balls in the air

Some people can live life with sixteen balls in the air at all times. I admire those people. (Some people can eat 15 and a half feet of sushi. I admire them, too, but for completely different reasons.) I go crazy when I've got as few as three balls in the air, even when the other thirteen are neatly glued to their seats, basking in the glow of my approval.

Being an actor, you learn to live life with some balls in the air (balls! Balls! BALLS! ooh, it just feels so dirty) because you can't plan on when you'll be working and when you won't. So you just learn to be flexible. And after a while (i.e., 8 years), that gets really old.

"Can you come to the beach with us in August?""I don't know, Dad, I'd really like to get a job in summer stock this year.""Ok," he says, sighing. And I die a little more on the inside.

So you'd think that in transitioning out of acting, the balls would all fall from the sky and behave. That's the end goal. To get there, though, you have to throw some really fucking big balls into the air, and then have faith that they'll eventually fall back to Earth. Perhaps you recognize them?

To counteract some of my anxiety, I took an Occupational Assessment Test last night, to find out what a little booklet thought I should do with my life.

It's not good.

Based on my answers, there are SEVEN jobs I should be doing. And they're all really weird, and I wonder what question I answered wrong to get such an odd outcome.

The jobs I'm supposed to enjoy include (and are limited to):

• Police Artist
• Instrumental Musician
• Type Copyist
• Optical-Effects Layout Person
• Singing Messenger
• Licensed Practical Nurse
• Hand Sign Writer

What the booklet doesn't understand is that a) I can't draw, b) I can't play any instruments well enough to count, c) I HATE typing (unless it's my own writing), d) I wear glasses, e) I can't sing, f) I have a terminal fear of vomit, and g) my handwriting stinks!

So I went back and took the test again, with a more moderate view on things -- instead of what do you want to do, I answered with more of a would you be interested in doing this... and it didn't change my answers.

What's completely unfair about this (other than the fact that those jobs are all weird and lame) is that there are other outcomes that offer at least sixty different occupational options. Why couldn't I have had the option of being a:

• gunsmith or
• a shop tailor or
• a weather observer or
• a tractor-trailer-truck driver or
• a barometers calibrator?

How about a:

• dairy scientist or a
• periodontist or a
• hazardous waste management specialist or a
• geodetic surveyor or an
• acupuncturist?

No, no, I'd prefer to be a:

• pullman conductor or a
• bricklayer supervisor or a
• oil-well services superintendent or a
• automobile service station manager or a
• ship mate!

Truly, they seem just about as appropriate.