I don’t want what I have I don’t think, but the only reason I want everything else is because I don’t have it anymore. I’m angry and scared.
I should just say what I want. No compromising anymore. Just say it. Just say it. Just SAY IT.
Because I’ll get my answer if I say it. Stop pretending. Stop pretending like it’s gonna just happen one day. Go get it. Go get it. Stop just sitting there and dying for something that isn’t even that great.
Why do people keep asking me if I’ll hate them if they don’t go to something we’ve planned?
I’m generally annoyed. I am allowed to think you’re a flake. But no I’m not gonna “hate” you?
“omg, are you gonna hate me if I don’t do this?” Who are your friends, girl? Who is making you think I’m gonna fucking hate you? Why would you believe that? Then it puts me in an awkward position, to feel bad, without having done anything
One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone says, “I can’t make it anymore,” but then I spot them on Instagram having a blast somewhere else. It’s like, really? You could have made it; you just chose something else over our plans. Honestly, I couldn't care less that you found something more exciting to do! Just be upfront with me—instead of saying “can’t,” say something like, “I got invited to this other thing and I’d really love to go; can we reschedule?” It’s so much more genuine and saves the annoyed and nasty feeling in my gut.
My boyfriend and I have been dating for over 5 years. His name will be Rio.
When we first crossed paths, I was doing my first-ever stand-up comedy show in a tiny little mountain town. I had been doing open mic night for a two months and landed my first opening gig. He was on a first date.
In comedy, you usually dont get an opening spot in your first two months. so how did I? I matched with the headliner on Tinder and asked to be on. Whatever. Sue me incels.
I was so excited for this show that I told every breathing soul about the show. I worked many odd jobs so you could find me at the mountain shop, a local dive bar, and a golf club. Anyone that would listen to a perky 22 year blonde (wasn't tough actually...) knew about the show.
Let me step back a little bit. When I first decided I wanted to do stand up comedy, I googled it. Plain and simple. "How to become a stand up comedian" and the results were flooded by many men (statistically there were other genders too, but lets all be honest on this ratio) "explaining" to me how to do it. At the time, I was happy to listen/read. I did this because I was in the middle of breaking up with a boy I moved across the country with. He found some rock climber that was shorter than me and younger too. And I have one rule in life, don't date rock climbers. Let them have each other. (Actually, i have two rules. the other one is don't trust mustard)
But anyways, Google. One article I read said "Do you have a favorite comedian? Okay. They probably wrote a book about themselves. Read that" and I am sure it had a few other steps but I was undiagnosed ADHD. Im a "first step and figure it out" kind of girl. At the time, I was really into Parks & Recreation. So I looked up Amy Poehler. She had written an amazing book called "Yes, Please" which I do implore any young female comics to read. As I read about Amy's journey from a little girl to a phenomenally accredited writer and comic, I found similarities in our path: all the way up until she joined an improv troupe. So, once again, I went to Google and looked up "Improv Classes near me" and of course, there were a few options of men ready and willing to teach this stepping stone path and class. (no offense to my troupe, they were actually the best people for me to meet and were hilarious in every way).
I immediately signed up and went to my first class: I thought this was going to be a great pilot episode of a TV show by the way (an improv tv show?! how original!)
The troupe I joined was a motley crew, a cast of characters straight out of a sitcom: Brett, the fedora-wearing leader with a passion for comic books; Mandy, the 8th-grade math teacher who'd soon marry her girlfriend; Heather, who looked amazing in leggings and was still funny; Tracy, the elderly Jewish woman who'd danced in New York City; Dan, a red-headed game designer, and luis-- literally just a blind guy that came to three practices.
We performed together, the energy electric until the theater owner's arrest in a sting operation shattered our dreams (fuck him, he was a pedo). But the comedy bug had bitten me hard. I transitioned to stand-up, honing my jokes at open mics, testing material on unsuspecting customers at my various odd jobs. Strangers laughed, and for the first time, I felt seen.
My family never laughed at my jokes (shocker!) I was the youngest of 3, the only girl. My brothers, now they were funny. Most of their conversations were quoting movies and tv shows. Scrubs was our favorite. I probably shouldn't have been watching it when I did, but oh well, now I'm funny. (Thanks Bill Lawerence).
So now, when strangers laughed, it was a wild high I kept wanting to chase. I always wanted to be something like a rock star. But I couldn't play guitar, danced without rhythm, was incredibly tone deaf, and acting was a death sentence. But I had jokes. Dumb jokes, but they were there. And they were working.
The night of my first show, the crowd's energy was palpable. The host, a bit of a dork with too big of an ego for his britches, couldn't hold a candle to the anticipation building in the room. When he took the stage, my friends started chanting my name, their voices echoing through the club. I couldn't believe it. A wave of pure joy washed over me as I stepped into the spotlight.
Truly, if you can, get a room of 100+ people to chant your name. Any suicidal tendencies you may have will instantly go away I promise. I went up, did my set, and had about 46 beers paid for at the bar for me. The host pulled me aside and said "don't think because you told all your friends to come that you're a big deal." I don't remember a lot from the remainder of that night, but I do remember thinking "I probably just paid the club's utility bills" with the amount of revenue they got from the bar sales. (also, producers, not a great idea to shame the person who packed out your room. Also, pay them! Dick)
I know what you're thinking. Isn't this about how you and Rio met? Yes. Still is. But as you can read, I was really focused on how awesome that feeling was and how much fun I was having. It was the start of something in my life. And Rio, was in the crowd, on a first date with some other girl.
I like to imagine he was sitting with her, and when I came out on stage he got stars in his eyes like Knives from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Rio was there, sitting across from another girl, but his eyes were on me, whispering, "Who is that?" as his date rolled her eyes. A week later, he showed up at open mic.
But that night, in that packed club, I was focused on the thrill of the stage, the laughter echoing in my ears. Rio was just a face in the crowd, a spark waiting to ignite. It was probably the best night of my life in this new town.
I do stand-up comedy, and I need to start writing more. I think I will try on Tumblr, even if I am just writing to the void. I just ask that when you read, know it is a process and also my craft. So basically, please don't say mean things (my heart is sensitive online for some reason) and don't steal it (I do actually make a living doing this believe it or not...)
But i want to use the space to get jumbled up thoughts out in the open and out of my head. It wont always be funny, or sad, or good. But I hope the slight public version will push me to do better than a note in my phone
