Oh how I wish I could, as I mentioned to My Favourite Feminazi, Amber, over at her always delightful blog, Being Amber Rhea. But instead of Baghdad, it's graduation night, where I will again take to the stage at the Punchline tonight to challenge myself, conquer assorted loooming fears, and wrest control away from my always-contentious inner-life, the one that is constantly harping on me, berating the real me with a barage of...
"You can't do something like that. You might fail. I might have to do something. Or, more importantly, you might embarrass:
c.) the family
Now read that back as my mother repeating it to me over and over and over. When I do that, I understand why I'm compelled to take to the stage once again, as a middle-aged soccer mom, and perform a rather mundane, four-minute long comedy routine.
And once again, anticipating that four-minutes must be my personal version of burning oneself at the stake. The process is THAT frightening. And the payoff... utterly the biggest adrenaline rush you can imagine. Such a brilliant fuck-you to everything you were led to believe as a girl raised in a really screwed-up South.
There are still seats left I hear, so book one now to watch as I walk through the valley of death, fear all evil, and trust that I will emerge unscathed on the other side.
UPDATE: How will I ever go on now? This French woman like soooo totally stole my whole act!
tags: comedy, South, The Punchline, Atlanta, fear, overcoming fear, laughter, jokes