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Tag: Colorado

One Year Job Single and My First Time Doing Comedy

Bookending a Year with a Failure and a Triumph

One year ago last week, I was let go from my last full-time job, sending me on a wild whirlwind of anxiety, self-doubt, and under-employment. Exactly a year later, I did stand-up for the first time. 

Cat desk

Maybe the office cat pushing everything off my desk daily was symbolic of things to come…

Since I lost my job, a few things have happened:

  • I hit bottom enough to entirely change my approach and take some real risks (how successful this will be is still TBD)
  • I met and connected with a wonderful fella, and perhaps we wouldn’t have really seen each other had I not been on my way out the door
  • I met numerous amazing humans: at part-time jobs, in fleeting locations, humans everywhere!
  • I sold all my belongings, for better or worse!
  • I’ve been able to travel all over, experiencing different environments, cultures, and cuisines
  • A woman who used to work at that company found me on LinkedIn and told me about the emotionally-abusive revolving door that has been operating there since well before me. This is essential in letting me know I’m not alone.
    • Hot Tip: if you have left a bad work environment, please leave a review on Glassdoor. It could save people so much heartache.
    • Hot Tip: If you are applying to a job, do your homework. Find people on LinkedIn who have worked there and ask them about it. Worth the effort in spades.
  • I did stand-up comedy for the first time, after months and months of saying I would
Breakfast Sandwich

The day before I got laid off, I celebrated Sunday with a breakfast sandwich and a milkshake. Little did I know, every day was about to be Sunday.

Being let go from that job has allowed me to have many experiences that I other wise would not have had. That being said, I’m still too deep in it to say if actually working there was worth it or not. I still think back to the red flags I ignored and wonder if I might have been better off staying at the library and continuing my job hunt. However, I do know one thing, I am glad to have been away from that environment for a year. If three office cats can’t make a work environment pleasant, you know you’ve got a real problem.

The significance of being underemployed for a YEAR was not lost on me. And as I recalled the feeling of packing up my office (I guess decorating your office too soon IS a jinx), and driving away from that place— the mix of relief and fear, disappointment and elation— I was inspired to do something. Something I have been talking about for months, but hadn’t yet dug up the cojones to do.

I did stand-up comedy.

I had already looked up all the open mics in the area that were reasonable for me to attend. I had talked to a few people about it. I kept putting it off, however, because my tight 5 “wasn’t ready.” As I was sitting and reflecting on the year I’ve had, I realized:

Doing comedy is like having a baby. You’re never going to be ready.

So, I sat down with my jokes and scrambled to put them in some kind of sensical order. I knew if I didn’t at least GO to this open mic, that I never would. I wasn’t sure if I would actually go up, but I wanted to have something in my pocket just in case. At least that’s what I told myself in order to get out the door. 

I fiddled with my bits until 5:50. Yes, I fiddled with my bits. Sign-up started at 5:45, the show started at 6:00. I was pushing it, probably hoping that I’d get there and the list would be full. Or, maybe there was no hidden meaning and I’m a terrible procrastinator. Maybe a little bit of both.

When I walked in at 5:55, I greeted the hostess and put my name on the list. Didn’t even think about it. I immediately wanted to puke. I went to the bar to get a beer, which helps.

Once the comics started, I felt a lot better. This is only the second open mic I have intentionally attended, but so far, they seem very supportive. Everyone is here for the same reason. No one is expecting perfection. The thing is, I’ve been a teacher before. If you can stand up in front of a room full of 14 year olds all day, you can stand up in front of a few adults for 5 minutes.open mic

As expected, some people were really funny… and some were not. A curveball was thrown during the third comic’s act, however. A large dinner party was shown into the room. They were not there for an open mic, they were there for a post-work dinner party. Immediately, the mood of the room changed. These people were legit not even smiling. Comics were trying to do crowd work with them and they were not having it. What an excellent scenario for someone’s first foray into stand-up.

The other thing was, since I arrived just before 6, I was the last person on the list. Generally, when people were done with their sets, they would leave. By process of elimination, this meant by the time I went up I would be facing the two hosts, maybe one or two comic stragglers, and this stone-faced party of 12 who didn’t come for amateur comedy. What could go wrong?

Finally, I was the last one in the room that hadn’t gone up. The second hostess, who was not in the room when I signed up, got up and accidentally introduced me as the headliner. Oh good lord. She corrected herself, but I was thinking, “Man, I really hope these people aren’t expecting a headliner.” If anyone should have been the headliner it was the guy before me as he was probably the best guy of the night. 

So I got up, I thanked her, and I fucking did it.

And, guess what? GUESS WHAT?

I did. not. bomb. I didn’t bomb! People laughed! I got pretty consistent chuckles. Some more pronounced than others (feedback!), but it was not some deadly black hole of silence. I know this crowd was capable of that, because I saw it with TWO comics who went on before me. This green, inexperienced little wank was able to get up and elicit laughs from complete strangers.

