By: Gabriela Yareliz
In Tara Schuster’s last book, there is a scene where she sees her therapist, and she tells her therapist that she is feeling really anxious. She describes everything that has been happening, and her therapist patiently listens, and at the end, the therapist tells her, “You aren’t anxious, you are furious.”
I identified with this scene. There have been seasons in my life where I thought I was sad, anxious, confused— but no, I look back now, and I realize, I too, was furious.
In trials and serious moments, there are serious things that pull you through. I would argue God is one of those serious things. One thing that always brightened my day was comedy. I LOVE comedy. I love comedians, and I love making people laugh, myself. In fact, I found myself thinking this the other day, but I hope I make you laugh here, occasionally. In any serious meeting or presentation, I strive to say something that breaks tension and makes people smile. It’s a syndrome.
I had a short stint in childhood where I wanted to be a comedian. My best friend Jackie and I were The Giggle Gang at the age of 10. We were serious about making people laugh. We would spend time writing jokes in a ratty spiral notebook, and we made a mini magazine that was pure humor. While I am nowhere near a comedian, and I am in one of the most serious professions (though the way these people act is a joke)— comedy is still something that matters. I will always choose it as a genre above all else.
I was reminded recently of the Peter Segal movies I grew up watching. My parents loved comedy, too. We were an SNL household, after all. The people from childhood are people I still seek out— Tim Allen, Steve Martin, Martin Short, David Spade. Adam Sandler is legend, as well.
David Spade… I recently showed some episodes of Just Shoot Me!, a major comfort show to me, to my husband. It still makes me laugh.
Studies show we seek out nostalgic things because they are predictable— we know the ending, and because they are safe. Comedy is a safe space despite the fact that true comedy can be pretty savage. The rules surrounding it though are that it’s not that serious.
On any bad day at work or morning where I feel slight dread because of whatever awaits me (also bc of work with the unserious dweebs), I listen to a comedian’s podcast. I laugh the whole commute. I feel better. Suddenly, the day shifts. Everything changes. Certain things matter less. The serious looks more absurd. As it should be. It’s not a crutch but a putting things in their rightful place.
I have realized comedy is and has been a life raft for many. Through storms, it has been an inflatable raft that allows us to surf the waves. We still end up soaked, but we are laughing, instead.
They say you have to laugh to keep from crying, but really, we should strive to laugh because some tears aren’t worth it. Other perspectives are more worthy of our emotional investment.
This is just a giant “thank you” note to the ones who make us laugh. To the ones who point out the absurdities and bring us back to child-like imagination and laughter. I once heard that comedy is the most intelligent form of communication. It is nuanced and often stems from darkness. But it does a wild thing we all need to learn— it’s the art form that turns darkness into light.
GABRIELA YARELIZ 