Huwebes, Hulyo 19, 2012

The Less Than Royal

One of the things that I really hate is when someone oversells his or her mundane ability. That misplaced sense of self importance. You know, when you act as if people are supposed to be impressed with something that you're supposedly good at, lacking the ability to recognize that the thing you're supposedly good at is not that impressive in the first place. I encounter this a lot, and for some reason, very few people in my life realize that they do it.

A recent example of this would be the Tapa King. A few weeks ago, I wrote about this, the BIg Man's car got a flat, and we asked for his assistance, and he shows up. Every time he'd see me assisting he'd give some compliment along the lines of "wow, you're a mechanic like me". Apparently, fixing a flat is now a craft that's reserved for a gifted few. It's a wonder why Mang Lito, my old school bus driver, hasn't received his Nobel Prize yet. The most common occurrence of this usually involves cooking. Whenever I tell someone that I can cook, they'd be all surprised. Some are amazed, even. Dude, it's cooking. In a world where there are videos online wherein you can learn how to remove an ant stuck to your eyeball, how hard is it to comprehend that I, in all my years of living alone, could have picked up such an elementary skill? If you haven't seen me cook, it's only because I didn't cook for you. And the reason behind that is that there's always someone else more than willing to show off his or her culinary skills. I can cook, but I'm also fucking lazy. One of the more perplexing manifestations of this (I've encountered worse) is when I was dating this girl who'd brag to me about how good she was at shopping. Shopping. The act of going to the mall and buying shit. Apparently, it's a skill now. If so, then I guess the Midnight Sale at the local SM is like the Olympics to her. No, we didn't break up because of that. She made amazing pork chops.

My point is, unless it's heart surgery, rocket science, quantum physics or crime fighting that you're good at, then don't. Just don't.

And that's the random ranting section for this post that's done with. Let's head on to the drama.

Mid-Week With The Boys.

Despite my rededication to the Think Tank, I found time to join The Tapa King and The Critic on a mid-week drinking spree. The Critic is now officially jobless, and the Tapa King is,well, I don't know. The night was pleasant. There were way too many bottles of brandy put away by us three, and I ended up crashing in the Critic's sleeping bag. 

It was also a night of interesting conversation, of both past and future with a few touches of the present, and it led me to think about the past few years of my own life. From my own flirtation with rock bottom (To which the Tapa King vehemently insists didn't and couldn't happen. For him, apparently, unless you know how to use a hammer, you haven't been poor. That's why the Mighty Thor is widely renowned as prince of Asgard and God of Hobos.) to my long road back to somewhat stable ground. It made me somewhat proud(er) of the meager things I've accomplished.

It's weird, knowing that talking to the Critic actually helped out. I remember last year, when I was about to perform in Hong Kong, it was the Critic that I was chatting with. No homo, but flaws and all, he's not so bad.

Plus, I gotta ask him where he got that sweet sleeping bag.

The Week The King Died.

After a two week break, it was back to the network for another creative meeting with my fellow comedy writers. There was an odd vibe in the writer's room as the meeting took place a day after the death of the country's King of Comedy. With the veteran comedians there each sharing his own experience with the King, be it their early days in television, or their on screen appearances together, everyone had something to share and something to teach us younger comedians.

I sorta imagined what would happen if one of these older dudes pass away. Will I be the one talking about them to younger writers? Will I still be around making people laugh at such a time? And hearing their stories, a lot of them personal, gave me a clear insight of what it is to be a man who passes away and leaving a legitimate legacy. The same thoughts that were running through my head back when I was in the hospital after a heart attack back when I was in college came rushing back. The same thoughts that were in my mind during my darkest, least hopeful days ace back. If I died back in college, I knew what I would have left behind. If I died back in 2009, I'm a little less sure. If I die tomorrow, I have no idea what kind of impression I would leave. It definitely won't be the world's best boyfriend. It's doubtful I'll be remembered as a good friend. While yes, I have a habit of acting like I'm everyone's best friend, giving out advice and help left and right, but I rarely really reached out. I'm 30 years old and there is no one in my life that has a full understanding of who I am, of what motivates me, things like that.
Still, I enjoyed entertaining those thoughts. I also enjoyed sitting down in that meeting and seeing the unmistakeable gleam in their eyes as they talked about their early days in the business, and how the King has, at the very least, provided them some really good memories. 

And of course, I feel honored that I will be one of the writers that will be writing the tribute episode to a guy who has made so many people laugh for decades. I don't care which of my stuff they air. I'd be ecstatic if any one of my material got on.

Bars and the People in Them. 

Two days after the meeting, I spent the entire Friday writing my ass off. I had a feeling of self consciousness, since this seemed to be an important episode. There was a moment there when I was definitely blocked on commercial spoofs, so I went on youtube for some inspiration. I randomly clicked on a video and saw they all of the spoofs format hat particular product came from me. Some were revised a little, but still. Once I was done with all of my "chores", I felt a feeling of accomplishment.

Too bad no one was around. That's what I noticed recently. Whenever I score a win, no one wants to celebrate with me.

The Galera Trip That Wasn't.

I was supposed to spend a weekend in the beach with the Scoobies for the first time in our long history together, but that was not meant to be. One of these days, the stars would align and that would come into fruition. I was a little disappointed, for many obvious reasons, but one of which is that I was hoping to get really drunk on the beach that weekend, some sort of last bash before all of my focus and energy's devoted to getting in the Hong Kong Comedy Festival once again.

Unexpectedly, it was the Think Tank's company outing that provided me with that little personal satisfaction. The trip was mostly uneventful, but it did give me the chance to somehow get to know a lot of the new faces at the Think Tank and spend some quality time with some of the old ones. Most of the Breakfast Club opted not to go, which, in retrospect was a good thing. 
Drinks, songs and the beach. Now, I'm ready to focus on the funny.

Two Months.

Okay. I have a month to prepare an audition video, and two months to come up with the money in case I actually get in again. Last year, I wanted to join the competition just for the experience, to celebrate my first year as a stand up comic and to somehow prove myself to myself. This time around, a lot of the same motivations are still there, but I'm also driven by less than noble reasons. I have two months to show the world that not only do I got it, but I got in spades. Cue "Eye of the Tiger".

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