Standup comedians have the most interesting method of processing pain, death of a parent, past mistakes, addiction; they’re all fuel for their act.
An act that gets laughter from the crowd, an aphrodisiac every performer thrives on.
Most of my favourite comedians developed their acts from painful memories and turning them into comedic ones; often the most profound of thoughts came from observing standup comedy.
In a recent viewing of observing a comedian perform; it was the resonance of pain as the binding force which felt like the laughter was disguising our deeper emotions.
The hesitant laughter, the sympathetic laughter, the pity laughter, the obnoxious laughter, and the laughter of the funny kind…
“…hey, that’s me; I do that too!”
It was in this moment as I sat amongst the crowd did I realise, every pursuit is an escape — every action, every step we take is really just a form of escapism.
A method through which we can process our wounds and churn up creativity.
When it resonates — it’s the greatest aphrodisiac of all; the healing kind.
Behind some of the greatest work; pain has always been the most powerful of emotions — a force that drives individuals past their limitations.
Leaps and bounds of unwavering symphonies that collide in formation of the most beautiful harmonies.
The greatest pieces of music, art, film, writing, inventions, were all a result of something missing within the creator and as such the quest became the method through which it was fulfilled.
Often in every piece of writing, I find that I leave pieces of my inner emotions that reflect within a humorous method of what I intend to communicate; a trigger of sorts without the direct intention of invoking a response.
It’s counter-intuitive, but it’s the process that I enjoy more than the piece itself.
I do not like re-reading my pieces, because I’m left tangled up in what should and shouldn’t be said; in doing so, I’m removing my insecurities — filtering them in the process of doing so; and the essence is lost.
The emotional aspect just isn’t there if I spent too much time pondering on why I wrote what I did at that specific time.
To let myself be truly free, I must put on display my vulnerabilities and make peace with them in doing so.
As it seems, when it does resonate, I’m able to come to terms with my thoughts and articulate them when engaging with the reader.
It’s the same aphrodisiacal value that standup acts experience; except it’s more subtle than the loud cheering of a crowd and the applause is much more deepening and lasting.
In rare moments, I’ll find a reader who is willing to share their own experience and thus begins the journey of a back and forth that instils within me a purpose for which I am driven.
I overload myself with work; because I find that in doing so, I’m able to quiet my brain down — the noise is drawn out, and it’s mesmerising.
Imagine fatiguing your body to a point that it has no energy left to process anything mundane because the work has been rewarding enough — such is how the brain works.
Some people find it in other aspects of life, devoting their energy to negative forces; criticism, jealousy, gossip — none of which I engage in.
Through a simple rule of thumb, a personal conviction — if your actions do not harm or bother me or anybody else, I have no right to judge nor do I have the mental strength for it.
Life is much simpler when I’m devoted to my craft, and it keeps me sane.
It isn’t a perfect formula of course, but I’m able to make do with it knowing that it’s productive.
This near maniacal dedication has brought me a great deal of fruition throughout my life; as I do recognise it comes at a cost.
A cost paid for with a tradeoff; a sacrifice that I accept is a byproduct of my choosing.
In a social settings, I might often be too uncomfortable or even off on another planet entirely as my brain simply does not process small-talk.
A habit which often appears to be rude to the outside observer.
A mutual confidant or similar personality, driven to their core, will find this quality resonant and even respectful.
Silence; the power through which I can observe without feeling the need to voice my opinion or the willingness to speak at every given opportunity.
I’d rather listen, make mental notes of what may one day come to form a greater picture; painting itself vividly in my imagination.
The idiosyncrasies and social inadequacies, a silent observer can draw from a desirable wealth of knowledge in observance.
As such, recognising my unquenchable thirst to keep creating; I find that every pursuit is an escape, one full of greater wonders if my devotion is remanent alongside my intentions remaining pure — I can continue to create, in this longing desire to fulfil my emotions with enigmatic scriptures of what may one day be my only memory of recollections I’ve encountered.
Forming a whirlwind of my emotions, the art of creativity is far less rewarding if the ability of the craft is overlooked.
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche