I Love My Workspace

5 Ways to Cheeseplate

About a month ago Wiff and I moved up a floor in our building. Our new place is larger, which means we each get dedicated workspaces. Pretty cool. [If you're a work dork.]

The thing is, "work" for us is "fun" because we're both doing what we love. She's an author/lifestyle blogger and I'm a website designer/cookbook author/stand-up comedian. [We do it all for the slashes.]

I've always loved minimalist workspaces. Even in college, my desk had nothing on it [including homework].

When I had a "normal" job, it was almost a point of pride to have nothing on my desk. I judged people who had pictures of their families [unless it was just the dog]. I even got rid of my company phone.

My desk has a few more things on it, but they're all functional.

Here's what I've got on my desk:

My Bullet Journal

Wiff turned me on to bullet journaling. Each page in the bullet journal has a matrix of dots and nothing else. No droplet icons to track how much water I'm drinking, no "write your daily aspirations here" boxes [that always remained empty], and certainly no motivational quotes.

Since there's no extra baggage - none, really - I'm free to design each page how I see fit. I've settled on this for my daily/weekly journal format. I use it in conjunction with a cube timer [spoiler alert: next section] to track where all my times goes.

The Cube Timer

This little guy goes off every hour, reminding me to write down what I plan to do for the next hour. So when it goes off at 2pm, I write "edit blog post" [read: make a drink]. And then I edit that blog post [make a Negroni].

My MacBook Pro

If my home was on fire and I had to save only one thing, it would be my computer. [I'd of course run back up to make sure Wiff and Dog made it out okay!]

An Acrylic Monitor Stand

To hold the Apple Thunderbolt Display.

An Acrylic Desk Organizer Thingy

Wiff bought one of these for herself and, after having to listen to me pine for it [our desks face each other] she bought me one.

My Pen

I was recently turned on to fountain pens. And I will never go back.

How to Fake it Till You Make It: Smiling

I read in Scott Adams’ book recently that faking a smile can make you feel happier. 

It’s something my mother told me as a kid and something I’ve always done. Which may explain why I’m generally pretty happy.

But it’s weird, right?

Normally we’d expect that feeling happy would cause us to smile. I see something that makes me happy and I smile because I’m happy. 

We’re just like dogs in this sense. My sees a treat in my hand, becomes happy, and then her tail starts wagging.

But what if I wagged her tail for her like I was priming some sort of old, fluffy, water pump?

I haven’t tried it. Mostly because the moment I grab her tail she starts wagging it on her own. And I’m too nice a guy to yell at her to put her in a down mood and then wag her tail like some sadistic weirdo. 

But that’s what happens when I start smiling.

I start to feel better. Even right now while I’m typing this. I fake a smile [because my wine glass is empty] and then I feel better.

I wonder what else I could start faking in order to be that thing?

How can I fake being funny so I can be funnier? 

Can I fake being stronger so I can be fitter?

When is Then Now?

We still use weird anachronistic phrases like “take a load off”. Why? They don’t really make sense any more. No one’s carrying around such a heavy load they need to take it off. I don’t think we’re afraid to use direct language. Although saying “sit, relax” is a bit weird.

Maybe we like the more colorful language. It’s more euphemistic. It harkens back to a time earlier than now. Which everyone seems to like.

Not a specific time. Just… "then." Earlier. 

Things were simpler then. Then didn’t have the pressures, all the things of now. 

But what if things then weren’t as simple as we hope? 

What if then was just as complicated as now?

Now has cars, which makes getting around faster than a horse, but drivers back then still needed to take their horses in for maintenance. Saddles broke, fluids need checking, horseshoes needed rotating.

Maybe they used language of an even older generation? 

What was so complicated to them (back then) that they longed for a simpler time?

How far back does this recursive loop go?

Did the biblical Abraham hate reading bad news on his tablet as much as I hate reading it on mine?

Were multicellular organisms like “remember when there was just one of us?”

But we also long for the future. Things are simpler then too. 

The problems of today will vanish with the hypothetical solutions of tomorrow. And just as we push the complexities of the past juuuuust out of memory’s reach, the problems of tomorrow are also conveniently forgotten.

