Me So Funny ...........................................................................

Occasionally, I will consider a career--really consider it--and decide I would be great at it. For example, I would be an excellent architect, teacher, golfer, professional Boggle player, and writer. But to be an architect I would need to go back to school for an entirely different education, which I can't afford. To be a teacher, I would need to get over my fear of being mistaken for a student, and I would probably need to be more excited about the actual teaching and less about the long vacations. Golf--maybe I wouldn't be a good golfer after all, but I would bring some long needed style to the game. Boggle--I'm not sure anyone can do this game professionally. And writer--ah, well, I'm still working on that one.

The most recent profession, and I think I could actually do this one if I put my mind to it, is to be a standup comedian. I began watching NBC's Last Comic Standing this season, and after seeing all the failures who think they really have something to offer, I decided there no reason I couldn't join them. Now I go around making up comedy routines in my head. I'll start with a not-so-surprising statement like, "I hate picky eaters," and then I'll imagine a picky eater in my head and I'll make fun of them. Then I'll segue into how I'm not a picky eater, but I'm picky about preparation. I won't eat chicken unless it's been so processed that it looks like a bulging finger. Or how Chinese food is so greasy, and, well, I'm still working on how to turn this into a joke. Clearly I'm not stage ready.

But as with most of the other careers I've failed to realize, something holds me back from being a comic. The fear of rejection. I've been up on stage before, enough that I would be able to guage the audience's reaction if things weren't going well. It seems like some comedians never practice the art of translation from their head to their mouth to the ears to the brains of their audience. They never really stop to think if someone else will think their material is funny. They only practice in front of the mirror, playing both parts. They recite their routines to no one in particular while walking down the sidewalk on the way to buy another rubber vegetable for their prop box. And one time, they told their best joke to their mom, and she loved it.

That won't be me. Instead, I'd rather attempt to be funny on this blog, and hopefully, one day, someone will read it and laugh a little.

My Life Continues

I just turned in my thesis. The weight of the past two years has finally been unchained, and I can move and flex and walk and...oh, what should I do with myself?

I've been looking forward to some feeling of freedom. Like, what will it be like to come home from work and not have to pull out my laptop and write a paper? What will it be like to travel on the weekend with a book I chose to read myself? What excuse will I think of to get out of keeping the house clean (because really, that is my biggest concern)?

But I also hope that the weight of the past two years continues to exert itself from time to time. I don't want to forget what it's like to work on my writing. I don't want to forget how good it feels to finish a story and think that someone else might like to read it. That, more than obtaining an official looking degree, is what I went to school for. I needed discipline, and I really hope that part of that lesson sunk in and became a part of me.

The celebrations have not yet begun. David offered to throw a party, but my inclination is not to have one. My first big deadline has come and gone. There will be many more. This is my new life, and I hope it's a hardworking one.