Post Holiday Blues – What I’m thinking when I’m at home eating chicken
When your birthday’s in the middle of the year, like mine, you tend to see every milestone as a bout of renewal. 6 months down the line from the anniversary of your birth, you share in the same period of coming together with family and friends that everyone mills around on, like flies on a cake.
But me, I get broody, miserable, repugnant on this and that, seeing how everyone’s feeling fresh from spending with each other, making new friends, drinking too much red wine, blah de blah de blah. Oh yay, I make a promise I’ll quit smoking. Oh woo, I’ll tell myself that in the next 3 months I’ll tone up my tummy so I won’t look like a vindictive slob.
Oh shure, I’ll become a full-time comedian THIS year.
Still, it does seem like in the space of 6 short months I’ve changed my life around so much I have to step back, stop and wonder if I’m moaning purely for the fact or because I’m one of those self-loathing misanthropes that can’t see the carrot from the stick cos some threw mud on the carrot and it’s colour strangely that of the bloody stick.
Heads up, a list:
– A job
– Reconnecting with family
– New comedy collective
– Love and a home
– New jokes
Honest, new jokes. I’m not kidding. Well, I do kid, it’s my hobby.
But genuinely, I do feel that being a full time comic that will allow me time for more family, living the ideal driving/flying around the country 4 times the same of my adopted dialect, might seem like it’s a sure-fire way, just keep on plowing through and eventually someone will observe that fundamental selling point that will see you throwing tickets away for cash like it’s dough in a bakery.
But it’s not, it’s hard. Getting that selling point is hard. I’m just a guy. Who wants to hear yet another guy?
…Oh wait, I’m not just another guy. I’m Nelson.