Standup Comedy |

In 2017 I fervently forsook my corporate job in Boston for the glimmer of glamour and grandeur in the City of Fair Winds. I landed with no job, no significant other, and no long-term plan – just a few months savings and the feeling of prescient possibility.

The day after I arrived and unpacked all my things, I distinctly remember waking up at some odd hour and thinking “What now?”. Years of gnawing discontent that spurned me to seek clarity and purpose, followed by months of preparation for the long-awaited leap into the unknown, and suddenly I awoke in a far-flung fiefdom with a newfound freedom whose vast openness felt like an endless void.

The weeks that followed found me fluctuating feverishly between lethargic languishing and erratic exploration. One day I came across an auspicious RuPaul’s Drag Race episode featuring a standup up comedy challenge that revealed to me that a comedian is, in essence, a storyteller. In the absence of parental pressure pushing me to be practical or the crushing current of cultural conditioning, I was able to sit still with my own intuition and imagination and let the learnings sink in, take root, and germinate. In that moment I decided to sow the seeds of my creative propensity, and so I signed up for a standup class.

From that moment, comedy unexpectedly ushered me through an undulating underworld that truly transformed me; from the first time I got roasted in the front row at a show to making a packed audience laugh in my third language. I remember how nervous I was as I waited backstage for my droll debut. But as I stumbled onstage and gazed out into the gallery, I was met with faces of good-hearted people looking to connect and share a human experience. And, while I lacked linguistic prowess in the parlance of this new province, I was confident I could find commonality in any community. So I picked up the mic and made some new friends.

Since then, standup has been a living laboratory lesson in likability. The ironic thing is, audiences ultimately appreciate authenticity above all else, even if they don’t realize it. As such, they key to worming your way into their hearts and getting them to warm up to you, is being yourself in a way that is wholeheartedly and even embarrassingly human. In giving yourself permission to be absurdly and wonderfully human, everyone around you innately feels the space to be a person as well. What naturally follows is a resplendent release of the repression in the form of raucous, roaring, unrestrained laughter.

This is why I am guaranteed gazillions more giggles and guffaws talking about sex, poop, and disco than whenever I try to touch on more profound and probing points. People want permission to poop. They can also clearly see that I am just a sparkly disco ball rolling around, scattering glitter, and making a mess wherever I go. Nobody wants to witness a retro party decoration critiquing current affairs and geopolitics. That would be a literal party pooper. Ultimately, people pick up on when you’re proclaiming your true self and when you’re pandering and performing, so put your true self front and center!

Another epiphany from my blunders in buffoonery, is a new understanding of the creative process. Before, I would plop myself down and try to will the words to come waltzing into my world. What I found, though, is the best way to invite inspiration into your imagination is to initiate an intention and then go for a seraphic stroll and let your mind wander. Eventually, gently guided by purpose, it will wander into wonderland. And so, whenever I had an imminent standup show, I would go for a rejuvenating, revitalizing run, and, before I knew it, ideas would come rushing into my cerebellum.

Perhaps most importantly, comedy has changed the way I look at the unexpected and unfortunate events that inevitably befall me (and anyone who has ever been). In my previously sheltered life in puritan New England, every minor inconvenience or upset was seen as a catastrophe, cataclysm, or crisis. Nowadays, whenever something seemingly tragic takes place, I’m sooner able to realize that eventually it will make for a very funny story I can tell to an audience of similarly beset and beleaguered burghers.

Ultimately standup has shown me the bounty of being myself onstage, the luxury of letting creativity flow freely, and the hilarity of the haphazard hills and valleys of life. Little by little, I’ve learned to let my essence shine through and delight in the dazzling disco ball of human messiness.