Make 'Em Laugh

 .... Dontchya know everyone wants to laugh?

If Donald O'Connor said it/sang it/danced it, I believe it. Even if he hadn't, though, I imagine I would have drawn at least a similar conclusion. 

My dad used to let me watch Seinfeld [hmm, cool website, Jerry], SNL and sometimes even The Simpsons  -- all despite my mother's concern for my soul and her fear that the world is "going to hell in a hand basket" ... My dad probably just knew I was mature enough to handle the bad words. Or that I was better at keeping secrets than I was. Regardless of his reasoning, I became a lover of ... uh ... funny stuff ... at an early age. 

I'm a bit too awkward [and not in the intentionally awkward so the audience will laugh kinda way] to perform for realsies. Like, for real for real. But that didn't stop my mom [aforementioned concerner-o-my-soul] from believing she had created Branson Missouri's Next Big Thing. [Yeah, my mom loves Branson. . . <<she says as she hides her head in shame>> ... And she loves using any vacation or family outing or just plain 'ole dinnertime as an opportunity to force my brothers and I to perform a skit for her viewing pleasure.

Lucky for me, she has a hard time keeping her archives straight, or even being certain that she turned the video camera on to begin with, so there's no footage - to my knowledge - of my three brothers and I breakin' a leg or sqeezing a rubber chicken or sittin' on a whoopy cushion. No footage, but there IS evidence that we all love to laugh as much as we do.

Which leads me to what the point of this post was supposed to be .... this idea that laughing is the best may actually be less ValleyGirl and more philosophically profound than I've considered before. And as such, deserves something ... like ... an academic degree around laughter. 

Apparently The Second City has a COMEDY STUDIES program that kind of does this. But this appears to be more for people who want to perform and not so much for people who want to understand why that performance was funny.  This article in Psychology Today on "The Science of Laughter" speaks a bit to the topic:

"Given the universality of the sound, our ignorance about the purpose and meaning of laughter is remarkable. We somehow laugh at just the right times, without consciously knowing why we do it. Most people think of laughter as a simple response to comedy, or a cathartic mood-lifter. Instead, after 10 years of research on this little-studied topic, I concluded that laughter is primarily a social vocalization that binds people together. It is a hidden language that we all speak. It is not a learned group reaction but an instinctive behavior programmed by our genes. Laughter bonds us through humor and play."

So there's that ...

• ... and then we all know that "laughter is the best medicine", and it can make even someone dealing with cancer feel a bit better about urrthing [see P.S. below for real-live example of this] ...
• ... and there is probably a brilliant neurological explanation to what happens in my mind when I'm laughing ...
• ... and I got the pleasure of hearing the hilariously engaging local comedian, Joe Marlotti, speak to the "Beauty in Humor" at the Fall 2011 Elevate St. Louis event - where he described the vulnerability he sees in people when they are laughing uncontrollably, the beauty that lies in that vulnerability, the remarkable way laughter unites us and we all seem to agree without even debating that some things are just so.damn.funny ...
• ... and I was really lucky to work with the - then - Director of Student Activities at Saint Louis University, Dr. Adam Peck on a tons of kickass student leader things. Including a trip to somewhere in BFE Texas for a retreat where, when I wasn't narcolepticting out in the back of Danno Frierdich's trunk [no, I don't think I really fell asleep in a trunk. What was that, though? Did we rent a station wagon?], I was gaining valuable words of wisdom from Adam. He told me all about his various experiences in comedy, and his statement about the funniest things in life being the true things is one I've always remembered. People laugh at things they can relate to ... things that are true ...
• ... that was reinforced when I read Tina Fey's book, BossyPants where Tina shared all sortsa improv advice, one gem that stands out being her suggestion to always agree with the other actors on stage ...

... but I feel like there's more, right? There's gotta be some way to study laughter / comedy / jokes / humor / all of it in a wholistic sense. Maybe it'd ruin the fun if it became schoolwork, or we'd just analyze it do death to the point that we couldn't see the humor any more. But I say I wanna try it anyway. Laugh myself Studious ... hmmm ...

• Amusement Exam
• Art of the Wisecrack
• Bachelors in Badinage in Comicality
• Bachelors of Badinage in Comicality
• Blackboard in Buffoonery
• Bookish Bon Mot
• Book-learned Banter
• Cachinnating Class
• Certificate in Tittering
• Collegiate Caprice
• Concentration in Clowning
• Degree in Raillery
• Department of Drollery
• Faculty of Farce
• Humor Studies 101
• Ivy League Laughing
• JokesTaughtByJews [I seriously know a lot of funny Jews. Also, one time a girl at a bar told me I have a "Jewish Nose" but "not to worry, because the Jewish nose is so in right now."]
• Knee Slapping Scholastic
• Laughter-Learned
• Learning Levity
• Major in Flippancy, Minor in Waiety
• Masters in JustKidding
• Pedantics of Hoodwinking
• PhD in Pranking
• Professor of Comedy
• Pupil of Jocularity
• Satire Scholar
• Studious Schticking
• Study of Slapstick
• The Institution of 'Ilarity [English for "Hilarity", I'm assuming]
• Vaudeville College of Tomfoolery
• Wisecrack College of Giggling
• Wit University

 ... this feels like the beginning of a fine institution.

