Communicating through humor

It would be far too Herculean a task to recount the events that marked my childhood. My
current persona today is fractured, a collage of traits that have resulted from my various
personalities and influences. And throughout it all, my sense of humor has been at the heart of
my identity. Ive always wanted to be funny, even when I wasnt. Above everything, comedy has
defined my role as a communicator, be it through absurdist humor, self-deprecating jokes, or
bitingly cynical satire.
To understand me, a little insight into my childhood is required. I was born in a home
that, despite its profoundly rough edges, was full of character. The house has been under a state
of construction since I was born. To this day, my room still doesnt have a proper door or even
drywall. But none of this mattered to me, because I got to share a room with my older brother
Joey. Joey was a child with a penchant for messing with people, and as the younger brother, I
wasnt exempt. I was almost always the butt of jokes and subject to various forms of harassment.
Hed invent games like Squishball that had only one rule: I lost every time. One of my
brothers favorite pastimes was crafting elaborate stories. These werent your ordinary childhood
stories, but ones that were tinged with a nihilistic dread thatd be surprising coming from a
grown man, let alone a fourth grader. For example, he would often take my plethora of stuffed
animals and generate schemes that invoked deep anxiety. I remember several times where my
Beanie Baby cat "Flip," under the control of my brother, would use my imaginary credit card to
rack up an imaginary debt. The cause of that debt? An impossible amount of Angel Soft toilet
paper rolls. This wasnt your typical big brother hazing, but a sort of psychological warfare for
which I was poorly equipped. My brother was like an agent of chaos, absorbing the culture he
had seen on TV, and using it against me like a weapon. And though I didnt like to admit it, I

secretly loved just being involved. When I played with my brother, I was inspired to be as funny
and zany as he was. He made my siblings laugh, a feat that I so desperately wanted to achieve
but was never able to accomplish at the time.
One of the biggest influences on my writing was his absurdist tendencies. The perfect
example of this is something that resonates with me to this day. During the second grade, I was
tasked with writing a report on Louis Braille, inventor of the Braille writing system. The paper
was a standard book report, written in a sixteen point font that was fitting for a second grader.
The paper itself was fairly boring until Joey took over. Using his big brother strength, he pushed
me away from the computer and turned my run-of-the-mill report into a crazy, paranoid thriller.
In my brothers story Louis Braille had faked his blindness, was burnt in effigy by an angry mob,
and had to skip town. The urgency of the getaway was undermined, however, when Louis
stopped to taste the frothy goodness of Starbucks lattes at his (anachronistic) local airport. At the
time, I was infuriated that my brother would ruin my report. However, it was exactly this piece
of writing that shaped my humor going forward: nothing made logical sense and I loved it. It had
the perfect blend of absurdist, irreverent humor, as well as inexplicable product placement for
Oral-B Brushups. Though I eventually submitted my regular report, I still was enamored with my
brothers copy. It served as the template for most of my short stories, the standard for all my
efforts going forward. Ive written scripts where a little girl was kicked by a radioactive horse
and soon gained the ability to talk with ghost horses. I have stories where Ive described games
of Jeopardy being played in custodial closets. Ive even written blogs about stay at home dads
who risk divorce to eat at Applebees, using the zeitgeist in a similar way as the Louis Braille
piece. To me, there is nothing funnier when a character acts so untethered from reality that their

actions are blatantly ridiculous. Needless to say, absurdity is in my wheelhouse thanks to my

brother.
In addition to my brothers influence, I have long been a studious fan of comedy. What
started as appreciation for Whose Line reruns has turned into a full-fledged hobby of listening to
comedy podcasts and performing standup. One of my more formative childhood experiences was
an obsession with Conan OBrien. For the uninitiated, Conan was the host of Late Night with
Conan OBrien, as well as his notoriously ill-fated Tonight Show. I admired Conan for various
reasons: he was remarkably intellectual, yet he excelled in doing stupid, absurdist comedy where
character motivations were as murky as they were funny. One of my favorite sketches involved a
cactus inexplicably playing We Didnt Start the Fire on the flute: it made no sense and yet it
made me laugh every time. When I was younger, I would spend days watching Youtube clips of
his sketches and characters that, by Conans admission, were a huge waste of everyones time.
In that quote lies what I most appreciated about Conan: his self-deprecating humor. As an
awkward child with little to no athletic ability, I decided to carve my niche in being funny; it was
only when I watched Conan that I realized how to be funny. Whereas my panache for absurd
comedy was inaccessible to my middle school peers, self-deprecating humor wasnt. If I missed
a kick in gym, Id proudly proclaim SPORTS! to make light of the situation. To impress some
of my classmates, Id write intentionally mocking diary entries that somehow made them laugh.
Some of my best writing has been personal essays that take shots at my short stature and
awkward nature. After years of quiet and shyness, I had finally found a way to express myself
clearly. Though I may have grown too reliant on self-deprecating humor, my experiences had
taught me a valuable lesson: youre never too big to take a joke.

Though I had learned how to be in on the joke, I still had problems with authority. One of
my familys favorite stories involves my unremitting discomfort with singing during a preschool
pageant, to the point where I visibly scowled as my classmates sung songs of Yuletide cheer. I
have always been deeply uncomfortable with groupthink: there were times in kindergarten where
I refused to perform the Pledge of Allegiance because everyone was reciting it. To this day, I hate
being told what to think, especially when those voices belong to authority figures. That cognitive
dissonance often fuels my best work, because it provides me with a set purpose. When I write
without purpose, there's a listlessness and sense of contentment that doesnt produce my best
work. Through a process of trial and error, I have come to realize that I write my best when Im
angry. My antagonism produces an edge to my work, where my sense of purpose shines through.
A great example of this occurred during my junior year of high school. School administrators had
invited a series of guest speakers in to talk with the student body. One of these speakers was a
renowned child psychologist turned novelist, Dr. Leonard Sax. For over two hours, Leonard Sax
waxed poetic about the good old days of the 50's, when young men reached their potential and
girls weren't educated. His whole thesis was that young men are wasting their potential, and that
girls should not be doing better in school than boys. The argument was dripping with casual
sexism and an unfathomable arrogance. I was so upset with the speech that it prompted me to
write a scathing edit of Sax's Wikipedia page. The edits included the sordid details of his missing
yachts and how his book was a "surprisingly supple toilet paper substitute." Yes, it may seem a
little mean spirited, but the guy deserved it. His arrogance provided my writing with a set
purpose, and words began to crystallize around a set theme. When I was writing this piece, I felt
inspired and perhaps a little manic, tell-tale signs that I would like my work.

I have grown to love writing over the years. What started as an outlet for boring book
reports on Louis Braille has come to be one of my favorite hobbies. Writing is a way to express
my personalities through different styles and genres, be they Wikipedia entries or faux diary
confessionals. Throughout it all, my attempts at humor have been constant. Whether Im writing
a patently absurd script, self-deprecating tweets, or a cutting satire against authority, I am always
seeking a way to communicate with humor and purpose. My development process hasnt always
been easy, but I know I will continue writing to improve my work and maybe, just maybe, prove
to my brother that Im funny too.