That's my time!

Happy Anniversary to me!  Cue the inspirational Chariots of Fire music.  Today marks the day I took my first fearful steps onto a dark stage in Indianapolis for my very first stand-up comedy show.  It was an open mic competition at the city's longest standing comedy club and I was delighted to have 5 of my friends there to witness.  As I hit the spot and took the mic, flooded by the spotlight, my eyes went blind and my mind nearly blacked out as well.  For three minutes I talked through the jokes I had memorized, as if I hadn't.  In those moments, the laughter soothed my tensions as I began to realize this may be the thing I've been looking for.   I'd like to go on like this was some epic event, but it was just last year.  ...and the music stops. 
Sitting in the Finals, for my second show ever, I sat off stage with another new comic with whom I struck up a conversation.  It was only his third time doing stand-up, but he hesitated when I originally asked "How long have you been doing this?"  He had done it a long time ago and didn't feel that it went very well, so he gave up and didn't come back for years.  How crushing, I thought.  What a dangerous line of work (or hobby, as it were) that you could be so devastated that you would give up after one experience.
Lucky for me I have a group of faithful friends whom I secretly credit with my "success." They came to that first show, and almost every show since.  Rowdy and obnoxious when they need to be, they make me look hilarious on stage, popular off stage, and keep me humble everywhere else.  The crowd feels so much more approving, so better entertained when these guys and girls are in it.  It is what keeps me coming back.  Now the 5 have grown to a massive fan base of maybe 6 or 7 and my popularity as a local comedian couldn't be more solid than it is now.  Well...maybe getting paid for shows would solidify my success as a comic.  Or traveling.  Traveling to do shows for people who have heard of me.  That would make me feel really successful.  But anyway, they've been a huge part of my miniscule career, hobby really, and that means a lot to me.
Today I sit on the beach in St. Petersburg, Fl as part of the 4 day Clean Comedy Challenge.  At least 3 sets, 4 if I become a finalist.  So basically 3 sets.  I am here without my aforementioned fan base, performing in front of professionals and mostly strangers.  I am so thrilled to have my family here, experiencing the stand-up comedian Steve Jerk for the first time.  But, they have not been trained to laugh obnoxiously on cue.  In fact, they might be expecting punch lines and funny jokes, which worries me a bit.  Nonetheless, it is sentimentally significant for them to be here as I celebrate my first year of comedy.  Nevermind the lost hopes and dreams of their son being a well educated working professional.  They left their jobs, their responsibilities at home, and dropped several k to be here.  And for that, I am deeply indebted.  Seriously, I think I'm in over my head. 
Alas, what a year it has been!  I've placed in several competitions since that first fateful night.  I don't call myself an open micer, since I've had a paid gig.  I've headlined, believe it or not, for a crowd of educated folk.  That was also a paid gig, so I will double brag about that one.  I was cast in a television pilot and later this year I will make my big screen debut in an indie film shot in Chicago.  Did I mention business cards yet?  Yeah., I have business cards now, so that officially makes me somebody.  Not bad for a guy who has only existed for a year!  For now the monstrous task remains of finding out exactly who and what is Steve Jerk.  I am certain that the journey will, for most of us, be a very entertaining one.  And if it isn't, fake it.  Please, for heaven's sake, fake it. 

Writer's Luck

It has been a busy few months lately, mostly for all the wrong reasons.  I have been spinning my wheels on a variety of projects I have no interest in.  Nothing creative, just busy work.  And it seems the goals I care most about get left behind.  I finally had enough of it yesterday and threw caution to the wind.  Fortunately neither the caution nor the wind were harmed.   And I discovered that in about an hour's time I could get something going that I had given up on.  So that was nice.  Now back to being busy for something stupid.  The funny thing is, I am constantly interrupting my stupid busy work with some little tidbit for comedy.  Some off-topic thought creeps into my busy day and I can't turn it off.  I've determined to get this stuff done, because it has to be done. 
In less than one week I journey off to Florida to compete in the Clean Comedy Challenge.  I'm looking forward to this tremendously, a break from the routine at home, and a chance to visit family at long last.  With barely enough time to unpack, I'll have another show at the casino back home after I return.   I'd feel better about both of these if I had about a month to prepare new material.  But I have not spent any time working on it.  Intentionally.  The funny thing is, the busier I am, the more I tend to write.  It has always been my favorite pastime and procrastination tactic.  And in the midst of it all, I may have found the first joke that best embodies my yet undeveloped style.  It is a joke that is funny, straight from the heart, and just the right kind of edgy.  If it hits people just right, it will leave them seeing the world through my eyes, laughing the whole way through, and slightly disturbed.  I hope to have it polished off enough to show the pros next week, then again at the casino, and hopefully it will be perfected in time for the Benefit Gala in October.  If it survives all three crowds, then I'll know I've found my style.  If not, well, back to the drawing bored. 

