Brief Update: A Great Alternative to Writing an Essay Due in Twelve Hours

...seriously I dun wants to do it >.>

So, first and foremost, the plan! The plan to get out more and meet people and see the naked girls! Progress has been made:

See that? See that right there? That's Initiative™, here to save the day. Initiative™ will get you places. Initiative™ is your best friend. And Initiative™ can be yours for three easy payments of effort being put into achieving your Dreams™ (sold separately). Spoke with the president of the Society, gave him the link to my latest performance, guy said he'd pass it on to the executive peeps... fuckin' progress :)

I figure I'll just do the same material as I did in the video I sent, but I'll have to make some changes to it given that we've had a change of government recently, and the first half is rather political. That should be easy though—new government holds all the wrong ideals (like, all of them :P). I'm excited, though! It's been a while since I've performed, and I'm totally up for more. So yeah, first step taken :D

As for stuff that's actually happened, I've noticed I'm a little more comfortable in tutorials at uni now. There are two tutes where I actually talk with the people sitting next to me, not necessarily initiating conversation but at least joining in when it happens. The other tute does have me talking to the people sitting next to me, but it's always in a group work context (every worksheet in every tute is groupwork, at least under our tutor :P). Not that their input is entirely invalid—they do think of things I don't—but they slow me down so much that I get through ~20-25% of the sheet in the hour-long tute, and the rest in another hour at home. My fourth tute is one I'm happy to leave as it is, don't really care, lol.

Initiating conversation is still proving difficult, even in academic contexts. I wanted to talk to my MATH121 tutor about a question on an assignment we got back recently, but students were having a conversation with her. I figured I'd just follow and wait for an opening... I followed them for two minutes before I could get a word in :P  I'm still not up to interrupting people, even if my needs are greater than theirs (they were just talking about random stuff). She was like "Oh, sorry! I didn't know you were there! What's up?" Well no fucking shit you didn't know I was there; I've been walking next to the person who's walking next to you, saying nothing as I waited for silence to emerge for so much as a second :P  Gotta work on that.

And in terms of future events, I have an engagement party to go to in a few weeks time. First adult-ish social setting I'll have been in for a while, so it's a good opportunity to test myself. For this, I just wanna go and be comfortable. That's it: don't worry about initiating contact, don't worry about talking to girls or any other shit—just be comfortable. Just simple stuff, like if someone talks to me, trying to actually engage in a decent conversation rather than giving the bare minimum required to work it along; taking interest in what's being said around me and join in if possible; and leaving my phone in my goddamn pocket. No phone allowed. No phone >.<  Phone can only be used for writing spur-of-the-moment jokes and girl's phone numbers... if I somehow... actually get that far by complete accident :P

My mum did say there'd be girls there, but this is an engagement party for someone who's at least 6 or 7 years older than me, so I'm not exactly getting my hopes up :P  Maybe I'll see someone I like, but I don't want to aim too high and be disappointed. Beyond just being comfortable, I'll feel things out once I'm at the venue and make decisions from there—for now, I'm only interested in being comfortable and happy in a social setting. Achieving that would be pretty gud :)

Well, that's all for now. Back to my essay... :(

Seduction: The Class that Never Existed

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Hooking Up: Please Take the Hook out of My Heart

Man, whirlwind of emotions right now. Hopefully I can make sense of all this.

About an hour ago, I found out that one of my friends hooked up with a guy for the first time. Upon seeing the words on the screen, it's as if the pixels formed a fist and punched me in the gut. It was not the best experience. I read from top to bottom; curiosity would not permit any detail to go unexamined. By the end, I was sweating, I was tense, and I was angry. This fucked with my head on quite a serious level.

After I read it, I got up and tried to calm myself verbally. "OK, man, calm down, it's OK. This doesn't concern you. This has nothing to do with you. Why do you care? Why do you care?" That question, however, only proceeded to make me even madder: why did I care? This is someone I haven't seen in months, getting with some dude I don't even know, all of which happened at an event I was not, and could not have been, invited to. What's the big deal? Why is this even remotely important?

Well, two answers to that question. The girl in question might still read this blog (I don't know anymore, to be honest), but the following facts stand, and I honestly don't give a shit if she knows what I'm about to say: I still find her attractive. This girl remains the hottest girl that I know; she has had that position for nearly two years now. It's not like if I see her in person, I'm trying to keep my dick soft. On those rare occasions when we do meet up, I can be around her and talk to her with no tension whatsoever. Earlier this year, though, the fantasising started again. I wrote this in a private journal entry back in late February:

"I don't feel horny or uncomfortable in the slightest when I'm near her, which is good. I've seen her twice in the previous week, and I spoke to her like I did to everyone else. Thing is, I'm starting to look at her again, and that is something I don't want to do. It was the first time I'd seen her with short brown hair, and it looked good on her, great even. The next day, she wore a short-sleeved grey top with jeans, and I couldn't resist looking at her for a little while. I just sat there looking at her arm as it rested. Her arms are beautiful: perfect size, perfect tone—just lovely :)  I didn't gawk for too long ... but I still indulged for a while."

Her physical side didn't really tempt me too much last year, but this year, it's slowly managed to captivate me again. I don't stalk her on Facebook or read her blog very often (I certainly don't go looking for shit like this to read :P), but lately, I've been finding her body desirable once more.

So...

Problem #1: I was fucking jealous. Let's be honest: I wanted to be that guy. I wanted the pleasure of getting down and dirty with this woman. I've thought on more than one occasion "Man, what I'd give for it to be appropriate to just message her and say "I find your body fucking stunning and wanna hook up with you. I'm up for whatever gets you off. What do you say?"" But there really isn't a quicker way to creep her out, regardless of the fact that the answer is almost certainly no.

I mean, let's put me in this guy's shoes: let's say I'm at a club, looking at this woman on the dance floor. Would I be tempted? You fucking bet. I'd be wanting to go right up to her, up close and personal, feel her up, do what this guy did—the goddamn lot, so long as that's what felt right. I might even actually do it! I might even try my luck; the attraction is such that it could well trump my usual reluctance to approach a woman.

But you know what I'd rather have? The same attraction, but for any other woman in fucking existence. Is this girl hot? Fuck yeah, right up there at the top of the pile. But there's got to be someone hotter. There's just got to be! Someone, somewhere, some chick's gotta have a better rack, a bigger booty, a more beautiful face—hell, maybe even a personality I'm drawn to. Going back to the hypothetical dance floor, let's say this woman is dancing alone, having a good time, open minded; she's prime for the taking. Let's then put an equally attractive—even slightly less attractive—woman on the other side of the dance floor, having just as much fun, dancing alone but with space for someone else. So long as I find her sexy, you know what's gonna happen to the first woman? She will disappear. She will no longer exist, at least not as an object of lust.

I have wanted for so long to meet a woman who draws me like those in the past have, because only with that will I stop thinking about my friend this way. I'm a horny motherfucker, and I want a girl to get nasty with; it's that simple. But this means I need an outlet for my existing lust, and unfortunately, all I've got is someone I'm almost certainly not gonna make it with. If someone could take her place—either in the physical, "goddamn what I'd do to you if you just let me" sense, or in the romantic, "I really like you and maybe we could go see movies together and cuddle together on the couch and stuff :)" sense—the attractions of yesterday are shot, stabbed, dismembered, mutilated, and discarded. The old always makes way for the new, and it's one of the most fantastic feelings I can imagine. It's been so long since I've been attracted to someone new in either a physical or a romantic sense (or both) that I don't even know what it feels like anymore—but I remember its strength, most certainly.

So, where will such a woman come from?

Problem #2: I'm socially isolated and can't meet anyone anywhere. There's nowhere I go where I could even possibly meet new people! I've known this to be a problem for a while now, but at this point, it was like "You want to expand your social life? No, sorry, you need to expand your social life. It's not a choice anymore." And that's true: if I wanna get laid, or if I wanna go out with someone, find a girlfriend, I need to meet new people. At this point, it doesn't matter who I meet—anyone's better than no one. Men, women, who cares: I need more fucking friends :P

But how do I solve that problem? It's not easy, not when you're as isolated as I am. Stand-up is still the big flashing light in my head: I'm thinking more and more about that all the time, desire to perform ever-increasing. And I recently thought about just how potent it could be, cos it's not just me going on-stage, doing jokes, and leaving—I can talk to the audience whenever the fuck I want! I can ask them questions, begin exchanges, and make jokes about the conversation all at the same time, Dara O'Briain style. That can be my way of starting conversations! I talk about how fucking hard it is to talk to people off-stage, but I'm pretty sure I can pull that off on-stage without too much trouble. Might as well make use of the energy and confidence while I have it.

What about other situations? Not as sure. My mum keeps telling me to go to the UniBar alone, just... go... what? Seriously, do people do that? Are there really teetotallers who go to bars alone to talk to strangers? That's on the opposite end of the fear-scale: that's fucking frightening :P  Same with clubs: am I really gonna be comfortable going to a club alone? I don't know what the deal is! I need someone to go to these places with, someone to show me the ropes, let me know what's up. I'm pretty sure no one I know would take me to a club (not close enough friends with the girl I speak of here to get an invite), but the bar's a possibility, I suppose. Not sure how people will react to me not wanting to drink alcohol, but if I can improvise on-stage, I can improvise off-stage; I can come up with answers there and then.

As disturbing as the entry was (seriously, 'too much information' is an understatement, and this is coming from someone who talks about hardcore porn on-stage :P), this has had a positive effect too. This has reinvigorated my desire to fix this social problem I have. I mean, apparently, you're allowed to do all these things I was reading about! I'm allowed to dance with a girl at a club, I'm allowed to put my hand up her skirt, I'm allowed to touch her boobs, grind against her, make out with her—that's fucking legal, so long as she's cool with it. It's legal. Like, it's allowed. WHY WAS I NOT TOLD THIS EARLIER GOD FUCKING DAMNIT >.<  I've been thinking that's creepy guy shit, stuff only the freaks do. But it's acceptable? And some of them like it? They think it's sexy? It makes 'em wet? THIS SHOULD BE TAUGHT IN SCHOOLS. You've really let me down, Department of Education, you really fucking have!

...hyperbole aside :P, this stuff isn't as bad or out-of-line as previously thought. Hell, it's the only way I'm gonna hook up with a girl at all, by the looks of it: by doing all these things! Actually having the balls to do it is another thing, but the real issue is first approaching the girl. As frightening as it is, once I'm talking/dancing with 'em, it only gets easier from there. And if I'm doing any one of those things, I'm gonna get hard; and if I get hard, the dick more-or-less takes over and confidence becomes a non-issue :P  Once I'm gunning for their pants, all that's gonna stop me is a 'no'... or maybe a punch from her boyfriend who was away for a few minutes, but we can deal with that at the time. :)

In all honesty, I'd still rather find a girl to have a crush on and ask out—it's less intense, more low key, and I prefer romantic feelings to pure physical ones. But hooking up appears to be a way more viable option now, more than it was before, anyway.

Uni: It Begins (Again)

So, I'm back at uni now. I have an 8:30 start every Monday, a Monday which promises 5 hours of lectures with a two hour gap between the first and second. Mondays already suck, but my Monday made extra effort this semester :P  I didn't really talk about uni last semester cos there was nothing much to talk about, really (and my mood was down a lot of the time). I'm actually excited for this semester, though. If I play it right, it'll be the start of a lot of new things. Hopefully, the Film and Performance Society has another one of their variety show things so I can do stand-up :D

Looking over the subjects, though, I'm actually pretty excited! The content looks really interesting. I just had my first lecture for The Scientific Revolution, which was a bit intense given it was an overview of the whole course and the guy covered a lot of content (and given that I'd woken up only an hour earlier :P). But at the very least, it's related to philosophy (natural philosophy, more specifically), and so long as the concepts are better explained in the lectures that actually cover them, I think I'll be fine.

I took advantage of the break to try and get some subject outlines, but I only managed to get the outline for Media, Ethics and Law. Almost all the lecture headings are things I research in my own time for funzies: Censorship, Privacy, Violence in Video Games, etc. And the readings for the first topic (Privacy) were interesting to read; a big change from the usual boring readings I'm used to. I think this class will be lots of fun :)  Here's hoping I can let my guard down a bit in the tutorials and get involved in debates; it's a good opportunity given my interest.

I also got the first set of lecture slides for Discrete Mathematics. The class seems irrelevant at a glance given I'm majoring in Philosophy, but it's all about logic and problem solving, which is related to my other philosophy class this semester, Practical Reasoning. I couldn't find another arts subject that caught my interest, so I looked at the maths once just for the hell of it and found this. The opening slides all talk about logical statements, truth tables, negation—all stuff I'm familiar with, but can definitely learn more about. It'll obviously delve into shit I've never seen before in any real depth (set theory, for example), but I like it when the course starts with stuff I'm familiar with; it makes it so much easier to work your way into the harder stuff cos you already have a foundation for the simpler stuff. I also haven't done any real maths since high school, so it'll be somewhat nostalgic to do it again.

I'm just really happy to be back at uni. Last semester was uneventful, and I'm actually looking forward to all my subjects thus far, so that'll be a huge help towards maintaining a positive outlook on things. The only thing I'm really dreading are the research essays (I fucking hate research via books, regardless of the field :P). Apart from that, it's all anticipation. Yay :D

Conspiracies: Thanks for Ruining My Evening

Last night wasn't a fun night for me. I was up at about 10 pm on reddit, and I decided to hop on over to r/conspiracy, just for lols. There was one post there that said something to the effect of "Wow, all the conspiracies seem to be coming true!", with a comment that said "They're not coming true; they're just slowly being revealed to be correct." I dunno why, but that seriously scared the shit out of me. We're talking people who believe 9/11 was a false flag, who think there's some secret group of people controlling things, people who we never even see or hear of. Thinking about that kept me up all night. I wanted to talk to a friend of mine but she wasn't on Facebook, hence my departure (turns out she logged on while I was asleep and said hi, lol). I also had a stomach ache, which only made it harder to sleep.

It frightens me that there could be a huge war that destroys everything, leave us living on some desolate wasteland. It frightens me that I could be conscripted to fight in such a war, a war that might never end. It frightens me that I might be captured for holding dissenting opinions and never heard of again. I'm not strong enough to fight these things. I need comfort, and having my mental comfort taken away from me is evidently hurting me.

(In going back to get the link for r/conspiracy, I'm getting paranoid again. This is just to show you what's making me so nervous :P)

My scepticism, however, does not pick and choose who it targets. It targets everyone, including people like this. These theories are almost like religions in and of themselves: people see things, they connect things, they draw conclusions. Their own scepticism is, in and of itself, jaded by the same paranoia I felt when browsing their subreddit. Obviously, some conspiracies can be true -- for instance, the fact that we're all being spied on by the NSA and other agencies -- but a lot of it is pure speculation. These people are not special. They're not more knowledgeable by default than anyone else. Many Christians think the Bible has prophecies in it that are true; many Muslims think the Qu'ran does the same; and conspiracy theorists have their own groups, their own literature, and their own perspective to run things by. They put things through their own filter which they themselves have built.

The human mind is also far too prone to linking things together than it should be. It's hardly a reliable machine. Take, this video here demonstrating how likely coincidences actually are:

It's too easy for us to see things that aren't really there.

But let's assume it's true: let's assume there will be global conflict, nuclear conflict, war to fight. Can I do anything about this? Not really. Will I die earlier than expected? Probably. But that's the end; death is the end of my suffering. I don't know what happens after you die, but from what I understand, it's simply nothing. I could be wrong, but that's what I'm assuming for now. And if I don't die, I will, at the very least, have experienced a very interesting life, one of great gains and many losses. I will have stories I can tell to people about the struggles I have faced (if there is indeed anyone left).

Now, however, I'm distraught. I want to feel comfortable again. As I said earlier, I wanted to talk to a friend of mine but she was offline when this started. I would talk to my mother but she's got a really bad cold. I felt very alone; I still do. I wanted someone to talk to, someone to hug. I know their telling me 'everything's going to be OK' might not do anything, but their presence and consolation would mean a lot. I have no intention of killing myself, in case you're wondering -- suicide is not the answer, nor is self harm -- but this is really getting to me.

As they say: ignorance is bliss.

Nihilism: The Sad Face You Must Transform into a Happy Face

I haven't posted anything on here in a while, but there hasn't really been much to talk about.

A few hours ago, I was talking to mum about bills, with her saying that she was gonna have to really stretch her next few paychecks to get by. We're not poor by any stretch of the imagination—it's not an desperate situation—but she doesn't wanna resort to using our emergency money or drawing on the mortgage if she can avoid it. In her drunken state (work's been depressing her, and given what's happened, I really can't blame her for drowning her sorrows), she started to think I was worried, and assured me that I had nothing to fear, given that I will inherit everything and will not have to worry anywhere near as much about finances as she has. At the time, I was more worried about the state she was in and the situation she was talking about; but after the conversation finished, my feelings had changed significantly.

I became depressed that I was gonna avoid all that trouble.

Seriously, I was sad that things would be easy for me when it came to money, at least after my mother's death. It wasn't the death aspect; it had nothing to do with the prospect of losing my mother (although that will certainly kick me in the balls when it happens). I felt bad about how unfair it seemed. There are people all around the world of far greater moral fibre than me who suffer more greatly than I do, and a lot of those people will have to fight to pay rent, pay for food, pay for utilities, pay for healthcare, pay for their kids, pay their mortgage—they will have to stretch every paycheck they get for a long, long time, perhaps for the entirety of their working lives. I, on the other hand, will get a house and some security money when my mum stops breathing. I am assured it; it is legally bidden to me. No rent, no mortgage, no need for new furniture... no worries.

