Drops In A Bucket

Most of the self-improvement advice I read goes something like this:

“If you want to be good at XXX you have to do XXX every single day.”

(Call it the Seinfeld Srategy or The X Effect or whatever you want, but I’m certain you’ve probably heard it before, too.)

Obviously, that makes a lot of sense. But it’s not an all or nothing proposition. I’ve read about many people working on a goal who became discouraged after they missed a day in the chain. They end up treating that missed day as a failure and falling off the wagon entirely. I’ve been there myself.

For me, it’s running. I try to lift weights and eat well but my big commitment has been to run as often as possible. Since my travel schedule is so unpredictable running has become my best option for exercising when on the road.

Before my trips I try to plan out my travel accordingly: Does the hotel have a gym? (I can use a treadmill in case the weather is unbearable.) Is there a running path nearby? What does my weekly mileage look like and will I have enough time for those runs?

That’s how I’ve approached my travel for years. I land in any given city already thinking about my run. As soon as I get to the hotel I change, stretch, and I’m out the door. Making my runs a priority always makes me feel happy and healthy and ready to give a good performance later that evening.

I’ve run over the Brooklyn Bridge and next to Niagara Falls. I’ve run down the Las Vegas Strip and along the Pacific Ocean. I’ve run trails in Pittsburgh and beaches in Florida, mountains in California and roads in the heartland.

Sometimes I have to run on a treadmill. Sometimes I have to run slower when I’m tired or shorter distances when I don’t have much time to spare. Sometimes my iPod isn’t charged and I run to the sound of my own thoughts. Sometimes I run on a track and sometimes I run around the parking lot of my hotel just to be outside.

It doesn’t matter. I don't understand when someone says their run was “boring” or the treadmill is “horrible”. What a gift it is to be able to move; to have two working legs that bound effortlessly through each stride, pushing against the ground and carrying me forward to each glorious mile. For me, running is a celebration of life. It’s self-expression that lets me say “I’m alive and I get to run.”

When I’m tired from an early flight or several long days of travel in a row, I try to remind myself that I get to run. I repeat the mantra in my head if my morning is particularly challenging.

I get to run.

I wake up as my flight lands and grab my bag from the overhead compartment, sleepily muttering to myself, I get to run.

When I retrieve my luggage at baggage claim I’m thinking about how lucky I am that I get to run.

I turn the key in my rental car, sipping my third cup of coffee. I get to run.

I check into my hotel, change into running clothes, stretch, smile, and head out the door. Finally, I get to run.

I’ve been on a hot streak all year long. I haven’t missed a workout and haven’t missed a mile. I’ve run 5Ks, 10Ks, 10 milers, and even a Half Marathon. Plus, I’ve worked on my speed, hills, and more. I even prioritized stretching when my mileage increased - something that has been a challenge for me in the past. So you can imagine my utter disappointment two and a half weeks ago when I fell down the stairs and dislocated my shoulder.

One of my first thoughts was "Fuck, what about running? I won’t be able to run.”

After the initial shock and pain subsided and I returned home from the ER, I was slightly depressed for a few days. I couldn’t move much and had to stare at the other runners in Chicago from my apartment window. At my doctor’s recommendation I had to skip a race I’d been building up to for 8 weeks.

My streak was broken. I was crushed.

A few days passed and I got my head on straight. I kept up with my physical therapy exercises and started biking at home. Then last week my therapist said I was doing so well that I could go out for a run last weekend. I did - and it was incredible.

I bundled up - it’s already getting brutally cold here in Chicago - and hit one of my favorite loops. I avoided the steps I’ve tripped over before and the curb that caused an ankle sprain last year. I felt sluggish and uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but to constantly think about my shoulder and worry that any given step might dislodge it and send me back to the hospital.

But after a half mile I stopped worrying and my old self took over. I get to run.

Each uncomfortable, plodding step was a reminder that I was back outside, doing my favorite thing. Each bead of sweat fell in slow motion as I ran along the beautiful shore of Lake Michigan. I felt my feet contact the ground and made a point to remember that feeling. One day I won’t get to feel that any more, but now - now I get to feel it, weeks before I thought I’d get to feel that again. And what a glorious feeling!

I’ve run two more times since then and am starting to feel like my old self. There’s a gaping two week hole in my calendar but I don’t care. There are plenty of gaps along the way but I keep lacing up my shoes and hitting the path. Each time I do, I end a string of empty days and start a new streak. And I have way more successful streaks than empty ones.

The truth is the unbroken chain is a noble but ultimately unlikely result. Things happen. Life gets in the way. Mistakes are made. Every once in a while you’re going to forget to do your daily push-ups or be too busy to write your daily word goal. It’s bound to happen sooner or later.

I try to approach it differently. I think of successful days as “Drops In A Bucket”. For every day I accomplish my goal, the bucket gets a little more full. Over time I may miss days or possibly even weeks, but hopefully I’m able to use a majority of my days to keep adding those drops. And when I look back my metaphorical bucket is way more full than when I began.

I love looking back on my year and seeing that I ran 265 out of 365 days or realizing that I accomplished my writing goal on more days than I forgot to write. Those are huge wins. My running and writing buckets are getting full to the brim.

Most advice I read is like those "One Size Fits Most” hats you see in stores. They don’t work for me. I’m a little taller and bigger than the average person and, as much as I wish they were, it inevitably doesn’t work for me.

It’s important to remember that what works for others more than likely might not work the same way for you. So know that when you see that viral TED Talk on productivity or hear about the work habits of insanely successful people, you have to take it with a grain of salt.

Seinfeld was getting paid really well to write every single day. Olympians get to run every day because it’s their job. For the rest of us, we have to make our goals work with our schedules and be content with our individual results. You may wish you were working harder or had more time but always remember that it’s a gift just to be filling our buckets up at all.

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Other Thoughts:

• I saw “The Irishman” the other night. It was extraordinary but at three-and-a-half hours(!) long I can’t help but wonder if Scorsese’s idea of what cinema should be isn’t suitable for today’s audiences. No one around us had the attention span to make it more than 20 minutes without checking their phones, talking, or going to the restroom. It’s a real shame because the movie was phenomenal.

• Currently Reading: “Digital Minimalism” by Cal Newport

• It has already snowed twice in Chicago! I’m not ready for this…

• Check out this week’s video and be sure to Subscribe to my YouTube Channel:

Please Rate This Post 5 Stars On Trip Advisor...I'm Begging You

Everywhere I go someone needs something.

“Leave us a review on TripAdvisor! Like us on Facebook!”

“Join our mailing list so we can invade your inbox!”

“FIVE STARS, please, please, pleeeeeease!”

It’s exhausting.

Look, I get it. Our society rewards people for getting reviews so you can climb the ranks and get more business. I have to seek out reviews and feedback for what I do, too. Even so, it has become an annoying and constant interruption throughout my everyday life. And, it’s a flawed system that can be easily gamed.

When I go somewhere - a restaurant, escape room, haunted house, the theater, you name it - I want to have a fully immersive and memorable experience. I want to be transported. I want an escape. What I don’t want is to be constantly reminded that you need my review because that’s the only way you can survive as a business. What that tells me is that you’re not here for me right now and I don’t matter. You’re only thinking about using me to get another customer so you can use them to get another person and so on.

I had a speech instructor once who told us that our audiences would most likely only remember a small portion of what we spoke about, but of that small portion they were quite likely to remember our closing words. When you end my experience at your establishment with a desperate “Don’t forget to leave us a review!” that’s what I end up remembering. I don’t remember the ambience or the aroma wafting from the kitchen. I start to forget the fun I had and, instead, I only remember that you chose to end our exchange the same way everyone else does: asking me to do something else for you.

I’ve already given you my time and money, but now you need something else? I think that’s an awful way to do business.

I try to handle this differently. My goal is to do such an exceptional job that my clients literally ask me “What else can we do to help you? Please let us know!” Many of them book my services year after year because they know they can rely on me and I will go above and beyond to make them look great and give them a successful, memorable event. They gave me rave reviews because they wanted to - not because I pressured them into it.

I guess I'm biased but I think that’s a better approach.

I try not to read reviews. Not only am I searching for more mystery but I also like to make my mind up for myself. I don’t want a series of algorithms to determine the best restaurant within driving distance, which movie I should see, or why one coffee shop is inferior to another. I’ll roll the dice and see what happens. Maybe it’s the worst coffee shop I’ve ever been to…or maybe my tastes are different than Username “KingOfReviews87” and I end up really liking it. You never know.

I was reading Martin Scorsese’s brilliant op-ed in The New York Times this week and it really got me thinking. If you weren’t aware he’s been in the news lately for saying that “Marvel movies aren’t cinema.” As you can imagine, superhero fans are up in arms. But I think he makes some great points.

I especially like this passage:

“…everything in them is officially sanctioned because it can’t really be any other way. That’s the nature of modern film franchises: market-researched, audience-tested, vetted, modified, revetted and remodified until they’re ready for consumption.”

I couldn’t help but draw a parallel between this essay I was already working on and the thoughts of Scorsese. It seems to me that Marvel films are the Trip Advisor top-reviews of movies. They’re doing everything they can to be the biggest, best, highest-grossing, most popular films. But they aren’t challenging how I think about the form or expanding my knowledge as a cinephile.

I judge a movie or book or restaurant or venue or experience by how much it lingers in my mind after it’s over. If I’m still thinking about it the next morning then it was probably pretty good. If I’m still thinking about it days or even weeks later then I know it was really great. And on those rare occasions when I can’t stop thinking about it for months or years, well, that’s when I know it’s included in my personal favorites.

I’ve never felt that way with a Marvel movie. The ending always set me up for a sequel, which sets me up for another run of spin-offs and new storylines. I know some people like that, but it’s just not for me. The producers are thinking ahead - to the next plot-line, the next movie, the next franchise - and not focused on my experience right now. Just like business that are only using me for their next five-star review…

You know what does make me feel that way?

