Circling the Drain

The phone keeps ringing at work and It's making me anxious. People in this office keep asking me if I'm okay as if they care. I suppose they do. One of the managers brought food and she inferred I could have some; "I brought food for you today," she said. I'm not sure I believe her so I said I'm fine not really knowing whether refusal was rude or not. Based on the look she gave me, I think it was.

Can everyone just leave me alone? I'm coming down from an incredibly scary episode and it's still very raw. I'm trying to decipher what everything means, but I also need to stay focused on my goals this week. I actually have real deadlines here; the consequences of which could mean a bad fundraiser and a bad showcase. But I'm so incredibly stressed out and not for the right reasons. I'm stressed about being stressed and damn near paralyzed about it! I should be sending letters, making calls, writing thank you cards and finalizing logistics...instead I took all of yesterday writing and formatting a fake Onion front page and re-tooling my resume for a job I won't get.

Have I gone to mics at all this week? No. Nor do I plan on it since I have an employee BBQ and a birthday party tomorrow, and I somehow have to get snacks for both events today. That and fit in a haircut, a therapist appointment and a 5 mile run. I did a 5 mile "fun run" yesterday and I'm still waiting for the fun to kick in. They had pacers who kept up with runners of various speeds. I was in the slowest group (because I'm not a moron). Watching faster pacers line up and go with their paired-up runners was like watching an evolutionary chart in reverse. "Okay pretty, tall, happy people line up for your seven minute miles, well-adjusted 10 minuters, right behind and Lord Farquaad and the rest of uncanny valley lets have you bring up the rear. Wouldn't want you and the 60-year-old mall walkers scaring off the tourists along the plaza."

I feel like my mind has been irreparably blunted. I cannot focus or make connections like I used to. Not consuming alcohol has helped but not nearly enough. All I can concentrate on right now is the pain. It's annoying - it pesters me like a cloud of gnats and every swat I take at it just seems to make the swarm thicker. My skin crawls like an onion slowly being peeled layer by layer. People I actually care about, have given me condolences and advice but they simply do not have the time to be there other than in spirit.

My friend - let's call them Reese - gave me the most permeating words of the day so far, "don't believe in yourself, believe in the me who believes in you!" They're a lovely person. I don't doubt the wisdom of what they are saying but I doubt too deeply the intentions of my own mind.

The phone keeps ringing.

I was watching a TED-Talk about how depression is a disease of civilization. In a way that makes perfect sense to me. Our minds have evolved to an amazing degree but still hearkens back to times of scarcity. Our baser instincts crave food, shelter, safety, sex and social interaction. Lacking the immediate need to satisfy those cravings means our minds wonder towards perceived anxieties. This is probably why my body at least reacts physically to uncomfortable social interactions with the same intensity reserved for being chased by wild boar on the Serengeti.

It's my belief that having the privilege to have those perceived anxieties, combined with a sudden lack of one or more of the basics leads to depression. Add a little genetic variance and/or trauma of course and what it all ultimately means is a large group of people have a tiny little kill switch in their brains that we all really want to press for the good of the species.

Can't think of that now however - got to think proactively. The ways one can relieve the stress response is thus (according to this TED talk):

• Physical Activity
• Omega-3 Fatty Acids
• Sunlight
• Healthy Sleep
• Anti-Ruminative Activity
• Social Interaction

Physical activity: Check! Omega-3's can be found in fish, canola, walnuts, flaxseed and soybeans - so got to replenish that. Sunlight: Check! Maybe I need to get one of those sun lamp for the winter. Healthy sleep...could always do better but work lets me come in late and my belief that I'd be doing early morning running was too optimistic. The consequence of both is I still get a good 7 hours or so of sleep. Anti-Ruminative Activity...the hell is that? Google: f**k...well been trying to not ruminate on past mistakes but considering I was born one, that's a hard knot to tie. Moving on! Social Interaction: Check! I have many people I can lean on in a bind. Okay so get some salmon on the way home, buy a sun lamp in the near future and "try" not to dwell on bulls**t.

Easy enough...

