I Am... A Channel. Tune In.

I have found myself starting blog posts and getting lost in what the heck my point was supposed to be and then not finishing them. Maybe also because a lot of the time, I'm writing this at work when I should be working or I am working and I get distracted by what I'm actually getting paid for. This small detail aside, I have thought several times in the past few months about shutting this blog down. I actually had a externally-tearful internal battle about it a little less than a month ago: staring down the behind-the-scenes interface like an ex-lover with whom I had a fat fucking dinosaur femur to pick. But here we are, still, and I'm still unsure I'm ready to deprive my three readers deeper insights into my psyche than my inevitable changeover to Twitter would provide. (By the way, I was on Twitter before all y'all - early 2007 when my friend Al introduced me to it. And then I deleted my account last summer, then re-joined as brashlionroars. And I've updated exactly 30 times in like 4 months. Over it.)

As per usual, I'm experiencing a lil' bit of an existential non-crisis and coming to love myself for the unfocused renaissance woman I am. Instead of beating myself with the question, "Why aren't you famous yet?" or "Why aren't you making money as a performer?", etc, etc, etc, I'm quieting down and enjoying each day as it comes. In reading the latest New Yorker, in an article about the late David Foster Wallace, the sentence about his perception that people with lower intelligence are happier, having the attitude of "one day at a time," jumped out at me. Because this is the attitude that I have been cultivating within the past few years: day by day, moment by moment. There is no future, there is no past. It is only right now. We are all waiting for Godot.

Now, I'm not as smart as some people and I'm a lot smarter than a lot more people, but I'm not going to debate the stupidity of someone that decides to relinquish a great deal of control and settle upon the fact that, hey, the past is gone. I did it, it's done, and all I can do is learn from my mistakes. And maybe I'll make the same mistakes over again. But one day - I'll get it right. And as for the future, it is unwritten. What I am living is the NOW and that is the only place wherein I can institute change.

That said, and since it's taken me over two hours to write this freakin' post (see beginning of post), I don't know how this will correlate, but I have been thinking and re-thinking a lot about what my destiny in life is. I have, for as long as I can remember, wanted to perform. I am good - no - fabulous at it. I have been blessed with a captivating stage presence. I don't think this is bragging; I have been told this by many, many people. And no one has ever had the balls to tell me I sucked, so either I surround myself with gutless scaredy-cats or I just don't suck. Even when "Super Glossy!" was lightly panned as an uninteresting script, each reviewer commented on my ability to sell it through a stunning performance.

I have tried many different paths to the stage, there has been something about every single path that hasn't totally clicked for me. I don't like the auditioning part of acting (and to be fair, I have never fully given it a shot; there is just so much fear around it for me that I have successfully talked myself into hating it), I don't like the memorization of good story-telling, and I don't like the pressure of coming up with new material that stand-up comedy demands (among many other things I hate about stand-up). However, with the radio show this weekend, something... just... clicked.

Now, I understand, I am a total amateur. And this makes me think of when my grandfather commended a youthful teen-aged me on my ability to move on to something new when something current wasn't working for me. I interpreted this to mean (I don't think my grandfather intended it like this) that I never let things ripen. I get discouraged and because I am lucky enough to have the talent to do a lot of different things, I just keep moving to the next thing that I think will hold me. The incoming of accolades and encouragement I have received from Sunday night's show (again, no one has had the balls to tell me I sucked, but would it matter anyway? I'm freaking high from what I believe I can do now) have me thinking that the life I've been meant to live is now right in front of me, if not shrouded by inexperience and the uncertainty of How.

I took the Myers' Briggs personality test a couple of weeks ago and discovered I am an ENFP. Now, one might take this to be a fancier kind of Zodiac, but it was all the sign I needed - I am the Inspirer. Ever since Mr. Moore's sociology class in high school when I drew what I wanted engraved on my tombstone, and I paraphrase, "An Influential Voice For All," I have known that I want to touch the hearts and minds of everyone I meet. Doing the show on Sunday rekindled my joy for listening to other people's endeavors and knowing that the world is a better place with their puzzle piece in it. And it made me realize that I just want to talk to people about how they're living their dreams and I want to do it in a public forum so that everyone can hear how simple it truly is. You just have to tune in, past all the stimuli we're inundated with; listen to your soul and jump.

So here I go. I discovered this past week (here's Providence working for you - BTW, my belief in a "higher power," has unexpectedly taken a handle on me... weird. 13-year-old Courtney would have not talked to me) that I have a couple of unrelated connections to the same local radio station. I have connections from the radio station I used to work at in San Diego. All of these people believe in my ability to do this. I believe in my ability to do this because it's just there. And - I get to do everything I'm good at: use my stage presence (which of course will be all vocal, but that's there), be funny off-the-cuff, talk to others, and inspire others. And go to work in a T-shirt and jeans.