The melodies and lyrics of Hamilton - still bouncing around in my mind years after seeing it live. I was never asked to leave a review or like a social media page. And I only sought it out from (incessant) positive word-of-mouth reviews. Everyone was right, it was as good - no, even better than they say.

A brilliant live theatrical performance makes me feel that way. So do great novels, good music, and hilarious comedians. I saw the Monet exhibit at The Art Institute earlier this year and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Those are the types of experiences I want from everything I do.

A few days ago I saw the movie “Parasite” by visionary director Bong Joon-ho. (It’s so metaphorical!) It was a masterpiece. It totally blew me away and I can’t get it out of my mind. I highly recommend it.

It asked nothing of me, except my time and attention. And it gave me everything I want from a film: laughs, tears, beautiful moments, and some hard truths. My final moment was what I wanted the experience to be - not a review or a hashtag request. No coupon or feedback form. Just rolling credits so I could linger in the feeling that it had given me. My memory of the movie is pure and intact from start to finish, a feeling that is getting harder to come by these days.

And now, I want to tell everyone about it. I want you to see it so I can talk about it with someone else. It’s one of the best films I’ve seen all year. (This just happens to tie in to this post but I’m serious. Don’t read the reviews and spoil it. Just go in cold. It’s worth it.)

When you give me the best experience possible I will go to the ends of the earth to let people know about it. I’ll become your biggest spokesperson and shout your name from the rooftops. Your top-notch service and memorable atmosphere will have tricked me into becoming an unpaid publicist for your brand.

Isn’t that better?

I think so and if you do, too, I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave me a comment or let your friends know how much you enjoyed this post. Use the links below to share it on social media or forward it via e-mail. It really helps me out and I truly appreciate it!

Please. I’m begging you.

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Other Thoughts:

• Thanks to everyone who sent well wishes after last week’s post. I'm feeling much better now. I got clearance to go out for my first run since dislocating my shoulder. It’s supposed to be warm this weekend so I’m going to give it a shot and see how I feel.

• What I’m Reading Now: The Incomplete Book of Running

• No video this week because of my ER visit but I’ll be back next week. (Are you subscribed?!)

• I’m headlining three shows at the Chicago Magic Lounge this weekend. Hope to see you there!

Thoughts From The Emergency Room

I dislocated my shoulder last weekend. (Long story short - I slipped and fell down some stairs. Then I dropped a couple dozen F-bombs, went into shock, and had to go to the Emergency Room. Not fun!)

My wife - my wonderful wife - remained as calm as she could, googled the nearest hospital, and got me in front of a doctor within 25 minutes. A couple x-rays and one hour later and the shoulder was back in place.

My shoulder is pretty swollen and I have to keep my arm in a sling for a couple weeks. But the pain now is nothing compared to the pain of those 90 minutes when it was out of the socket.

After a couple days to reflect on that agonizing experience I can’t stop thinking about how utterly awful it was to go to the ER. Yes, the pain was excruciating and no one wants to go through something like that. But I’m talking about the way I was met with complete indifference and no compassion. I can’t stop thinking about that.

When we pulled up to the ER, I stumbled out of the car and walked towards the doors. They wouldn’t open. I was shaking, cold, and clutching my arm like a madman. I could see people moving inside but no one was heading in my direction. Luckily, I noticed a small sign that said the actual entrance was around the corner. But no one pointed us there, no one helped us. I had to notice it myself, through all my pain, and walk around to a different door.

Once inside, there was no one in sight. I went to the help desk and loudly shouted “Hello, is anyone here?” Stephanie pounded on the window. No one came out. I couldn’t stop shaking or sweating and could barely open my eyes. We didn’t know what to do.

Finally, a security guard walked out - in no hurry whatsoever - and said, “How can I help you?” Stephanie explained and he slowly went to get someone. There was no concern, no emotion, no rush to assist.

A woman emerged from the back to take my information down. Stephanie composed herself and gave my name and address to the lady. She had to ask multiple times for the spelling of my name, even though Steph had given it slowly and completely already. It took way too long.

We finally got back to the room and were told someone would be with us shortly. There was nothing happening in the ER. It wasn’t a busy night. From what we could tell it was just me and one other guy, a young kid who injured himself committing a crime. The police were there, I remember that. And someone mentioned cocaine and heroin. Two completely different cases, on opposite sides of the corridor.

It took way too long to get someone to come treat me. I yelled out “Is someone going to help me?” And no one came. No one asked me if I was okay or told me I would be better. No one consoled my wife or offered us a drink of water. No one told me not to panic. Everyone just moved slowly around without really letting us know what was happening.

I got an IV with a heavy dose of morphine, then pushed down the hall in a wheelchair for some x-rays. Then, the doctor put my shoulder back into place and I could finally open my eyes. And then, he just kind of left. We sat in the room until I felt like I could walk again and, unsure what to do, asked someone if we could go. They grabbed a print-out of some general information about a shoulder dislocation and a prescription for pain meds, without any other information. Then we showed ourselves out and drove home.

