BIG Mistakes in the BIG Apple

Hear me out before you start to panic. Moving to New York City is not the big mistake, however, so far mistakes that should be long omitted from my repertoire have been peeking their little heads up.

 Human beings have many immunities that our bodies have conjured up in order to protect us from harm, however, fucking up is not one of them. No one is immune to making mistakes. Whether it be forgetting to pay a bill on time, being late for work, not locking the door when you rub one out and a family member comes in…the possibilities are endless and we’re all guilty. Even worse are big mistakes. Ones that the curse of personality masks with a layer of stubbornness causing a false interpretation of what is right and what is wrong. If you don’t realize this, you are ever doomed with a downward spiral in your life, career, and relationships…

 I am the biggest perpetrator of masking my fears with stubbornness. I tend to have an idea of how something should be and don’t step outside the circle of comfort to just let things happen. For instance, I have not been attending regular open mics in the city as I felt I didn’t need to go through that process anymore. However, when show time came around, my lack of rehearsal and rust shown through as bright as the reflection of the sun off of Joan Rivers waxy face. I was very ashamed of myself for acting that way. Sure open mics are brutal, but the lack of reciting my set regularly proved to be even more brutal. Struggling to remember tags, transitions, punch lines, and entire jokes made me sick to my stomach (which to be honest isn’t that hard as I’m pretty squeamish.). The audience responded well to my act, however, if it were an audition spot at one of the bigger clubs I fear I would have been passed on immediately. What if it had been a show that counted toward something bigger? What if industry people had been there to scout out new talent? How the FUCK could I let this happen? I’ll tell you how, because I allowed my stubborn mask, whether I knew it or not, blind me and I paid the consequences for it. Oh, but that’s not all…

 Let’s get hypothetical for a moment. I think it’s safe to say that the older one gets the more inclined they are to spend time with people closer to their age. More often than not they have a preconceived notion in their head that anyone, say seven or so years younger than them does not posses the maturity level to carry on a relationship regardless of its level. But who are we to make such a judgment without giving it a chance? Just because science dictates the brain’s full functionality is not finished developing until age 25 does not mean that someone who is 19-20 cannot match or exceed their older counterparts maturity level. Having these preconceived notions will only cause damage to what could have been something great, all because the “older” one was too blind, scared, and immature to just let it be. Now one is left to suffer for their mistake; and even if they choose to end the cycle, they still missed their opportunity unless said younger counterpart can forgive. This is one of the biggest mistakes one can make…hypothetically, of course.

 New York City is a lonely place. Those who know me well would say that’s a perfect fit for someone such as myself, but making big mistakes makes it that much lonelier. The daily routine here consists of commuting beside thousands of people in a small aluminum box, though eye contact is seldom made. Most of the commuters are staring down or reading or drowning himself or herself in their iphone screen trying to figure out a way to get more lives on Candy Crush Saga without a connection to the Internet. Point A to point B, that’s all that matters.

 People often accuse me of having an old soul, telling me I have wisdom beyond my years or that my hyper sense of awareness has caused me to break the fourth wall and expose our lives for the meta-fictional series of errors it really is, however these accusations prove false as I am just a boy. A boy who tries to make the decisions of a man and ends up making mistakes that may hurt the ones around me.

 I suppose the moral of the story is don’t underestimate the amount of work it takes to be good at something, and don’t underestimate another human being because of a number, especially in a city where human interaction is all but an accident. Hopefully these lessons will help me be a better man, but in the words of every woman ever…”Men Suck.” I’m most definitely not immune to sucking…

"I almost Sharted!"

                Experiences are what drive creativity.  Whether it is happy, sad, traumatic, or wonderful; the result is always the same: an imagination sparked by reality.  Maybe you use these experiences to create something, or simply relate to something that is created; that light bulb still shines bright whether you know it or not.  Children seem to have the concept of creativity down to perfection, an art that’s often lost among us “grown” folk…

                Recently I had an experience that got me thinking, as almost everything does (because I suck and over think using my brain which was created for thinking, as you all know).  I was watching a football game at a friend’s house and their nine year old son swiftly jumped from his comfortable corner of the couch and ran as fast as he could to the restroom.  I paid no mind as we all have to go, right?  But what happened next brought out the beast that is my mind and put it into full motion.  The boy emerged from the restroom, smiled from ear to ear, looked me straight in the eyes and said “I almost sharted!” 

