My First Talent Show

I had been in the chorus for most of my life and I was always confident in that. I mean, my parents loved me (although admittedly they're kind of supposed to), and all my friends liked my singing (but then again, friends aren't always that secure criticizing other friends). So yeah, I liked singing.

My freshman year, however, I found a new passion. Stand-up comedy. I wanted to be a stand-up comedian so badly that I began carrying a notebook with me wherever I went, just to write my ideas down as soon as I thought of them. Some called me a geek. Others thought I was delusional. And yes, they were probably right. But that just works in my favor. After all, aren't the funniest comedians the ones with no shame whatsoever?

That year was the chorus talent show. Everyone in the talent show was doing one of three things: singing, dancing, or playing an instrument. Which is, you know, just fine within itself, but kind of boring when you pull out a program and it's an hour and a half of nothing but singers doing a badly rendered version of "I Got You, Babe." A friend of mine, Ashley Saffore, had heard me practice my stand-up once, and unlike others, thought I was really good at it. So, without my knowledge, she put me down on the showcase list. I found out directly after the auditions were over that I was in it without trying out.

Now don't get me wrong, I was pretty mad that she bypassed the system. But on the other hand, here was my first chance to practice in front of people that weren't already obligated to tell me I was good.

And then it hit me. The only things I had prepared were short jokes that I was hoping to weave into a nice, long rant. But I hadn't done it yet. So, I was doomed, right? Nay! I would not be foiled before my breakthrough was yet to come!

I worked day and night, sorting through all my jokes, listening to "This Love" because it inspired me to hate love, trying out ones I thought were funny, and hitting myself repeatedly in the forehead whenever I thought of one that was just plain lame. Late the night before the talent show date, I finally closed my notebook, certain I had an act that would bring the house down. Or at the very least, make people laugh.

The night came. I was nervous, sweaty, nervous that I was sweaty, sweating because I was nervous, and feeling excruciatingly stupid because I had forgotten to apply deodorant. They called me on stage.

My act went through without me fainting or forgetting what I was going to say. My main topic was love, and I bashed it repeatedly. I also talked for a short period of time about the idiot who decided to combine love with the concept of geometry and create love shapes. Many know about the love triangle (two people love the same person, who's probably leading them both on), but how many know about the love rectangle (when Boy 1 loves Girl 1 who loves Boy 2 who loves Girl 2 who loves Boy 1) and the love circle (when one guy loves himself and nothing but himself)?

After the show, I went to the bathroom and threw up. I was either nervous, or that burrito I had eaten for dinner had gone bad.

I should have stressed before that the talent show was just a showcase and not a contest. Which sucked, but there you are. I did get complimented by complete and total strangers, which I think is amazing. And for a while afterwards, my friends looked at me in a new light. And Lea Audrey, for the entirety of my sophomore year, would not stop talking about her boyfriend, "The Circle." Although, admittedly, her now-ex-boyfriend is really... well, circle-like.

It's interesting how much life goals can change after one night.