I'm back at it again

Let's try this again. I don't have as much anger I think as my previous attempts. Maybe it's the SSRI's. But you know, aren't we at our most prized when we fluctuate through out emotional lability. No real highs, no real lows, makes for a somewhat muted existence, No? Didn't Chevy stop being funny after quitting coke. I've always thought I was funny. You have to establish a niche as a child and go with it. It's the identity you carry. So I was the funny kid. Now whatever niche you choose is irrevocably attached to some sense of trying to fit in. There are definitely less stellar identities to assume. The stupid kid. The fat kid. The stupid fat kid.

So how much of our identities remain with us based on those early formative years? Some argue we can't move on without addressing the inner, pained child within. Not that we were all fat, or stupid, or abused by our uncle. Just the day to day life stuff about growing up as a kid trying to make it without shitting in your pants (pre-k through 2nd), going to the middle school semiformal (6th - 8th), getting your first kiss/handjob/laid (9th -12th). Delay all of those by four years and you would get a fairly accurate time line of my maturation process.

So then there is over the top funny, and then there's the genius of dark, muted comedy (think Rushmore). The gem of a silently deadly unexpected quip from the stoic not funny but unexpectedly funny guy. A lack of quantity more than made up for by the sheer quality of prized interjections. The ones where the funny guy is annoyed for not thinking of it. And then he goes home and replays the image in his head, while taking a shower, expect in this case he's the unexpectedly not funny guy making the darkly funny comments. Think...Brown Recluse.