We’d rather be anywhere - any when - other than now.

But now’s not so bad!

At least that’s what all those meditating monks tell us. Focus on the present. Live in the moment. Now is totally where it’s at. 

Now has lots of really great things.

Plenty of shitty things too. But those problems will be solved (soon).

Now has so many really cool things to experience. And we can actually experience them. We don’t have to wish for it in a future then. 

Okay, I’m confusing myself now…

I got a little off topic. I was wondering why people used euphemistic language, thought it was because we secretly yearn for a simpler time, said that simpler time wasn’t so simple, and then this whole thing got off the rails.

Even the slightest censure isn’t fair here because I have no real alternative.

Tell you not to use that language? 

Anyway…

If we keep wishing for a “then” then we totally miss the now. And now rocks. 

Now we have dogs who cuddle while we write pointless monologue [like this].

Now has cocktails, good food, friends, lovers. [Who actually says lovers anymore? I’m trying to bring it back.]

Okay, let’s bring this home.

I guess where I’m going with all this is…things will get better...soon.

And take a load off.

'Twas the Night Before Inauguration Day...

I love this Walt Whitman poem...

(I recommend reading this aloud to yourself. It's much more beautiful when you can hear the words.)

Election Day, November, 1884

If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and show, 

'Twould not be you, Niagara— nor you, ye limitless prairies— nor

    your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,

Nor you, Yosemite— nor Yellowstone, with all its spasmic

    geyser-loops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing,

Nor Oregon's white cones— nor Huron's belt of mighty lakes— nor

    Mississippi's stream:

—This seething hemisphere's humanity, as now, I'd name— the still

    small voice vibrating— America's choosing day,

(The heart of it not in the chosen— the act itself the main, the

    quadrennial choosing,)

The stretch of North and South arous'd— sea-board and inland—

    Texas to Maine— the Prairie States— Vermont, Virginia, California, 

The final ballot-shower from East to West— the paradox and conflict, 

The countless snow-flakes falling—( a swordless conflict, 

Yet more than all Rome's wars of old, or modern Napoleon's:) the

    peaceful choice of all,

Or good or ill humanity— welcoming the darker odds, the dross: 

—Foams and ferments the wine? it serves to purify— while the heart

    pants, life glows:

These stormy gusts and winds waft precious ships,

Swell'd Washington's, Jefferson's, Lincoln's sails.

Bombing & Blaming

Bombing is okay. Blaming the audience is not.

Don't say "tough crowd."
Don't say our assholes are clenched too tight.
Don't say we need to loosen up.

Lashing out at us tells us that a) you're not good at this and b) you're taking it personally. It's your job to make us laugh, Dr. Chuckles.

The audience doesn't care if you bomb. Slog through your set as you rehearsed. That's okay! We'll forget about you the second you get off stage and the next guy bombs even harder. Truly. You aren't that important.

Or call it out. But be honest about it. Just say you're bombing. We'll appreciate it. The second it's out in the open we'll relax and give you another shot. No one walks into a comedy club, shells out $50 for cover, 2 drinks, tax, and tip and says "I can't wait to be underwhelmed." Even fewer people follow up by saying "and I hope the comic blames me for their misery."

It's not the audience; it's you.

I just got back from watching two comedy shows. 4.5 hours of mostly shitty comedy. I don't use the word shitty lightly. Most of the time, I'm a "there's a comedy type for everybody" kind of guy. But tonight I watched comic after comic get up on stage, try out a shitty joke, and then blame the audience for their train wreck of a set.

A good comic understands that they're will be good and bad rooms. Good and bad audiences. Good and bad jokes. But they do their act and refine based on the audience response. If they don't laugh, don't blame them.

If I have to sit through another comic make a joke about everyone's asshole making a sucking sound when you bomb I'm going to kill myself.

So, wise Anthony. How do I remedy the situation? If the jokes I'm doing aren't working, what should I do?

First, embrace the situation. Call it out. Say you're bombing. The audience knows it before you do and the sooner you can call it out the sooner you can get back on their side. But telling them over and over that they suck ostracizes them. It makes them feel like it's their fault. And it's not. It's yours.

