Today I was supposed to perform stand up comedy in Wellington. Instead I did something to which I am totally unaccustomed, I chickened out.
That is extremely difficult to admit, even to myself. Chickening out is not usually available in my lexicon.
Each new challenge is almost always met with taking up arms and I certainly have pedigree when it comes to performance of anything funny.
It was a hard decision to make and given my own goals and standards in regards to comedy and my own work ethic, a very bitter pill to swallow. I can feel it choking me even as I write this.
I would like to think it takes guts to admit when you are not prepared for something. My set it written, but my head space is completely wrong.
I've been under a lot of stress lately and am not feeling particularly funny. I am distracted and bogged down in other matters right across the board, totally unable to give my time to the preparation required to overcome my own negative thinking.
What pains me most is that I had something worthwhile to say. That the set I'd put together was thoughtful, well written and full of research delivered with witty analysis.
Unlike so much current stand up, it made a point. A point I hoped would resonate with the audience, that would be taken home and lead to at least one argument in the kitchen over the validity of what I had to say.
I am kicking myself.
This is the same set I bottled recently and it seems prudent to attest that perhaps the hangover of that failure coupled with the stress of recent events has simply gotten the better of me this time around.
It hurts to admit defeat. It's humbling to admit when you cannot deliver.
Put into context it's a small blip on the radar, a moment that never even was save for what I have written here. An irrelevant nothing which effects exactly zero other people.
It is good to know I have my priorities straight at the moment.
That is extremely difficult to admit, even to myself. Chickening out is not usually available in my lexicon.
Each new challenge is almost always met with taking up arms and I certainly have pedigree when it comes to performance of anything funny.
It was a hard decision to make and given my own goals and standards in regards to comedy and my own work ethic, a very bitter pill to swallow. I can feel it choking me even as I write this.
I would like to think it takes guts to admit when you are not prepared for something. My set it written, but my head space is completely wrong.
I've been under a lot of stress lately and am not feeling particularly funny. I am distracted and bogged down in other matters right across the board, totally unable to give my time to the preparation required to overcome my own negative thinking.
What pains me most is that I had something worthwhile to say. That the set I'd put together was thoughtful, well written and full of research delivered with witty analysis.
Unlike so much current stand up, it made a point. A point I hoped would resonate with the audience, that would be taken home and lead to at least one argument in the kitchen over the validity of what I had to say.
I am kicking myself.
This is the same set I bottled recently and it seems prudent to attest that perhaps the hangover of that failure coupled with the stress of recent events has simply gotten the better of me this time around.
It hurts to admit defeat. It's humbling to admit when you cannot deliver.
Put into context it's a small blip on the radar, a moment that never even was save for what I have written here. An irrelevant nothing which effects exactly zero other people.
It is good to know I have my priorities straight at the moment.
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