OCD

"Obsessive Comparison Disorder is the smallpox of our generation. 9 out of 10 doctor’s agree this disorder is the leading cause to eating a whole sleeve of Oreo’s while watching Real Housewives of OC. Say no to obsessive comparison disorder before it starts. Remember everyone’s too busy putting a PR spin on their Facebook profile to care much about yours." -AllGroanUp.com

Thank God someone finally said it. Three or four weeks ago I made note on Facebook that I would be stepping away from it for a bit. Nice try, self. I think I stepped away for maybe four hours. 

It's a sickness. 

keep coming back for more.

I kept thinking I was missing out on something — visions of whatever the life equivalent of sugarplums are, were busting into my brain. What if I missed an important message from someone who didn't have my phone number or from someone I don't run into regularly? What if I miss out on an opportunity? What if this happens, or that, or that other thing? Or I just forget about something?

And status updates. The very word "Status" carries with it this loathsome notion that we're either high status or low status. You either post a million times a day about how much you and your partner love each other, or you keep writing the same "I hate [Fill in the blank]." It's a rough cycle, addictive, and pretty unhealthy.

In an attempt to become less comparidependent, and Facebook makes it impossible to just turn off your NewsFeed Comparison Log — I've taken the worst offenders of those that make it seem like I can't ever do enough, and just blocked their updates. And, if you're fucked up addicted to this Social Network cocaine, do the same. Like a little boycott. Because it's true, "everyone [is] too busy putting a PR spin on their Facebook profile to care much about [mine]."

It's too bad that it's the best way to actually reach someone, though. Gotta keep coming back for more.

Five things.

Five things I love:
1. Biking
2. Independence
3. Being asked to join
4. Dancing
5. Doing weird voices and listening to others do the same

Five things I want to do this year:
1. Try out some solo material
2. Write a 2-person lady show with Carly
3. Hang up all the prints I have
4. Walk down the stairs in under 10 minutes
5. Get a commercial

Five places I want to travel to:
1. Prague
2. Portugal
3. Hungary
4. Japan
5. Ireland

Five things that make me happiest:
1. Flowers
2. Unsolicited help
3. When Tim laughs
4. The crowd after a solid show
5. The Grrr on Sunday morning

Five things I take for granted:
1. Walking
2. My car
3. Fresh air
4. Money in my checking account
5. Friends with free time

life

you know what? fuck you.

Miss Adventures

More like missed adventures. There's this idea that we all have to be doing everything all the time, and if you're not busy, you're doing nothing. And if you're doing nothing, then you are a waste of time, space, talent, etc. But, sometimes. Just sometimes. Sometimes you need to just chill the eff out. And that can be an adventure all on its own. It's the best when the unexpected happens and you're brought to this precipice where you didn't ever think you'd be there, but there you are. Standing on the edge of something great.


Coming from someone who rarely takes a break, that I'm even writing this should mean more to you, reader.


Taking a step back, not just to evaluate, or reflect, but just to be someone who doesn't have to be anywhere for a little while, isn't doing nothing. It is. But it isn't. 


"Take a break occasionally. From it all. For perspective, sanity, life. You and what you bring to the stage will benefit from your actual life experience. My own life has been a series of wonderful hobbies." 
-Mick Napier, in a newsletter that I liked when I read it. And a lot of other people liked it too.

Hip. Hip.

We're all children

People are living too long. I say this a lot. It infuriates my mother, standing behind me, arms crossed commanding that I take back the notion that I want to kill my grandmother. I don't want to do this. Knock off grandma, that is. But, there's something really wrong with our world that we're so afraid of death, and we do anything we can to keep living. We keep people on life support. We take countless drugs. We write stories and create legacies in the hope that this something gold might stay.

Our obsession with death and it's counterpart life makes it impossible to just live. There's no sense of carefree, because we're so worried that we're not going to make the best of our situation. We're scared that what we decide to do with our time won't end up being worthy. And then, we end up doing nothing. Only to take stock as our quarter-life, mid-life and end of days crisis come. And they will come. I know, I've already had one. You probably have too. Every time I log onto Facebook I have a conniption. I compare endlessly, spending all together too many minutes reading my newsfeed. It gives the impression that someone is always doing something better or just something and I'm not.