Comics shouldn’t blame the audience for their bombing because that turns a benign audience hostile.

If you’re not getting laughs, it’s entirely your fault.

Take responsibility for your act. One comic started out his set by asking if there were any MMA fans in the audience. No one made a sound. He made a joke about how no one was going to get this joke, but then he proceeded anyway. If no one in the audience is going to get your joke, move on to other material, or at least don’t get butthurt when they don’t laugh at your joke.

Having made his joke about no one understanding his MMA jokes, he should have immediately proceeded to his material about having kids. Half the audience had kids, and even those of us without kids can sort of understand what it’s like to have kids [which is exactly why I don’t have kids].

Another comic got up and called out the situation. He said we were a quiet audience. But then he said it was his job to make us laugh. His entire set was crowd work trying to get us laughing. And he did!

Until the next comic got up, and then it was lulls for the rest of the evening.

Comics: Take responsibility for your performance. It’s not us; it’s you.

Blaming the audience turns a benign experience to a bad one. They’re on our side to begin with. The audience wants you to succeed.

But so many fail.

And that's actually okay! As long as you fail the right way.

Failing the right way is performing your act and, upon realizing you're bombing, you call it out and pivot to another topic. One comic tonight was telling jokes about MMA and parenting to a room full of 20s something women and me. Upon realizing he wasn't connecting with the crowd, he switched to racial jokes. Those got laughs [because everyone's a little racist]. Another comic was doing some crowd work and getting good laughs and then switched to salad tossing. The audience went cold. But, he made fun of himself for losing us at that point, made a joke of it, and went back to stuff that was working.

Failing the wrong way is performing your act and, upon realizing you're tanking, you tell the audience to loosen up. You tell them that their assholes are making a giant sucking noise. [I'm not kidding, this happened with 6 separate comics tonight.]

Mission Statement

I want to leave the world a little better than I found it. I want to do that by making people laugh. 

There’s no bad laugh. 

Well there are. If you’re laughing AT people and those people aren’t doing stupid things, then those are bad laughs. 

So maybe there are some bad laughs. 

And I don’t really like loud cackles and technically those are laughs. And annoying laughs - they know who they are - are bad. 

So there are actually a lot of bad laughs. 

But as long as you’re not laughing at someone who’s not doing something stupid, and the sound, volume, and timbre of your laugh are pleasing, or in the very least not annoying to a majority or minority of people, then the laugh is good. 

I guess there are only a few good laughs.

So if I can raise the number of good laughs by one then I’ve done something good. 

Not that I can die, retire, or even make any amount of money by bringing one laugh into the world.

Maybe I should aim a little higher. For more good laughs. 

Where was I going with all this?

I want to make the bring into the world a Pareto-efficient quantity of laughs, those where we can increase the number of good laughs without increasing the number of bad laughs. I want to make more people laugh (increase positive thing) without making more people cry (while not increasing negative thing).

Unless those people are crying from laughing so hard…

All the High Fives

Congrats, you. [This is a note to myself, not you, the reader. Just didn't want you thinking you deserved any congratulating. Unless you did something congratulations worthy, in which case, Congrats!]

You wrote a To Do list item and actually completed it. No one will know the struggles you went through to check that box either. 

You had to actually write down "Write The Newsletter" on a pad of paper. That took a lot of energy. So much so that you had to wait until the following day to regain enough energy to complete the task.

And then you had to draw that distractingly warped box to the left to the todo item. That was a pretty smart move, planning for your eventual success.

And then you had to write the newsletter, organize it, setup MailChimp, subscribe to your own newsletter, and then send it out. To yourself. 

But someone read it [you/me]. And he laughed. And then he forwarded it to his wife, Lauren. And she laughed. Which gave you the boost you needed to not go back to bed. (You did write a newsletter today, after all.)

So here's to you, Me. May you continue to share your talents with the world. And if not the world, then just yourself. And if you ever want to view your prized baby, just to remind yourself how smart/funny/magnificent/glory you are, then click here. 

*pats you/me/self on the back*.