That is never taken seriously.

And that's the point. 

But ends up also being kind of a bummer for the kids who go to school there and just want a little respect. Just want to be taken seriously for ONCE in their lives. 

Meh, those are my thoughts on laughin' & schoolin' for now. La, la, la.

P.S. One of my favorite people on the planet, who also happens to be a seriously talented jack-of-all trades [not just some trades. All trades. No, not a few trades. All trades. NO NO, not most trades .ALL of 'em. You got that gurrrrrl?] - EMILY HAWKINS made something remarkable out of this "laughter is the best medicine" concept. One of her best friends, Lukas Wartman, was recently diagnosed with cancer. I've yet to have the pleasure of meeting Lukas, but the way EHawk describes this man might be enough to inspire me for a lifetime. And what she did for him- a perfect manifestation of that inspiration. And also suuuuuuper funny.

She can tell you more, and you should ask her more fo shizzy ... but here's what I know:

• She rallied some silly and shameless folks who love Lukas and hate cancer to pose in these silly pics below.
• She spent countless hours designing tons of TEAM LUKAS shirts and pics and notecards.
• She coordinated t-shirts and personalized encouragingly hilarious notes with all of Lukas' friends and presented him with this incredible gesture of human love and kindness without ever forgetting how important it is to make 'em laugh. 

[not to mention, she visits him in the hospital every moment she can and cares more genuinely about him - and people in general - than most people you'll ever meet]

P.S. I Love You

I know, I know, today's post was insanely long. Even for me. But I promised myself [or "whyself" or whatever the heck you wanna call this bologna] that I'd write a blog post every.single.day. And that if/when I miss days, I'll make up for it the next day. So the SuperLong post was to make up for Easter [you're lucky I didn't go all meaning- & history-of-Easter research-crazy on your booty-hinds like I was thinking about doing], and this is kinda a follow-up to that. Because in looking up the lyrics I got a bit carried away. Classic, I know.

If you recall from this morning's blog post, I wrote some thangz about a good 'ole Bob Dylan song called "Eternal Circle" [I tried to embed, but I think I forgot how to use the internet the moment someone in real life mentioned reading my blog] [Yeah, that happened this weekend. NBD.] And then I proceeded to write a handful of silly things about the lyrics page that confirmed I was - in fact - singing the wrong words all along ... and tangential topics and opinions that give my audience a flash [the kind that blinds you] [don't worry, though, doesn't kill you. You're too strong to let a flash like that kill you. Keep going!] into the mind I am stuck taming every.single.second.of.my.life.

ETERNAL CIRCLE Part Deux :: 

[Why doesn't my Blogger.com template have an epic- and french-cartoon-looking font available for this subtitle?! UGH.] [Do I reference the infamous "#FirstWorldProblems" that I'm probably typing in wrong, or the similarly witty "#WhitePeopleProblems" SNL skit led by the surprisingly hilarious Charles Barkley a few months ago?]

  

If you're not familiar w the lyrics, here's a site that has 'em.  This site also happens to seem obsessed with people LIKING and TALKING about them on Facebook, although their lack of attempted social audience engagements might imply otherwise. 

While I'm here - I didn't know the FB was calculating "talkin'-'bouts" now. How does this Clock-o-Lyrics or whatever it's called know that over 2,500 Facebookaholics were "talking about this"? Is there a hash-tag-esque metric for this alleged 'talking'? 

More importantly, shouldn't at least one of these social media sites capitalize on world-wide ear ringing superstition we all had a busy-bodied-overweight-'family-friend' tell us at some point and come up with some sweet ear-bell-combo of a logo and catchy slogan to replace and/or combine creative forces with the word cloud / hash tag / "talking about this" / and-so-on... ?? 

Or is that a bad idea because ...

A! 

Dear hipsters, 

Why do you think EAR ART is a good idea for your college major considering not even Vinnie van G himself could make an ear sexy? Then again, this Van Gogh's Ear Cafe seems to be doing alright. [I will try your Chocolate Cherry Latte in time, my pet, in time.] [This isn't the first time I've cited Wikipedia, and it won't be the last.] [Remember when Jimmy Wales made you listen to him ask for money every time you tried to look up fun facts on Wikipedia that you'd casually mention in G-Chats with that bro you were trying to impress with your mad world knowledge?] [8th Grade English, please slap me in the face.]

