I'm in the middle
of part one of The Zen Diaries of Garry Shandling. Recurring themes
in a lot of people I admire who become successful show up in Garry.
Fundamentally, do the work. If you want to be a joke writer, keep
writing jokes. If you don't quite know how to perform, keep
performing. Do the small gigs and the even smaller. Take notes on
what works and what doesn't. Let the joke evolve with substituted
words or phrasing. Ask questions and keep seeking the answers.
What's immediately
apparent is that Shandling had very familiar patterns of doubt and
anxiety about how to discover who he was. Plenty of people who
attempt comedy can have a number of issues and questions they're
trying to work through. The therapeutic release of laughter or sense
of solidarity with other comics is a broad tent under which to find
yourself. Maybe you'd rather write for a show than perform. Maybe
you're a comic's comic. Comedy is a vehicle, and you decide how to
drive it.
Whether you want to
call it a tireless work ethic or the result of crippling anxiety, the
desire to always be doing “something” or working in some
direction that speaks to my goals and ideals is very real. It's a big
reason I've never bothered to try anything in comedy beyond joking in
my personal life despite the huge admiration I have for so many funny
voices. I like to take things I respect seriously, and it's very easy
to pretend that merely engaging signifies meaningful interaction. I
think this is different too from those who claim to be
“perfectionists” as a crutch for procrastinating. “If you can't
do it right, don't do it at all,” is no excuse not to practice, or
chip away at a book, or bother trying because you're scared.
That's something I
realized was never really my problem. I'm not scared of things. At
least, whatever fears I experience don't seem to mean the same things
for me as they do other people. I get anxious, you get an impossibly
annoying blog to read. I fear my potential more than anything I've
necessarily done. It's Spider-Man. With great power comes great
responsibility. While I seem to exercise my power in ways I suspect
many find disappointing, the consequences of it are no less real.
Shandling's notes
and mentoring had me thinking about my #yearofeveryday that I
suspended after 15 days. Finding a pocket that both allows you to
feel happy or making progress on something isn't easy. I certainly
enjoy things like watching TV and movies or learning new things on my
instruments. I like reading. And yes, to an extent, they are an end
in and of themselves. They provide the narrative backdrop and
structure for how I relate to the world. It's a Shandling documentary
that inspired this. It's random interviews or lines from a book that
inspire many more. When I'm paying attention or finding meaning in my
“hobbies,” they retain a chance of becoming a sort of timeless
expression of who I am or would like to be.
This makes me want
to say what I like about who I want to be. At one level, I like
saying I've probably seen more media that Roger Ebert did before he
died. I think it's cool that something so mundane seems to have a
kind of snark-significance. Does it matter? Well, to me, yeah a
little. It signifies that I do things “a lot” or maybe “too
much” and “exhaustively.” It's an indicator that if we're going
to start comparing notes or you're gonna set me on a track for
conversation, don't fake it. Do I ever truly feel that satisfied with
what I've seen so far? Of course not, there's still, theoretically,
many more years of my life with many more things to watch. It's not
about the number, it's about the potential meaning of any one piece
at any time.
I think this kind
of perspective applies to everything. I don't have a favorite
comedian or favorite joke. I never find myself comparing the pain in
my gut or chest from times that I've laughed incredibly hard. It's
great every time. Every time I get full, it's the best time. Every
time you have sex, you should be able to enjoy yourself. It speaks to
my compulsion to fight feelings of jealousy and continued advocacy
for open relationships. My perspective on any one person doesn't
really compare. I can claim a favorite movie or food, but the
responsibility lies with me to understand and respect where they do
or don't relate to my life at any given moment. If I had a stomach
condition that said I couldn't eat cheeseburgers anymore, or never
saw Waking Life again, the concept of “favorite” exists outside
of access.
Maybe that point
right there is key. My favorite self I seem unable to access. Or at
least, I don't allow myself to see my current circumstances as an
expression of my favorite self. There's an aspect or several missing
from the daily pattern and work I think would speak best towards me.
I'm coasting. I'm comfortable-ish. That's when you lose your edge and
really any sense of self, let alone your favorite one. Shandling got
hit by a car and had an out of body experience. Something asked him,
“Didn't you remember we just lent you this body? Do you want to
continue living the life of Garry Shandling?” I don't recall the
paperwork for renting my body, but if I want to bother to continue
living, it's extremely easy to see the future I think I can inhabit
that creates the basis for wanting to do so.
What I like about
me, I don't sense from the world at large. Of course, most people
working at comedy or their day job don't generate hundreds or
thousands of notes and pages about how to do it better. Most don't
fall asleep being chased by everything they're not doing well-enough.
Surely, we know many people are prescribed pills for their anxiety or
depression, brought on by financial woes or generalized terrible
interpersonal relationships, but the burden is externalized. Even if
I can't seem to figure out what I should be doing every day, you're
not to blame because I can't enjoy the pace of progression or
relative stability.
My sense of self is
difficult insofar as that it is illusive. It's as here and gone as
the next funniest joke you've ever heard. It's nailing The Tonight
Show, and the panic attack about what comes after. It's making the
money to “fix” something, and then trembling and exclaiming, “One
more!” like Schindler with a pin in hand. It's the peaks and
valleys of blogs. It's a measure of obscenity or darkness provoked on
hangover days. It's a longing that will never be satiated by someone
who cares to “get it” as long as I'm giving. My sense of self has
fun in the changing and pushing and fighting. If you can't change
yourself, the anxiety kicks in. If you can't fight someone, you beat
yourself up. If you run out of buttons to push, you edge your
boundaries right up to and maybe over the line of what you'd want to
say or have said about you.
That I'm still
alive means I'm willing to keep looking. There are bits of me in this
documentary. There's bits of me in different people and projects and
justifications for starting some new initiative. I'm all over the
place, figuratively and literally. While my body is alone, screaming
into the darkness of Craiglist and via blogs, my “self” is
germinating in protesters and investigative reporters and
well-intentioned megalomaniacs who still find a measure of guilt in
their personality disorder. As long as I can continue to change, it
can be for better or worse. The work of deciding what constitutes
either one is never done. I don't think you have to love it, but I
don't understand being alive if you're unwilling to do the work that
comes with being who you are.