Going to the hospital is a dreadful experience. It’s scary and unwanted. And expensive as hell. In the city I think it’s even worse. The amount of people they see must be insane. They have a constant stream of patients and procedures to deal with. And so, it’s a very impersonal experience.

But does it have to be? Is it too much to ask someone for some simple kindness or compassion? Especially in a time of trauma? I’ve been to dentists, podiatrists, physical therapists, and now the ER, and each time the experience was similar: cold, impersonal, nerve wracking, and apathetic.

As a self-employed artist my health care costs in America are outrageous. We get ripped off every year. And for what we pay, you’d expect the service to be top-notch. But it isn’t. It’s a joke.

It’s so bad that it makes me put off going to the doctor. It makes me not want to go at all. It’s made my wife break down into tears at appointments when doctors weren’t listening to her. And it’s made me scream into the void of the ER when I didn’t have a clue if anyone was going to help me.

I was thinking that coming onstage at a mind reading show must feel a lot like going to the hospital. People get nervous and scared. They’re uncertain and uncomfortable. And it’s my job as a performer to put them at ease. It’s my job to give people the best experience possible in a situation that they quite possibly fear the most.

This is perhaps the most important skill we can learn as performers or presenters. We must make other people feel comfortable being in our environment. It could be as simple as adjusting a thermostat and rearranging the seating. Or it could be as tricky as inviting a nervous person onstage to assist. But it’s crucial to treat people how we’d like to be treated - as a person, a fellow human being - and not as a mere prop or object being pushed aimlessly down a hallway without even knowing why.

That responsibility rests squarely on our shoulders - dislocated or not.

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Other Thoughts:

• I love October. It's just the best time of year. I love haunted houses, sweaters, fall weather, apple picking, and everything in between. We had a pumpkin carving party this week and I think they turned out pretty great:

• Catch me November 9th and 10th at the Chicago Magic Lounge. Shows are almost SOLD OUT but you still may be able to get a ticket here.

• What I’m Watching Now: “Succession” on HBO. The hype is real.

• This lady is an inspiration.

• Check out this week's video:

Priorities

In 2014 I was trying to do too much.

I was struggling to get consistent work so I was taking shows wherever I could. I went to booking conferences, drove overnight to shows, partnered with charities for special events, and more. I even started cold calling potential clients while pretending to be my own manager. I was spreading myself too thin and it showed.

For some reason that year, I decided it would be a wise move to also run the Chicago Marathon. On top of everything else I had going on, I started training for the race.

I made it about two months of training before it became too much. I was too busy trying to make ends meet professionally that I couldn’t devote any time or energy to running. My workouts became a hassle and I gave up.

I still ran the marathon that year but it was a dismal failure. I wasn’t even close to the time I wanted and I hadn’t trained for three months leading up to the big race. It was a disappointing result, but I learned some valuable lessons.

First, I was creating the illusion of being busy. I was updating social media regularly, making YouTube videos, mailing sales postcards, and sending 100-200 emails per day in search of new work. But to what end? My best gigs were not coming from my relentless marketing methods - they were coming from other shows. When people saw what I did they would recommend me for other things. The better my act, the more likely I’d get hired for other things. Everything else was just a silly way to convince myself that I was working really hard.

Second, I realized that there is always time for the things that matter. In my haste to make ends meet and keep busy I had forgotten to prioritize the things that truly made me happy. Cold calling, stamping envelopes, and driving long hours were definitely not those things.

This year I stopped doing all the “busy work” that we’ve been tricked into believing is important. I stopped scheduling social media posts and don’t respond to emails past 5pm or on the weekends. I stopped searching for new clients or potential events and just focused on giving good performances. The funny thing is, I’m busier than ever. Turns out, I didn’t need to be doing all of those other things after all.

I also have been focusing on my exercise more this year. Instead of making it a hassle like I did in 2014, I reframed it as a priority.

It’s only an hour. It's only 7 miles. It’s worth it.

Instead of scrolling twitter or watching the news, I get to do something for me. I get to RUN. Several days a week I set off down the lakefront in Chicago and let my mind wander. When I’m traveling I set an alarm and get up early or use my breaks between events to get my miles in.

I’ve been running for years but this is the first year I’ve truly made it a priority. I’ve been setting little goals for myself all year to keep up with it and now it feels as much a part of my routine as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (This month alone I’ll log 100+ miles, a huge victory after having a couple injuries only one year ago!)

I guess what I've been thinking about on my runs lately is that life is too short to prioritize the things that don’t matter. Why keep doing something if you don’t enjoy it? And why let something become a hassle when it’s actually one of your favorite things?

Your biggest priority should be filling your time with the stuff you love doing. You don’t need anyone’s permission. You shouldn’t keep putting it off. You need to put yourself first. If not now….when?

I’ve run more this year than any other and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. And, I just signed up for the 2020 Chicago Marathon lottery, but I won’t know until December if I get selected or not. If I do I’m going to make up for my failure back in 2014. And if I don’t I’ll find another marathon somewhere else.

Everyone in life is telling you to devote every spare hour to getting better, working harder, and finding success. I’m telling you the opposite. You don’t need to do anything except to find what makes you happiest and make that your number one priority.

Okay, that’s enough for this week. It’s time for today’s run.

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Other Thoughts:

• You can see a glimpse of the new show I’m working on at the Chicago Magic Lounge on November 9th and 10th. Get your tickets here.

• What I’m reading right now: “Picnic Comma Lightning” by Laurence Scott

• Check out this week’s video:

In The Moment

The best part about what I do is that it requires me to be fully in the moment. Since my act involves audience participation I have to be engaged and present for each and every show.

I work hard to remember people’s names and pay attention for little moments that may occur during my performance. Sometimes people spill a drink or call out a funny joke. Sometimes they say something silly or can’t follow simple instructions. Being in the moment allows me to comment on those situations and often those tiny ad-libs become the most memorable part of the show.

I’m acutely aware of how many people in the world are NOT living in the moment. I go through the checkout line at the store and the cashier doesn’t even look me in the eye. People run into me on the sidewalk because they can’t look up from their phone. Everyone is distracted; thinking about something else, doing two things at once, planning for the next thing.

I feel alive when I’m doing my show because I’m hyper-aware of my surroundings. I can hear who’s laughing the hardest and can see when someone isn’t enjoying it. And I choose to comment on those things to bring people closer together. I want them to think to themselves, “Wow, this is special. This is new and different…and only for us!”

I was talking about this to another performer recently and commented on how hard I work just to remember people’s names, let alone other details about them and special moments in the room.

He said, “Oh, I never bother to remember their names. It’s too much work. The second they say their name I’ve already forgotten it.”

TOO MUCH WORK? You have an opportunity to make people happy and give them a feeling of joy and amazement and you say it’s “too much work”? Unbelievable.

To me that performer’s outlook seems to mirror our daily lives. Most of the time we’re just a number in line at the DMV or the randomly selected person who gets an extra screening when going through TSA. Those moments aren’t personal. Our whole life is becoming an endless string of absentminded baristas, lazy store clerks, and unhelpful receptionists. No one is willing to do the work to be present for one another.

The job of a performer is a true gift to the world. We get to connect with people in a way that they so desperately yearn for. They want to be seen and heard and feel like they were truly part of something. You can’t do the same show you always do because the audience will see right through it. You can’t phone it in and not show up. You have to be in the moment.

I don’t care how amazing the new iPhone is. I don’t care what latest gadget is on your wrist or turning on your lights. I don’t care what’s happening on Twitter or Instagram. Those things are poor substitutes for living in the here and now. But, as we continue to settle for mediocre customer service and distracted friends and coworkers, we’ve forgotten how amazing it feels to really be part of something in the present.

Being present is an incredible feeling, but you have to put your phone down and look around. You have to really see what’s going on. That’s why I love what I do and try to be onstage as often as possible. And I’ve been taking that feeling offstage and trying to make the most out of every moment of my everyday life, too.

Those texts can wait. The e-mails aren't your biggest priority. I promise you. Put your phone on silent and pay attention to what’s happening in front of you. All that matters is this moment right here and right now…and I’m fully immersed in it.

Are you?

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Other Thoughts:

• This past Saturday I woke up at 3am to watch Eliud Kipchoge run a marathon in under 2 hours. Tears were streaming down my face when he finished the race. It was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen so if you haven’t seen the last kilometer yet check it out here.

• What I’m Reading Right Now: “So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed” by Jon Ronson.

• Check out this week’s video below…and be sure to subscribe for more!

Content

This week I went to a fall festival here in Chicago that had a long list of features, including calling itself an “instagrammable experience”.

I naively assumed that was one of many aspects of the event; that there would be tons of activities and a few picturesque locations around the grounds for photo-ops.

WRONG.

Turns out, being “instagrammable” was the whole point. Every square inch of the property was covered in autumn-themed set-ups, ready for the “perfect” photo. Wannabe influencers were everywhere we looked, phones at the ready, in search of more likes and more engagement. The whole goal of the place was to create content for their social media feeds. It was depressing.

There was no “experience”. Sure, there were drinks and games and a small corn maze, but even those activities were designed for the gram. The entire event was built on the illusion of fun.

“Step right up! Step right up! For the small price of $20 you can take these photos here and film this animatronic skeleton here! Show your friends how much fun you’re having!”

To me, a truly “instagrammable experience” wouldn’t have to advertise as such. It would just be so memorable that you couldn’t help but feel the desire to share it with others. But these new “museums” and “exhibits” built for the very purpose of sharing are incredibly dumb.

