The Divine-less Comedy

Face your Fears

*Where there is fear, there is your task - Carl Jung

When I looked down, my hands were stuck to the microphone. All the hours of practice meant nothing. Only pitter-patters of half-formed words came out. The brightly lit room showed the uneasiness in everyone's eyes as the silence bulldozed while seconds ticked on.

I apologized to the crowd for my heinous crime, the inability to conjure just one chuckle. Not one person acknowledged my condolences with so much as an eye-brow raise. But before I could be taken away to a cell far away from society, I still had to complete my allotted five minutes.

I wish I could tell you that I somehow managed to turn it around, slowly winning the crowd over with raucous laughter and ultimately, redemption. Of course, I'd take a bow and Dave Chapelle would appear from behind a curtain to offer me a generous contract for the next big Netflix special.

Instead, I was a stalled car. Sputters of phrases interspersed with pauses where they should have been nothing but gas. I was bombing at my first open mic of the year. 

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We've mischaracterized fear. It is not something to avoid. Instead it's a target to aim for. A wall to break through.

Once you tackle a fear, something deep inside you shifts. Your wires, which for so long have alerted you to the danger of action, have loosened. That subtle essence vibrating softly to do the thing you have been avoiding for so long was right this whole time.

I considered holding a mic on an elevated surface in front of innocent people to be difficult. And the thought of complete awkwardness between us? Worse than death.I allowed my fear to define me. Months and weeks of "next Tuesdays."

A beginning stand-up set is a barrel of emotions. There is steady excitement as you're writing material that makes you giggle. Fear at the thought of forgetting your next words. Elation when the room will inevitably let out a belly full of laughter. Frustration at a joke you thought in your head sounded like the funniest quip you've ever imagined, which turns out to be full of holes and tremendously unfunny on paper. This is before you even set foot on stage.

It's so easy to give into fear - the swirl of emotion. And remain where you are. This is exactly why you can't not pursue it. 

Because on the other side of fear is pride. You respect yourself and what you have done. The spine is straighter. You're doing what you want, something you never thought possible.

---

It's the next day after my first bombing in New York City. I'm in a backroom of a bar on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Despite my insides screaming, I look calm and unaffected – at least that's how I picture it. More likely, I am a fragile statue fearing one movement could lead to a shattering of a million pieces. There's only one urge in my mind, no it's stronger, begging. "Please don't do this. Run you idiot, run fast." 

The stand-up order is random, pulled from a hat of unpredictability.  Every time a name is drawn, I tense as I wait to hear my name. And when I hear John Plaggart or Suzie Gaff, I breathe out a sigh of relief. Exactly five minutes of relief. Until another name is drawn and the process renews. 

This goes on for what seems like hours. I'm in awe of how I'm still in this room when everything is telling me not to be. The voices in my head are very loud but perhaps that's all they are. My name is called, and everything goes blank. I jump onstage. 

I look into the crowd. It's just a haze and words flow from my mouth into the ether. This time, I have done the exceptional and marvelous act of not forgetting my lines. My material still ran too long and the laughs were small, minuscule, but post-set my heart is thumping with pride. I have done it.

Seinfeld calls stand-up, "your ability to withstand self-torture." And let me tell you self-torture never felt so good.