To cite an early example, circa age four I wanted nothing more than to be a big bosomed blonde with a beautiful voice just like Dolly Parton. I got exactly what I asked for, in certain respects. But I'm no Dolly. And thankfully so, might I add.
In my adolescence, I wanted (very badly) to be a stand up comic. I studied up and became extremely well versed in the routines of big name comics in the mid-90s. As I learned more about comedy as a craft, I quickly realized that it is a very difficult reality. It's not an easy life and it's particularly difficult if you're not funny when you try to be. As I used to say, I wanted to be a comedian but it turns out I just needed therapy.
Like my more ambitious and confident self, my comedian persona now seems to be a semi-fictitious character from long ago and far away. I recognize it sometimes in passing. It's like running into an old acquaintance. I exchange a quick but awkward, "Hey... hey... What've you been up to? Ah... an early retirement! Sounds great. Oh really, it's terrible? I'm sorry to hear that. Well. Gotta go stare at the paint on my walls now. It's been great to see you. Look me up on MySpace, will ya?"
Of course, it was one of my closest friends from way back in my comedian days that introduced me to The Maria Bamford Show last week. I found that I really connected with the little viddy I've included below for the following reasons:
- I've heard that badgering about makeup before.
- Until recently I worked for the Portland branch of that temp agency.
- I totally sing all of my
anxietiesgoblins aloud to myself. All the time.
With this post I hope to get the crowcrastination ball a-rollin' again. If you, dear reader, could only see how oft the dreaded red DRAFT label clutters the admin page of this blog. I have a shameful pile of half written anecdotes; there might be a few that are worthy of brushing the dust off the cover.