Tonight, I do standup at the open mic at the Kingswood.
This is not optional.
See, I missed last week because I felt sick. I talked about it back then. I really didn’t want to skip a week, but in the end, I decided to favour my health and not my ambitions.
But even back then, I knew what that would mean :
I am going on tonight no matter what.
That’s because I know damned well that if I don’t go on tonight, I will probably never go on again. I will lose all my remaining momentum and this will become yet another thing I did for a little while then stopped when the initial burst of energy ran out.
Well fuck that noise. I’m hangin’ on, man.
It’s especially important to go on tonight because there won’t be another open mic night at the Kingswood Pub for a couple of weeks.
That’s because today is December 18th. That means next Wednesday is the 25th of December, otherwise known as CHRISTMAS.
Something tells me the place won’t even be open that day, let alone hosting our silly ass open mic night.
Besides, I have plans for that day. Xmas dinner with Joe’s family. Wouldn’t miss it.
And the Wednesday after that is New Year’s Day, and people will be too busy being truly and righteously hung over to come to the pub that got them that way.
Now, if we could go on New Year’s Eve, that would really be something.
A few of the patrons might even pay attention to the comedians!
Nah. Too much pressure.
So I am going on tonight, dammit, even if I have already hacked up three lungs.
Speaking of which….
Got the call from the doctor’s office saying they wanted me to come in to discuss my test results with me.
Like I have said before, this is pretty much the older adult equivalent of being called into the principal’s office. You get that same feeling of fear, guilt, and paranoia.
“Oh god, what did I do…. well I haven’t been watching my carbs like I was supposed to, and I guess I have been drinking a lot lately…. oh, and I haven’t used the exercise bike in weeks…. god,what was I thinking?”.
Because you know it’s got to be something bad. They never ask you to come into the office when it’s good news.
“Well, Mister Bertrand, your test results are in and I must say, they are fantastic. Best test results I have ever seen. In fact, we only called you in here today to prove to my staff that you’re a real person. Oh, and the people from Guiness insisted. ”
So I have an appointment at 3:45 pm today. Hopefully, Joe will be back from his own appointment in time to drive me.
If not, I will cab it there and back because there is no way I am waiting for a bus outside in cold grey wet weather like we are getting right now.
That would put me back in the hospital for pneumonia for sure.
Well, that’s it for now. Wish me luck in both things.
More after the break.
I am back, post comedy and post doctor’s appointment.
That fucking doctor’s appointment. Sigh.
So there I am, going through my test results with my doctor, patiently waiting for him to get to the part where he tells me what the fuck is wrong with me.
And then I realize…. that’s not where we are headed. He thinks all I am there to do is go over the test results with him. He has completely fucking forgotten why he ordered the god damned tests in the first place.
So then it’s up to me to remind him. And he is, of course, totally surprised. He writes me (well, prints me) a prescription for Azithromycin and flees the room.
This kind of shit is why I have trust issues, people.
Doctors are supposed to be trustworthy authority figures. They are supposed to look out for their patients’ interests. They are supposed to be on the ball. They are supposed to be competent. They are suppose to be very, very smart.
It should not be up to me to do their damned jobs for them.
I could have looked over the test results myself, from home. It doesn’t take a fucking medical degree to read where it says what range the result should be in if the patient is healthy and then says “Hey, this one is outside of that. ”
What I want and need is a goddamned diagnosis. What the hell is wrong with me and what the hell are we going to do about it? It’s your job to know!
Instead, the universe once more proved that I can’t trust anybody to be competent and composed and sensible or even interested in my wellbeing and I have to suspect failure and betrayal at all possible points because even in the doctor’s office, I am the smartest guy in the room, and everyone else is a half-blind idiot.
You might say I am a tad bitter about all this.
Comedy came and went. I am still struggling to connect what I think I am going to do when I get up there to what I actually do when I get up there.
Somehow, when I actually step up to the mic, all my grandiose ideas about how this time I am going to try to be less formal and more chatty go WHOOSH out of my brain and I end up doing my stuff half dazed.
I know I can do better. I know I am not even using one percent of my talent. I know that I have what it takes to light up that crowd and keep them laughing.
The trick is somehow keeping all that in my mind when the spotlight hits me and I am doing my best just to keep ahead of the panic.
Oh well. The more I do it, the more relaxed I will be up there.
It’s all just a matter of practice. I just have to keep going up there week after week.
Oh. And by the way, we’ll be off for two weeks for the holidays.
God damn it.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.