The Thing About America...

Let's assume you've been living under a rock for the past week and didn't hear the mega buzz surrounding my return home. Let's assume you weren't among the throngs of people freaking out at the idea of seeing me. To all you sad, probably uncool people: Tommy is back, ya'll.

Being back in the United States of America is, for better or for worse, exactly how I imagined it would be. Cable television is a delicious distraction. The food is an instant improvement. I've extended my "adjustment period" longer than one would consider necessary. Each old friend I see is cause for celebration. My living situation at home has thrusted me back into a world that includes petty squabbles with my parents, at least half of which are certainly my fault. Yet, living at home has also handed me forgotton blessings such as my laundry getting done and my dinners getting cooked. I find myself at the bottom of the same ladder I abandoned when I left for China. I have no direct plan for my future and find myself dipping my toes into too many tanks. And yet, no one can take away the absolutely amazing year I had in China. I now realize that my time there has had a very deep impact on me.

Like I said, nothing I didn't expect.

One thing I did not expect is that none of my stories and experiences seem to translate to those back home. Recently, there have been too many reunions to count. Of course, after a few minutes of "Oh my God, it's so good to see you!", people want to hear about my time in China. I tell stories that make me laugh. I tell tales that make my mouth hang open. Yet, I never seem to get the response that I feel I deserve...damnit. Could I be that bad of a storyteller? Do I need to utilize a thesaurus? Maybe. However, my guess is that the granduer and humor that I witnessed needs a proper context to grasp. You need to understand China's education system before you can understand classroom stories and if you want to understand how beautiful the mountains of Zhang Jia Jie are, well you need to stand on those cliffs yourself. I envy how easy it is to connect and relate to stories that involve friday night Kareoke and unfortuante after party hookups. I wish it was that simple. Then again, if it was that simple to understand, then it probably wouldn't have been what it was.

Here is something new and interesting. I tried standup comedy for the first time in my life. Last Monday I took a chance, went down to the Acme Comedy Club, put my name down on a list, and was telling jokes for 250 people shortly after. Let's see...it was terrifying, much harder than I thought, and I was surrounded by people who were much funnier than I thought they would be. I sort of arrogantly assumed that amature night would be filled with cheap Michael Jackson impersonations and hack blow job jokes, but I was wrong. There were some VERY funny men and women on that stage, much funnier than most of what I've seen on comedy central. I learned from people that night that Minneapolis is known for having some of the best comedy in the country and this particular club was known for having (hands down) the best comedy in Minneapolis. This was a good thing to hear. If you're going to be at the bottom, you might as well be at the bottom of the best around.

My sister came with me and actually videotaped my set. I was hesitant to let her come because I didn't want to bomb in front of anyone I knew. I actually wanted to keep it secret. In the end however, I was really happy that Erica came with me. She was very encouraging and provided some much needed evaluation after the show.

How did I do? In general, I think I did alright. For my first time, I think I did really well. I performed for three minutes, which is longer than you think. It's enough time for you to need a complete set of jokes, if that makes sense. More than anything, it was plenty of time to sweat if you weren't getting any laughs. Of the six jokes I told, I got two big laughs. This is not to say that people were falling out of their seats, but it did seem like everyone in the room was laughing audibly. The other jokes got laughs. They didn't bomb, but the laughs weren't that big.

This seems like a failure, but I don't think it was. There were a few other "first timers" and each of them bombed hard. The people who did really well were clearly seasoned amatures and even a few professionals. Also, I learned SO much during this single attempt. I learned what jokes to keep and what discard. I learned that no matter how funny I find the premise to be, if it doesn't have a good punchline it won't go over well.

Also, I learned that my sister might not be the best test subject for what can be considered funny. Actually, she and I agreed a lot on what we thought were my best jokes, but the ones we loves, the crowd did not. The jokes she did not like,in particular, were my two biggest laughs. It's pretty funny really; on the tape, when you hear a smattering of laughs from other people, you also hear my sister laughing hysterically. Maybe I should cater to the greater audience next time.

I was told by a few other comedians that I did quite well. Also, a few random people from the audience told me that they thought I was really funny. What can I say? I'm going back next Monday.

I dedicated two paragraphs to my feelings on being home and five paragraphs on my first time trying standup. You can tell what excites me at this time.

There is a question that looms over this post: what is to become of this blog? I might switch over to a new blog. At this moment, I'm not really sure what the blog is going to be dedicated to, but I'll let you know if I set it up. Would anyone read it? Eh, we'll see I guess. Keep checking China 1, Tommy 0 for updates.

You know what, it was a hard fought battle, but I think it all ended in a tie. China 1, Tommy 1.

Tommy

Strange Times

So what should I write about? Should I tell the tale of my journey home, one filled with anxiety and humor? Should I talk about how strange it is to be back in America, an ambiguous feeling that deserves pages of reflection? Do I muse on my reunification with friends and family, no doubt utilizing truckloads of sentiment?

Or, do I talk about that damn bridge.

For those of you who don't know, my family moved into a condo (don't call it an apartment or my Mom will cut you) in downtown Minneapolis. The new location made my homecoming an even more surreal experience. The transition from Chaska to Minneapolis would have been a dramatic move on its own accord, but after spending a year in China, it also helped shatter my notion of "home", something I longed for these past few months. It was all too much. There was too much change, too much to think about, and it was all happening too quickly.

And then the bridge collapsed.

The local news provided the first bit of information and live coverage was quick to follow. That's when my sister noticed rising smoke, not on television, but out the window. The bridge had collapsed no more than a quarter mile away from our condo and with a pair of binoculars, our view was as good as anything on TV. The road below became the central vein for emergency vehicles. First, police cars flew by, then ambulances, then firetrucks, then dive team vans. For some reason, seeing the dive team vehicles tear their way towards the scene of the crime was the first time that shivers worked their way down my body. The next time that happened was when my dad told me that since the family had moved downtown (2 weeks ago) he had incorperated the I-35 bridge into his daily morning run. Yes, he ran accross the bridge that morning. This sounds particularly chilling, but I have to wonder how many people have similar stories. I myself have crossed this bridge countless times.

Beyond that, my news coverage is just as good as your news coverage.

I suppose I'll put up a decent post discussing my journey home later.

Turst me, I want to see you. I have a new home phone number and no cell, so let me know how to contact you.

Thomas