This might be my new-fangled crazy idea, but I'm ready to go for it. Who's with me??

Stay tuned.

Reclaiming my Comic-hood.

After a Facebook Status Comment (I love that 10 years ago that phrase would have made NO SENSE) a friend left me last night about how crappy the comedy was at the open mic he attended, the last nail was in the coffin. Well, at least the third or fourth to last nail - the comedy world needs me. I can no longer just keep my hilariousness to myself and those immediately around me. I have a freak flag to fly and it's gotta be on the giving end of laughter. I think this might be my Dharma that Deepak has been telling me about.

I just watched Patton Oswalt's "Werewolfs and Lollipops" on the recommendation of a friend. It was funny, yes, Patton is an endearingly funny dude - but I have to admit I never heard of him before Ratatouille and I could only hear that little rat's voice say "I want to fill your hoo-ha with my goof juice" or whatever the phrase was. But he was funny enough to inspire me to write a little bit. So, here's a little thing I wrote up tonight. It's not necessarily funny on the read, but in my head with timing and facial expressions and such, I like it. Basically, stop me if you've heard this one before:

So the other night I have to do my laundry because it's been, like, a year. But I get motivated because I've garnered the nickname "Orphan Courtney" with my friends because my clothes are so dirty. I go downstairs into the basement in my building and I notice one of the light bulbs is still out - has been since before I stopped doing laundry. So there's one other light bulb that's working and I think, "what if that light bulb goes out while I'm down here? And I'm halfway through a load of laundry? And I don't know where the lightswitch is? And the deformed serial murderer that lives next to the boiler comes out of his wasp's nest to slice my head off with a sickle?" So I'm loading the clothes into the washer and I look up at the windows. They're those little windows that are right next to the ground - basement windows - and I look up at them to make sure there are no zombies looking in at me. Then I turn around to make sure the deformed man isn't there. You want what I'm smokin', huh? And then... as I'm loosening up the load in the washer - you want it good and loose to make sure those suds get in every crevice of your stinky clothes. Then, I fart. *noise* I break the creepy silence with a fart. And then I think, "oh, this is no horror movie. I'm in a buddy comedy." Okay okay. So then I feel safer!

Anniversaries Abound!

Not only is it the 36th Anniversary of Roe v. Wade, but ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, your Brashiest of Brash Lions has been blogging...

for FIVE YEARS.

Today.

Somebody get me some wood. You know what I mean.

A Shout-Out To Mah Homies

Dudes, I just got off the phone with GoDaddy, the lovely hosts and purveyors of my "official" (but, uh, under construction) website It's Courtney McLean! Or www.courtneymclean.com for the layman. Does anyone else use GoDaddy? Aren't they so freakin' nice? And helpful and awesome? It just gave me warm fuzzies talking to Nick (but first a really sweet gal in the billing department who kindly, and successfully in one shot, transferred me to Nick). Nick totally knew exactly what he was doing and even upgraded my email to 1GB!! Which I suppose I could have done myself, but for some reason, I was fine suffering with the 10MB. That's right - TEN MEGABYTES. Brett Jackson, please continue to be my friend after that bonehead move. Why do I continue to let myself suffer with mediocre technological connections?

I called the GD because I wanted to cancel my hosting account with them. That's right - I am merging The Brash Lion Roars and Courtney McLean.com. Soon, you will go to www.courtneymclean.com and it will bring you right back here! WHA? I know, CRAZY! It's like the universe is folding up on itself. Now if I could just get some sweet HTML up in here. Soon, soon, my pets. Very very soon. I'm especially inspired by Mike Fotis' blog/website. So many pages! And it all looks so easy! Mike makes everything look easy! Even being cool, though I know he toils over it like a witch over a human stew. I'm kidding, of course, it's totally effortless. Fucking Fotis.

Anyway, GoDaddy. I love 'em. They even call me every so often to make sure I'm satisfied with my service. Okay, it kinda bugs me, but it's nice to know they care.

Lil' Miss Consolidation

Scroll down a little here and you can see I've added the nifty new feature of "labels," or as I like it, "The Crap I Talk About." Obviously, I need to be a little more general with my tags or else I'm going to have more labels than a supermarket or the mall. OH! I'm so clever.

Addendum: Though I've only been labeling for a couple of weeks here, I am happy to report the label with the most entry associations is... "love."

Maybe I'm not so bitter and angry after all. :)