Something to laugh about

There is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t laugh about something.  I can’t take life too seriously or else I might find myself in a dark place too far below the surface to pull myself out.  There’s a fine balance between the evil and the good in this world.  I try to tip the scales in favor of the good as much as possible, and part of that weight is my attempt at adding the strike mark through the dash and turning the negative into something positive and find something to laugh about.

Besides, I like funny.  

I have favorite movies, television shows, and comedians that make me laugh, but I find the most comedy in myself.  I can make myself laugh more than anyone or anything else.  It’s because I do such stupid things when I’m alone and no one’s watching.  These are things I would never do in mixed company.  My singing, for example, can be so bad that I have to stop in mid-song and laugh at the awfulness of the sour notes and crackling voice.  I don’t need to watch American Idol audition shows for entertainment when I can just sing along with the radio in my car.  My singing in the shower, however, is totally different.  The acoustics are so good in my shower I can convince myself I could be another Patsy Cline.  Those listening on the other side of the door may disagree, but I refuse to ask.

Don’t even get me started on my dancing.  I never dance in public.  Believe me, no one wants to see this body move to a beat.  But home alone or sometimes in a grocery store if the piped in music is good enough I have moves to beat.  Nah, not even alone do I dance well.  Only in my mind am I graceful.

I spend at least an hour in my car to and from work every day so I need some entertainment to keep me alert.  That’s usually when I find my best material.  I emote greatly to music in my car.  I’ll pick out someone around me and the song will be all about them; hand gestures, facial expressions, the whole package.  And when I realize how absolutely ridiculous I must look on the outside looking in I crack myself up.  Then I wonder what other people think I’m laughing about and the cycle starts all over. I am my favorite performer and audience.  I can still find things to cry about in my car, usually by accident when I hear a sad song or poem, or a 9/11 tribute, but mostly I’m just trying to entertain myself to stay awake on my drive home.

You really should be with me when I’m alone.  I’m as colorful as a field of flowers in full bloom.  I’m great entertainment.  It’s when I’m around other people that I’m a general dud and take on the characteristics of a wallflower.  That’s the irony of introversion.  No one finds you interesting enough to get to know you, but if they knew you they would find out very interesting things about you.

Hence, I write.