Like most people, I feel like I live a double life. Very 007. I play so many roles, it may be a triple or quadruple life. Something the professionals may call multiple personalities, but I’m no doctor. One thing that holds true throughout the *roles* I play is my sense of humor.
Depending on which
personality *role* I’m playing, I may have to hold back. I know, I know…so shocking to many of you that sometimes I’m actually holding back. But I have to, so as to not lose my day job or have my children’s teachers call Child Services.
“Julie, do you talk to your children with that mouth?”
“Julie, we don’t talk like that in a corporate boardroom!”
Being funny is what keeps me going.
I’m gonna go ahead and say what others are saying. Inappropriate or not, it comes out. I’m gonna go ahead and speak in an elevator. Why the silence? I’m gonna make the joke when I see the opportunity. It’s part of my genetic code and it makes me, me. Deep down inside of me, I want to do it more. “Do what you love,” they say. I’m hitting the point when I should listen to what “they” say. Being funny is what I love. You may love scrapbooking or cooking. I love being something and that something is funny. I will die if I attempt to scrapbook or cook. A rapid, violent death.
After almost 40 years, I still haven’t mastered the art of being funny as “what I do.”
I’ve thought long and hard about writing; being a writer. I remember being told in college I was a good writer. I really, really wish I’d had the confidence at that time to grab a hold of that and run to wherever it was gonna take me. This blog is me dipping my toes. A long time later.
This weekend changes it all, and my expectations are high!
This weekend, I get the privilege of hanging with really, really funny people at the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop. They are attacking my state of residence, and all I gotta do is drive up the road to hang with them.
Hundreds of funny people that make a living being funny, or like me, want to make being funny a larger part of their life, will be hanging out with me. ME! I can’t imagine being around a large, large group of people who have the same insane thoughts as me. And say them! (Can you see me smiling?) I can’t wait to hear the places they go in their heads that I can only imagine going. My brain explodes just thinking about it.
These are my people. And yet I don’t know a single one of them. Come Sunday, I will know so many of them. I will have blamed some of them for making me pee my pants. (And I will have been totally okay with it!) I will have new friends. I will have direction. Although some of it may be lofty:
- Am I gonna write for The Ellen Show? I dance. I write. Umm, hello? And Hi Andy! Nice legs.
- Am I sitcom writer?
- Are Amy Poehler, Tina Fey and me gonna be best friends some day?
- Kathy Griffin – does your mom Maggie need me to drink that box of wine with her?
- Do I have the balls for stand-up?
- Do I write a book? Do I have a story to tell? (I feel like @TheBloggess has my random, in-so-many-places-at-one-time voice speaking in her book and I’m feeling horribly inspired!! Go read her book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened. Now!)
- How do I get people to find me and find my funny? Can we add a line item in our monthly budget for outdoor billboards? (As if we have a monthly budget. Let alone, one with line items. OH WAIT, my husband is saying we do have one. Shit!)
Prepare yourself, Ohio. The funny people are about to attack, and I’ll be the first to say, “I hope I’m never, ever the same!”