Title entered here.

I’m just going to start typing up a rough blog post draft right now.

As usual, I have no idea what to write about. This is a habit I need to get back into.

Time lapses are killers, man. I’ve been a lot busier over the last couple of months than I’ve been in years. That’s not a complaint at all. I’m extremely happy to be busy, because for the first time since… high school? I’m really busy with stuff that makes me happy.

Unfortunately, that means I’ve been neglecting my responsibilities as a podcast host/blogtographer.

The effects of time off are daunting. I sat here for about ten minutes before I even started writing this sub-par tirade of introspection. A week ago today was Alpaca Lips Comedy presented the 5th Llamageddon comedy hour. I’m lucky enough to now be a seasoned member of the group (this was my second show) So last week, we all spent our evenings rehearsing in the performance space (Strange Loop Records)

As a result, I only made it to one open mic… In this city, it is theoretically possible to make it to twelve mics per week. THEORETICALLY. On average, I get up at about 4 times a week. But with rehearsals last week, I was only able to do one mic. I went first at The Shrunken Head on Monday, then I didn’t get back up until THIS monday.

I was terrified to get back on stage. What if I fail? What if I’ve completely forgotten how to do this? What if I bomb so hard that no one ever books me for anything ever again? What if I get confused and accidentally take a literal shit on the stage?

Speaking of, I’ll be right back……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sorry. I’ve had a really gnarly diet lately. What was I saying?

Oh yeah! I was suddenly incredibly scared to get on stage again. Jittery. Uneasy. Antisocial all the way up until I finally took the stage. Why is that? I mean, I’m not exactly new to this. I’ve done it a few times.

I was kind of upset about it at first. But once I got off stage, I felt like $1,000,000. Why? Why is my psyche so tightly bound to whether or not drunken strangers like me?

I know this isn’t a new idea, but it’s absolutely true. When people I know tell me they like something I did, it means a lot. Symbolically. Long-term. But nothing can beat that high of walking up on stage without a clear plan and making the whole room laugh.

In essence, fear is good. It makes you better. But if you let it conquer you, you’ll never do anything. When things seem scary… When you’re without a car, and you haven’t written a blog post or edited a podcast in months. It isn’t too late. Jump back on that horse and get it done. Is that my point?…. Sure. Why not. I’ll do another one of these next week.

RIP Robin. RIP Harris. RIP Robin Harris.

-Jameson

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