Josh and Failure vs the World: Day 25
Here’s how I failed today: I bombed it at the open mic – why, though? I didn’t believe in what I was saying, and I wasn’t being vulnerable – and I wasn’t present in the room and being honest about what people were giving me – and maybe I just suck.
It’s sick, but I enjoy the challenge of winning over crowds that aren’t quite on board. Half of m felt like screaming and yelling, and the other half stopped me – so I swallowed my emotions. I wasn’t honest – I was upset – upset and frustrated – should I have just shown that instead? Yes – that would have been the riskier thing to do.
But what about being witty? What about actually writing a good joke? What about rhythm and structure? I wasn’t really committed to what I was saying.
Or everything I was saying was perfect and I just lost confidence in myself.
Or, I said to myself “they’re not going to like me” before I even started, and I sealed my fate.
Not feeling particularly hopeful today. Perhaps that’s the other failure. I can’t just shrug my shoulders and move on from this. I have to feel bad until I don’t feel bad.
I have to say what I truly want to say – give my actual opinions on things. It’s one thing to reveal what I’ve done, but it’s another thing to be honest about how I feel about it.
Josh and Failure Vs The World: Day 24
Here’s how I failed today:
Totally failed with my diet – two cookies, rice krispy treat, Smarties, Root Beer hard candy. It’s not a good sign when the healthiest thing I eat is a grape.
Incidentally, marketers are trying to market grape juice to men. They are promoting the drink as manly – I agree with them. Every drink is risking diabetes. And men take risks, by God. Some men jump out of planes, other men put their head in a lion’s mouth. I drink grape juice, and when I order a salad, I eat the cheese and the chicken cubes and avoid the lettuce like the plague. I don’t consider it to be a “chicken salad.” It’s “chicken dropped in an annoying forest.”
I’m hiding behind sugar. It’s a very bad habit – when I don’t eat sugar, I feel sad and depressed. When I eat sugar, I almost don’t feel sad and depressed. It’s a huge step up.
I’m failing at consistency when it comes to joke writing – I so badly want to always be on my A game. And by saying this, I am also failing at letting go of being perfect. That’s a failure within a failure – this is Matrix level failure.
I have not cleaned my room in four years. That’s an epic fail. Though mom tells me that it’s actually healthier to live in filth because I am exposed to more germs so my body builds up a tolerance. At this rate, if I encounter Ebola, Ebola will be the one who gets sick.
Still failing to read the Fountainhead.
Josh And Failure Vs. The World: Day 23
Here’s how I failed today:
I couldn’t make everybody happy with a situation.
I feel terrible – not so much because of the actions I took, but because I can’t fix everything.
Grant us the strength to change the things we can change, accept the things we cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference. It’s probably a good thing that Batman and Superman don’t go to the same AA meetings.
BATMAN: I finally see it! I couldn’t have stopped the bullet that killed my parents.
SUPERMAN: I could have, actually. And caught the guy who pulled the trigger.
I also find that I am putting my foot in my mouth a lot, which can only mean that I am endeavoring to talk to people more – and this is always a mistake. That’ll be the shame of it when computers become as smart as or smarter than people. Now, on top of everything else, I’ll have to worry about pissing off SIRI.
I didn’t come up with any new jokes that I liked. It doesn’t matter whether or not I get laughs – if the new joke doesn’t work, then I’m a failure.
I see that I’ve struck a chord when it comes to bicyclists. Here’s my response to this: I know I am in the wrong here. I know that I am a wrong and a horrible person for being annoyed with bicyclists. I’m the one at fault, and I admit that 100%. I don’t wish harm upon the gentle bicyclists. But I would like them to experience what I experience when I’m stuck behind them. That’s why I want to pass a law that makes it legal for slower things to be allowed in bike lanes: pedestrians, relaxed turtles, justice.
Josh and Failure Vs. The World: Day 22
Here’s how I failed today:
It turned out I was wrong about something and I still want to be right about it. The details of this don’t matter – It’s the same problem I keep running into. Being wrong is a form of failure. I have to learn to embrace it. I just tried to embrace it and I can’t. I’d rather punch something expensive.
I got a laugh onstage, but it wasn’t a HUGE laugh. At first, I celebrated the laugh. But then I ran the joke by my mother, and it didn’t work, so now I’m convinced it is a failure of a joke. Am I being too hard on myself? During times like this, I ask myself WWJSD – what would Jerry Seinfeld do – or more specifically, what would Jerry Seinfeld say.
ME: Am I being too hard on myself?
SEINFELD: No. It’s not a great joke. Throw it out.
