Am I funny? It’s a question I ask myself a lot when I write this blog. There’s no doubt that a lot of what I write here strives to draw a chuckle or two from the reader, because on some level I believe it’s the only way to keep people interested in a blog that is essentially about nothing. In that sense I’ve tied part of my writing’s worth, and perhaps my self-worth to being funny, but am I actually succeeding? Am I in a position to judge?
I think in terms of the writing, I’ll have to let it speak for itself. On the personal level, I think I’m moderately funny. I find my style of humour and my funniness varies depending on the audience involved. Sometimes I wonder whether I work better alone or when I can bounce ideas off other funny people.
Among my family my youngest brother was always the funniest. He just has a certain knack for delivery and could pull off a whole range of jokes from the observant to the ridiculous. In contrast, I was sparingly funny at home, and relied on dry wit. Often it was unintentional, but a wry remark could sometimes get my parents laughing.
Of course my other brother is funny in his own way too. He seems to have taken the ‘meta’ thing to new heights and can communicate solely in a pastiche of memes and clips posted on someone’s wall.
I have a whole bunch of interesting friends with whom I can share other forms of humour, from bad puns to clever wordplay, and from highbrow referencing to absurd nonsense.
The workplace (like its predecessor the school yard) always seems to bring out the more vulgar jokes. The kind that straddle the borders of what’s acceptable in society and make you start to wonder whether you should have ever said them at all. The kind that make you pause and wonder whether you could find yourself on the end of discrimination suit if you aren’t careful who you say them around.
All these elements are important in my life, but the most important thing for me when it comes to joking around is the kind between lovers. When it comes to what’s important in a relationship, laughter always seems to make people’s top 5, and for me it’s no different. In every relationship I’ve been in, I’ve always sought to make the other laugh and smile.
It’s interesting that of all the people I’ve dated, my sense of humour is least effective on my fiancé Emma. Which isn’t to say we don’t laugh. We laugh a lot. It’s just different. Emma seems immune to the kinds of jokes I’ve always been best at, and yet at other times when I’m not trying she finds me hilarious. Chalk it up to the different sensibilities of Australians and Americans, I guess. It gives me something to always work on, and that’s not a bad thing.