It’s Okay to be Stupid
I really don’t want to be one of those people who says, “How is it July already?!” Whenever I hear that I want to scream “that’s how time works!”
But everyone knows that. We all understand how time works. I think we say “How is it July already?!” because we’re giving ourselves a free pass to be stupid. Just for a moment. And just to make a connection with people.
As always, for the sake of argument, let’s assume I’m right [I am], and that exposing one’s stupidity can make a connection, and let’s also assume that you want to make a connection with another human, and let’s even assume that another person wants to connect with you (this is a stretch for some of you).
Given all that, why does it work? How does it work? Why does telling an embarrassing story, or sharing a secret, or revealing your feelings endear yourself to another person? Because it’s real. And it takes courage. And both of those things are rare.
Whenever a character does something brave in a movie, especially in the name of love, I get a little choked up. When Tony Stark gives his life to save the universe in End Game, or when Hugh Grant drives to his aide’s family’s house and reveals his feelings, or when the little boy in the same movie does the same thing—I only watch Love Actually and Marvel movies—each time I see those moments, I tear up. Because they show us what it’s like to be a good human. These characters risk everything and grow as humans.
Which is so rare! When’s the last time you did something like that? Granted, if you pulled a Tony Stark, you’re probably reading this in the afterlife. But even then, when was the last time you spoke from your heart, were vulnerable, were brave?
For artists—and I would argue for regular humans, too—this should be a daily occurrence. We must put ourselves out there. We must be vulnerable. Because creating something from nothing takes courage. That little part of you, the little voice that whispers, “wouldn’t it be funny if...” or “let’s tell a story about...” is where the magic comes from. So you have to show it to the world.
And then of course be ready for people to tear it to shreds in the comment section.
But commenters aren’t brave. Ridiculing, critiquing, reviewing, that’s the easy part. It’s not courageous to tell someone their performance sucked. It’s not brave to write a yelp review.
Which is why art is hard. Writing is hard. Comedy is hard(est).
The reason art exists, the reason we love movies and TV shows—and especially comedy since it’s the hardest of all the arts (I might be biased)—the reason all these things exist, is to remind people what brave is. To show them they can be courageous. To paint a path that says, “you, too, can be do this. You, too, can make sacrifices. You, too, can be Iron Man.”
Without those reminders, we’re just regular people. And regular people just watch movies and roll their eyes at people who say “How is it July already?”
