The Elusiveness of Funny

Being funny is actually very hard.

Seriously.

Also, I am pretty sure being funny is nothing like riding a bike. It’s not something that you just “remember” how to do after years of storing your humour in a dingy shed filled with rats. (Another thing that requires practice is coming up with good metaphors. That one was not good. Perhaps I should try and speak in nothing but metaphors for an entire day? Or maybe once my Dino Course is over I can further delay my Accounting Degree by taking nothing but classes in literary devices?)

Anyways, back to my point. Being funny is hard, and it isn’t something that just comes back to you without constant practice (that’s where I was going with my bike “metaphor”). Lately I’ve been trying to write just for the sake of writing, and, if I’m being perfectly honest, most of it hasn’t been very good (in fact, most of it would have made my eleven year old self scrunch up her nose in self disgust). The pieces I have written that were actually “funny” were considered funny because of the situation, rather than my skill with prose. Still, I will keep on!

(Partially to appease my father, but mostly to avoid doing my accounting homework.)

My hope is that, in time, the humour will return. Like tiny light bulbs going around a Christmas Tree, the ideas will just come to life (once I find the plug).
(Now I know that wasn’t a metaphor since I used the word “Like”. Perhaps I really should take a class in literary devices?)

Until that time I will continue to write, write, write, while enjoying my motivational soundtrack of 80’s pop songs, and drowning my anxiety in green tea.

It’s a hard life.