Thursday, July 30, 2015


I've been crying for like... 28 years. I cry in public a lot, so basically, I've proved these eyelashes are real! It's weird I can do something so often, so continuously, and SO WELL, and it still makes me feel shitty. It would be like if Michael Jordan was like "yeah I've been playing basketball my entire life, and I'm literally the best at it, but still, every time I touch the ball I remember how alone I am in the world."

Sometimes my body starts crying before my brain and heart even realize we're sad about something: oh this again? Time to start thinking about how no one likes us! And that's really what I'm crying about most of the time is me feeling alone, or other people feeling alone, or the concept of loneliness existing at all. I'm so rarely crying about something productive. Whenever I do start crying about police brutality I'm like "good job, Babs, keep it going." 

Today I started crying because Mike Birbiglia told some jokes about uncovering truths about himself and then had the gall to play DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE in the credits of the special. I started crying when I heard Death Cab, which is weird because I am not 16 and/or on my period. My boss was like "what's wrong?" and I was like "no one will follow me into the dark!" Wait, is that song about killing yourself because your friend died? Ugh... um, nevermind, no thanks.

Part of being a comedian is essentially crying because one thinks everyone hates them, which is stupid because some people don't know me well enough to hate me. I used to fool myself into believing I did comedy solely to make people happy, and I know for a fact that that is a big percentage of the reasoning, like maybe 58%, which is not exactly a passing grade. And I do not get non passing grades. 

2015 has been hard for me, as hard as it can be for any 28 year old pretty white person, but, um.... I didn't get into a festival I wanted, I didn't advance in a comedy competition I wanted to advance in, I didn't advance in a local comedy competition, but one of the judges and I had a conflict of penis size interest, so I think he was biased against me. Overall, there were a couple set backs in my still young, about 6 years in, comedy career. It's easy to go from thinking "am I not FUNNY?" to "do I not make people happy?" to "do I make people miserable?" to "am I a worthless piece of shit who everyone hates who doesn't have any friends and is totally alone?????" 

Yesterday a friend of mine posted on facebook that something very positive was happening for him. I don't want to discuss it, and I'm legally obligated not to, not that I think the people who wear the suits with the briefcases read my shitty blog, but just in case... let's use a metaphor. My friend posted that he was going to get a pot of gold delivered to his house that night. I had fought and bested the same leprechaun in battle, chased the same rainbow, but it is still uncertain whether a pot of gold will be delivered to me. I am VERY happy that my friend gets a pot of gold, but I hate thinking "now if I DON'T get a pot of gold everyone will think it's because I am a bad person and did not play the leprechaun's reindeer games, and then they will all hate me, and then I will be even more alone." Okay that's too dramatic...

I also recently had a death in the family, and I had a friend/ roommate kinda betray my trust, and a friend got sick, and I am feeling very secluded from my friends and family, and the festivals and comedy competitions and everything.... AND ON TOP OF ALL THAT, I MAY OR MAY NOT GET MY LEPRECHAUN SCHRODINGER'S GOLD????!!!!!

If people stop laughing, even for five minutes, does that mean the clown isn't making them happy and the clown is ruining everything and get back in her clown car but she doesn't have any friends so there's not enough clowns in the clown car?

My brain tells myself that no one likes me.
My body tells my eyes to start leaking liquid.
My brain says myself that I make people miserable.
My body tells my shoulders to shake.
My brain tells myself that I am alone.
I proved these eyelashes are real.

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