Thinking it Through: A Thought Experiment

I'm depressed. Like, in the throes of despair - physical discomfort - egregiously affected depressive state. It's happening right the f**k now and I have never figured out a way around it except to just ride it out. This time for the sake of experimentation and distraction, I'm going to "type" my way through it.

Okay so what happened last night and this morning to get me here. Well, let's start much like any conversation, with the weather. I finished up hosting responsibilities early (because the Sunday mic is usually dead) then got a ride with Guy Casey to another mic Shirley was guest hosting. Whenever there's a low pressure system in the air - it was set to rain at around 3am, I get bad migraines. So there's that.

Loneliest feeling in the world...

Secondly, I showed up to Shirley's mic to find it was very lively and well attended compared to mine. It was so well attended in fact that several of the comedians I know get work regularly, were in attendance. I put my name in the hat as it were and bombed...as expected.

Thirdly, my co-host, Girl Casey, who didn't show up to the Sunday mic was at Shirley's mic which was upsetting. I played it off that I wasn't upset as I left Sunday pretty open ended a la "Do what you want, just tell me when you're going to be there." Still, to me this whole situation is reminiscent of something a friend told me about a roommate once. The roommate had a bad habit of leaving dishes in the sink and my friend called him out on it.

"From now on, can you please clean the dishes you use so we have clean dishes when it's our turn to eat."
"Wouldn't it make more sense you cleaned the dish you're about to use then just leave it in the sink?"

Technically the same amount of work is being done but one perspective is obviously proactive and the second is...well selfish and gross. That's essentially how I felt about Casey's behavior.

I'll probably tell her when I have a good opening - she's acts incredibly combative for no good reason.

Finally there was the after session. Guy Casey, Girl Casey...a third Casey, Shirley and myself hung out outside of Shirley's mic afterward and had a pow-wow just shooting the s**t. I was tired, in mid-migraine and honestly a little peeved at half the circle. Then Shirley sprung the notion of a roadtrip to a comedy showcase where agents are said to be present. Everyone wanted to be in on the possibility. Even Guy Casey - customarily very cautious and risk avoidant thought it was worth the 10 hour drive across four state lines. I took one look at my calendar and said "Nope. Can't do it." Everyone looked at me like I had two heads.

Fear certainly is a motivator in this case though not a prime motivator, I don't think. The prime motivator was looking forward to a short week long break from comedy and work. I will be taking a trip out of town, by myself, to a place where no one knows me. I'm going bike riding, picnicking and reading and my phone will be off until the first Friday in September. Nothing will distract me from my me time; not even the possibility of getting represented. Plus, I read once in "Kill'em and Leave" the James Brown biography that when Brown booked something, he kept that booking, even if another venue offered him more money for the same time slot. The hardest working man in showbiz made it a point to try to keep all the promises he made risking pneumonia at one point. In that same vein, I want to keep every promise I possibly can as well, even the promises I make to myself.

Yup, this is probably more true...

Perhaps fear is the prime motivator. I like to think that I stand on principle even when that principle ends up shooting me in the foot. For all I know, the talent emitted by our small, uneasy cadre is already too bright to keep us together for long. Am I the weakest link in the chain? Is that really my fear? Or am I more fearful that the principles I've chosen to live by - reliability, honesty, empathy, loyalty, ritual and work ethic are not the kinds of principles that maximizes comedic potential?

All that is bouncing around in my head making me feel worse about myself. That and the guilt of comparing myself to others despite expressing outwardly that comparison in the thief of joy. And boy it is a sneaky thief! I wish I could feel something as placid as envy towards my colleagues like, Hugh often expresses. But no, I can't feel any jealousy towards people I truly find talented and joyous. No all my anger and resentment is pointed inward - I hate myself for not being better at this than I currently am. I hate that I leave so little of an impression that people cease to remember my name despite my work ethic.

I've always said, I'm not looking to be famous; I'm not even looking to make a living doing standup - I just want to spread joy as much as I possibly can. Whatever that looks like is up to the fates.