Finding the right spot

So, I am trying to carve out my "niche" and I am finding a few unique opportunities to help me in that endeavor.  I should stop there and say the word "niche" sounds too business-y.  I keep using words like "center" and "niche" because it seems strange to talk about my "voice" as something that eludes me, but it does.  I tell jokes for a response.  The fact is, I can recite a knock-knock joke that would crack you up, but it is not the same as me writing a joke you could never have possibly heard before, and then telling it to you.  I guess it is like having the author read his book to you.  Every little nuance in his voice, and movement on his face gives a little more meaning to the words, that wasn't on the pages.  Add to that if he was reading his auto-biography!  Now we've got raw emotion -the most direct version of the story you can get!
So finding my voice has been a frustrating journey for me, because it deviates so much from the "just-be-funny" expectation I had about comedy.  I wrote one-liners and puns, and topical jokes to get a laugh.  Now I am not happy with just getting a laugh.  I want to make sense of my experiences and grow as a person.  I have to find meaning in the world around me.  And I have to share it.  Being funny is the natural part, hopefully. I've been surprised to find how little funny has to do with comedy.  Being consistent on stage, easy to relate to, completely brutally honest, and maybe even over the top.  These things are crucial to an act, but don't seem to be that easy to pull off everyday.
In my search for this specificity, I have found some groups and competitions to help me along the way.  In July, I hope to attend the Clean Comedy Challenge where I will not only lose another competition, but I will get back up on my feet a little bit smarter than before.  Something the winner might not get to do.  I've shared before my propensity to write jokes that are not up to my own standards.  Occasionally one or two slip into a set and I don't realize why it didn't work until afterwards.  Thankfully (because audiences can sniff out insincerity) these jokes do terribly, even in a comedy club.  But really, even these mishaps wouldn't disqualify me from the CCC.  They would keep me from being funny, though.  The challenge here, of course is in the Comedy part of the challenge and not the Clean part.
The better part of the challenge is to be more than just the clean comedian, a category I have the luxury of monopolizing in most of the venues I frequent.  That won't help me stand out.  My uniqueness will depend on how well I present my thing -my style, my humor- to the judges.  Now all I have to do is figure out what that is.

