2018, as a year, was like a bag of almonds: nuts! 2018, as a number, however, is even. But again, as a year, it was odd. It came in like a lion, and left like a lion still, but one that had done all of the hunting for its lion family and was now basking in the accolades of that post hunting rest. Oh, man, that rest after the thrill of catching something. We humans only know the feeling because we get it every time we find a last minute deal at a yard sale and then bring home the treasure. It really is the hunt that we love. Which reminds me, 2018, I’d like to wish you a happy new year and to say “go rot in whatever hell you crawled out of.”
My grandmother died almost two weeks into 2018. That was hard. She was like a bag of almonds: a little nutty. She had been fighting illness, but signs were pointing to a speedy recovery. The speedy recovery turned into a speedy death, shocking me, the one who is 101 miles away from their immediate family and doesn’t always have a finger on the family matters pulse. I have a finger on the Family Matters pulse, though, because I’ve seen every episode of that show. The grim reaper seemed to ask for us by name, a little later, when at the end of February, my girlfriend’s stepmother died. Again, that was hard. I’d only gotten to know her a little bit over about a year and three months, but still, I’m terrible with death and found myself emotionally opened, like a sad bag of almonds. I still think of her every time I use that lint roller from my Christmas stocking.
2018 also saw the culmination of years of anxiety for me all being brought to a bursting point, a powder keg about to explode, at one time convincing me that I was sick with stomach cancer. I’m not, but for a few days, I generally thought I was. “Turns out, I’ve always had anxiety,” said the guy who couldn’t pee in a public restroom for 8 years. So, dealing with that has been exhausting and time consuming and expensive. But taking these steps to better myself now, when I’m crotchety, as opposed to later, when I’m old and crotchety, will make me better. Give me your CBD oil, your therapy, your breathing exercises. I’ll throw anything to the wall of anxiety and see what sticks, because I’m just like a bag of almonds: a tough nut to crack.
The end of 2018 put me into a job that I have little to no experience in: relationship doctor. Open and honest communication are like the penicillin and, I don’t know, Aleve?, of relationships. They can solve anything. Take two before bed every night. That and Mucinex; there’s something going around and it WILL clog you up. Hopefully, 2019 will get rid of these winter colds, and bring in those winter blues. Hello February and March, you old hags, how’ve you been? Because, when you think about it, relationships are a lot like a bag of almonds: salty, bulky, and purchased on a whim in the checkout aisle.
Let’s get at those New Year’s Resolutions. Yep, these are back, and I’m gonna hold myself accountable. Get ready, here we go:
- Write a spec script for Life in Pieces and Big Mouth.
- Write my own pilot script idea.
- Save money to travel to another country for a food based vacation.
- Write for a Late Night TV based show.
- Perform impressions and characters at at least 10 shows this year.
- Perform improv when possible and get into at least one festival with a team.
- Host a podcast with my brother and regularly update episodes and content.
- Manage my anxiety in ways that I haven’t before.
- Make money from performing or small jobs that don’t rely on my larger, time committing day job.
- Experiment with more salt and flavor while cooking.
- Declutter my room and certain aspects of my life that are in the way of my career and personal goals.
- Remain at my stable, current, comfy day job.
- Listen more, feel more, and live more.
Let’s start with 13. I know the tendency would be to do 19, but 13 is plenty. I’m good. Happy New Year.