Love,

Sam 

Sorry if I offended you, hipsters. If it means anything to ya, I look damn good in hipster glasses [even Mrs. Clause-dressed babies agree.] ... I feel the pain of trees that you you feel the pain of a sucker punch to the jaw ... and I occasionally dress up like a Tetris piece with friends to stand in front of Pinnochio statues, whom we imagine to be exclaiming, "I'm a real boy, Geppettto! A real boy!" ...

I also love flannel. And Portlandia.

B!
Too many meanings for the ear-ringing phenomenon, and no social media site [not even the $100-billion+ of Facebook] can afford to deal with law suits like this:

• Doctor Joe Superstitiouschmo, PhBS v. Mister Facebook: Dr. Superstitiouschmo (P) brought this lawsuit alleging that the algorithmic approach that the Mr. Facebook (D) used to apply its trademarked RingingBellInsideYourEar logo on the plaintiff's Facebook Timeline caused the plaintiff $1MM worth of therapy due to the concern of imminent death of a friend of family member aforementioned trademarked logo implied.
• Ms. Susiesticious Needzuhman v. Mister Facebook:  Ms. Needzuhman (P) brought this lawsuit alleging that the appearance of the one Mr. Facebook (D)'s RingingBellInsideYourEar[TM] logo on the plaintiff's Facebook wall [hypothetical future lawsuit falls in the past. I know, tough to keep up. Law School's not for everyone, chief.] inspired the plaintiff to spend 85% of her annual salary on dating websites and singles ads. This is money historical records show the plaintiff would have spent on her cats, had Mr. Facebook not flaunted its new RingingBellInsideYourEar[TM] logo onto Ms. Needzuhman's wall, thereby convincing the plaintiff that her future spouse was - beyond the shadow of a doubt - to have a first name that begins with the very letter Ms. Needzuhman's friend - Inya Centbistanderd - selected at random while her ear was ringing! 

OBJECTION, YOUR HONOR....!

[These fake law suits and partial lawyer speeches will make little to no sense to if you aren't aware of the ear-ringing-related superstitious, Chinese Omens and what-not that are out there. OR if you happen to actually know one or two things about lawyerin'. OR if you made it past the 4th Grade in School.]

P.S.

How is the SarcMark still not huge? Seriously?

But The Song It Was Long

Not necessarily one of my all-time BDFs [Bob Dylan Faves], but sometimes "Eternal Circle" gives me a sting I deem worth a mention.

 But the song it was long ...
         ... And I'd only begun.
                  ... And there was more to be sung.

                           ... And it was far to the end.

                                    ... And it had to get done.

I don't ever know if I'm interpreting songs or poems or articles or book passages or emails or really anything the way the creator [not creator, as in Creator of Heavens & Earth, but as in creator of aforementioned piece of communication/art] intended the audience interpret. But most artists I know [shout-outs below in my "P.S."] claim to be chill with that. And I'm sure Bobby Dee is the chillest of 'em all. Also sure that by the time I'm famous enough [for my EAR ART... see post right after this] for my blog to be worth a read, there will be a new Urban Dictionary Definition of the word "chill", and I'll be scotch-free. Scotch-free? Ah, I digress... point is, might be way off, but here's how this song makes me feel ... what the lyrics make me think ... and ultimately, what "Eternal Circle" has me blogging about:

There's this seemingly endless angstiness I've never been able to shake. This hyper-awareness that there is so much to know, to read, to ask, to wonder. There are infinitely more people in existence that I would love the chance to spend 3-hour coffee dates with than I will ever get to. As soon as I think I understand anything at all, every single time I'm hit with cement wall keeping the 5th graders away from the 1st graders on my playground, and I feel the sting. The cement that tells me I'll never get to it all. There's so much. Too much. It's too long. And I'm only at the beginning, even after I think I've made it past some arbitrary definition of "beginning" and have maybe, just maybe, segued into some sort of a "middle" or "pre-" or "post-phase" I can categorize neatly. But without literally going back to the measureless "beginning", I nearly start over every time I'm immersed in some new experience.

That's one version of my weekly panic attacks, always prompted by this song. Another is smaller, more intimate, yet significantly heavier and more complicated.  In this version, I think specifically about the intricately tangled mess I've made of my nearly 25-years in PE [planet earth. not gym glass. although, hollllller, who misses gym class!?] ... and I wonder how anyone else will find the time, motivation, intrigue, resources, magic it'd take to listen to the whole song. The whole song I'm still writing, mind you. The whole song that not even I can explain. I can't believe I have the audacity to expect a friend, a boyfriend, an employer, a family member, a therapist, anyone to even untangle one line of one verse when I might not even be able to confirm the attempted untangled new format. By then, it's likely that I'd have changed that line's entire context and meaning anyway, right? 