It felt amazing, and was such an important thing for me to do on that particular day. When I told them it was my anniversary of getting laid off and not having a full-time job, they cheered. CHEERED. For ME! I left there feeling like a million bucks, like I had my own little cloud to whizz around on (like my buddy Lakitu). I now know why addicts are so often drawn to this line of work. I could definitely see chasing that high indefinitely… and I hope I do.

Cat Burrito

I didn’t really like sharing my morning burritos anyway

After I got home and called my mom and my cousin and bragged to all the people, I sat down to write some notes about the experience. At the top I wrote:

“As someone who normally doesn’t follow through on anything. Tonight felt really good.”

Last August, I was thrown into the too familiar abyss of not knowing what was next. Once again, I was left wondering, “Is there something wrong with me? In what ways am I so deficient that I keep ending up in these professionally questionable situations?” This year, as I reflected on that, I somehow mustered the cojones to do one of the bravest things I have done to date. It felt spectacular, and was much needed. Sometimes it’s incredibly important to remind yourself that you CAN. Because you totally can. I promise. 

Upon Leaving Colorado

I sold my stuff, I left Denver… and it felt weird.  Brief reflections upon leaving what was my home for the past 7 years.

Colorado Rockies

Appreciating what Colorado has to offer

Boy, this feels weird. What has been my life for the past nearly 7 years is no longer. I keep having flashes, most of them mundane. A walk around my neighborhood. The inside of a friend’s house. Old hobbies and habits that have been broken. Old belongings that were always just there that are gone now. Mountain treks and favorite little haunts. It’s a very surreal feeling. I spent my time at DIA in a bit of a fog, feeling hungry and nauseous all at once. I miss my people. I miss my life. I know my new life is going to be awesome (or at the very least strange and different), and it’s something I’ve wanted for a really long time. But right now, a part of me mourns the life I’ve left behind. Like, a Santiago’s burrito would be really great right now.

At least the mountains showed up for me on my last day. They rose majestically to the west as we made our way to the airport. Snow-capped and friendly, reminding me that they, too, would still be there if and when I decide to come back to town.

I get really sentimental about change, I guess. I always have. Leaving my first Denver apartment, I was flooded with emotion. At 8th grade graduation, I was the awkward kid sobbing on stage as we performed the choral rendition of “We’ve Only Just Begun.” Despite the fact that we were all going to the same high school, I was feeling sentimental about times past. The memories in that particular building. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s how my mind works when I move on from one thing to another.

Crying Graduation 90s

Sometimes, you cry unnecessarily at 8th grade graduation. Sometimes, it’s 1997 and you’re wearing a kick-ass choker.

My apartment in Denver wasn’t all that much to speak of, but it was cozy and it was mine. It was full of comfort and warm memories. In fact, some of its best memories were formed in the most recent months. The fact that that time period in my life is over feels very strange to me. That it’s not all just sitting there, waiting for me to return.

Sometimes you need to leave a letter on the nightstand and get outta town…

Downtown Denver

Dear Denver,

I’m breaking up with you. We both know this has been a long time coming. I have certainly threatened it numerous times. No, no. It’s not you. Well, maybe it’s a little you. But, in reality, you’re lovely. There are so many things about you that I love. Skiing, mountains, Colfax, burritos. In fact, I am sitting in Tattered Cover as I write this, and boy will I miss Tattered Cover. I don’t even want to talk about the weather. Your weather is damn near perfect, albeit a little dry. Despite all the wonderful things about you, you’re just not for me. It’s just not working.

We’ve had some good times. You taught me to ski. You taught me that sometimes a breakfast burrito can fill the void of a breakfast sandwich. You made me new pals. You gave me my only relationship in over a decade, for a time. You showed me beautiful vistas, and mountain towns, and peaks I never would have thought I could have summited. That’s all been great. Shoot, I got a mountain tattoo, you know it had to mean something.

Denver Art

Even professionally, it hasn’t been all bad. I’ve met some wonderfully amazing, challenging, hilarious, and intelligent students. Really top-notch kids. My passion for equity and quality in education has become more informed, more targeted, and I hope I don’t lose sight of that. Even in some of my least-loved jobs I have made amazing friends and met really wonderful people.

While I cherish those memories, they don’t change the fact that you broke me. I came to Denver a confident, capable person. I had pep in my step, stars in my eyes. Then, six years later, I found myself in a heap. I had been dashed against the rocks, time and time again. I take credit for mistakes I’ve made in this time, but it was those mistakes coupled with circumstance that lead me to a dark night in November when I finally meant it when I said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

It was not only that you had robbed me of money, career prospects, or “success,” but you had robbed me of my confidence. That is something I cannot allow. I no longer had faith in myself, in my work. It turns out that confidence is something of a self-fulfilling prophecy; if you don’t think you can, you can’t.

So, I’m taking it back. I am taking myself back. I can no longer pretend to pander to this job market, to those who are not worthy, to those who doubt me and make me doubt myself. I know this is hard, it is hard for me too. Know that I think of you kindly. We can still be friends, maybe even hook up every now and then. I’ll be back to share a meal or a drink or a friendly ski. We just can’t live together anymore. I hope you understand.

Warmest regards,

Katie  

Denver, CO Sunset

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