It felt like I'll be cheating at life, more-so than I already am by living in a first world country in a middle-class home. I don't pay board, I don't pay bills, I'm asked to do very little around the house; I only pay for things like snacks and video games, with the occasional miscellaneous expense. I earned $3000 over a month working for the government, and I still have over a third of it left 18 months later. I only take $20 here and $30 there; it's a financial IV drip. I know I'm privileged, and I'd be a fool to say I don't like it or take advantage. But, in terms of my long-term future, I looked at it less like a loss of potential grief and more like a loss of potential experience, as if I'm obligated to know what it feels like to be anxious about whether you can pay the next chunk of the mortgage, or whether you can pay the electricity bill before they start sending you threatening letters and disturbing you with angry phone calls.

It's not like I'll never ever have to worry about that stuff. I'll probably move out before mum dies, which means I will have to find my own place, pay my own bills, buy my own food, my own furniture, my own car, etc. She'd have to stop breathing pretty soon for me to miss out on that all-together. But, once this house frees up again, why the fuck would I keep paying rent? Fuck that shit; I'd own a goddamned house. That I can live in. That's hundreds of thousands of dollars I will never need to find, save, or spend. My experience of a stressful financial life looks like it'll be short lived. I'm lucky, I guess.

I mean, it's not all good. Once she's gone, that will fuck with me on levels I can't even begin to comprehend. No father to talk to (I want nothing to do with that faggot), no grandparents to fall back on, no siblings to grieve with... very isolating. I'm rather used to isolation, being an only child in a single-mother family, but my mum is literally my only safety net. And she's a big net at that—she's told me repeatedly she'll always look out for me and be there if I need her, no matter what. Once that net's gone, if I fall, I have to organise my own sound landing. But in terms of financial stability alone, I stand to gain a great deal which will save pain in other areas.

As per usual, I began depressed over one thing, then became depressed about lots of things. Thoughts moved from money to my social life. I've been thinking about the impression I make on people when I'm around them: how I look, how I talk, that kind of thing. I can't help but come to the conclusion that I'm just plain boring. I don't have a wild personality; I'm not outgoing; I don't have many friends; I don't do much in my spare time other than browse the net, play games, write jokes, and edit videos for YouTube. I couldn't blame anyone for thinking I was the dullest motherfucker they'd laid eyes on.

There's just a whole lot of shit other people care about that I simply don't. Like, I don't give a fuck about what I look like. I just don't care. I don't fuss over my clothes—I have plenty. There's stuff for any occasion, so I don't need to buy more. I have enough shirts, enough pants, enough jeans, enough shoes. I have enough. I'm fine. I don't need more. I don't want more. My clothes perform their practical functions every time, without fail.

But do my clothes reflect my personality? No, not really. I don't have gamer shirts, I don't have comedy shirts, I don't have shirts with nerdy quips on them. Most of my clothes are either just generic stuff or surf-brand stuff (all mum's doing, not mine, lol). My question here would be 'is this really a problem?' Do I need to buy shirts just to tell people who I am? Is this worth it? Do I need to do this like everyone else? I started thinking about this when I went to the movies with a friend of mine. She had a Doctor Who shirt on, and a passer-by noticed, leading the two strangers to have a short conversation. So it's not like I'm not seeing the benefits—it makes sense—I just don't know if I wanna go through with that. I don't know whether it fits better for me to stick with my apathy, or to care more and look into consuming more apparel than I previously have, now being able to choose whatever I want.

Sometimes I do care what I look like; I certainly do on-stage. I always wear the same thing when doing stand-up: a plain long-sleeved black shirt with long black pants or black jeans. Blacks contrast with my skin tone and bring focus to my face. And my jokes can get dark, so I like to dress dark. It's also slimming, which is very important for a skinny guy like me :)

Alcohol is another one of those things I don't care for. You wanna get wasted? You go right ahead and do that. I'll even support your right to get wasted. But I don't want to get wasted myself. I don't even want to risk getting wasted. Even getting tipsy is going to far for me. I hate being less aware of situations than I otherwise could be. And this is one of those things where the only reason I want to try it is because almost everyone else my age does it. When the desire to conform is the only driving force behind my interest in something, warning sirens go off everywhere, demanding that I do not submit under any circumstances.