By the time this song has me bidding ado any naive hopes of true connection and goodness I formerly grasped with all my soul, I'm comforted by the realistic voice in my head that reminds me to get over myself because I'm not the first, and I certainly won't be the last to feel this way. And I'm not even as poetic as describing it as 95% of the people who do describe it are. And I'm certainly missing the dose of brilliance needed to really get this stuff. To really feel these ways. To be worth even mentioning I feel lost. 

Yeah, strange that I find comfort in what seems to be a sort of self-deprecating critique. But I don't think that's what it is. Or maybe I truly am my mother's hopelessly optimistic daughter denying any glimpse of depression within myself. Regardless, what it feels like seems to be what matters. And it feels like I'm humbled. Like I'm humbled and reminded that it's all so much bigger than me.

There's so much. Too much. It's too long. And I'm only at the beginning .... and THAT IS AWESOME! Whatever it all is or means or can be or should be or randomly came to be ... no matter who gets me or tries to or wants or could care less ... I'm here, and it's all here. And I can take it or leave it. And it can take me or leave me. But if I get to have just a microscopic portion of it all for even just an insignificantly not-worth-mentioning-or-scheduling moment in all of time ... I will take it. I'm lucky to have it. 

...And began the next song.

P.S. Some talented artists I know who come to mind:

• Beamer Aston - Masterfully skilled in too many art mediums to list, and maybe more importantly, a spirit that strongly resembles the depth, complication, beauty, innovation and sincerity of his artwork. [Currently enjoying life in the NC w his gorgeous and brilliant wife, Liz Aston .... I believe they're planning their trip to visit me in the Lou soon, yes? ;)]
• Billy Croghan - Undoubtedly the best singer-songwriter I know, and I wouldn't doubt one of the greatest of our time. Calling it. Billy has a way with words that I actually would compare to Bob Dylan. I have no idea how to compare is sound, but maybe that lack of comparison is the only way to define his unique talent.  
• Kenny DeShields II - With the stage presence I don't think anyone can practice to perfection the way he has so naturally executed and the ability to connect with everyone he meets so sincerely, Kenny DeShields has a true gift for performance.  
• Kayla Foust - One of my 90+ cousins from my mama's side, Kayla can sketch / doodle/ draw ... whatduyuhcallit? ... like nobody's business. She's always been good, but I don't think I realized/appreciated just how good until witnessing her 2011 Christmas Eve Production set backdrop.
• Donnie Howard - The oldest Howard brother and my younger-bigger-taller-little brother has always had a talent for taking seemingly complicated matters and explaining them in a way that gives listeners confidence in themselves. I believe that this gift of his personality is represented in his music. Both his gift for playing and his passion for listening. I also seriously love this kid and will attempt to embarrass him in public until the day I die. Err, or 'til the day he dies. I don't think I'll try anything at his funeral. UGH. What is the matter with me?! TOO FAR, SAM. 
• Blake Paxton - What can't Blake do? Bold and beautiful singer, dance partner, performer, advocate, writer, professor, student and friend. Blake is not only a one-of-a-kind guy with countless talents and interests, but is someone you MUST party with.
• Mike Pratt - Only men's athletic shoe designer I've eve met, but probably the most handsome. Marrying my dear friend Summer Bernal very soon! [Summer, please tell me if I am embarrassing music lovers everywhere with the pathetically underdeveloped references I make ...]. Back to Mike -- this guy can also design some beautiful souvenir-esque artwork in five minutes that is better than things I've seen mulled over for hours.
• John Schranck - Remarkable writer with a vocabulary that embarrasses me to even attempt to keep up with. Also probably one of the wittiest people I'll ever meet. I never feel smart around John, but I think he may personify the strangely comforting self-deprecating critique I mention above.
• Rachel Walters - Fashion designer extraordinaire. I went to high school with Rachel, and believed even then that I was pretty damn lucky to have French class with someone with an eye and passion for fashion like hers. 

P.P.S. Remember the Bob Dylan song reference above? How I mention the anxiety I sometimes [and by sometimes I mean almost always] feel when I get to that point in an experience where I realize I've only just begun .... I've only just scratched the surface, and there's no way I can say / write / sing / draw / design / dance / hear / read / watch it all in the time I have with the resources I have? Well, case-in-point ... I started this baby list of artists thinking I'd maybe link to like 3 friends. But I'm leaving this post realizing that I've left out so many talented people I know and love and adore, and I feel awful about it. Anxious and awful. But if I keep adding and nitpicking and feeling bad for what I've left out and being overwhelmed by the things I know I'll never get to .... I'll never do anything. And, yeah, maybe a blog post [I know, still too long with these things] isn't a big deal, a huge leap, even a tiny 'success' ... but it's only the beginning, right? I've got to do something.