“Crazy ex-girlfriend”. Oh, we’ve all had one of those, amirite…Why doesn’t “crazy ex-boyfriend” carry the same ring to it though? I mean, when I say I have had some crazy exes, I almost always feel the need to reiterate in conversation…”No, I mean this guy was actually CRAZY.” And I think I’ve figured it out…It’s because our cultural narrative implies that women are just naturally deranged, and when you come across a crazy guy, well he’s just an exception to the rule.
Well, I have to say it. I think men are the crazy ones…Yea, yea. I have heard my man friends tell me some pretty f*&k’d up stories about the things women have put them through – I’m not saying chicks are guilt free. What I’m saying is that dudes are especially guilty, and not enough light is shed on how wackadoo emotional they can be. I hear these stories about crazy ex-girlfriends and then I reflect on my own experiences, trying to think of the “craziest” thing I’ve ever done. Honestly, I can’t think of anything. If a guy has ever crossed me in the past (can you tell I’m about to take major pride in what I’m about to say), I have been known to simply pick myself up, pack my shit – and leave. Disappear. A couple times I didn’t even tell the guy what he did wrong (slept with 5 other chicks while seeing me at the same time), and he text me (and my girlfriends) nonstop saying I was a crazy b*&ch for dropping off the face of the earth without rhyme or reason. I’ve always been this way. So when I tell people I’m actually not crazy, I would SO appreciate not having the presumed conversation EVERY time;
“Yea right, every girl is crazy.”
“That’s what they all say, sorry it’s just the laws of nature.”
Okay, but if we’re going with the laws of nature I would think it would make more sense for dudes to be the unhinged ones. Think cave man days…Weren’t the cave men the dominant ones dragging women back to caves to procreate?
Who constitutes 83% of those arrested for arson? 89.5% of homicides in the U.S.? I won’t go into rape stats…Okay you pulled my arm – men constitute 98.9% of those arrested for forcible rape! Sick!
But women are naturally unstable? Please! Just stop calling us crazy or I’ll slash your tires.
I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about how little time we have here, on earth. I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting closer to the end of my 20s, and I see how quickly it happened. I don’t know if it’s because death touched my life when my mom passed away, forcing awareness of my own mortality before my mid-twenties. But I do know that I am afraid of dying – and I think it’s because I’m having the time of my life, and I don’t want it to end.
It’s not that I’m afraid of what comes after death, because I’m at peace with what I believe will happen then. It’s just that I am so happy these days, but the one thing I know for certain is that change is the only constant. Nothing lasts forever. So I fear for the impending ripples in the smooth currents of my happy life, and then I fear that no matter how much time we’re given it will still never feel like enough. The first time I felt something like this was when I read a story about the deep depression an elderly woman went into when she lost her husband of 56 years. It seems obvious but it wasn’t to me at first – there is never enough time to be with someone you love! I thought about how people say they “can’t wait to grow old” with one another, and when I heard it I used to get the sweet image of an old couple rocking in their chairs, reminiscing on the life experiences they had together. But I don’t think I’ll ever say it to my life partner, because I can wait to grow old together. I don’t know if it was just me that imagined there was ever enough time, and that suddenly after x amount of years you’d be ready to say goodbye to someone. I figured it had something to do with losing my mom at a young age, and the wishful thinking that I could’ve had her throughout her later years. But I have an understanding there too, that when you lose your mom (or anyone important to you) – it doesn’t matter when it happens, it will always be devastating.
So…I’m enjoying the life I have immensely, and I know doing that is the best thing I can do. Maybe the beauty in all of it is that since our life spans are so short, we pack everything we can into this tiny space in time – so if/when we have the chance to look back we see a slideshow of beautiful and captivating experiences. For now, any time I get overwhelmed with the fear of the inevitable, I cope by thinking about the bad news and the good news. The bad news is that nothing lasts forever. But the good news is – that nothing lasts forever. 😊
I bombed my standup set for the first time last week. It was in front of about 20 strangers. I was so embarrassed that I thought about putting the mic down and running off stage. But, I didn’t and finished my set strong – even though by then I’m sure my awkward stage presence had already stifled any genuine laughs I was going to get.
While I felt like I was sitting in a fat L, I still knew I won something too. I have a better understanding now, that every comedian fails because it’s just part of the job. And there is a “right” way to fail too. Instead of giving up and running away, I faced the crickets and distant chuckles as if I was addressing my entourage of fans on TMZ. I learned that without failure, you simply cannot succeed at standup. Because in comedy, failure is as inherent to standup as death is to life. Just like you can’t escape dying, you can’t avoid bombing (forever). I reminded myself of the comedians I’ve seen at the highest levels get boo’d off stage and yet here I was, getting a big head – thinking I might be a natural and so proud of myself for excelling at something I said I wanted to try for the first time. Bombing gave me a much needed humbled respect for the craft – and I think everyone could use it in their lives, because I’ve heard countless people suggest that they should or could do standup after I mention it’s one of my latest hobbies…(Nike, just do it y’all).
This shit ain’t for everybody and it certainly ain’t easy. That means even if your first, second, or third sets go extremely well – 1. Keep going, and 2. Your fourth might be the one. I always question why I put myself through this when I walk up on stage. I’m not trying to make it big, prove anything (other than being able to say I’m funny), or adding it to my resume. In truth, it’s the feeling I get when I hear those first chuckles, almost like they didn’t expect me to say the things I had to say. I love making people laugh…friends, co-workers, strangers – It doesn’t matter. I have yet to come across anything more empowering than getting under a spotlight and commanding an entire room to react the way I want them to react – with joy. If bombing is part of the journey towards getting to those priceless moments, I welcome it with open arms.
Not everyone is going to like you, and that’s okay because not everyone has good taste. What? Should I have gone somewhere different with that?