Half of it's the conformity, and half of it's the fear behind the loss of awareness. Alcohol would zip through me; I wouldn't be able to handle much of it. And I keep asking myself why I'd ever do something I'm scared of, just cos every other cunt is doing it. The answer to that has repeatedly been "Well, don't! Fuck them." I can't help but see it as nothing more than an escape from reality. It's not like I don't have my own—if I get depressed or anxious and wanna get away from it all, I usually go to sleep for a while. But why do I need to drink if I can escape in my own way, without losing control, without the risk of making an ass of myself or hurting other people?

Its only benefit seems to be fitting in, making you more sociable. But while making you more sociable, it turns you into an asshole for the people who aren't drinking. For me, conversations with drunk people are the worst fucking thing I can imagine at a social event. They're illogical, they're stupid, they're obnoxious, every single goddamned time. I grow tired of it rather quickly. Obviously, one possible solution is to be drunk with them so I won't give a shit anymore, but I don't see how it's worth all the other drawbacks. Alongside such limited positives, I see the potential to verbally abuse people for no reason, make people uncomfortable only because I'm unable to function properly, vomiting because I'm a selfish prick with no self control, or passing out and having other people take care of my sorry ass because I'm incapable of doing so. It just seems so fucking childish. But, on the other hand, all the judgement I can pass off sometimes, and my fear of alcohol itself, is just as immature. Can't win :P

If I ever got the balls to try it, and if I could bear the taste (I won't drink things I don't like the taste of), I suppose I could enjoy light drinks with people on social occasions, but I don't see myself taking shots and downing entire bottles of vodka, or whatever the fuck else people drink in the name of excess.

Speaking of maturity, travelling is another thing that was on my mind. I've heard about so many people venturing overseas, studying overseas, even living overseas for extend periods of time. And every time I see it, I can't help but feel like I'm way behind for not even being interested, let alone having the skills and the balls to actually do it. I can't imagine being that far away from everyone I know for even a few days, let alone the weeks and months these people spend overseas. I sit here, reading these Facebook statuses from Venice and Paris and Japan thinking "HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT DEAD YET? TELL ME YOUR SECRETS >.<"

It's not just the food either—to be honest, so long as I was in a city or a town with a Western supermarket, I'd probably be able to get all the unhealthy noms I live on over here. It's not infeasible for me to stock up on chips, yoghurt, cereal, breadsticks, etc., and travel around, so long as I've got enough to last me till I reach another supermarket. Perhaps the excitement of being in a new place (which I've heard so much about :P) will drive me to try new food. It's all the other things that worry me: being alone, having to keep alert on unfamiliar streets, finding my way around, having to plan finances, visas, passports, accommodation, etc., the fucking airplane rides. It's that shit that scares me.

Would I like to travel? I dunno. Maybe one day. I'd like to perform stand-up in the US and the UK, maybe in a few other English-speaking countries too, but I'm not preparing to do that at the moment. I'm not keen on going somewhere just to look at things and take pictures—I can see the wonders of the world on the internet for free. If I'm gonna go somewhere, I wanna do shit, man.

Overall, the way I look at my personality and my attractiveness is through the lens of scepticism. My atheism is as such: I see no evidence for the existence of any gods, so I lack belief in gods. I don't necessarily affirm that there are no gods; I just don't have any belief in gods. It is up to the people claiming there is a god, or that there are gods, to provide me with evidence before I change my mind. Likewise, with my attractiveness, I see no evidence suggesting that anyone thinks I'm attractive, so I have no reason to believe there are people who find me attractive. Does that mean I think I'm unattractive? No. I could be attractive to someone, somewhere, perhaps someone who hasn't met me yet who will find me attractive upon my introduction. But that doesn't mean I think I'm attractive. It all depends on who you ask, really.

Unfortunately, without confidence in yourself, people tend to find you unattractive anyway. This indicates a need for me to have confidence in the attractiveness I have no evidence for, just so I can get the evidence I need to have confidence in its existence. Fuck :P

I guess I feel as though I'm being young incorrectly. I know there's no actual 'correct' way—no 'correct' age to start drinking, if at all; no 'correct' clothes to wear; no 'correct' desires to hold—but sometimes, it's like I'm trying to force myself into a puzzle as a piece that just doesn't fit. Mum often represents it differently unto me, making out as though I'm tough for managing to be so different for so long, but I can't help but think fear of things other than conformity are just as responsible for my failure to fit the standard. I don't know where people my age get all this gusto from. Do I have it in a different fashion, or just not at all?

I'm a nihilist; I believe there is no inherent meaning to life, and that you have to create your own. Perhaps most people my age asked the same question, and all arrived at the same answer.