Okay what kind of good happened yesterday? Well I ran 10 miles...well more like I hobbled along the lake front until I got blisters. Walking along the path, I couldn't help but notice everyone was fitter, taller and seemed happier than I was. I was carrying a ten pound backpack on me which prevented me from getting any real stride. I was at a sketch accountability brunch that morning (the first I had been to). I wanted to try my hand at it to see if Sketch Comedy is yet another muscle I can tone.

I think my premise was very solid; it's a riff off The Honeymooners taking place in Ancient Sumeria. The husband comes home to discover the wife had taken rancid water from the granary and served it to him out of spite for not fixing the granary roof. Meanwhile the neighbor eagerly drinks the water as they slowly come to the realization that they have collectively invented alcohol.

Let's see, my friend Aly also stopped by the mic last night so she got a glimpse of what I've been up to. That was nice. I also have the showcase I'm producing this weekend which I should be taking a bit more seriously. They guy doing my social media stuff is being a little slow on the advertising end. I need this showcase to be successful and by successful I mean everyone from regular comedians to non-profit people to friends and family need to be there in order for this to work. This event not only functions as a fundraiser that furthers a cause near-and-dear to my heart but will go a long way to cementing me as a producer who knows how to organize things.

Finally there's my last showcase before vacation. I should probably take this week to hone in on my tight 4 minutes. That's probably what I can do to truly distract myself from the exhaustive state that I am in. Gotta keep grinding, gotta keep going.

Pet Names?

I'm still unsure of what this is. I wanted this blog to be an intermediary between my personal journal (whose audience is presumably just me) and my joke writing (in which my audience is...well an audience). Thing is, the joke writing has been coming out a little more consistently and has been spilling into all of my notebooks, thanks to this new method I've adopted in my journal writing. The new method goes thusly: Write a few sentences on the following - what's weird, what's scary, what's stupid, what's hard. So far I've written something along those lines every day.

I can't be given credit for inventing this method - one of my comedian friends recommended it to me after reading it in a book. Since adapting it to my uses I've been able to at least come up with interesting concepts that have yielded tepid but solid responses.

For when Wordpress starts censoring your conspiracy theories....

Of course now since my journal is more joke-based than anticipated, I find myself bleeding my insecurities and troubles into this here blog a little more than I used to. Oh well, so long as I'm writing consistently that's all that matters. Plus I've been keeping things here mostly anonymous so, so long as I don't advertise the fact that I have a regular blog I should be fine. What am I talking about? This is blogspot...this forum is basically the Friendster of personal musings.

I went to two events last night - the first was a hastily put-together showcase that served more as a glorified mic. I arrived early (because of course I did) and was awarded with a "headlining spot," which in the realm of amateur comedy guarantees you're doing your bits to an audience of seven. Still I made the most of my situation joking that I'm so much of a rube that when the host told me I was headlining "I actually got excited!" It got laughs.

After a pretty good six minute set considering, I schlepted on over to one of the mics I regularly attend and focused on some of my new material. Most of it has to do with me stopping my drinking. The first time I did those jokes it was met with silence and indifference but at the mic I was at last night they did okay. Just goes to show you that when you have the wording and the confidence down, the joke tends to rise like dough yeast.

On Wednesday, one of my friends asked me why I stopped drinking. She seemed dumbstruck by the fact that a straight-laced guy like me would just end, what to her seemed like a social requirement and a way to have fun. Oh, to be young again. In the midst of conversation I let slip that I didn't even start drinking until I was 21 - she was appalled. "Of course you didn't! You are too much of an alien to not start until it was legal." Naturally, I was so offended by the comments that the next day I helped her with her resume...because that's how that works.

Naw, real reason I helped with the resume was because I feel it's one of the few things I know I have of value. I'm organized and I know how to wade through the hiring process with aplomb. I offered my services to other comedians in the past but so far this one we the first to take me up on it.