Material Blessings

Today started out normal enough.  I woke up around 2:00pm, stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the light.  Disoriented and longing for more sleep, I turned on the water to the shower and didn't quite process what happened next.  I knew, intuitively, that something was wrong but I couldn't register exactly what it was.  I pushed on with my early morning shower plans, since I had a big day ahead of me.  There was the 3:00 meeting which I wanted to be clear-headed for, then a little bit of down time for writing my set, then another brief meeting, run out to my son's basketball game, and keep heading south for the show at the club downtown.   My little downtime was not sufficient for writing a set of new material, but it would have to do, since there were other more pressing things to take care of today.  I disrobed what little was left, and stepped into a dry shower.  Baffled, I reached to turn the water on, only to find it was.  You know that sinking feeling that hits you when you remember the thing that you kept meaning to do, but forgot, and now it's too late?  That sensation that runs through your body like cold water mixed with a splash of self-loathing and regret?   Yeah, THAT, was the only thing showering me this morning.  Has it been that long since I paid the water bill?  Apparently.  What's better is that every minute of the rest of the afternoon, I kept forgetting that the water was off, so I started my routine sans douche, only to realize that the deposit I had made in the toilet would be there for awhile, my hands would bear the evidence, and my dishes, drinks and oral hygiene would only serve as painful reminders of both my waterlessness and poor short term memory. 
It takes way too long to realize that the remedy for my situation has to be swift, since the rest of the day is already packed.  I rushed out the door, thirsty, unclean and generally malodorous.  Lucky for me, I was headed to the city utilities office, so I fit in pretty well.  Naturally, the line wrapped around the waiting area and backed up to the entrance doors.  Even worse, the line wasn't moving a bit.  I stood in line, like so many others, losing patience.  Some left, which was the only reason the line moved at all.  Meanwhile, someone somewhere was having a great, late afternoon lunch or perhaps a delightful conversation at the office water cooler rather than working at the front desk. I've never understood the purpose of this desk.  Apparently, we have to wait in line -to tell someone what we need- who can do nothing about it.  It is her job to listen and ask lots of questions, then promptly tell us to sit down and wait for someone else to help us.  There were a handful of these "someone elses" sitting at their desks with nothing to do, because the useless woman at the desk was not there to tell people she can't help them.  After several people began yelling, one of the genius someones decided perhaps she could do the thing she would have done if the woman was there to tell her to do it, and she began to help the people waiting in line.  Glorious.
Excruciating as it was, my two and a half minute task was handled in under an hour and I was off to my 3:00 meeting with the hope that at some point I might get to have a shower before show time. 
Meeting went well, and I rushed home to wait for the next brief meeting, which was coming to my apartment.  15 minutes late, but otherwise the second meeting went well.  Money was handed to me, which always lifts my spirits.  By the time the water was back on I had no time for a shower, lest I miss my son's game.  So off I went, hastily grabbing my notebook and a few bits I had started while pacing around the apartment waiting.  I caught just a few shots, gave a high five and a few congratulatory hollers before I had to leave the game, waiting until the last possible moment to run into the club for the pre-show meeting.
Typically I have an idea of jokes I want to try out, usually arranged in some order that makes sense, so that my set can flow naturally. Tonight, I had just a few jokes, not nearly enough, and none of it had any flow to it.  By this point, it really should have been memorized well enough to deliver naturally.  Instead, it is scribbled onto a notepad which I bring on stage with me for the inevitable moment I freeze.  It happens, as I expected, but not until the very last joke. I had prepped the audience for the first of two successive punch lines, but realized that the second would not have impact because I had failed to set up the (callback) joke earlier in the set.  It was too late.  My big ender was going to fall flat.  I paused to read my notes, hoping there was something I could pull out to close instead.  Nothing.  I put my energy into the last punch, impersonating a fictitious bank teller-from-the-future with all the enthusiasm I could muster, and said my good-byes. 
It was a contest night and I had decided to cancel my set twice already, then changed my mind.  With all the turmoil today, it just didn't make sense to spend the time and gas going to a club that wasn't going to pay me to deliver a set I hadn't prepared.  They called my name to mediocre applause and, moments later, announced it again as a finalist.  Some of the comics sharing the stage with me tonight are guys (and a girl) I have watched many times over.  Respected, trusted, and extremely talented.  It is an honor just to be on the stage with them, but to be singled out among them, really surprised me.  My first thought was, O crap, I've got to clear my schedule next week.  I had decided to focus on another show coming up, and not ask my friends to come out to another show, since so many are planning to attend the "big one" next week at the casino.  Now, the stakes are raised and I've got the Finals, just two days before the big casino show, and I have no idea how I even landed this opportunity.  Glorious.

Pretends

Funny thing is, just this time yesterday, I received a congratulatory email that I have been casted in a pilot for a TV show based in Indianapolis.   Unlike the Irish lottery emails that congratulate me, I actually had heard of this project before, because I did actually audition for it last week.  This was my first audition for any acting gig since high school.   I had planned on not getting the part. In fact, I have set up several such auditions just simply to practice and meet people in the industry.  It is a funny and dangerous thing to expect things to not work out, I am learning.  How to gracefully decline?  I had to ask some friends for help on this one.  Meanwhile I seem to be burning bridges before I knew I'd built them.  Note to self; don't audition for stuff you can't/don't want to do.  
The crux of the problem is this; The gig was acting, which is something I at least would like to try.  But it was not the kind of project that I want to be involved in.  I could guess from the name that the series was going to deal with material that is beyond my moral boundaries.  Not wanting to jump to conclusions, or be judgemental, I decided to go through with the audition.  The audition script, in fact, was not objectionable.  The sight-reading script, however, was very objectionable and, though my character was not reading any of those lines, I still would not want to be part of the project.  No worries, I thought.  I'm an amateur and they won't want to cast me anyway.  WRONG.
I am content to live without success in acting, comedy, or any pursuit for that matter.  I am not content to live a life that is not sincere and true to myself.  I do not want to be someone else just for a gig.  I would rather be rejected because of who I am, than have success for being who I am not.  Sounds simple, but in this industry it is easy to sell out.  After all, acting is about pretending to be someone else.  Once again, I find myself asking questions I cannot answer and pondering the complexities of a world I do not understand.  