Comedy Gigs, Part 3: A Bad Show

PERFORMANCE B: THE VAULT

So, while that was a good show, this one wasn't so good. Having now performed my monologue in its entirety, and having it received with overwhelming positivity, I felt as though I should be fine using that material for my upcoming performance at The Vault. The way I saw it, people who went to something like a cabaret would be smart—I figured they'd be freethinkers, fond of anything anti-conformist or anti-establishment. That's the perfect audience for my material, so I changed almost nothing.

I rocked up to the venue and went up to the desk to meet with the organisers. I spoke to the MC, and he got me to present the beginning and end of my act so he knew when to get ready to come back on-stage himself. He was a real oddball: his face was painted, highlighting his blank expression, and, by proxy, his deadpan voice. He said he would improvise his response to my material; in my mind, I'm like "Oh, better switch to improv mode!" The way I saw it, he was playing a sad clown, so I was like "I'd better pick a character to speak to him in, make him think I'm funny... um... eerr... :O I know, I'll act all pretentious!" He kept getting my name wrong—I figured he was just doing that on purpose as part of his character, but in retrospect, I don't think he was putting on an act. That meant, when he asked me a question, my fake-arrogant response of 'Well, if you identify me correctly, I guess I can answer that :)" probably came across as who I really was, rather than who I was pretending to be...

Yeah, great start: make the host think you're a total asshole :P

Anyway, I went into the dressing room. I was the only stand-up comedian, so I didn't have any comedy buddies to talk to (that's not to say none of the other acts were funny, just that it wasn't like the RAW competition in terms of performers). I shyly introduced myself, sat down, answered the few questions they asked about what I did, and receded into my shell. One performer came in and said she saw my RAW performance, complimenting me—this only reaffirmed the existing confidence I had in my material. Other than that, though, I really didn't say much. I didn't know what to say; I never really know what to say :P  The only thing I remember talking about was someone's microphone: she was talking to someone else about how the sound guy said the mic was 'mono', and how they thought that might mean the sound quality was worse, so I explained that 'mono' only meant there was one sound input (as opposed to 'stereo', which is two), and assured her that it wouldn't affect the sound quality. So I suppose you can't say I didn't take any opportunities to talk to someone, but that I only took the safest ones :P

(Note to self: work at audio store, seek out hot chicks who are having trouble, dazzle them with your l33t tech knowledge which isn't that l33t but they don't know that, and get laid)

I was also getting more nervous by the minute, checking the time far more frequently than I did at RAW. While the act before me was on, I went through my lines under my breath, shaking as per usual. Eventually, I went to the side of the stage, and was called on. Rather than being on the stage himself, the MC was projecting his head onto a moon-shaped screen above the stage (which is basically his shtick), and I only just realised this. I reacted to it vocally, but, of course, everyone else already knew, so they didn't care, did they :P  My reaction prompted the MC to go "Did you want to have a conversation?" to which I responded "Well, if you want to, we can :)". Again, in retrospect, I have doubts about his being in character at the time; I think he seriously wanted me to stop talking to him and get on with my act :P

Now I start my routine. The train joke gets almost no reaction—this is bad, as I've missed the best opportunity to gain the audience's confidence in my ability. But, alas! The almighty pornography joke is next! You know, that joke where I had to talk over the top of laughter to get to the end? So much for that: hardly anyone laughed at it. This is fucking with my confidence, and, though I'm not fully aware, this is making me appear nervous on-stage: I'm tilting my head towards the floor, making far less eye contact with the audience than at RAW (I never took my eye off them there), and I was speaking with less volume and less punch. This was going downhill fast.

Then I got to the gay marriage jokes. Upon mentioning our Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, who I was very clearly about to mock, someone in the audience said "Woo! Go Julia!" I almost stopped to respond, but what the hell am I supposed to say to that? If I'm about to take the piss out of someone, the build-up to this being obvious to anyone who's listening, and you praise the person I'm about to ridicule... what am I supposed to reply with other than "You're a fucking moron"? Not that I was super irritated, but it bewildered me that someone was dumb enough to say that given the risk they took of being mocked themselves in front of a crowd.

And, again, these jokes weren't received too well—given the porno stuff didn't go so well either, I was starting to think I was performing in front of conservatives (one of which seems to like our PM, who's technically a liberal... yeah >.>). At that point, I more or less concluded this gig wouldn't go so well, but I pressed on.

Next up, I made fun of the Federal Opposition Leader. Again, no real response. This gets to me even more: if they like Gillard, theoretically, they wouldn't like her opposition. I started to wonder: do these people know fucking anything about politics? I'm not exactly up on every issue under the sun, but these people don't seem to know, or care about, anything political whatsoever. Are they disillusioned with the political system, thinking they're above it all, believing it to be an illusion of civil freedom in terms of how their country is run? Or are they just plain retarded?

