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A couple of months ago, I got it in my mind that I wanted to put together a sketch comedy show. Yes you heard right, a sketch comedy show...to be performed live, on stage. SNL without cameras, celebrity hosts, or money.
Now that I think about it, I've had this idea in my mind since I was about ten. That's when my mom finally started letting me watch SNL. I had never seen anything like it. A live show, where mistakes were made, lines were flubbed, laughs were unable to be contained. It just looked like so much fun I knew I had to get in on it somehow.
Ten years later, sketch comedy is hell to me. Just trying to get the sketches written is like pulling teeth, the only one guaranteed to crank out more than one five minute piece at a time is me. I keep getting dicked around by people who say they want to help, that they have the same dream, that they've always wanted to do exactly this.

It's been really rough on me. I have a goal and I'm going to make it and no one is going to get in my way. But it seems like the ones that keep trying to get me off track are the people who should be trying to help me reach the finish line.
Everytime I think I can count on them, they fail me. And I'm not totally sure that they're not doing it on purpose. All of their excuses just seem so paper thin, so insincere, so pointless. I don't know who or what to believe anymore.
I don't know if I can do this much on my own.
A part of me thinks I'm losing my mind.

If this is comedy, I hope I never laugh again.

from where i'm sitting

i got up as early as i could this morning to continue work on the sketches i assigned to myself at the last sketch writer's meeting, and from where i'm sitting everything looks good except for the eyesore of a green desk that's directly in front of me.

a part of me wants to use said desk as a metaphor for my life. you know, chipped paint with good wood underneath...or something like that. but really, looking at it causes some mild internal conflict. there's nothing wrong with the desk except for the outside so why bother working on it, right? it still fits just perfectly in my room and holds all my important papers. but doesn't it deserve to look as good as it can, to be restored to it's original state or maybe something better?

it is my opinion that we all deserve to look and feel the best we can but at the same time i realize how vain of a statement that is. did you notice that the word "look" went before the word "feel"? i think it always goes that way. the next time you use the phrase, you'll see.

maybe i've just seen it too much, but this desk is really starting to feel very human. a straight back, puffed out chest, charmingly thin legs, and that obnoxious green paint with some of the wood peeking through like roots on a dye job gone wrong (or patches, whatever the case may be). the wood is good wood, a light-ish soothing brown and so...i will strip the paint away and find the perfect stain. something to enhance the wood, not cover it. and just so i don't seem too concerned with outward appearances, i'll stain the inside first.

it's going to be a project but it's worth it.
i think we all are.

a word from the wise

if i could tell you anything, i wouldn't. because i think it's important that you find out for yourself.

but...
it's gonna hurt.
i'll tell you that much.

life...
it's gonna hurt. alot. and sometimes you're going to feel like you can't take the pain, that you'll just absolutely die if one more damn thing happens to you but for the love of pete...
man up.
you're gonna have to.
if you're gonna survive in this world, some part of you has to be tough.
and a bigger part will have to be brave enough to do what scares you most...
and looking in your eyes i can tell that what scares you most is screwing up.

you're gonna screw up kid.
we all do.
you'll drink too much.
you'll cheat.
you'll lie.
you'll lose your faith in those around you
but don't you EVER lose faith in yourself
'cause once you do, it's all over.
somehow, i know you'll make it.


but you didn't hear it from me.