There’s almost nothing less interesting to me than hearing someone talk about his or her dreams. Aside from listening to them read their tax return, or analyze their playoff draft picks, which are… nope; I’d prefer to hear them talk about those things before struggling to stay awake as they attempt to describe their “crazy” dream. That’s why being a therapist who specializes in dream interpretation in clinical psychology has got to be one of the worst jobs in the world.
My “Man Brain” and I get into enough trouble on our own as it is; we don’t need any assistance with digging ourselves deeper into any holes of disapproval, thank you very much. Yet, at a recent Brunch with friends, I found myself in the glaring spotlight of unpopularity with the Momttendance because of a comment about a younger woman. Even worse, the “I just don’t understand the ‘Man Brain’ sometimes” comment about me came from a woman whom I had just met! But, what was worse than the even worse, was the comment that got me into trouble wasn’t even made by me- it was uttered by my WIFE!
If my calculations are correct, it will be anywhere from 3 months to 6.25 years before at least one of my kids realizes just how cool I actually am. That approximates the window of time between which my oldest child and youngest child graduate from high school. I’ve based this estimation on the scientific evidence I observed in how the perception I had of MY parents changed upon embarking for a post secondary education. I figure, despite how complex and wildly unpredictable the teenage brain is, there are certain consistencies to the human experience that are reliable in determining when your kids become aware of your true swagger.
Recently I was prepping one of my trivia shows and I came across a “factoid” that I had jotted down years ago about an infamous moment for a celebrity singer. I started crafting a short question about the incident, but stopped myself and wondered- “why would I ask a question about this?”. Sometimes contemplative pauses like this are due to second thoughts I have about the informative and entertaining merit of the “factoid”. In this case, it was because I remembered a promise I made to myself to avoid being carelessly mean-spirited towards people when trying to be entertaining and informative. I call it being “Casually Nasty”, and I believe it’s a more serious problem than being intentionally nasty.
As an entertainer, with a background in stand-up comedy, radio, television and performing live on-stage at various events, you might be surprised to hear that I consider myself an Introvert. It wasn’t until I had a discussion with my father years ago that it became clear that we’re BOTH Introverts. He a retired doctor of medicine; me a comedian; both cut from the same cloth, indeed. Not only did I now have an enlightened view of my own persona, but it helped solve an ongoing mystery in my relationship with my wife, who is most definitely an Extrovert.
Some memories of my college years are, well, a bit fuzzy. What I remember in vivid detail, however, are the holidays of my first year away at University living in college residence. Attending U of T from Vancouver, I was one of just a handful of students in an entire building who didn’t go back home for Thanksgiving, Christmas or March Break. As a result, the halls of the dorms were unusually quiet at these times. Not in an eerie way, like when reading, “The Shining”, by Stephen King alone in a hotel-like environment, (not recommended). Instead, the distinct serenity of being left behind in residence was liberating. I felt that I had free-run of the space that was otherwise congested with the jocularity, antics and frenetic energy of day-to-day living in close quarters with dozens of other dudes. Reflecting back as a working parent now, I’m astonished that I could open my door, step into the hallway and say my biggest secrets aloud without any repercussions.
In a marriage, or long-term relationship, the person responsible for handling the regular monthly finances shouldn’t be the one with the craziest cash flow schemes. I know, right!? So, it’s not just a fluke that it worked out that way in my marriage. Wait! Before you jump to the defense of my wife, (who is of sound mind in almost every other way), I’m not saying she’s crazy; just the system she’d have me employ in facilitating our mundane monthly money matters.
I’m watching Season 4 of “House of Cards” on Netflix and while the first several episodes were riveting, the second half of the season is proving to be less entertaining than the real-life political landscape that is Donald Trump. I still stand by my original post on Jan. 21, 2016, “Donald Trump Does Not Give A Sh*t”, prophesizing that his bid for the Republican presidential nomination is a prank of epic proportions. In this post, I’m just suggesting we start planning now on how to manage him when he becomes U.S. president. I believe the best solution is to parent him like he’s an unruly teenager.
There’s a rush you get as a comedian when you’re on-stage performing and, at the same time, thinking about the material you’re going to do later in your act. It’s amazing! Now, I realize it’s not uncommon for people to be able to talk and think at the same time. Being able to stand up in front of an audience and juggle these two with no one else being the wiser is another story. It’s a special skill that is developed and perfected over time. I remember becoming aware of my talent for doing so early in my career as a Headliner at comedy clubs, and it reminds me of a magical moment of awareness I had as a parent.
Recently, I asked my wife to look me in the eyes so that I could tell her that I love her. “Oooohhh my G-d, you’re such a freak!”, was her response. An odd reaction, yes; unless you’re familiar with my penchant for adopting new schtick to improve my person and the world at large. At any given moment, and without warning, you might find me: vitamixing avocado pits; writing sexy love texts; reading my financial statements aloud; wishing happiness and prosperity for people who annoy me; buying locally manufactured ties; and promoting self-awareness and empathy as the keys to utopia. The latest thing I’ve come up with- I have declared myself to be on an Anger Strike.