Online Date

I've recently begun a social experiment* in which I am the lab rat.  I set out on this adventure to learn a thing or two about love, life, and women.  Unfortunately, I think I may have lost more than I've found along the way.  Take, for example, the awkward first meeting, after weeks of chatting, texting and phone calls.  There she was, lost and alone crossing the street in front of the restaurant where I had arranged for us to meet.  I shot a glance of recognition her way, hoping to have it returned, but instead, as she turned her head toward me, I could see that she was on the phone.  Since my phone was in my pocket, distinctly NOT ringing, I knew right away she wasn't on the phone with me.  We paused together as our trajectories converged and shared a moment of not talking to one another.  Things were off to a bizarre start already.  As I stood there, I expected to hear an excited dismissal of the phone conversation.  Something like "Oh my gosh, here's here and he DOES look just like a younger Brad Pitt!  Girl!  He's even hotter than I expected!!!  I gotta go, I'll call you when we're done!" with girlish squeals exchanged in the process.  Nope. 
Instead what I heard was something much more serious, "Well you know better than that and you've going to have to fix it when Mommy gets home.  And you better be in a good mood too, or you'll have even more..." 
"Hey!"  I said, making sure she knew without me saying that I'm youngbradpitt1979 from the online dating site that had arranged to meet her here.  She nodded at me and diverted her eyes, as if the silence was not enough disengagement.  We stood awkwardly on the street in front of the restaurant.  Although I don't think she was aware of the awkwardness because she was wrapped up in something stupid her little Johnny did moments earlier from an undisclosed location.  I know those moments.  Two people both need your attention at the same time.  It is frustrating.  The honk of a horn breaks the mood as I realized that we were still standing in the middle of the road.
"How about we go inside?"  I offer in a stroke of pure genius.  I reached past her to pull open the door only to find it was a push-open door.  Now I am nothing more than an obstacle between her and the restaurant, with my pride, chivalry, and center-of-gravity far behind me.
"Ok honey, love you, bye."  And just like that the date, for her, begins. 
"Hi!"
"Hi, you must be Jen." 
"Nope."  My hunger pangs quickly turn into a knot of embarrassment in my stomach and I reach back to push open the door that has betrayed me once already.  It is unmoved.  So, too, is her face as she gazes into my eyes.  She does kind of look like an older Tonya Harding, I think to myself.  I looked at her one last time, my eyebrows clenched in painful confusion, when I remembered our running joke about fake names.  Smiles washed over our faces and we looked into the crowded restaurant for a place to sit.  It begins.












*To protect the image of the writer and other characters in this story, and for the sake of humorous/creative license, less than half of the details in this post are true. 

Tacos and conversation

This wasn't my first plan.  I gave her the address to a bowling alley across the street, where I figured we could talk, bowl and grab whatever food they served in the thingie.  If parking hadn't been so hard to find, I would have never even seen the Mexican restaurant.  But after parking there, and staring inside, I began to crave Mexican food.  Even despite the crowd and the inevitable wait for a table, I started to change my mind about the entire evening plans.  Mexican it is!
We stared each other across the table with an new element in our relationship -flesh.  I can see her, she can see me.  We can hear clearer, touch, laugh, nod -all in real time.  It was great, just like real life!  All my frustrations with the online crap were over and this was just like a real date.  Then the questions creep up.   Is this the kind of girl I would have picked out for myself in person?  Does she live up to the exceptionally high standards of quality that I expect?  I liked her pictures, and the texting went well.  Now here we are at some Mexican place on a cold Friday night, and I haven't really satisfied the first criteria of my typical dating checklist.   I gotta throw this thing out.  Of course she's good enough.  But like a good meal I need to whet my appetite.  I need a few moments to think it through, to anticipate. 
We both ordered pork tacos.  They were terrible.  The conversation was informative, but not amazing.  She declined a ride to her car several blocks away.   If it was my sister I would have told her not to get in the car with anyone she met online either.  It caught me off guard but didn't ruin anything for me. We walked a little while in the general direction of her car and then stopped for a moment of good-byes.  Nothing short of ordinary.  "We should do this again."
"Definitely"
"Yeah, when are you free?"
"Yeah, I don't really know.  But we should definitely hang out."
"Well, we'll talk."
"Yeah, oh, definitely."
I'm not sure what the rule is here, but I think either the second or third time "definitely" is used in the answer to the same question, it starts to mean the opposite.  My heart was not broken.  If it works, great.  If not, that's fine.  I still haven't told her my name.