I know I sound like an old man screaming at the neighbor kids to get off my lawn, but I don’t care. I guess I’m in the minority here, but I don’t want to share everything I do with the whole world. In fact, it’s more fun to go to something and not tell anyone. Whenever someone says to me “It was incredible…you had to be there!” it makes me way more envious than a photo in your grid ever could.

The truly depressing part of these events is the absolute misery that the viewer can’t see just out of frame. Before or after any beautiful photo you see on Instagram is a shouting match between boyfriend and girlfriend to make sure the pose and composition for the photo is just right. Or, the long line of people impatiently waiting for their turn to get the exact same pose. These people aren’t living in the moment, they’re just in search of the next photo. Then another, and another.

The people on your phone that look like they’re living their best life are not. They’re on their phone more than you are. It’s pitiful.

Over the summer I did a Q&A after my show with VIP members of the audiences. It was always full of interesting questions but one of my favorites was “What do you hope to be doing in five or ten years?”

If you had asked me that a decade ago I might have climbed onto the nearest table and loudly proclaimed my mission to change the world with my art, my ambition for fame, and my goals for success. But not any more.

Sure, I’m still ambitious and working hard on my career. But I’m also really content where I am right now. So I’m not looking ten or even five years ahead at the moment. I’m just…here.

I’m perfectly content with my early run and morning cup of coffee. I’m happy to be writing this post next to my wife and two cats. There’s a breeze coming in the window and I can hear the low roar of the city traffic down below. It’s exactly where I want to be and I wouldn’t change a thing.

I don’t need to snap a photo to remember this moment because I’m fully here living it right now. Try as hard as they might, an “instagrammable experience” will never compare with being fully present and doing something you enjoy with the people you love the most.

Now get off my lawn, I have more work to do.

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Other Thoughts:

• While working on this week’s post I came across this article about similar “experiences” in NYC.

• Use code “VIPACCESS” for 15% off tickets to tomorrow night’s Magic Penthouse extravaganza in Chicago.

• I’m dropping another new video on Monday - subscribe to my YouTube Channel so you don’t miss it.

• For now, here’s this week’s video:

Moving On and Getting Older

I turned 33 this week.

33 is my favorite number, so this is destined to be a good year. (It was my basketball jersey number when I was younger…I was a big fan of Larry Bird.)

I spent my birthday doing a show in Tennessee. I woke up at 3am to catch a flight, drove through the mountains to get to Chattanooga and worked from 4pm-1am. It was a pretty typical work day and that’s okay. Some of my favorite birthdays as an adult have just been typical days performing or being at home.

Every time I see an “it’s my birthday” blog post online it seems that people list out all of their huge career accomplishments from the previous year and goals for the year ahead. I’m sure I’ve been guilty of that before myself…but I’m approaching this year differently.

This past year I’ve made some big changes in my life. I stopped using my phone as much, limited my social media use, and prioritized myself. I’ve been doing more of what I enjoy - running, writing, reading, filmmaking - and it’s really improved my daily outlook.

Instead of worrying about my professional goals for the year ahead I’m going to keep putting myself first. Sure, I still have big ambitions for my show and career, but those are mostly out of my control. I need to be content with where I end up, whether I fully achieve those goals or not.

My personal goals are another story. So, while I’m 33 I plan on focusing on me, including the following:

That’s a lot of hardware!

• HEALTH: This year I’ve lost 25 pounds just by committing to healthy eating and going to the gym. I’m lucky to be tall and carry my weight well, so you probably couldn’t even tell I’d gotten a little overweight. But I was.

  After I fractured my ankle and broke a toe in the same week last summer I was unable to do any physical activity. So, I hibernated last winter and ate whatever I wanted. But, once the sun came out in the spring I got my head on straight and went back to running. I set my sights on a half marathon and spent all summer training. I ran a myriad of races - 5Ks, 10Ks, 10 milers - to keep myself motivated. I haven’t missed a run all year. And last Sunday I finished my first half marathon - 5 minutes under my goal pace. I was PUMPED.

  Over the next year I plan on logging more miles and running even more races. I want to run a couple more half marathons next year and maybe even attempt a triathlon. I’m fortunate that I recovered from my injuries and feel stronger than ever. And now I plan on getting in the best shape of my life.

• CREATIVITY: I want to write a book. And a screenplay. And a TV series and a stage play and a children’s story. I want to make short films and start a podcast. I want to give stand-up comedy a shot. Anytime I think up an idea I want to turn it into a reality.

  I’m working on transforming my home office into a creative paradise. I’m removing distractions like the Internet, social media, Netflix, my phone, television, etc. from the space and only having creative tools within arm’s reach. There’s a computer for editing video, my typewriter for writing, microphones for podcast, my books for research, and my props for rehearsal. I have everything I need.

  The final step is to focus on what matters most. I’m going to have to say “NO” to friends and family that want my time. I’m going to turn down work that I don’t want to do so I can focus on the work I want to be doing. I want to reengineer my life so I can do as much “deep work” as possible.

