Cold Ass Fashion

…And then there are times, when I surround myself with a certain type of person, that I feel more like myself than I ever have in my whole life.
For a long time, I’d say my whole life up until about half a year ago, I couldn’t define MySelf. All right? Are we on the same page, here?
Like, I’d be like, okay, I’m all alone in my room. Sure, I’m fucking off my rocker having arguements with the clothes hamper, then falling over laughing hysterically on the floor, but is THAT Me? Because no one, and I mean NO ONE has ever gotten to see that Me, but Me.
I swear, I am not even kidding you when I tell you the things I do by myself.
When I was in Switzerland, I got a huge delicious taste of how cool I am all alone. It was so boring, there was nothing on TV that was in a language I understood completely, and there was no internet to pose a distraction, it was just me. Pure Me.
I’d sit in front of my mirror and make faces at myself for HOURS, people. Have you done this? Is this normal? I’d try and see which fucked up face I could make that would make me laugh the hardest. Then I’d laugh at how funny it is to laugh about laughter. Good times.
Then I’d go play in the sink for a good hour, hour and a half. I can make some pretty awesome sink designs with running water and a spoon, let me tell you. I can make hearts, clovers, fucking name a Lucky Charms Marshmallow, I can make it in the sink with a spoon and some free time. See, you turn the water on really- okay, nevermind. It’s a Me thing.
In Switzerland, I didn’t have a clothes hamper, so I had arguements with my macaroni. Then we’d make up, and I’d whisper it secrets. Other times, a little Hamtaro figurine that I got from a Swiss McDonald’s Kids Meal would steal my digital camera and chase me around the room, taking pictures of me.
These are some, but not all of the reasons, that I should never take drugs.
ANYway, my point is that for a long time, I felt that was me. And I was sad that I’ve never known anyone well enough to show them me. When I dated Sean, I thought that was a pretty close me, but now looking back, that was some crazy hybrid Sean-Me which must have been not only insane, but irritating to those around us. We like, spoke in the secret language of twins sometimes, making up words and calling each other nonsense names.
Since I don’t really do that anymore, that wasn’t me.
I’m sometimes a version of me around Kameron, but she’s known me for seventeen years, and there’s only so much of myself I can appear before the visions of that young girl who ran around the soccer field with her skirt over her head shouting “Interference” come screaming back.
Man, I still think that shit is funny, even now. I don’t care if the entire lower school disagreed with me.
My close family, eh. They see a sort of grumpy version of me clouded over by the fact that I hate living in their house and living by the rules that have applied to me for 23 years. If Ryan ever tore himself away from his girlfriend when he was in town, maybe he’d see a new version of me that I’m willing to show him now that we’re cool, and I’ve moved into that phase of life where it’s okay to be friends with your brother.
The only person I think who knows me as me, up until half a year ago, was Jordan. And that’s because she IS me. She’s not me when I was her age, seven years ago, she is the adamantine me. HA HA, what a great word. And you nerdy fuckers might even know what it means, cause of, you know, like Wolverine and shit.
Was there supposed to be a point made around here somewhere? Ah yes.
I have found my Me.
It’s been occurring to me slowly over the course of the last half a year. I’ll have a shitty day at work, I’ll be tired, I’ll be grumpy, I’ll have anxiety attacks, the realization that I’ve been dealt a shitty hand has become uncomfortably comfortable, and I freak out. But. BUT. I get on stage. I prep before a comedy performance. And suddenly, none of that matters.
Like Joe Eberle said, it’s like you become the Hulk. (Two Marvel references in one post, that’s like +10 Nerdery, somebody roll the fucking D-Awesome!)
You get up on stage, and if you have a good night, this adrenaline or fucking magic comedy juice just surges through you and I can’t even explain it!
Seriously, the hyper-ass Me before a show, the Me that people ask me if I have a nerve disorder or if I’m having some diabetic seizure or STOP SHAKING YOUR FUCKING LEG AND BOUNCING AROUND LIKE A FUCKING JACK RUSSELL TERRIER. The Me that made Paco ask me tonight if I had just done a line of coke, because he’d never seen me act like this, all jittery and tearing apart crayons and such, because I was getting so much into this conversation I was having with Billy Elmer that I was ripping the table apart.
I sat back for a second and was like, yeah, I am sort of acting like a crackhead. And it’s Me! I was Me in front of all these people!
I even started making faces at myself in the window reflection.
Okay, okay, so if you ask Paco and Jessie, they’ll say I was “staring at my boobs”, but to-may-toe, tom-mah-toe, you know?
So yeah. I try to steer clear of the whole Three Cheers for Life attitude on this website, because loving being alive is like, so passe and hackneyed. But on this topic, I can’t stay away.
I know I’m in comedic infancy, and I so hope I don’t come off as someone who thinks that they can wield this great comedic power, because I don’t. I don’t understand it and I can’t always contain it, but I just know that I love it and I want more of it.
I’m like the Harry Potter of comedy. Sure, I can speak Parseltounge and yeah, I can make people fall through windows at zoos just by thinking of them, but I don’t understand the magic completely. I want to. All the Joes and Bills and < Insert Miscellaneous Comedian Mentor > roll up into one great Dumbledore. Sometimes, yeah, I might think I’m hot shit and start casting like Wingardium Leviosa on some troll in the bathroom, and yeah, I’ll get into trouble. But when the Voldemort of a Tough Crowd comes a-trying to fulfill the prophecy of making me bomb onstage, I’ve got a couple spells saved up.
Okay, honesty time? All my internet friends are yelling at me and telling me to talk less about these shady comedy people. And all of my comedy friends are telling me to stop writing about all you internet schmucks. And fulfilling my goal to be all things to all people, I have skillfully made it so there are NO PARAGRAPHS FOR *ANY* OF YOU TO SKIM OVER!!!!!
I have caught you all into my trap and you will dance together like puppets.
Yeah, the Me me is sometimes really fucking irritating. I’ve realized that, and moved on.
I’m just glad other people can see it now.

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