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Showing posts from February, 2013

The Art of Complaining, Or Why I Am Happy And You Don't Know It

This is a fact about me: I complain a lot. I know this to be true. I complain about school and I complain about people and I complain about Facebook. I moan about badly made coffee and how my roommates don't buy milk and how I'll never find love.

I don't know why I do this.

I mean, I sort of know why. Complaining is part of comedy. Most comedians base their standup routines around complaining about something, whether it's racial problems or the weather or their family or politics. And there's nothing I've ever wanted more than for people to think I am funny, and so I mimic (badly) the methods of the masters.

I think I also do it because I find silence terrifying. It's awkward and uncomfortable and signals to me that the people around me are also awkward and uncomfortable, which means they don't like me and everything has gone terribly, terribly wrong. So talking about myself and my "problems" is an easy way to eliminate the silence and is (pre…