When Real Life Strikes

Or, Is There a Punchline to Death?

So I’m in my apartment rehearsing #ELtM and directly across the street is this old church. The window’s open, and I’m rehearsing and yelling and just all around acting like an idiot, and I look up to see a burial casket being carried into the church. And I was just hit with the powerful sense of wow, that’s real life happening right there.  And I was flooded with all these emotions. The idea as I’m trying to be funny alone in my living room at the same time someone else right across the street is saying goodbye to someone they loved because they just died. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed. I thought who the fuck am I? How selfish and self-centered do I have to be to assume that my life is more worthy of putting on stage than anyone else’s?  That my stories somehow carry more weight? I’m whining about the time I got stood up 6 years ago, and this guy is dead…

And then I thought what is life, other than sharing our stories and our lives with people around us? And in sharing those stories we find commonalities that connect us, that bind us together. It’s not that my life and my stories are any kind of unique, cause they’re not. Ask a hundred people and you’ll get a hundred stories just like mine. Most of them probably much more interesting. But I think that’s what makes sharing so powerful. Because you can find that connection in someone else. And I just hope that in sharing mine on stage, it sparks something. That it touches people? That it gets people to maybe then share their stories, and in turn, affect people in a way that only the real human experience can.

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