I wonder when my funny died.

For the longest time as a kid, I was known amongst my friends for being very, very funny. I was quick on the draw with an insult, comebacks would snap away like a whip, and I can joke or deadpan like a comedian. Comedy Central was my favorite channel, and Douglas Adams was my favorite author.
I’ve grown up a lot in ways I like. Responsibility, ambition. Spiritually, I feel closer to my center than I have in a long time, and being an adult is actually kind of fun.

But somewhere along the line, I lost the ability to write “funny”. Somewhere between a needless war, a dangerously powerful president, pathetic ass-covering politicians, the mainstream adulation of Paris Hilton as a celebrity to look up to, a war in Lebanon (again), terror warning level Orange, and China becoming an economic superpower – somewhere between “I care about you but this isn’t working” and “I need $100 by Tuesday or I can’t pay bills,” I forgot what it was like to feel a good belly-laugh. And the thought of being able to cause a good chuckle became foreign to the level of impossibility.

I’m sarcastic and jaded. I’m quick on the insult that isn’t funny but painful. I can recite comedian lines like lines from a script, and my favorite author is Chuck Palahniuk. I only watch Comedy Central to watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, but then feel outraged instead of entertained. I get informed, but feel the burden of too much information to laugh.

I miss being funny. When did I stop laughing? I could joke and joke and write some very funny stories. I forget where that went. I’m too wrapped up the world – it’s so hard to see the humor in it.

I am Jack’s destroyed sense of humor.

Shit. How does this happen to us? How do we forget the simple pleasures? I’m done feeling this terrible about the world. I want to laugh again.

Knock knock.

Word Whore Archives

| Permalink | Del.icio.us It | Fark It | Digg It| Stumble It!