On Friday, I went to Quinn C. Martin‘s Quinnder Surprise, which was held at Maple Leaf Gardens. As I watched his supporting cast kill it on stage, part of me felt happy that they were putting on a great show.
But that was the problem: only part of me was enjoying it…
The Mind Feels Envy
It wasn’t long into the evening when the selfish, envious, competitive comedian in me started demanding,
I came to the realization that I wanted to be the best part of the show. Now, at first, I know that doesn’t seem like a harmful feeling at all, but how could I be the best if everyone was doing amazing?
Does that make sense? Ugh. What I’m trying to say is that I was upset at the prospect of not standing out. I was upset that I wouldn’t be the best, even if I did my best. Instead of seeing fellow comics, I was seeing threats.
But what about the part of me that felt genuinely happy for them?
The Heart Feels Love
On the way home, I struggled with the fact that part of me wanted to love my fellow comedian for killing it on stage, while the other part of me wanted to beat them, so to speak. I didn’t like it. It made me feel alone, separate, distant. I was faced with a tough question:
It was. Case in point, at Quinn’s last show on December 16th, I was so wrapped up in performing well that I didn’t allow myself to enjoy my set. So, even though I did the best I’d ever done, I didn’t get nearly as much satisfaction as I thought I would. It’s probably one of the reasons that I’ve avoided the stage over the past few months.
And that’s when I realized that it wasn’t about besting my fellow man, per se. It was about doing my own brand of comedy, communicating to the world what I wanted to communicate.
Resolving Dissonant Chords of Thought
Damn I’m a sick writer. Finally, I asked myself,
The answer was yes. Would there be crowds that invariably liked other comedians more than they liked me? Of course. All I can hope for is that I do what I want to do in the way I want to do it. Well, that, and a cheque. A cheque’d be nice.
By simply acknowledging my feelings of envy, it’s like I’ve removed an emotional stone that has been plaguing my feet along this journey. I would’ve gone with, ‘plucked an emotional thorn‘ but bad mon nuh par wid rose, yuh see mih?
Well, unless it’s a black, black rose, that is. If I had a black, black rose, I’d have to water it if I wanted to keep it.
I think I’m gonna get on stage this week.
PS – God damn those block quotes are making me hot…