It is not easy. But, when it’s good, it’s really fun. When’s it bad, it’s like being on the Roosevelt High Cheerleading Squad. That reference is so Fresno-centric. What I mean to say is, I feel great one night and horrible the next. It is *murderous* on self-esteem and even though I only fluctuate between awesome and melancholy (as opposed to awesome and suicidal), I could use a little more stability and should probably not find validation in a crowd’s reaction to me.
And yet I do.
I’m going to keep doing it, because I think I have good comedic timing. I think I’m funny. My friends think I’m funny. I like the spotlight. Strangers compliment me. I like to make people laugh. I can be self-deprecating. I like attention. Even for stupid things I have done.
But, tonight didn’t go so well.
In fact, it didn’t go well twice.
I know it’s something most people wouldn’t do. I also watch a lot of people bomb night after night. It’s hit or miss. New crowds are great because I know they’ve never heard my material. But, if I know there is one person in the audience who has heard my joke…I get super nervous. And it shows.
I was told to tape record my sets and listen to them. It’s great.
If there’s a laugh track.
Tonight, there was silence. And all I remember are lights shining down at me, mocking me. They said: “You’re not funny. This is stupid. Nobody cares that you’re divorced. That makes you pathetic, not funny.”
Those lights were real assholes, right?
Maybe those were the voices of doubt in my head. My head voices are assholes.
I know why I hear them, though. I made several bad decisions, all in a row and I’m not sure I can make good ones anymore. I mean, I’m sure I have the capacity to make good decisions, I just don’t believe in myself anymore.
And I think if I can be good at this one thing: comedy, I can be good again.