Give Up.

"I want to work in comedy."

I think this is the biggest lie I've ever told anyone. And I've told almost everyone. What the fuck does it even mean? Every single day I think about writing on this blog or going to try some of my terrible standup material. And every single day, except for a few, I don't do it. I wander around, I watch a TV show, I complain about entitled people, I exercise, I think about money, I laugh at white people, I call the dogs nerds, I make fun of everything, I think about going on dates, I question my insecurities, I wonder if I'll die alone, and I think about eating cookies, and then I eat cookies. But I don't write and I don't do standup.

For as long as I can remember, making people laugh has always been the most important thing in my life. Not Michael Jordan. Not learning new things. Not looking at the stars. Not having children. Not having sex with beautiful women. Not traveling. Not pizza. Not the superiority of black people on the dance floor, and most other cool things. Not my mom. She'll die at some point. Probably relatively soon but hopefully not for a long time. Not any of those things. Ha. Ha. Ha. That's what is important to me.

But let me be honest. I always try to be. What I should have said is this: I want to be as successful and funny and as respected as Larry David. Or Louis CK. Or Dave Chappelle. Or whoever else is totally awesome. Because I don't want to work in comedy. I don't want to put the work into embarrassing open mics. I don't want to write clever blog posts, especially if I'm trying to force myself not to make a jackin' off joke. I don't want to spend any more lonely hours in my head. I don't want to come up with any more lies on what I'm doing to pursue a career in comedy. I just want to complain and get a trophy.

And that's never going to happen.

So that's why I'm giving up on the dreams I never had.

And let me tell you...

...it feels amazing.

I mean seriously, could you imagine if giving up on your dreams was hard work? If you had to finish an obstacle course, or take a standardized test, or listen to a Coldplay album all the way through? What agony that would be! Nope, none of it. You don't have to do a fucking thing! I mean seriously. Nothing. You could be walking down the street, stressed out after a recent mess-up at your last breakdancing "battle." I don't know, maybe you didn't do as many headspins or some other lame-ass shit like that. I mean seriously, if breakdancing is your dream, just give up. It's lame. Nobody is impressed when you clear a space at a party where people are having fun and not busting out pre-rehearsed dance moves, nobody cares. You should have given up on that dream a long time. You shouldn't have had it in the first place really. I mean, breakdancing? C'mon. Anyways, you could be walking down the street thinking about how tough of a breakdancing struggle your life has been. How everyone has always doubted you. No matter how right they were. And they probably were right. And you can just stop what you're doing. Give up. That's it. How amazing is that? Be free, bboy! No letter to your congressman. No phone-call to the girlfriend you don't have. Nothing. How does it feel? Completely amazing, I know. I just gave up on my dreams. And I feel the same way!

Read all of these quotes about Failure.

They're all wrong.

“You’re not obligated to win. You’re obligated to keep trying. To the best you can do everyday.” 
― Jason Mraz

Yep, even Jason Mraz. He's wrong.

"Failing is awesome. Giving up is awesome. It means you don't have to try again."
- Marty C.