Last night, in the middle of a 47 minute romp with insomnia, I thought,
“I’m posting that blog on Substack tomorrow! Even if it’s a piece of sh****t!!” *
On that note, here we go…
What a classic move. Writer who has not been writing opens her laptop the first week of January. (And uses past tense right away. Oooooof.) I assumed I’d finish the blog I started writing two months ago, but I don’t have the power to re-read whatever mess that was. I’m pretty sure it’s too long, even without being finished. I thought I’d post it with a “To Be Continued…” but seeing as how I my consistency is along the lines of a Chipotle in the wrong part of town, that wouldn’t work. By the time I wrote again, you’d all forget where we left off. How did we do it in the 80’s? Let a TV show just abandon us every May, then tune back in every September and magically clip ourselves back on to the cliff we were hanging off of? (Okay, there were recaps obvi.)
I really can’t figure out WHY THE F I HAVEN’T BEEN WRITING!
Okay I have been writing. Those morning pages in my journal be looking plump. It’s posting that’s my real problem. Sure I’m as addicted to the internet as much as all of us, but this place is a mess. My focus is currently wedged somewhere between a sub par comedy clip and a meme of somersaulting dogs. (I call that “soft content.”)
I think I put too much pressure on myself with these things. I want every post to be a banger. I keep feeling like I should wait for a good story (and oh boy, do I have some,) as opposed to just writing about day to day life out here as a stand up comedian. Currently I’m sitting in my office on top of the Gulf of Mexico, and yes, my desk is my bed. I’m sipping on a Venti Americano, mildly annoyed at myself for ordering it “black,” as opposed to “No Room.” If you’re a black coffee drinker, you know the second you pick up the cup when the barista has clearly left room- and a LOT, like a full inch. How much milk are people putting in their coffee? And of course I could turn around and say, “Can I get more hot water in this?” But I don’t, cuz it’s just one coffee, one day, and I don’t want to stall the flow of an already busy Starbucks. This is just a baby lesson, in a lifetime of lessons that will remind me to say it next time. The same way this is just a baby blog, to get back in the routine of actually blogging.
Today is the first day of the year where I feel like I actually got my body back on track. I’ve been in four different time zones in the past seven days. Sometimes the hardest part about being a comic is the traveling. The three hour I sleep I get the night before a 7am flight, cuz no matter how much I SWEAR to myself I’m gonna be good, go home early, get a good night’s sleep, I ALWAYS go out for a long, leisurely dinner, stop at my local for a nightcap, crawl into bed, and instead of going to sleep, watch a little Netflix. Even if I’m up to date on the new stuff baiting me, I still play a rerun of Seinfeld, preferably an old one that has stand up wedged between commercials. (It’s not a run on sentence if I use commas, right? I’m rusty.) Not to mention the compulsive scrolling on IG that’s happening through all of this. I convince myself I’m a pro at the three hour sleep, then at the airport I struggle to open my passport to the picture page. (Sometimes in that moment I swear it’s gone missing.)
In the morning, I get warning emails AND texts (that’s when you know it’s serious) that once I land there’s some flooding by the port, and to make sure to get a sufficient car/SUV. (So no low riders?) I try not to let weather stress me out, cuz if one thing’s for sure, I know THAT is out of my control. What IS in my control, are all the bits I have in various notebooks, somehow figuring out how to sync them up with a very diverse crowd, under a huge corporate brand that I’m grateful for cuz I can pay my bills. Oh ya and ideally I’d like to hold on to my authentic self as a comic. Now that’s what I call Stage 4 anxiety. I constantly go back and forth wondering what the key to being a great comedian is:
Is it believing in yourself so devoutly that you can actually visualize all your dreams coming true?
OR…
Is it simply not giving a shit?
And I’m not making this year’s goals ALL about stand up. I really want to focus on WRITING!! Not just jokes, but THIS kind. Oh what a sweet world this is, all alone, the only person heckling your ideas is yourself… You would THINK being off the grid as much as I am, I’d get a TON of work done, but no. I still find myself doing a LOT of slacking, convincing myself I have to save all my energy for the shows. Do you know how many Diane Keaton movies we have on board? She’s the Taylor Swift of cruise ship channels. We’ve got everything from Father of the Bride to Book Club 2: The Next Chapter. (I’ve seen it sixteen times.) Are these valuable hours I could be writing? Oh 100%. Do I?
LOL.
Even when my podcast partner Jen Murphy (who is also on Substack- check her out) says “POST YOUR BLOG!” I say I’m going to, then don’t. I’m like the women’s clothing shop on Spring & Lafayette that’s had a “We’re Closing! Everything ON SALE” sign on their window for two years.
Cut to me disembarking- I text fellow comedian Slade Ham who lives in Houston. I have a knack for reconnecting with friends as I pass through their cities, while not actually having the time to see them. Like a “Hey, cruising by your exit. Hope you’re alive and well.” He dropped a,
“You should write more consistently, fww.”
Then I babble about how I have a few blogs messily sitting in laptop.
“Publish that shit. It’s v entertaining to me, but more than once a year please.”
Cut to me googling FWW meaning, but I think it was a typo. See how fast I can jump right back on my phone for random reasons?
I was pretty sure I was gonna post a blog once I got to airport, but then I ran for an earlier flight that was boarding, and managed to score a standby flight and got home three hours early! Bonus!
Did I post when I got home?
Well no, I had to unpack, drop off laundry, get pizza. Busy New Yorker stuff.
So what REALLY made me post?
I was thinking about feeding my subscribers in the airport before boarding my plane to Honolulu… I really knew I should. This thing was sort of done (story of my life) but then my BF and I started chatting with a nice couple from upstate New York and I didn’t want to break up the party with my laptop, so I delayed my return to Substack once again.
But then…
We take off from JFK (I prefer LaGuardia for the record) and 20 minutes into flight the pilot announces,
“Sorry for the interruptions, but we’re turning around and going back to JFK. We’re having a problem with the pressurization of the plane.”
Amidst all my news scrolling I know that was the light going off on those Max 9’s of the Alaska door fiasco. You ever been on a plane that makes a U-turn? My palms were bleeding sweat. The lady beside me was reading passages from the Bible on her phone and listen, I’m not religious, but in that moment I was peaking over her shoulder like “lemme just see what that says…”
Also inside my head:
“Fuck. I should have posted that blog. Why am I NOT putting myself out there? Why am I hiding all my writing projects like they’re the accurate number of men I’ve slept with? When I’m back on land I’m DEFINITELY posting my blogs. Cuz I’ll be ALIVE and this is what I want to do with my life, damnit!”
Of all the landings that deserved an applause break, I was shocked this one didn’t get one. Female pilots get no respect I tell ya.
And now here I am, finally posting a new blog.
Nine days later.
I’m back, baby!
Thanks for reading.
The S.S. Walkinshaw
*I wrote that two weeks ago lol*
PS Slade Ham has a new special coming out on YouTube. Subscribe to him and see it drop.
Yay!!! You're back. Love your writing!!