second city. I've learned a lot and done a lot, but I've realized one important thing will always be true:

The grass is always greener on the other side.

I'll admit it. I miss New York more and more. I miss the people, I miss their elitism, the pretension, the attitude. Chicago is relaxing and fun, but there is a certain edge missing. The hipsters here are friendly, and nobody wants that. I don't want to have to talk to hipsters. I also don't want to smile at the other gays who pass by when I thought it was nationally established by the HRC that we simply stare at each other judgmentally, and internally agree we are better than the other. I want the same rights as straight couples, sure, but that doesn't mean all gays are equal among ourselves. Sweetie, not until you fix that hair.

Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm happy here. I can afford things. I went shopping for the first time in a year without wondering if my purchase would be approved. I no longer walk ten blocks just to save a dollar on wine. I order shots...at BARS. Life is pretty sweet.

I know what you're thinking. I've written this same whiny bullshit before and you're looking for something original.

SO AM I.

Hell, I almost got a tattoo. Instead, I entered a singing competition at the bar below my apartment. Winner gets $15,000. Don't get too excited, it's doesn't start until June, but if I don't make it to the end of those 11 weeks...

then I understand why this is the SECOND city.

One day those shots will be top shelf,

TJB: Making It

Bro-K

As I carried my booze in a brown paper bag down the street, I watched the bus pull up ahead of me and thought, "Do I run?"

I realized I had been running a lot in the past year. To New York, to the auditions, to the trains, to Chicago, to the buses, to the interviews and for the first time in a very long time, I didn't feel like running...because I didn't have to.

So, I walked.

I walked the half an hour through the snow covered streets of Chicago until my forehead was frozen. I wrote a song on the way that I thought would change the world that I couldn't remember 10 minutes later, but that didn't matter because all that did matter was the whiskey and the beer and the bros.

And we sat. We sat talking about nothing and laughing about everything on one of those nights where nobody cared what we did because we were together. For four hours, we didn't move. We didn't have to.

You know those moments you have when you suddenly think to yourself, "Everything's going to be OK"?

This was that.

Carry on,

TJB: Making It