And in that way, there’s something dangerous about being up here. I’m tempted to develop a defense mechanism that just presumes anyone who says I’m crazy is the enemy. Anyone who criticizes my life choices is somebody that has given up on their dreams, somebody that doesn’t get it - somebody that is only trying to bring me down.
But if I do that, at what point am I being genuinely delusional? At what point am I crazy?
That seems like an easy distinction to make. If you get laughs, you’re not crazy. If you make money doing this, you’re not crazy. If you experience success, and receive validation, then you’re not crazy.
It’s been that easy, everywhere I’ve been before. There are ways to prove you’re not crazy. “I crushed tonight - exhibit A. All the young comics on the scene look up to me - exhibit B. People pay me to tell jokes - exhibit C. I rest my case, your honor.”
I’m not saying that evidence isn’t up here. But it’s a CSI crime scene up here, not an OJ crime scene. It’s not nearly as easy to see the evidence. And if you don’t see any evidence for a while, you start asking yourself, “Is there any evidence here? Am I going to waste my career trying to solve a crime that never happened?"
I don’t know. It’s not like there’s an easy journey to take in life. If I was at a company picnic last night instead of an open-mic, it’s not like I’d think I had everything figured out. If your whole goal is to be conscious of your own experience and existence, it’s not like there’s a short-cut to that.
It’s funny. Part of me gets to the end of these posts and wants to reward readers with a piece of advice or a nugget of wisdom. But everything I end up thinking or realizing really only applies to me, and so it’s tough to tell someone else what they should take from an experience I’m having.
So instead, I’ll just say to have a nice Tuesday. And go outside if you get a chance. Outside is nice.