Wednesday, January 25, 2012

The Neurotic Symphony

I’m having one of those nights when doubt takes a seat on my desk and just stares at me like an annoying leprechaun. He doesn’t say anything, but he has this knowing, Cheshire Cat grin on his face, as if to taunt me.

I know what the cynical bastard is thinking of course. Are you kidding Julia? Comedy? Variety shows? Really, at your age?  Come on, you’ve had your chance and you took a different road. Seriously, no one wants to see an old fart like you get up there and talk. Give it up; you’re just making a fool of yourself.

There is a part of me that believes those things you know? And believe me, they are not so deep down inside. I mean, at this point in my life I should be kicking back and watching The Big Bang Theory, occasionally commiserating with some old comic friends and reminiscing. I should be playing poker on Saturday with my girlfriends instead of jackassing up to Allentown, Pennsylvania for a gig. This blog is a labor of love (and occasionally hate), that fulfills a part of me because I know that some people actually read it. There’s a very nice lady in my life that doesn’t care if I’m transgendered, but who likes me just for me, and I think if I gave the relationship half a chance, it might actually develop into something sweet and wonderful. She’s funny and smart, and we both get orgasmic for pizza.  I run a small, but growing business that is just now starting to turn a profit. Wonderful stuff, isn’t it?  But all of it is being sidelined because of this comedy thing. And the question that pops up over and over again is, why? Why do I feel that I should have a different life than the one I have? I should be complete by now, shouldn’t I?

But I’m not. I’m as restless as a ferret on speed all the time. I dart around dipping my hand into everything, just to taste it all, hoping to find the replacement for performing. But it never comes. Always...ALWAYS, that little green son of a bitchin’ leprechaun is giving me that stupid, idiotic smirk of his. And right now he is doing all he can to contain himself and not bust a gut laughing at me. He knows what I’m thinking; could he be right about me being too old and it being too late to start again? Why am I doing this?

This is all about unfinished business, I think. My departure from comedy was sudden and abrupt. There was no tearful goodbye, no final show. I just dropped out of sight. What I couldn’t do was drop comedy out of my mind. And that’s why this mother-effer is here.

No... WAIT! That’s a lie. It isn’t about unfinished business. That’s bullshit. This is about more than that. The truth is that I’m five months away from my 60th birthday and it’s eating me up. This is about mortality and the realization of it. It’s ALL about the mistakes I’ve made and time wasted trying to undo them. It’s knowing that in the past, I always had decades left to change things. Old age was for other people, but not me; I was immortal!

 This feeling is also about the loss of people in my life that aches more now than it did when I came out to them. It’s about the time I’ve lost with those people that I will never, ever get back. And every now and again, it’s about the wondering of what life would have been like had I not listened to my heart and stayed a man.

Unfinished business, humph. Who EVER knows when their time is up? How dare I presume to be different, and think that I have special dispensation to plan business to be finished at a date to be announced?

Maybe this is what fear feels like. I’ve seen fearful people and they acted just like this. My father and mother were fearful and didn’t deal well with it. One drifted away into a bottle and the other became a recluse because of it. Am I destined to follow in their footsteps? Fucking leprechaun, that’s what you are! Not doubt, but FEAR. Don’t dream, Julia. Hopes and dreams are for the young. Why bother? You don’t have the time to dream. You should be preparing your nest, slowing down, taking it easy. Why, starting something new now is only going to end in disappointment, you know that. So just relax. You know you want to, don’t you?

NO! I don’t want to. My body may be falling apart, but my mind is sharp. I can still think and if I can think, I can imagine. If I can imagine, then I should be able to manifest anything.  Age is somebody else’s problem, not mine. Fuck you leprechaun! Just Fuck You!!!!

Still, the idea of relaxing is appealing. No. If I quit, I become like these old people I see who walk around all day with nothing to do but walk around. I want to make something, build something, and create something. And I want to do it until I can’t do it anymore. 

Still, I could focus on my business. That’s creating something, isn’t it? It’s not the same! All around my universe, words swirl about, like stars. It’s my dream to just pluck them from my mind, and put them together in ways that teach and make people laugh at the same time. That’s what it’s all about for me! That’s what jazzes me up! Why can’t I still do that and keep my business going? Why should I have to give up one for the other?

Still, it IS all going to end one day. Why bother to start? Because it’s not my day today! I don’t know when my day is. And even if it’s five minutes from now, I don’t want my last thought to be a fearful one. No! Fuck you leprechaun!

“My, you do say NO a lot, don’t you?”

What are you talking about, you little green pain-in-the-ass?

“Why you , ducks, of course. Don’t you hear yourself? You say no to EVERYTHING; No to old age, to comedy, to your lady friend, the show, all of it. You’re a regular rebel without a cause. Tell me... What do you ever say YES to?”

I say yes to plenty of things!

“Really ducks? Like what? Denial? Sabotage? Pain? Failure?

Those are things I’m comfortable with. It’s what I know best.

“Well love, that’s why you’re so miserable, don’t ya see? Look at who gets all puffed up like a big ole blowfish, braggin about how you take all these chances. Why you’re nothing but a big old coward, ya are!

Hey shut up, okay? I have enough on my mind. I don’t need you to sit there all night saying nothing, and when you finally decide to speak, you spout all this happy horseshit. But...I didn’t mean to interrupt you. So, if you have something to say...well go ahead and say it. Exactly why am I a coward?

“Well that’s easy love. You fight everything so that it doesn’t hurt you. There’s no risk in that. And there’s no winning that fight either. Sooner or later it all gets you, and there’s not thing one you can do about it. You talked about being a fearful person; well you are! You’re afraid of success, so you hide under the blanket of failure. Why don’t you try accepting it all for a change? Enjoy it. Laugh at it, like I do. Don’t you worry about how it all turns out because I’m here to tell you...  it turns out the same way for die in the end!”

Okay, okay, I get your point. Obviously, my way hasn’t worked up until now. Maybe I should think about success for a change. But it won’t be easy. I’ve had a long time to cultivate my misery, you know.

“Don’t worry about a thing love. If you slip, I’ll be here for you.”


“Of course!”

I hate you.

“No you don’t. You love me.”


“Again with the no? I though we discussed that? Now come on...”

Okay. Maybe I love you a little bit. You are me, after all aren’t you?


That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, everybody eat! Abbondanza!






1 comment:

  1. Hi, Julia. Good to see you again!

    Comics reinventing themselves in midlife is a topic in which I have a personal interest, so I'll be keeping up with your blog.