I really should start giving people pseudonyms. Okay - the resume comedian who kicks all kinds of ass I'm dubbing Shirley. My mic co-hosts I'll call Girl Casey and Guy Casey since they both share the same name anyway and I can't be alone in the confusion. Let's see...my sister from another mister I shall call Maisie because I've never met a Maisie and she's the type who needs an old-timey nickname (it was between Maisie and Esther...I think I made the right choice). As for the others, I don't know, I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

While at the second mic, Girl Casey went up and did a brand new set I've never seen before. It was based on a story she had told me and the result were brilliant. I was so happy to finally see that premise turned into a fully formed set - and it was so damn tight too! As big of a pain in the ass as she occasionally is (giggles), I'm so glad she's my co-host.

So who here is in therapy?

Oh, my friend...Hugh? Let's go with Hugh showed up to the mic last night. He had not been doing comedy for a while as he lives in the suburbs and can rarely afford to come on down much anymore. It was great seeing him if only for a few minutes. Last we spoke he was not in a good state of mind and kept talking about how there's no place for him in comedy. I told him the thing about comedy is there's a place for everyone! It's an island of misfit toys designed so people from drastically different backgrounds can meet each other. The only similarity we all have is the need to make people laugh and amazingly enough, that's enough to keep a since of camaraderie.

Finally my friend...Ethan, got picked for Second City Conservatory! Hell yeah! I actually like it when good things happen to good people - especially good people I know! Makes me think there really is justice in the world.

Twofold Path to Nipple Chaffing

Six comedians showed up to the mic on Sunday. It was so poorly attended that my co-host didn't even show citing a migraine as the culprit. I've completely lost the verve to push people to do what's necessary, so I just let it happen without much fanfare. At this point I feel a bit like the hen and the wheat - I ask for help when I must but when the wheat grows, I'll be the lone beneficiary of my labor.

In a way it feels kind of nice to know that most people's eyes are too big for their stomachs. Ambition is overrated - vision without discipline is just a recipe for false starts. Slow, steady, meticulous growth combined with grit and love is what make a vision reality. Another mic host told me something to that effect. He told me it took months before his was well attended. It took a lot of groundwork and consistency to get it to where it is today. I will follow suit and keep looking for ways of improving what I'm doing.

In the mean time, I've been running consistently again. 8 miles on Sunday, 6 miles on Tuesday then inching my way to that 10 and 11 mile marker by the weekend. I've caught myself keeping up which fills me with new-found confidence. I'm jogging slowly but steadily almost the entire time now which feels like a superpower!

The reasons I stop however are twofold: firstly, I get bored. You can only look at a far distant building for too long before your mind begins to wonder and I have to stop and check my phone for the hundredth time. Either that or I find myself stopping to look at something interesting such as a tree that's been growing around a fence or an odd looking lamppost. The second reason is a bit more serious - I find myself chaffing a lot; especially around the nipple area. To remedy this, I've been taking my shirt off somewhere around the three mile mark which helps. I'm still a little self-conscious about my body though, so sometimes I just keep the shirt on until I clomp through an empty street or something. Someone suggested band-aids to me but that just seems like a recipe for living the rest of my life as a Ken doll - sans nipples.

At this point I'm just ready to get this whole running thing over with. It's eating away too much of my time that I'd otherwise be spending on going to mics and looking for opportunities. Or heck, going to the movies again! I miss going to the movies! I haven't seen the new Quentin Tarantino movie nor Blinded by the Light, Midsommar, Rocketman, Toy Story 4! Toy Story 4 will be the first Pixar film I have not seen in theaters! That feels somehow wrong.

Mixed Blessings (and Drinks)

Guess it was good that I took a step back from planning every moment and instead just going with the flow of our new open mic. I and my two co-hosts stopped on by a little early and initially were elated by the influx of people. It was a good crowd - or so we thought. As we started counting the minutes to the mic it became abundantly clear why so many people were there.

Fun fact: did you know fantasy football season overlaps with actual football season? Yeah, who knew? Seems like a scheduling conflict to me but who am I to judge what sports fans do with their time. A crowd of seven backwards baseball hat wearing ultra-bros had made a bet the previous season whereby the dude with the lowest score I guess had to go up on an open mic. You know the thing a lot of us are trying to do for a living - yeah, they wanted to do it on a lark!