I eventually got onto the sex jokes; thankfully, these were received a little better than the first half. To my astonishment, I got a really good response to another line I thought had little comic value—a new line, in fact. When talking about the 'sleeping together' euphemism, I said the following:

"'Sleeping together'? Correct this virgin if he's wrong, but——"

-and I was cut off by laughter, just like last time. I then said something like "that's the best joke I have", and, to these people, this was evidently true :P  Incidentally, the line about fucking someone who's sleeping, which got me a surprise round of applause last time, got little-to-no response this time, even when I paused intentionally to let them laugh. My boost of confidence quickly came to an end.

When I got into the physical part where I rotated myself on all fours, I nearly slipped over, cos it was raining outside, meaning my shoes were wet. I don't even know if they laughed at that; I was beyond caring by this stage :P  I got to the end, said my goodbyes, and went back to the dressing room, very disappointed. I didn't know what went wrong, but something did. Was it the material? Was it my delivery? I didn't know.

The intermission followed my act. I went upstairs and found my mum and two others who came along to watch (I didn't even know there was an upstairs, meaning the few people up there must have felt super-excluded cos I never looked at them, lol). I remarked how disappointed I was, and kept wondering what exactly just happened. After the intermission, the MC came on-stage with some toy aeroplanes. He tied them to a rope, tied the rope to a helmet on his head, turned the planes on, and swung them around his head. I didn't really find it funny (I was hardly in the mood to laugh after my performance :P), but the audience laughed whenever he was hit, and cheered him on the whole way through.

At this point, I started to make sense of it: these people weren't interested in politics. They didn't care about social issues. They found more enjoyment in watching someone spin toy aeroplanes around their head than being intellectually provoked. A line in my act proved it, too: they laughed when I called myself a virgin, cos I was mocking myself. What did this mean for me? Well, I now knew: if I was to ever go back there, and if I wanted laughs, I'd have to focus more on self-depreciation (which isn't really a proble, cos anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis knows I'm a fucking pro at that shit :P). These people wanted to laugh at the suffering of the performers, and if that's what they want, that's what you have to give them, whether you like it or not. They're not there for you; you are there for them.

On a side note, there was a band playing throughout the night, and they rounded off the evening with some music. Each member of the band had an alias and a costume; the bass player was a chick called Serpentine, and from memory, she had on either a mask or face paint around her eyes. I looked at her quite a few times while they were playing, cos she was kinda hot :)  But, in addition to being chicken shit with women to begin with, I couldn't work out how to talk to her anyway. I mean, she was on-stage, so I couldn't interrupt her; I'd just performed like crap, so I haven't exactly marketed myself very well; and I've called myself a virgin, which, for a woman like her (I'd say she was a couple of years my elder) was probably a turn off. She also seemed kinda apathetic, which turns me off, but I still found her attractive, so I kept looking anyway. They called themselves 'The Elastic Waste Band'—problem is, there are other bands (famous ones) that go by this name , meaning I can't find anything on the internet about their actual names, their hometown, nothing. Given that I haven't really been attracted to someone in a while, it was kinda cool to feel that again, even if it wasn't very strong and it had no chance of going anywhere.

It was then time to leave. As I was leaving, four or five people came up to me and said I did a good job on-stage. And they weren't bullshitting, either; the smile on their faces when talking to me told me they were being honest. That was a relief: at least someone enjoyed it. One guy was amazed I was doing this at only nineteen, and he gave me lots of compliments—I guess, while you can't please all the people all the time, it's also pretty hard to please no one at all. What sucked was, I performed way better at RAW, but never spoke to the audience. Can you imagine how many compliments I missed? All for going out the wrong exit. Fuck :P

I was also paid for my work, which was a surprise cos I wasn't told I'd get moniez. Again, kinda ironic that I've been paid nothing to perform well, but I have been paid to perform poorly. What gives?

In retrospect, I don't think this audience was very bright. I've bombed before, and it sucks when it happens, but the previous times I've bombed, the material has been totally untested. This time, not only was the material tested, but it was the best monologue I've ever done, going off the first audience's reaction. Different people have different tastes in comedy, and there's nothing I can do about that; but some people are just too stupid to get the jokes, and I think that was a problem here. At least I know that now. But, as George Carlin once said (though I cannot find the exact quote anywhere):

"If material works one night, but doesn't work the next, it's them, not you."