Hey, I’m alive!
Is it odd that Tom Lerher cheers me up? I guess cynical lyrics make me giggle.
Another night at the theaters. So far I’ve chased of 5 shady groups of teenagers, kicked ten people out for not having tickets, and stopped a man from murdering the ticket taker for saying his wife was hot. These are normal situations for this theater. I’m not complaining, all the commotion helps the time go faster. Six hours goes by like nothing if you are sprinting from incident to incident. Being a movie theater, this place is a magnet for teens. This usually isn’t a problem, except when the teens are gang affiliated.
These guys are the most difficult to deal with. They talk about how you should give them respect, yet they themselves give no one the respect they demand. Personally, I was raised to respect my elders/Property management/The Police. These guys will deface the property with crudely drawn graffiti, which is just a step up from using urine to mark their territory. I think if you are going to do something, do it right! These kids should Adopt A Highway. Nothing says,”Step off SON!” like a perfectly manicured highway. Forget 1000 dollars for littering, an angry gang member with a knife is a much better deterrent. This would also work well with a neighborhood watch. Who’s going to break into a car when 8 armed teens could be waiting in the bushes. The only thing scarier would be a landmine.
Sadly, these ideal situations are just a fantasy of mine. So thus I have to check cars to see if their tires have been slashed. I think that is the ultimate insult. Sure, slash one and they have a spare. But slash two and a tow truck is mandatory. Well, I gotta go. Someone is asking for popcorn at gunpoint and the bathroom is on fire.
Wish me luck!
The blank page is my worst enemy, best friend, constant reminder of my shortcomings, and all around horrific evil entity. When I have a flash of creativity, I am over the moon! I love filling it with all sorts of thingmibobs and whosiwhatsits. But when it’s staring at me with its stark white emptiness, I feel full of anguish and horror. My mind seems to empty itself of all creativity, my stomach full of bile and spite. One would think this would put me off of creative writing forever, but like so many other masochist’s out there, I chugg along.
I believe this all started when I was in third grade. It was music class, and the teacher was demonstrating how music can convey an emotion/feeling. She had us tell stories, using the creepy music as cues as to where the story’s narrative should go. As you would expect, most of the stories where dull and dark, bereft of vim, vigor, or suspense. That was until I came up. My story was dark and foreboding, but never gory or truly horrific. I twisted the story into a twilight zone-y conclusion, creating doubt that the narrative was the character’s true reality or just a daydream of a child’s overactive imagination. This really shocked my classmates, so much so that a few of them wouldn’t talk to me for a week. This was a reaction I wasn’t expecting, but one I loved.
The reaction, the thing that keeps me doing stuff. The thought that someone will laugh, cry, feel uncomfortable, scream, or even just change their mental state a small bit. This is what will always keep me going. I don’t know why, maybe I’m just wired wrong. Normally, a person feels awkward or wrong when their work is criticized or knocked down a peg, but I love it! The negativity is a reaction. Sure, positivity makes me feel better, but the reaction is what does it for me. I think that this feeling affects my standup, my writing, my art, even my conversation with friends. I say with friends because I still need to get jobs.
Jobs, non-creative things that seem to be easy for everyone else to tolerate except myself. I have worked in food service, retail, customer service, and security. In none of these jobs have I ever been required to be creative. Sure, I’ve needed to use critical thinking skills, but not once have I been needed to make anyone laugh, cry, scream or otherwise. The only time I’ve had job satisfaction was when i’d made homeowners and customers laugh. A reaction. A good reaction. A great feeling. And that’s why I need standup. That’s why I need to make art. That’s why I brave a blank page. To let me release my stress and pressure, to give me hope that I can change my situation, to keep me sane.
So why don’t I just quit my job, move to LA, and start pursuing a career in creativity? Responsibility. I have some. I have rent to pay, I have a need to eat, my car has a need for gas, and all this requires currency. If I quit without steady work set to move to, currency goes away. So does food, gas and possibly my wife. That’s why I’m doing this essay, to try and show my writing skills and hopefully get a job in a creative field. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy comedy the most, but doing anything creatively would be a step in a better direction.
Where to find my stuff:
Thanks for reading.
I just got cable. nuff’ said.