not my photo or footage…
The actor, A works part-time at the breakfast shop. Sometimes, I’d gone out of my way, took that thirty-minute MRT ride, to eat breakfast at the shop he worked. It’s a place that’s a breakfast place for the literaries. Everything sold there looked, more beautiful than beautiful, and, cost twenty dollars extra.
At first I’d gone to the shop often, because he’d just started working there, he’d fried the eggs to too dry, to the point they’d become pancakes, or fried too much, and turned into hash browns, and every now and then, when he’d succeeded in making the foods, it still wouldn’t land on my plate. The owner of the shop was also, a literary person with dreams, he’d given up the title of MBA from a public university, and started this breakfast shop that fitted to his own dreams, which was why he was willing to hire A, who couldn’t show up for work when he has a case every now and then. We’d discussed it, why must we give up something, to achieve something else that’s greater? Mr. A rubbed his eyes, said, that after he became huge, there would be the news story of “So-and-So once worked at a breakfast shop, and only had $500N.T.s left in his pocket”. Did you, really only have just $500N.T.s left in your pocket? I’d inquired. The least I had in my pocket, was just $300N.T.s, for the record, he’d told me.
As he’d perfected his egg frying skills to close to perfect, I’d stopped eating there. One day, he’d called me up excitedly, told me that he’d gotten a thirteen-volume television soap, as a male classmate for the main character in class, that it might be a very long time, he won’t be working in the breakfast shop, asked me to head to the breakfast shop to enjoy his cooking skills, and to celebrate his new acting job.
not my photograph…
“A classmate?”, I’d asked.
“Yeah, I’d needed to wear the high school uniforms too!”, he’d exclaimed.
I’d glanced over at the beard on his chin, just, focused on my food, tried not to laugh, I truly felt glad for him. He’d held up a thinly volume script, with a highlighter in his right hand, flipped through the scripts, found his place. And, I saw him, highlighted the text three times.
“ ‘if you want to keep working here, then, WATCH it,’ do you think I should say it in Mandarin, or with a Taiwanese accent?”, he’d asked me.
“Just base it off of how you want to show yourself, and unify the processes.”, I’d told him.
“But, this is only the start of the scripts, the rest hadn’t gotten written yet, if I have parents who are from Mainland China, then, it would be, awkward.”
Later on, after he’d gotten past the issue of the accents, he’d started questioning the motives of his life. “Do you think I’m really, threatening him, or, am I just, looking for attention from everybody else?”
“I think, you shouldn’t, over interpret it!”
“No, I only have these three lines from this first episode, I won’t be there for the second, and, for the third, there was this fighting scene, that I’d had no lines in.” he’d spoken, as he flipped through the pages, and, on the blank places on the script, were the notes only he’d understood written all over it.
I thought that after he’d started his acting gig, I’d not get called to the breakfast shop for breakfast, but, two weeks later, I’d received a call from him, he’d told me that he and the owner had been researching the egg rolls, and asked me to taste test.
“Aren’t you busy acting?”, I’d asked him.
“I’m not doing that anymore, I’d gotten a call out of the blue, the director told me he’ll call me another time.”, he’d stated.
I’d not asked, this isn’t anything that’s new.
“The key to the perfect eggroll is in the heat, you must cook on small, as the bottom cook, you’d needed to, roll it up, otherwise, it’d get, overcooked.” He’d thought a bit, then told me, “I might be thinking too much, the bottom was over cooked, and, the character, too old to be played.”
“I think, you did, overthink it, this sort of a corresponding method, you’d only lost once chance of becoming a disaster.” This, weren’t words of console, but from my own life. As I’d, cut open the eggroll before me, the egg yolk came out moist, everything was, just right.
“This new item on the menus is a total sell-out!”, I’d told him.
He’d gloated and told me, “I came up with it!”
So, turns out, that this part-time actor became a full-time cook, and, this actor had cooked his own life into the foods he’d made, and, he just, overthought everything, as the anticipation he must’ve felt, at the role given to him, he’d, overprepared, and in the end, he wasn’t what the director wanted in the show, but, he still had something to fall back on, his job as a cook at the breakfast shop.