There you have it.
I hate that I’m not perfect. I don’t know why this is so much to ask?
“If you were perfect at everything you do, you’d be bored,” my mother would say. Correction! I would be bored AND rich. There’s a subtle difference.
I’m failing to read this Ayn Rand “The Fountainhead” book, and by book, I mean tomb. I can feel the book staring at me, as if to say “I could be sitting on the shelf of somebody who would read this.” And then I say to the book – “if you don’t shut up, I’m going to buy anything written by Bernie Sanders and shove it right next to you.”
I failed to be calm – I keep trying to be calm, and it never seems to stick. Maybe I should try to be more hysterical. Actually play to my strengths for once.
I failed to eat healthy again:
2 rice crispy treats. A honey oat waffle cookie. Steak tacos. Fried Wontons.
I failed to appreciate the beauty I see around me.
And I still hate people on bicycles.
Josh and Failure Vs. The World: Day 21
I’m frustrated because I haven’t written anything that I am really excited about. (Insert first world problem comment here).
Specifically with the stand-up. How is this possible? I hate my life. Surely there should be enough to complain about. I hate being single – no, it’s not that. I hate being single and poor. I want to be in a relationship and rich. I think it’s important to be rich while being in a relationship because I want to be able to afford the negative fallout.
I was told that I should stop trying to avoid bad things happening to me and seek those things out – aka enter into a relationship even though every alarm bell in the southland is going off about our lack of compatibility. On the one hand, perhaps this person is right – perhaps to truly live, I must risk baring the whips and scorns of time. On the other hand, Netflix is 99% good enough, right?
But the purpose of this blog is to truly address failure – or, rather, to not allow the fear of failure to get in the way of the actions I want to take. So that means, I have no choice but to do the following: 1) trust in myself and 2) write a horror comedy.
I think I’ve missed the point of my own blog here. I should have said that I should ask somebody out – but I’m not there yet. I’m just not there yet.
And I also should trust myself and my writing, but I’m not there yet, either. I’m still – oh, wait – wait – it’s coming to me – I have to trust my emotions – that’s what I’ve got to do. I’ve got to trust my emotions. And I can’t be afraid of expressing my opinion, even if it’s unpopular – so here goes:
I can’t stand bicyclists. I know you’re a hero to the environment, but when I am driving in a car behind you, I am now traveling at the speed of environmentalism. Which is a problem, because I want to travel at the speed of environmental destruction.
“Bicycles are considered a vehicle.” That’s absolute bull honkey. The top speed of a bicyclist is .0001 miles per hour. I’m not exaggerating for comedic effect.
If a bicycle qualifies as a vehicle, then I should qualify to play in the NBA. Please give me a $5,000,000 contract. Thanks.
Oh, I also hate going to Rodeos -we’ll address that in the next blog.
Josh and Failure vs the World: Day 19
I’m really burned out. I’m failing to be inspired and motivated. And more than that, I don’t want somebody to come along and inspire and motivate me. I want to find that within. I think it’s really important to find that within so that I can be self-reliant.
But maybe that’s a fantasy – we all rely on each other. It takes a village – remember how, before there were villages, it didn’t take a village? It just took one caveman with a rock? Those were the days.
But back to the point I’m trying to make, which is that I want to find inspiration within myself, because if I can find inspiration within myself, then I won’t need to rely on self-help books. And the man who does not need self-help books is the man who holds the world in his hand, and maybe also Mars (when I say he holds the world in his hand, I mean to say that he only needs one hand to hold the world, and not that his other hand was severed in a spelunking incident).
Well, now I’m just being silly. I do not approve of silliness. I used to, but then the world became weary and hopeless, and I became interested in dry wit and dry wit alone. Still, though, it would be fun to see an evil giraffe slam his head into a freeway overpass. I say “evil” because nobody wants to see a good giraffe injure himself (I didn’t say “or herself” because no self-respecting female giraffe would make that kind of gaffe. Yes, I rhymed on purpose.)
What would the goal be for an evil giraffe? I think it would be to make everything taller. OR WOULD IT BE TO MAKE EVERYTHING SHORTER? Forgive me for blowing your mind.
But back to failure. What do I mean, back to failure? One would argue that I never left failure. What does inspire me? Proving the stupidity in others. It would be helpful if I first proved the stupidity in myself.
It’s stupid that I am not enjoying my life more. But here’s the problem -when I say “enjoy my life,” the first thing I think of is “play lasertag.” Not drugs, not sex. Laser tag. Well, when it comes to joy, I know what’s possible.