As the mic started, guess what; another group of five or so came on in the with the exact same plan. This, in addition to the usual drunks and weirdos that kill a decent mic on a good night, basically created a perfect s**t storm so profoundly ridiculous that it most certainly will wind up in a bit for at least one of us.

To their credit, my co-hosts did a great job holding their own amid the onslaught of jeers, epithets and drunken yelling. Between me and the bar owner, we had to break up two fights and kicked out another two people - the overlap unfortunately was not as vast between the four incidents as you would think. One woman tried to drunkenly grab the mic from one of the more seasoned comics creating a scene that would have made a sailor blush. Before the woman was kicked out, she whispered something racist to one of the drunken football guys creating another altercation.

The other fight occurred after the football guys had their fill of tequila shots and were on their way out. One of my co-hosts unwisely goaded one of them which prompted me, a 5'7" Puerto Rican to parse the room between two 6'3" men. Had one of them wanted to pick me up and throw me like a lawn dart they probably could have.

Amid all that chaos the actual comedians were not feeling the vibe and one of the names I recognized fled before he could go up. Another guy visiting from New York started his set saying "I've never felt so insecure in a room in my life." What's worse we only had three women go up. One was a poet, one was one of our co-hosts...not a great precedent.

On the positive side, now we know it can't get much worse and despite all the rigamarole we were complimented on how we handled most of the night by the bar owner. The man has a poker face but I have the feeling last night was one of the worst nights he's experienced which makes me feel better about the whole ordeal. Plus thankfully Fantasy Football season is finally over...right?

Not Succumbing to Old Habits

So in case it wasn't obvious from the last post I was vehemently pumped by the prospect of hosting a mic. Naturally, given my high-strung nature I took something good and started ruining it via the various tracks my mind can go in and the actions that I impulsively take.

Immediately after finding out the news that'd I'd be taking over 2 regular mics a week, I recruited 2 co-hosts and immediately started bombarding them with ideas, creating a work-flow, administering various duties and responsibilities, coming up with strategies on how to work out problems, theories on establishing a positive working environment, figuring out the logistics of our supplies...

Yeah, I'm hard to work with. I know I'm hard to work with because not only do I want to fastidiously plan for every single contingency, but I lack the basic social skills to finesse my various stratagems. Also I'm persistent, impulsive and easily get overwhelmed by my own machinations.

My co-hosts have been very patient with me thank God and haven't yet tied me to the back of a garbage barge and left me to the seagulls. Thankfully I realized in time that I was overwhelming literally everyone I came in contact with over the last few days and took a big step back. I know we all want the same things, my friends and I - we want to be successful and happy. But we all have different ways of achieving those ends and diversity of thought is always a good thing. More than anything I want to make sure they feel their input is being heard. Thus far the input I got was "shut the f**k up about the stupid mic." So I did for their sake and mine.

So I narrowly avoided one bad pattern of behavior that's gotten me into trouble in the past. Go me! That of course didn't stop me from indulging in other self-destructive behaviors. I asked out...a friend...again. Of course she said no - we're friends! Good friends that would make terrible bedfellows because we have too much in common. I knew this going in! Why did I do this? Because my ego was at an all-time high and on a subconscious level I needed to let some air out. So I did - I was disproportionately devastated and now I worry I may have jeopardized a rewarding personal and professional relationship.

In all likelihood I didn't, and I'm once again projecting and catastophizing for no reason. What's helped in not flinging me off the deep end is the fact that I stopped drinking. Man, saying that makes me sound like so much more of a badass than I really am. Like "I only stopped drinking only after I pile-drived into a flaming ping-pong table while doing Jager shots on the quad bruh." No I stopped because I'm boring and I've become a lot more comfortable with that fact.

Has the lack of drinking made me happier? No, but it is keeping me more attuned with my feelings; which in-turn provides more chances to put everything into perspective. Promise I'll go back to social drinking when I've figured my s**t out. For now, let me stare into the maw of undiluted clarity and truly soak in the confusion.