• LEARNING: I’ve spent so much time the past decade searching for work and traveling to gigs that for a while I stopped learning new things. I was too exhausted to read or study, so I’d binge a Netflix show instead or scroll Twitter instead. Enough is enough.

  Now that I’m a little more established, I can actually step away from work sometimes and do other things. And this year, I’ve been trying to educate myself more. I’ve been working on video editing, studying the courses on Masterclass, and reading like crazy. There’s nothing better.

  My goal for the next year is to learn more. I used to be able to juggle 5 balls but I can’t any more. So I’m going to teach myself all over again. I’m working on some new video projects so I can practice my FCPX skills. I’ve been getting better at chess and think I might join the club here in the city. And, of course, I plan on reading even more.

  Next year I hope to read 66 books. That’s 33 non-fiction and 33 fiction. I have a list of some must-reads already, but I’d love your recommendations. Comment below or drop me a line here.

• TRAVEL: My final endeavor while I’m 33 is to see more of the world. I went to a ton of amazing places last year but they were all for work. This year I want to do more personal trips. Either I’ll extend work trips into a personal visit or I’ll take a few days off every few months so I can see new places.

  I want to take three main trips, which I just randomly chose right now. A road trip around Lake Michigan, Sequioa National Park, and somewhere in the Caribbean. I want them all to be getaways so I have some time away from work to read, unplug, and relax. (Stephanie, if you’re reading this…you’re invited, too.)

So that’s it. Those are my hopes for the next twelve months. For now, I’m happy to be alive, healthy, and inspired.

It’s going to be a good year.

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Other Thoughts:

• Here’s a fun video from a recent show in Chicago:

• Are you subscribed to my YouTube Channel?

• I’ve really been enjoying this book lately. And, I plan on making the strategies in it part of my every day life.

Playing With Fire

Recently I shared a video of a hilarious moment from one of my recent shows. I spent a few minutes roasting a guy in the audience. If you pay attention to that clip you’ll see that of everyone in attendance, he was the one laughing the hardest.

As a performer you have to be aware of your surroundings. You need to be able to read the room and know what kind of environment you’re in. When you’re aware of the situation you can start pushing boundaries and taking chances. But it all depends on where you’re working.

The jokes I make at a corporate event are different from a college show. And both of those rooms are way different from the comedy clubs I work when I’m home in Chicago, which is where that clip was filmed.

That video is one of my favorite moments this year. It’s everything that I want my show to be: memorable, hilarious, fun, and totally unique to that particular audience.

Every time I do a show I’m looking for those moments. If someone does something stupid, I’m going to call them out on it. If someone says something funny, I’m going to make it funnier. And if I do something dumb, then I’m going to roast myself. (Case in point: ten years ago I ripped my pants during a show. I proceeded to ridicule myself for ten minutes. The audience loved it.)

As I was making that joke I was watching that dude and making sure he was cool with it. I was also watching his friends and listening to the rest of the room. They were all laughing. If you listen close you can even hear his friend say “This is my favorite!” Those signs were all I needed to know that I was in the clear and we could all have fun together.

Yet, some people reached out to me to tell me I was demeaning to the audience. (Someone offended and outraged in 2019? No way!) They felt I was being rude or alienating the crowd. They seemed to believe that I should perform passively and never push the envelope or have any opinions onstage.

I once heard a performer say that they didn’t do any political jokes because they “don’t want to alienate half of the audience”. Fair point. But, I feel differently about it.

I don’t want to go onstage and only say things that everyone will agree with. I don’t want to play it safe so everyone will like me. I want to go out there, say what I think, and not be scared what you think about it.

I want to play with fire.

Last weekend at my show I made a joke about “impeachment”. I had a couple Trump voters in the audience who started booing.

After the show one of those guys got in my face and said, “Leave the politics out of it!” (Hmmm, triggered much?) I laughed.

If they had been able to take a joke and not been so sensitive, they would have heard the second part of that bit where I ridicule myself and the whole “resistance” movement. But, they were too quick to boo so I had to double down.

We’re living in really strange times. There’s no nuance any more. Everything is hyper partisan and divisive. It’s exhausting.

I feel it in my audiences. I sense it in performers I share the stage with. It seeps through in everyday conversations, everything I read, and everything I watch. As my wife would say, “Everyone is too woke to joke.”

Here’s the thing: if you don’t like something, then maybe it just isn’t for you. Maybe you aren’t the intended audience. Maybe instead of complaining about it or posting bad reviews you can just go find the things that are intended for you.

If you don’t like a sandwich then don’t tweet about it, just go find a different deli.

If you didn’t like a movie you don’t have to berate the people who spent months working on it from the safety of your blog. Just find a different film to enjoy.

And if you can’t take a joke, then don’t go to a comedy club.

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Other Thoughts:

• I started a new series on YouTube called “STAGE TIME”. I’m sharing fun clips from my shows there now, so be sure to subscribe.

• I was just on the Eager To Know Podcast. Check out my episode here.

• Get tickets to upcoming shows.

