Losing everything

I sat down to work, plugged in my external hard drive. The motor began whirring. Click. Click. Click. Then. Silence.

Memories of the 2022 Scottish bin strike, August in Edinburgh.

My 5TB hard drive was dead.

I have hundreds of hours of footage from my comedy shows, all my professionally done headshots, marketing materials - everything on that little brick. But I no longer freak out about stuff.

I calmly considered a data recovery service and I'd be on my way. The first quotes I received: up to $2700 from one, $1500 from the other. I started to wonder what if I just left it as is? Maybe it was a sign that I could leave everything behind? What if I don't need all that stuff?

It seems radical but in hindsight, I've done this before on a much bigger scale.

In 2021 I inched my way out of Mormonism and eventually got rid of everything our family owned that wouldn't fit in the back of our car. We left our home, our community, and family as we left to live nomadically for an undetermined amount of time.

Here it is. Our family of five's worldly possessions in May 2022.

It actually wasn't that bad. In fact, it was freeing. What to toss and what to keep?

As I debate what I want to talk about in my comedy, I find that the missionary in me wont go away. Although I've left most of Mormonism behind me, I'm still someone who can't help but want to convince people to change their lives for the better.

It's actually worse when I'm inebriated. I worried if I drank alcohol I'd be an angry, violent drunk. Instead I go full blown life coach when I'm sauced. Like the time I cornered the wait staff for 20 minutes at a Bat Mitzvah, asking them what they really wanted in life. Or after a few tequilas in Cardiff I tried to convince the young fella to get back into his passion (upholstering furniture) at the front desk of the Travelodge.

I can't help but share what's in my heart and that's perhaps why I have this blog. It gives me a place to explore and explain things I care about so my comedy shows aren't TED talks

Comedians get so few minutes on stage, so it seems like a wasted opportunity to ask people about their job, where they're from or if their dating. Because of this I scrutinize each of my bits to see what I'm really saying behind the joke. I want my stage time to pack a punch.

I'm considering filming a special this year; debating if I want it to be a marketable joke show or something that's truer, and artsier and more meaningful. Do I want material in it that covers the things I'm really thinking about, not just disparaging jokes about how my body was ravished by childbirth? I want premises that help people beyond just laughing about life.

Premises like:

• Don't be afraid to change

• Cognitive dissonance

• Sneaky Patriarchy

• Christian nationalism

• The pros and cons of Mormonism

• Late stage capitalism

You can see how these themes makes me unmarketable to clean comedy audiences and potentially alienate me from half the country. Yet, so much of me wants to grab people by the shoulders and tell them how happy I am to have found my way out of The Truman Show. I'm still on the fence about what to do. What do I keep in my comedy special and what do I toss?

I decided to have the drive recovered. I suppose I could have new headshots taken with my slightly wrinklier face and started fresh with brand new stand up videos, but it's still cheaper (and easier) to get the photos back.

In this instance, clinging to my past video files may mean a better shot at the future, as I can use the photos and videos for my website and apply for spots on shows and festivals. The good news is that I feel unattached to the outcome. Gratitude surges through me for all the fun I've had and I don't need a data recovery service to restore that.

xx