The life and times of an ethnically ambiguous little lady.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

A Lover of the Pole

"I am obsessed with pole dancing," my friend said excitedly, as she sat down to join us. This very well may have been the second thing she said to us, right after hello.

Apparently, she'd been taking strip dancing classes, complete with pole, at Crunch or New York Sports Club, or the subway, or wherever they offer such things. But for my friend, it's not just a good workout or a chance to get in touch with her sexuality. "It's like the pole is my center. If I can focus on that, I can focus all my energy."

And while it sounds a little like advice that might come from Jenna Jameson if she were to meld with the Dalai Lama, I think I see her point: pole dancing is her happy place.

And it made me think: what exactly is mine?

I would say sleeping, but when I'm stressed I have horrible nightmares (most recently about rabid squirrels), and I toss and turn. I'd say it's alcohol, but that doesn't make me happy, it just makes me forget. I'd say it's heroin, because I hear it makes you really happy, but I've never tried. And since I went bowling on Sunday and I'm still sore two days later, I don't think I have a body built for drug abuse.

I mean, if it's not drugs and not sleep, what's left? A good stand-up set? Maybe, except you can't always predict when that's going to happen (insert jokes about my limited ability to make people laugh here).

And then it dawned on me. My happy place is when I really click with someone. It sounds incredibly retarded, but I think it's true. Back in college my friends used to make fun of me because I'd be at a party and then I'd disappear. And I'd return several hours later incredibly satisfied. And no, it wasn't because I had some tawdry nookie in a bathroom somewhere, it was because I met someone and talked for hours and had, as my friends began to call it, "a good conversation."

Granted, I may be a little drunk when it happens, but that's not the point. Good conversations, where you really connect with someone, make me happy. And maybe that makes me a little bit special, in the "I may need to wear a helmet" kind of way. But I'm okay with that. Then again, maybe I just need to take up pole dancing.

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Monday, March 10, 2008

My Mom Will Be So Proud!

So maybe you're thinking, really Emily, if this comedy thing doesn't work out what are you going to do? And my first answer would be cry. But the second is that I'm really starting to explore my options, and maybe the service industry is for me:

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Monday, March 03, 2008

I Have a Face for Radio

Last week I was a guest on the podcast Keith and the Girl. It's episode #677 called Break Time and you can find it here:

I loved doing it. I mean, I rather enjoy talking: This is one of the main reasons that I choose stand-up comedy as opposed to say, being a mime. And I'm very honest, maybe to a fault. So when a comic goes on a show and people ask you about your jokes, well, sometimes it can get very personal. Especially if your jokes tend to be about your life, as opposed to "what the deal is with paperclips."

This has always been a fascinating aspect of comedy for me. I can watch a comic do set after set in New York City. And after seeing him four or five times I know that he grew up in Massachusetts, had loving yet distant parents, and was raped as a child, yet we've never had an actual conversation before.

And this is always the dilemma as a comic. Should you talk about the issues that are really bothering you, thus opening yourself up to discussion with others, or do you just make sure that you talk about anything else as long as it's funny?

I always thought there were some things I'd never talk about. Like my menstrual cycle. Or how I feel like I'm being raped by ghosts when I go through the Puffer security detector in the airport. Or Slash from Guns N’ Roses. But you know, it can all be funny if talked about the right way. It's just about trying to be you up there. Although I have been dying to try this character where I'm a Chinese Children's Party Clown...

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