When Fate Throws You a Bone

I, am an obsessive. I know this, I've leaned into this. I've quelled a lot of demons being meticulous and fixating on the minutae to the dearth of other things that would otherwise melt my goddamn brain. Does that sometimes mean that I get blindsided by stuff I'm ignoring...perhaps. But other times I get blindsided by things that are overwhelmingly positive.

So in order to accentuate the positive I am writing with good tidings. I kid you now, there should be a big banner with the words "I'm f**king happy!" written in comic sans. Will it last? Not thinking about that...I'm not I swear.

It all started when a mic host announced on the social media groups I frequent announced he was not going to have enough time for the mics and would like to pass the torch. I had not been to the mic in months as the room was a little scattershot via the audience, the mic size and the reception. Still, I put my hat in the ring thinking little of it. I've only been doing this a year and some change and I'm not exactly a well known comic around these parts. I kinda just wanted to push myself a little - Worst case I've started the process of inoculating myself against professional rejection as opposed to audience rejection. "Thank you for submitting your clip to our showcase but we hate you go away." Cool.

To my surprise the interview process was one simple question: "do you have an amp and a mic?" "Yes" (I didn't at the time but what's a fib amongst comics). "Cool, you start tomorrow."

And just like that, I'm thrust into hosting two mics! Immediately I recruited two of my friends to co-host and made new posters I can add to social media to advertise...you know because the first thing a kid does when his dad builds him a club house is he designs the flag.

My mind was aflutter with ideas on how it was to be run. A jovial space for comedians to try out new things in front of a supportive crowd. An ideal first-timers paradise where I and my co-hosts would keep the energy up with nonsensical rigmarole. At our mic, I'd shake hands with every comedian who was to perform - make them feel welcome, get them talking about who they are what they're about and mold the space slightly so they can be that person.

I waddled into the establishment like an emperor penguin completely oblivious to the smack at the back of the head I was about to receive from the bar owner. Apparently there was bad blood between the former host and the owner. Bad blood which necessitated him to bolt in the night leaving me holding the proverbial bag.

I'll serve you, but I don't have to like you...

Long story short, bar owner calls the shots. We start the mic when he says, we bump comics when he wants us to and patrons who heckle are tolerated so long as they're patrons with money. So much for the egalitarian dream.

Still, nothing was going to wreck my mood. Even when the cheap guitar amp I had boosted started to fizzle and pop, I was busting my way through my first hosting job like I had been asked to sub for Conan. As one of my friends said after the night was over, "you had bits on bits on bits and they all were landing." I even kept the owner at bay. Usually he hovers around the mic like a rain cloud. I didn't make him laugh I don't think but t least I didn't make him shout.

The next mic he wasn't even there, though to be fair, neither were a lot of comics. It was an intimate crowd of about a dozen but 2 from the Friday mic returned for the Sunday mic...a good sign in my book. It means despite bending to the whims of a despot, we managed to keep things welcoming and fun.

Hosting a mic wasn't even a goal for me this month. Hell it wasn't even a goal for me this year! I always knew it was beneficial because of the crowd interaction, stage time and connections but I never once assumed anyone would give me the reins to an established mic as a guest-host let alone the new permanent host! Just goes to show you the unexpected doesn't always have to be bad.

Also I bought an amp and mic so no more sounding like we're hosting the mic from the bottom of a well.

Bad Day Bad Date

Did you really have a bad day, or did you have a bad ten minutes you milked for the whole afternoon. No Debra, I had a bad day. The day actually started yesterday with the disappearance of my wallet. I was on the northbound 44. Someone boosted it as I was getting off the bus. I know this because today it was recovered by CTA sans credit cards. Luckily I was aware of the stolen wallet almost immediately and cancelled everything ensuring the only thing they wasted was my time. Still, the day was a constant back-and-forth between home, work and downtown to get my banking situation and CTA card stuff figured out. I got to work an hour late but I'm finally situated.

