As a kid, I was bombarded with morbid humor. My mother told me Challenger jokes the first week after it exploded. I heard about death at the dinner table as my mother regaled us with tales of open heart surgeries gone awry, blood splashing in copious amounts, or tapeworms that emerged like snakes from the small intestine. Humor has always been a part of my life – it’s my defense mechanism, it’s my way of dealing with difficulties in life, and it’s my way of making friends.
I’ve always prided myself on my ability to make people laugh. Whether it’s at my own expense or not, getting a chuckle, guffaw, or even a smile makes it all worthwhile. It’s also an area where my confidence is constantly lacking. My other traits are ones where I’m rock solid. I know I’m intelligent, a great friend, and charismatic. But I constantly need reassurance that I’m funny. Maybe it’s because it’s a more objective concept, but even though I know that I can’t make everyone laugh all the time, I want to so badly! My blog has become a place for me to try new ideas and to attempt to wring comedy from every dark corner of the universe. Recently, though, I’ve been wanting more – I have been wanting another way to showcase my humor. I’m so terrified of rejection, of failing, of not being funny, that I really needed something to push me to try.
Last night, after dinner at P.F. Chang’s, I got that something I needed for that push. And I think I’m going to face my fears and plan for something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time.
I think I’m going to do stand up comedy.