Failure, rank abyss of black sinking melancholy, hello again.
Failure is a funny thing, it has a serious finite feel to it, yet it denotes effort and can spur further endeavour.
I'm feeling as blue as the blue man group at the moment because I've spent the last year staring into failure's black lifeless eyes constantly egging it on to "come at me bro".
I can't argue it hasn't been a difficult year, I've effectively taken time out from my busy schedule of existing to throw myself into the emotional meat grinder one more time. Or several more times if anyone was keeping count.
My dream of doing comedy for a living takes regular beatings, it could arguably be the speed ball in a particularly rough gym on the bad side of town next to the most downtrodden of steel factories where the workers truly despise their overinflated money hungry Grinch of a boss.
Now I sit on the precipice of moving to the other side of the world, to a country I've never been to with a plan that no longer exists. My last roll of the dice for the year coming up snake eyes as the gates to comedy film school swung closed.
Feedback would be nice.
When I blew the Billy T, I understood. I didn't connect with the crowd, my performance was rushed and the title of my pitch was poor. The wrong foot, with which I do most of my stepping, was engaged and extended long before I opened my mouth. I didn't perform to my potential and wasn't nominated, quite rightfully.
However no such understanding has extended from my inability to get into this school. This was my third attempt, my best attempt and it wasn't good enough. I simply don't know why.
So steadfast was my belief that I would not fail this time that I booked my ticket to Britain long ago. An act of defiance in the face of the odds, something I could control.
I worked two jobs, paid two lots of rent in two cities, a candle burnt at both ends with no favours left to call in. I wanted this so much.
But those dice stared up at me, two black lifeless eyes..
And I stared back.. into the abyss, without a rudder, without a plan, I'm still moving to the other side of the world in less than a month.
I recognise these eyes. "Come at me bro."
Failure is a funny thing, it has a serious finite feel to it, yet it denotes effort and can spur further endeavour.
I'm feeling as blue as the blue man group at the moment because I've spent the last year staring into failure's black lifeless eyes constantly egging it on to "come at me bro".
I can't argue it hasn't been a difficult year, I've effectively taken time out from my busy schedule of existing to throw myself into the emotional meat grinder one more time. Or several more times if anyone was keeping count.
My dream of doing comedy for a living takes regular beatings, it could arguably be the speed ball in a particularly rough gym on the bad side of town next to the most downtrodden of steel factories where the workers truly despise their overinflated money hungry Grinch of a boss.
Now I sit on the precipice of moving to the other side of the world, to a country I've never been to with a plan that no longer exists. My last roll of the dice for the year coming up snake eyes as the gates to comedy film school swung closed.
Feedback would be nice.
When I blew the Billy T, I understood. I didn't connect with the crowd, my performance was rushed and the title of my pitch was poor. The wrong foot, with which I do most of my stepping, was engaged and extended long before I opened my mouth. I didn't perform to my potential and wasn't nominated, quite rightfully.
However no such understanding has extended from my inability to get into this school. This was my third attempt, my best attempt and it wasn't good enough. I simply don't know why.
So steadfast was my belief that I would not fail this time that I booked my ticket to Britain long ago. An act of defiance in the face of the odds, something I could control.
I worked two jobs, paid two lots of rent in two cities, a candle burnt at both ends with no favours left to call in. I wanted this so much.
But those dice stared up at me, two black lifeless eyes..
And I stared back.. into the abyss, without a rudder, without a plan, I'm still moving to the other side of the world in less than a month.
I recognise these eyes. "Come at me bro."
