Front Burner

I sometimes wish I could just have the same job all the time. That I could go to the ice cream store, or the bank, or wherever it was I worked, knowing when I'd have to be there, and what I'd be doing. No mystery, no excitement, no guessing game, no worry. Just something expected, routine.
 
It occurred to me today that this perfect world that I just described is what we used to call on soaps "back burner." While some characters might be "front burner"--involved in lots of story, with their actors needing to learn lots of lines and work lots of hours and lots of days, others, those in "back burner" storylines, might appear much less often, would likely have fewer lines to master, and perhaps have less required of them. The thing is, as a soap actor, you always wanted to be front burner, not back. Front burner was generally more interesting, and ultimately, offered much more job security. Front burner kept you on your toes and involved with the production team. Front burner brought you more attention. Front burner was the goal.
 
So, as I see myself wish I could melt into the woodwork of a regular job, or settle into the relative regularity of managing my children from home, I wonder, does the constant uncertainty and change mean that I am, in fact, front burner in a way I couldn't otherwise be? Does jumping around, even if it feels unbelievably insecure, mean that I have "made it" to front-burner status?
 
There are days when I feel as though I would happily languish on the back burner, no new challenges, no more places to prove myself. But keeping things "front burner" reminds me that I'm still in the game. There may be no real security anywhere, but I am carving out my spot by braving the front burner, by taking on the roles that are a little bit different, a little bit trickier, a little bit scary. Will my story be good? I don't know. All I can say is that, as with many front burner stories, it will be an interesting one to watch.