I’m embarrassed to post things on the Internet. I’ll admit it. Each time I send something in, or make a Facebook update, or log into Twitter, it doesn’t matter how, I always feel a little self-conscious about it. I don’t like feeling obligated to tell everyone what’s going on all the time. I know that’s a little odd for a comic to admit, being that I’m supposed to readily tell you everything that’s in my head, but for me, that’s on stage. I also know that I hardly ever update my column, something that’s an outlet that some very good friends gave me as both a favor and a responsibility, one that I should want to fulfill. It’s easy to say that I’m embarrassed to tell you guys about myself. I could just as easily say that I’m lazy, which is also true. I’ve been playing quite a few shows lately and really haven’t had much time to myself, but really, how long does one of these posts take? You know damn well this is the only draft I wrote and just immediately sent this in with the arrogant fervor of a know it all prick. Maybe that’s it: I really just think I’m too good for this shit, and I compensate for that with an inferiority complex. Yes, I’m embarrassed to put myself out there. I compensate for that with standup. I compensate for everything with standup. It gives me purpose. I really just want to be a good comic, and then let that dictate my place in wherever I am in the universe. Hopefully, nobody there asks me to do my act for them in public when I’m not on stage. I fucking hate that shit. I really do. Why do I have to do it? Am I not good enough to do it, or should the person asking me to stop what I’m doing to perform for them on the spot have the respect to see me in the proper environment? Granted, if you’re a hot woman, I’m probably already using my material in the conversation that we’re having. But for the rest of you, really, and though I can’t speak for other people, I would rather you see me on stage. I think that’s only fair. Anyway, I hope you guys have a great 4th of July. Thanks a lot for reading, and I’ll see you on the circuit.

I’ve realized that a lot of my articles have to do with problems I have in standup as a new comedian. Open mics, bringer shows, last comic standing, cliché jokes, parents threatening to cut me off, you know, all that shit. But what about the accomplishments? What about the good times? What can I learn from those? Recently, I had a really great set and even earned some cash. Nothing big, barely covered parking, but it was nice. On the way to the show, a girl I’d been seeing broke up with me over text message and I not only managed not to let it bother me, but I also turned it into my first joke. The whole thing felt like a quelling of the usual voices in my head that question my every action. But later on, the questions came.

Was it just because the room was warm? Was it because I went up over an hour into the show? Did the last guy do so well, that as long as I didn’t forget anything, I was okay? Did it even matter? I don’t know if you can relate to this, but I am a very harsh critic and very capable of destroying myself at any moment. The slightest bit of doubt can put me in an introverted state where I just walk circles in my head. So as soon as I started evaluating the night, I forgot about good: the income, the laughs, the comfort. Instead, I decided that anyone with any joke could have killed in that setting. Maybe that’s true, but it’s also that self-doubt that makes me not want to go to open mics to try out new things. It’s what makes me wonder if I’m even doing the right thing, AND THIS FROM A GOOD NIGHT!

Another cliché I’m running into in my writing is the ending always being the same: keep working, keep writing, and keep showing up. It’s as though each thesis is “What the fuck am I doing?” and each conclusion is, “Quit my bitching; go back to work.” But maybe that’s a good thing. I need to defy those internal self-defeating voices if I ever want to have another killer paid set. Also, I should probably just quit my bitching. See you on the circuit!

Buddy Hackett

A friend from work told me about how he got to see Buddy Hackett perform in Vegas for the last time in 1996. I was confused because I didn’t think he had died until recently. After doing some research, or checking Wikipedia as it’s known more colloquially, I discovered Buddy Hackett had quit performing regularly in ’96 due to stage fright. Stage fright?! How is that possible? This is Buddy Hackett: purveyor of blue! You know, The Love Bug guy (whoever worked at Disney at the time knew how to cast against type)! How could THE Buddy Hackett suffer from stage fright? He claimed it came from the side effects of a surgery he had, and that makes sense, but still. The experience alone means I should be a better comic in my seventies than I am now in my twenties, and not just because of the old people jokes.

The thing is that I still get butterflies in my stomach before I get up. I was sort of hoping they’d dissipate by now after two years, and while they don’t come on as strong as they used to, they still happen. This is another thing experience should take care of, but I’ve also heard long time comics say that they still get the nerves, performance anxiety, stage fright, whatever you want to call it. A lot of those guys say that the day they don’t get that feeling is probably their last day performing, because it means that standup doesn’t mean anything to them anymore. Physically, they are not compelled.

For Christ’s sake, I hope that’s not true. Jesus, how many articles in a row is this where I speak about the shitty sides of comedy? Between confidence, nerves, open mics, bringer shows, cliché jokes, exactly what the hell am I supposed to find? I’m hoping for a point of comfort. I’m getting there, again, with time, effort, and patience. It just scared me that Buddy Hackett of all the people had something as debilitating as stage fright hit him so late in his career. As I mentioned earlier, he associated it with side effects of surgery. So, once again, the conclusion I’ve drawn is that I should probably just quit my bitching and get back to work. See you on the circuit!

Confidence

In the last few weeks, I’ve hit a sort of rut that can only be defined as a serious lack of self-confidence. I get incredibly frustrated over my lack of perfection when I’m on stage, but I keep forgetting that perfection is not the point. It’s about the process and the development of my stage persona. But I want the answer and I want the answer now! To which question? Obviously, how can I reach my creative zenith? I know this sounds like bullshit, but I really want to discover is that which makes me unique.

I can’t put that search on overkill: I find I take comedy way too seriously on those nights when it’s just not quite there. Not necessarily a bomb, but not 100%. I’m a control freak, but I have to remember that there are so many variables that it’s difficult enough just to balance them all, from the material to the audience. Seeking perfectionism not only means that I’m chronically dissatisfied, but it also means that I’m not aware of what’s going on around me. My act is no longer organic if I place too much weight on getting it just perfect. I have to remember to just relax, trust myself, and be there. Who knows: perhaps if I applied that mode of thinking to women, I’d get laid more often. Probably not, but a man can dream.

What I’m looking for is something to which there is no finite answer, at least not one that anyone else can just “give” me. I’ll have to find it myself with the confidence to do so. Again, this might all just be bullshit. All comics possess confidence, and even I show it each time I get up. Now I just have to get used to trusting myself at all times as though it were normal.

Law School

As a comedian, I face a lot of doubt. People hear I’m a comedian and immediately beg me to do my act for them. My family is pretty much convinced I’ve given up on every talent I’ve ever previously displayed in life, from academics to music. So whenever my family asks me about my comedy career, and I’m honest about how much of a struggle it is, they always suggest I go to law school. And this is probably due to my lack of age and experience, but when did law school become the academic answer to the perennial question, “What the hell am I doing with my life?”

If you’re considering going to law school, don’t do it, no matter how much your family pressures you. I used to work at a law firm, and it scammed its customers into purchasing Home Loan Modifications. The scam worked in a way that the firm would take people’s money, and not process any of their paperwork. Enter me, the schmuck looking to make a buck. I was hired under the guise of a high paying salary. Never mind the bleeding I had to stop.

The clients were dicked around so much that one client threatened to bring me, the newly hired customer service agent, to the Federal Trade Commission. I treated the incident positively: I got to learn what the Federal Trade Commission was, and also that the client was full of shit. The last time I was home, I told my family this whole story and all they had to say was, “Well, has this helped you consider going to law school?” Have you been listening to me? I just told you about the absolute worst professional experience of my life, and now, you want me to get a degree in it.”