I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I have thought about quitting stand up and Blaria before. I’d also be lying if I didn’t admit that the thought brings me the same exact amount of joy as when I get an early morning phone call from one of my girl friends telling me about the great sex she had with a guy she just started dating:
But let me clear: I don’t really want to quit. Not in a serious way. But in a Diane Lane movie for middle-aged women sort of way where I’ll say to myself, “You know, I’ll just quit my life and run a food truck with fellow comedian Bethany Van Delft and we’ll call our business ‘Don’t Touch My Hair’ and sell scones.” It’s a fantasy, a reset button, if you will, that I use whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed, frustrated, or blah about my career. For a hot second, I can fool myself into believing that I don’t have to do this. And in that moment, I feel less burdened by this thing I’m compelled to do. Then the moment fades and I’m like, “What am I going to do? Quit my life and run a food truck with fellow comedian Bethany Van Delft and we’ll call our business ‘Don’t Touch My Hair’ and sell scones? What the hell kind of life is that for me?”
