As I was finishing up college in Indiana I decided I would move to Seattle. I had never been there before, nor did I know anyone in the city or much about it. I suppose I just wanted to try a new place and a place that was largely unfamiliar to me. I did not give much thought to how I would support myself.

It turned out that my mom's cousin was married to a guy whose family had a few restaurants in Seattle. Through this connection I landed a busboy job at one of their busier joints. I worked quite a bit, often working lunch and dinner. I remember hoarding my cash in a toiletry kit. It was thrilling to amass a bunch of money, say a thousand dollars or so, count it several times and ultimately deposit it in the bank.

After about four months of bussing tables I told my manager that I wanted to be considered for a waiter position. He responded with an analogy about a seed that needs to germinate. It was quite poetic. He said I could do a try out and wait on him and another manager. I passed the test and was on my way to what now seems like a career of waitering.

While my waitering career was evolving I came upon art-making by way of a roommate who was an artist, as well as the inheritance of a camera. Things moved rather swiftly as my roommate and I set up a darkroom. I took a few classes, learned to work with wood and metal and continued my own self-education as well. All the while, I was supporting myself working nights as a waiter. It seemed like a pretty good approach: I made decent money and I had my days free to do my own work.

After about four years in Seattle I migrated southward to San Francisco. The waitering continued through graduate school and beyond up until a point a few years ago when I decided that I needed to find another way to make a living. I wanted a job that was stimulating and kept normal people's hours. I ended up taking a job as an editor at a local magazine. It was strange - I was 31 years old and I had never had a desk job. I felt like a fish out of water. The hours passed slowly and I put on at least ten pounds. I spent a couple of years at the magazine and quit when my girlfriend got into grad school across the country.

With a thin writing resume I returned to my roots and started waiting tables again. I now work in restaurants that represent the top of the field in terms of income. There are things that I enjoy about this kind of work, but I am again coming to that place where I question how long I can continue in this field. I am in the midst of trying to figure out another way to make a living.