• I was talking to someone about a movie I saw recently and they said “Everyone online said the ending sucks so I don’t know if I’ll see it or not…” What a shame our opinions and ideas are so easily formed by stuff we see online. Maybe don’t read other people’s thoughts on a thing and decide for yourself? Recommendation: I just saw “The Peanut Butter Falcon” (not the movie I referenced above) and it was great. Don’t read a review or check Rotten Tomatoes, just go see it for yourself and enjoy.

The Worst Bomb Of My Career

It was one of the worst shows of my career.

It just happened. Just within the past few weeks.

I bombed onstage so hard that you might have thought I’d never done this before. It was ROUGH.

I should have known that it was going to be a disaster from the moment I arrived at the venue. The sound system was broken, so there would be no microphone. The room originally planned for the show had a double booking, so my act was moved elsewhere. The organizers of the event seemed busy and distracted. All signs pointed to a horrible outcome.

The new room was full of distractions. Smoothies being made loudly opposite my performance area, multiple people coming in and out of the room, and large windows behind me with no blinds to shield the sun pouring in from outside.

But, the show must go on. So with no mic and no other choice, I started the show.

Fifteen minutes in and everything was going off the rails. No one was paying attention. People couldn’t hear me or they had an obstructed view. Try as I might, my theatrically trained voice just wasn’t loud enough to command the attention I so desperately needed. I was dying a slow and painful death in front of a room of strangers and still had 45 minutes to go.

I went through my set list in my mind, quietly crossing pieces out that just wouldn’t work in this scenario. “Nope, can’t do that one. Or that one. That won’t work. Oh man, this isn’t good…” I thought to myself, as I realized that I was very nearly out of options.

I looked up at the room. A handful of people were scattered around the area, none of them paying me any mind. And I thought to myself: “Wow, I’m bombing.”

Suddenly, everything changed. The second I thought those words to myself: “Wow, I’m bombing” I knew that it was all okay.

Ask any professional entertainer and they’ll tell you they’ve bombed dozens (maybe hundreds) of times. It happens to the best of us. You don’t want it to happen, but it’s inevitable. It’s going to happen eventually and forcing myself to acknowledge it made me realize that everything was going to be all right.

In that moment, I decided to lean into it and “take the L”. I didn’t have another option, so I figured I would just make the most of it. So I started heckling myself…

“Well, this is going about as well as I thought it would!” I shouted into the void, hoping one of the 12 people in the room might respond. One guy snickered from the back, so I called out to him.

“This is the only guy laughing at my jokes…what’s your name, sir?”

“I’m Mike, but shouldn’t you know that since I’m your agent?” he joked.

Without missing a beat, I responded, “Mike, you need to get me some better gigs.”

Two other students laughed from the other corner. One of them yelled out, “Tough crowd!”

“Tough crowd?” I yelled back, “I don’t see a crowd anywhere.”

In that moment, I started to feel in control of the situation. I was still bombing, it was still embarrassing and painful to go through, but I was owning it. I was so aware of the moment that I was able to laugh at my predicament and not let it bother me.

“I’m glad to see my agent agreed to my demands to be here today. I said the only way I would do a show here was if it was in the middle of the day, on a Monday, with no microphone, and that at least 80% of the students had to be facing away from me and on their laptops.”

I almost lost my voice yelling that joke, but it was worth it. Over half the room looked up and laughed in unison. They could see that I was aware of what was happening and we were all in on the joke together.

I made a few more jokes, improvised some different material to finish my hour, then called it a day. I turned to pack up my gear and couldn’t stop laughing. I had bombed but I was still alive. I felt invincible.

As I turned back to grab some props, a student asked to take a picture. I agreed. Then I noticed a small line had formed. People wanted a photo or a poster or had a question for me. All things considered, they had actually enjoyed the show and wanted to let me know. Somehow, I had made a positive out of a negative.

If that show had happened ten years ago I would have spiraled into a deep depression for weeks, regretting my life choices and questioning my abilities as an entertainer. I wouldn’t have been able to laugh it off or find any positive things about it. It might have ended my career.

But now, one decade and hundreds of shows later, I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I bombed gracefully and it didn’t keep me up at night. In fact, once I drove away from that show I wasn’t even thinking about it. It was just another gig on the road to my final destination.

Twenty-four hours later, I was back in Chicago waiting to go onstage. I wasn’t thinking about bombing the day before or questioning my life choices. I was just there, lost in the moment, concentrating on my script and hoping to really connect with that night’s audience.

It was one of the best shows of my career.

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Other Thoughts:

• I love this story of the worst time Bill Burr ever bombed. I couldn’t help but think of it as I was going through it myself.

• Starting tonight you can catch me at the Chicago Magic Lounge all weekend! Get your tickets here.

• I’m thinking about starting a podcast. More info on that soon!

• I spent two miles on my run last weekend wondering how mirrors are made. If you can make it through this stupid video intro, it’s actually pretty interesting.

• Here’s a clip from a recent show at The Second City in Chicago. Check it out: