A lot of my process involves me looking at my process. Not that that necessarily leads me to better understanding or a better process, but it’s what I do.

Here are things I’ve said or written at some point about process that might indicate a few cracks in the foundation (Is that the right saying?). Or, feel free to use them as a recipe if you like.

Start with delusional optimism…

“My method for success is the TOO LATE METHOD. I want to become successful when it doesn’t matter anymore because that way it won’t be noticeable and I won’t have the related pressure. Also, if I still have a fighting chance, I’ll just blow it, so what’s the point?”

“The cornerstones of my process are avoidance and anxiety. They are what I build from.” NOTE: I know I said that avoidance is an exhausting full-time job in a previous post (like you saw that), but that doesn’t mean it’s not also a tactic.

“There’s a reason there’s a ‘pro’ in ‘procrastination’. That’s no accident.”

“A good reason to not start working again is that it’s an instant reminder of how little you’ve done. Nobody needs that.”

Don’t forget your mantras….

I’M NOT TRYING TO STRIKE IT BIG AS A BANQUET SERVER.

I’M NOT TRYING TO STRIKE IT BIG AS A SUBSTITUTE TEACHER.

I’M NOT TRYING TO STRIKE IT BIG AS A TEACHER OF ENGLISH AS A FOREIGN LANGUAGE.

If all else fails, go hard-core……

“Self flagellation can lead to a workable timetable. I am committed to torturing myself to clarity.”

“Everyday, I strive to find new ways to punish myself into a better space.”

“Bitch, you are going to die one day. Tick. Tock.”

UPDATE: I did somehow manage to get onstage at an open mic last night. How and why this happened I don’t know. I think the stars decided it was time. That said, there was nothing even remotely starry about any of it. In fact, it was basically me plunked back into the same tiny corner hole of a self-esteem funk I had found myself in so many times before, during and after awkward comedy episodes in the past. And it did follow me home. Hell, it’s still with me now. The showing up to the spooky little dungeon of a room. The awkward glares. The sign-up sheet. The wait. The wait. The wait. The final call to go up at Midnight in front of all of five jaded comics who just wanted to shut the place down and go smoke a joint on their ride home. The wanting to run. The realization that whatever ideas you did bring with you to use were just painfully insufficient. And you had so much more! How could you settle on that? What were you thinking? How far off base could you have been? You could have actually plucked something decent out of your giant Pandora’s vault of shitty half-baked ideas. WHAT IS FUCKIING WRONG WITH YOU GODDAMMIT?!!!! YOU’VE DONE THIS A MILLION TIMES!! WHY DIDN’T YOU DO EVERYTHING A LOT BETTER LOSER!! YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST STAYED HOME!! BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Yeah, so, it wasn’t my LIVE AT THE CARNEGIE performance. It was rusty and cobwebby and stumbly and disconnected. I’m glad there’s no evidence of it other than in my mind’s eye. I wish I could erase it from there (Come on, Science!). But, to be honest, I actually sort of planned it that way (yeah, right). I didn’t try to pretend I could just waltz onto the spot and smash it to bits, just like that last really good time. I knew that by having been away from the stage for four years, that no matter how much I’d been writing (which really hasn’t been all that much, but because it’s been so disorganized, seems like it has—that’s a weird equation), there was no way to avoid the clunkiness of the return. I’d have to just sit on the pee-soaked bus seat till it was my stop. Take my lumps. I’d basically been cuckolding stand up for all that time, so to expect to get up and smoothly seduce the space would have been a delusional expectation. I knew it would be weird and kind of creepy. And yeah. It was. It was a very cuckold-y…no, really. I felt like an impotent stalker rubbing their leg up against a tree while glaring out at unassuming passersby. It was just wrong. I don’t ever want to go through that again. But, sadly, I might. Because that is sometimes part of this very strange process. And I just have to keep reminding myself that it gets better. Right? Right? Ugh.

See you next month.