                Sharted: a combination of the words “Shit” and “Farted” implying that one has just farted and a small amount of shit accompanied the gassy discharge.

                Needless to say I, my friend, and her son all burst into an uncontrollable laughter.  Though the term sharted was not an original creation, the boy still had the know how to creatively combine two words into one hilarious instance that he damn well knew would spark the reaction that it did.  A child, using his imagination to elicit a response from adults that could end in two possible scenarios: a. He’s scolded for being inappropriate, or b. we laugh our asses off; a risk worth taking for the fifty-fifty chance of a big pay off that’s worth every effort.  At this very moment we were all children living in a fantasy world full of shit, farts, and laughter.  It was fantastic and the boy succeeded in entertaining others through creativity.

                Ridiculous and immature?  Hmm…perhaps, but where would we be without such things?  If you aren't able to tap into your inner child, how could you accomplish anything?  Believe it or not, everything great in this world at one point was just a fantasy in someone’s imagination.  Bringing those fantasies to life for our benefit is the difference between those who are successful and those who are not.  That begs the question: who is immature?  The one who embraces their immaturity?  Or the one who isn’t mature enough to recognize its significance?

                Take the comedy world for example.  Most comics rely on humor to get a huge point across to their audience.  An underlying message surrounded by creative, and often immature twists on real life situations.  For some of us it’s even a means of taking our deepest, darkest pain and finding a way to creatively find the humor in it and relay that to an audience.  A kind of therapy that helps us get it all out an laugh instead of cry. 

                When you drive over a bridge, or step into an elevator, or hop on a rollercoaster have you ever stopped to think who of how could someone have possibly thought to create these things?  Someone had to tap into their imagination and shart out the ideas.  Though technologically complex breakthroughs, they still required someone to tap into that side of their brain that never grew up; that side of their brain that can still play and create impossible images and bring them to life. 

                Even when things aren’t possible to actually create in the living world, they can still be created in other formats for us to get lost in; books, movies, tv shows, videogames, comics, etc.  Where would we be without Spielberg, Lucas, Cameron, Tolkein, Steinbeck, Clark, Kane, Ball, Letterman, Rodenberry, etc?  We would be a group of bored individuals I tell you what.  We indulge in these things because we like to escape to a reality that doesn’t exist because, for lack of a better word, it’s fun. 

I have a friend; beautiful as the anything you could imagine and smarter than the average, or even above average human being.  A scholar in social justice, a mother, and is destined for greatness.  She’s stern and to the point; to try and argue anything with her his suicide and your balls are bound to be verbally cut off.  That being said when we sit down to watch a movie she fidgets, yells, laughs, talks to the screen…she get’s fully emerged in what she’s watching and embraces the experience to the full effect.  Her inner child comes out completely and isn’t held back.  Seeing someone who is otherwise quite intimidating to the average person become a nine year old is one of the greatest things I have ever laid my eyes on and there’s no one I would rather enjoy a movie with.  Her imagination is fully intact and I can only imagine the great things that will be accomplished by combining that and her social justice prerogatives.

I really want to keep going on and on as I have a lot more to say, but I’ll spare you anymore rant and get to the point, which is this: if your kid tells you they sharted, laugh, it’s funny.  Don’t hold them back from enjoying their own creativity, you never know when that shart will lead them to building a bridge or a rollercoaster.  And don’t hold yourself back either.  We may be adults, but don’t for one second underestimate a child’s genius, they have it figured out a lot better than we do.  Embrace your inner child from time to time, because in the midst of all the bullshit we have to deal with on a daily basis and important adult decisions we have to make, there will always be a part of us that’s at the second star to the right, and straight on til morning.  We owe it to ourselves to spend time there to stay sane.

Now with all that being said I must now excuse myself as I have indeed just sharted because I do indeed…suck.  (new FUCKING underwear…)