In so many ways 25 now isn't what it was in 1978 when my parents got married. If you inspect it beneath the microscope, 25 is much older because everything is happening so much faster, while simultaneously it's also so young. We're children. As people live lengthy lives, shouldn't we have more time to establish ourselves? And why are there so many holds on when it's appropriate to be established? It's a long race. Don't want to finish too soon, now do we?

the age of aging.

it's upon us. i'm now closer to old than young. it seems that most people in the entertainment industry's ages are ambiguous. you look at emma stone. you don't see a 23-year-old. you look at sarah silverman. you don't see a 41-year-old. you see zac efron. you don't see a 25-year-old. at least i don't. since wikipedia has been a thing in modern society i've been obsessed with the "years active" element. it's on the top right hand side of the page. and basically. if you're an entertainer, it marks the year to which society has legitimized your attempts at stardom. for louis ck (born 1967) it marks 1985 as his start. fresh faced, and 18 years old.

every year i get older i see that "years active" as further away than i had hoped. vanessa bayer's "years active" started in 2009, apparently. then one year after being active she was announced as the next cast member on SNL. therefore, it takes only 365 days to make it onto one of the most iconic shows of your and my life. please.

it's interesting how that works. how do you measure when someone first started getting going to where they're destined. don't all things lead to where you are now, so technically it starts at birth? or is it more specific than that? when you landed your first commercial? or industrial? get on your first Harold team? signed up for your first class? — and who decides?

i've always been on the track of being a bit smaller than everyone else — lumped in with the little kids growing up. constantly thinking i wouldn't get to ride the ride. while my attitude has always outwardly been, i can do it, i'll show you; i've lately been feeling like i haven't yet even decided to ride the ride. haven't yet become "active." i dont know if it's in comedy, or the work place, or relationships, but getting older has made me feel like i've missed the boat to so many places.

at a certain point this year the realization that we all will just keep getting older punched me. turning 26 isn't that big of a deal if you're 50 looking back, but it marks a very real moment where you feel like you should have already set up what the rest of your life will take to execute. that's not to say there isn't room for change or spontaneity, but very rare is it that you find someone who found their calling at 30, and then was able to execute it to their greatest ability.

but, isn't that just part of it, part of the journey of becoming active. i'd like mine to say this, years active: all.

might as well cheers 26, because 27's a'comin'!

smarmy, snarky, sarcastic

Somewhere in the middle of high school an acquaintance I'd known since the fourth grade referred to me as smarmy. He'd been thinking about it for a while, biding his time until he stuck me with a good one. And he did. I've carried it with me for nearly a decade. At the time I'm sure I took it as a compliment. It's not a compliment. Not really. Not to me now, at least. In UrbanDictionary it's described as:

A certain attitude often accompanied by a squinty look and a superior smile that makes you instantly hate a person. Similar to snobby.

I took it as more or less that I was snarky, as opposed to it meaning I was insincere. The two often go hand in hand. Sarcasm, too, can often be perceived this way. It's a quality I have never grown out of, sarcasm -- despite a few years in high school where I was told by various youth leaders that my jokes and jabs, half-smiles and quick-to-the-kill-teasing hurt people's feelings. For me, I didn't really see the difference between a joke and kick to the mouth comment. If they elicited a smile, however unintended, my attitude at the time was a sort of blank stare, accompanied by a "Get over it. People are laughing." Definitely not said with a smile, instead delivered as a matter of fact, you're the one with the problem face. Most of the time, it still is.

After a while I decided making lots of semi-friends and keeping them around was more important than making friends that I could share in my oddly specific and funny insults with. Sometimes I wish I'd made those friends though. The ones who really got me, along with the ones I ended up with. In a lot of ways I think my comedic sensibility was stifled to avoid hurt feelings. Obviously being nice to people is a good thing. I never would describe myself as heartless. To the contrary, I never mean to hurt people, not for real. More than once I've been the butt of a merciless mouth, eliciting insults, some which I don't think healed properly. A common thought to describe Brigid Marshall as a 16-year-old was "She can dish it out, but she can't take it." Not too long ago it was said again.

Everyone has that though. Everyone has something that they're not truly over. And to that I try to tell myself, "Get over it." Eventually I will, until then I better learn to laugh at myself more. Self-deprecating humor really kills -- carrying stuff around for too long makes your arms heavy.