I must have clocked 16 miles on my bike before I finally got home. I practiced my set in the mirror before heading off to a first date that wound up never happening. Out of the seven dates I've gone on since I've started the whole online thing, the woman has shown up three times. Three! This time she was courteous enough to send a message I didn't get an hour and a half before the date saying "Don't hate me but I'm feeling sick and can't make it." Guess it's my fault for not checking the profile I've been avoiding interacting with because I f**king hate online dating. I simply said, "no hate. Just indifference and disappointment. Good night."

Rude? Perhaps. What I really wanted to say is I don't like flakes. What I really wanted to say was while she was arguing to herself about whether the date was too out of range for a weekday, I waited at the restaurant for an hour rearranging the silverware. I wanted to tell her to get bent. I have better things to do than deal with someone with no character and a lack of backbone.

I'm done dating for a while I think. There's one more bullet in the chamber as it were when it comes to dates and I'll decide in the morning whether or not I'm just going to tell her to buzz off before I get hurt again. Why does it have to be like this? Why do we constantly thrust ourselves into the abyss hoping that someone will hear our call for company and good feeling? And like, I get it - women have to contend with the possibility of creeps, cretins and criminals on a much vaster level than men do but it really is an abyss over on this side of the gender equation. A big fat zero.

I don't want to do this anymore!! Not ever! At this point my attraction to women is at an all time low. I'd rather stick my tongue into a curling iron than go on another date even if there's a guarantee that she'll actually show up. There's nothing left for me in the world of dating. So I need to find something else to occupy my lifetime.

The Grind

In trying to keep a positive perspective on things, I've dulled some of the anguish that is usually associated with depression - some of it. I've been working fastidiously to keep on my path, not wavering for anything with the exception of running ten miles a day because f**k that. At this point I'm pretty comfortable with the fact that I'll be walking most of the marathon - so long as I get a new pair of running shoes. Otherwise, I'm not taking many shortcuts in my...recovery?...Goal for maintenance?...Just regular life because everyone I know is struggle-bussing through life? I don't know what this is yet.

People keep telling me I'm looking good, or doing a lot of work on myself and they appreciate it. I don't know about all that. My motivation isn't to become a healthier person or a better person but just to be a person I can stand. I often think about the people I would like to be - warm, welcoming, funny, strong-willed, quick and gracious. So far, I barely have the "funny" part down.

On the positive side I have a few showcases coming up. My goal for the year was just one so the fact that I have one this coming week, another at the end of the month and the last a few days after that is evidence that progress is being made. As I stated in my previous post, when I have data to prove improvement, it's hard to be that down on yourself.

I've been working on cobbling together a strong 7-minute set and so far I have the flow and rhythm of a 10-minute that needs to be whittled away and tightened. It's become abundantly clear that I am a big fan of the obscene and gross. What's also clear is my phrasing and references are a little too high minded and/or pedantic for the subject matter. Oh well, a comedian friend motivated me by saying I'm an acquired taste and there's nothing wrong with that.

Another comedian I had met last week let me in on some of her writing habits which (if you think mine are too much) are pretty elaborate. I usually create my set as a pretty straight forward list of jokes with tags:

South Side Chicago

|

Weight Loss

|

Dating Habits

|

Catdog

|

Cockroach

She does it more like a tree whereby if one joke doesn't work she knows how to read the audience to get the whole set back on track:

Pumpkins

_____|_____

Reverse Racism                    Brain Candy

|                            |

Grease 2----          Media Marketing

\             |

Yoga Pants 

|

Work/Life Balance

After I'm done with my latest projects, I'll take a look at creating a little something like this. This seems dependent on real audiences and tried and true bits as opposed to city open mics where you're often in a room full of indifferent comedians. I've found that while my highly regimented, constantly shifting approach is good for me, it's not exactly conducive to creating good relationships with "the room". I'm always trying new things instead of fine-tuning what I know works so as a result I can tell a lot of comedians and mic hosts who know me but don't "know" me are rolling their eyes every time I go up. It'd help if I talked to them I know but I'm still far too shy. Oh well, hard to keep down someone who won't give up.