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Freelance writing and waiting tables

The secret to waiting tables is that you have to be just present enough to accomplish whatever you’re doing at the moment (like taking an order), while simultaneously mentally prepping for the next one or two or three things you have to do (like dropping the check off at table 51, restocking the ketchup, and grabbing that extra sour cream for table 52).

If you get into the weeds (this is restaurant parlance for having more to do than you can handle at one time), it’s easiest to get yourself out by asking for help. But it is frequently possible, in my experience, to get out without help. You just have to speed everything up, and not drop anything, and all the cards have to fall just right (i.e., if the lady at 53 wants her burger recooked, you’re screwed).

The hardest thing about applying these principles to freelance writing isn’t that you don’t have a bunch of coworkers around to help. It’s that you have way more distractions than you would while waiting tables. When you’re waiting table, there are no internet or cats who want to be played with or clients who need some tweaks made to a job you turned in two months ago. (You also don’t have to take breaks to exercise, if you work at a busy enough place.) It is much easier to remain focused when you’re waiting tables, and when your shift ends, you don’t have any more work to worry about till next time.

Basically, the same fundamental techniques apply, but the difference in environment has a huge impact on how the same brain pursues tasks, and the timing of everything is way different. It’s a much more complicated dance. And a more frustrating one, sometimes, but overall more interesting, and I suppose that is the direction life is generally supposed to move in. Maybe more not-so-deep thoughts along these lines later, when I’m out of the weeds.

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Should I keep reading this? Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe

I’ve had Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe on my nightstand for at least a month now, probably more like six weeks, and I’m still only about 150 pages in. I truly don’t know what to do—whether I should return it to the library and start something else or just keep pushing onward.

In theory, I subscribe to the school of thought that says if a book hasn’t grabbed you by page 100, you should drop it. But I also subscribe to the school of thought that says there are worthwhile rewards to be reaped by not just reading things that hook you easily. And the hardest part is that Wolfe hasn’t quite grabbed me—but I can feel myself warming to the book.

Thoughts? Does anyone have any particular philosophy or strategy for dealing with this? Or have you read the book and know I should hang on, because the part with the naughty-schoolgirl whipped-cream party is coming up? (I hate ending blog posts with questions because (1) it seems so “Here’s a tip to engage readers!” and (2) it’s extra embarrassing then when no one comments.*)

*That sentence will make it even more embarrassing when no one comments.

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Hair today, gone tomorrow

This has been bothering me for weeks now:

A couple months ago, I got a great haircut, but the guy who did it was about to move to Austin. He was going to try to get into a graduate program at UT, to get a master’s or Ph.D in American cultural studies or something.

Anyway, he seemed excited but a little nervous about it. I should note that I totally support the moving part of his plan—if I remember rightly, he’d grown up in Wisconsin and pretty much lived here all his life. I do think people should generally move away from where they grew up, even if they eventually come back.

But he said something like how he had to go to school so he could start doing something “real” or get a real job, or how he couldn’t do this—cut my hair—for the rest of his life. And hey, maybe he really hated cutting hair. But if he was just moving and going to grad school because he wanted a “career” or financial security, I would put this out there:

In a rotten economy, or really in any economy, how many people with Ph.D’s in American cultural studies do you think we actually need? How much of what you learn with that degree will really render you indispensable?

On the other hand, will we ever stop needing barbers? And couldn’t you be, like, a barber who read and discussed interesting books?

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