Aug. 6: Shy
I don't know if I was a shy kid or not. I don't think I'm a shy grownup
though. Can't afford to be. I've trained myself to be an extrovert.
I guess some people would disagree. When I'm doing a magic show, I'm anything but shy. The people who know me tell me that there's a huge difference between the way I am in everyday life and the way I am when I'm onstage. "It's like you take your personality and multiply it by 10," they say. This rings true to me and it probably rings true to everyone in show business.
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A long time ago, I watched a videotape of Bobcat Goldthwaite's 1987 stand-up comedy special Share the Warmth. I don't remember much about it at all (I guess Bobcat's blend of comedy just isn't my thing.) What I do remember is Bobcat's manic performance style - he sounded like a demon-possesed unmedicated schizophrenic. He made his audience laugh for about an hour but as soon as he went backstage, the persona was gone. He was cool. He was calm. But he wanted to be left alone. The cameraman followed him into the dressing room and Bobcat made it abundantly clear that he did not want to be "on" anymore. The video ends with Bobcat slamming the door.
Is Mr. Goldthwaite shy in real life? I don't know. I don't know the man.
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I used to work in a hotel that was right next to a strip club. As such, the strippers would often stay in the hotel. I had a conversation with one once (I was the shuttle bus driver and I was driving her to the airport.) The girl was about six feet tall and rail thin, but she didn't have the face of a stripper. She wore a black baseball cap over dirty blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. She wore no makeup and her natural complexion was bad.
I guess she saw me looking at her a little too long and she laughed a little.
"I'm only paid to be pretty about four hours a night," she said. "The rest of the time, I like being ugly."
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True story about my fellow Albertan, Bruce McCulloch of Kids in the Hall fame.
One year he was doing a one-man show at Calgary's High Performance Rodeo. He was walking downtown one day and he was doing his best to give off this aura that he wasn't anyone special and didn't want to be disturbed.
I don't think it worked. People still mobbed him and wanted to sing "Daves I know."
I'm not sure how I know that story. Maybe my brother told me.
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I guess I don't think I'm shy anymore. Magic cured part of it. Journalism cured part of it. Fifteen years of small town living killed the rest of it.
When you live in a small town, you tend to think everyone is just a friend you haven't met yet. As such, I've developed the habit of engaging complete strangers in conversation. Most people enjoy it, I think, but sometimes I'll talk to someone who's not feeling sociable and that's cool. I respect it.
When we were teenagers, we used to take pride in describing ourselves as "anti-social." What this meant was that we didn't want to go to the mall with our parents. It meant we wanted to spend Saturday night in our bedrooms, playing Ultima V on the Commodore 64 and feeling sorry for ourselves.
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Joy can be found it solitude but I think our happiest memories will be built when we are with other people.
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I used to enjoy walking alone at night. I used to like thinking I was in danger of street gangs or murderers. I wasn't. Southwest Calgary was about as safe a place to be.
I'm happy I was a shy kid though. I'm happy I didn't have a whole lot of friends because it taught me the joy of reading. I have a letter from my late paternal grandfather. In it he writes that books are some of God's happiest gifts.
I guess some people would disagree. When I'm doing a magic show, I'm anything but shy. The people who know me tell me that there's a huge difference between the way I am in everyday life and the way I am when I'm onstage. "It's like you take your personality and multiply it by 10," they say. This rings true to me and it probably rings true to everyone in show business.
-
A long time ago, I watched a videotape of Bobcat Goldthwaite's 1987 stand-up comedy special Share the Warmth. I don't remember much about it at all (I guess Bobcat's blend of comedy just isn't my thing.) What I do remember is Bobcat's manic performance style - he sounded like a demon-possesed unmedicated schizophrenic. He made his audience laugh for about an hour but as soon as he went backstage, the persona was gone. He was cool. He was calm. But he wanted to be left alone. The cameraman followed him into the dressing room and Bobcat made it abundantly clear that he did not want to be "on" anymore. The video ends with Bobcat slamming the door.
Is Mr. Goldthwaite shy in real life? I don't know. I don't know the man.
-
I used to work in a hotel that was right next to a strip club. As such, the strippers would often stay in the hotel. I had a conversation with one once (I was the shuttle bus driver and I was driving her to the airport.) The girl was about six feet tall and rail thin, but she didn't have the face of a stripper. She wore a black baseball cap over dirty blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. She wore no makeup and her natural complexion was bad.
I guess she saw me looking at her a little too long and she laughed a little.
"I'm only paid to be pretty about four hours a night," she said. "The rest of the time, I like being ugly."
-
True story about my fellow Albertan, Bruce McCulloch of Kids in the Hall fame.
One year he was doing a one-man show at Calgary's High Performance Rodeo. He was walking downtown one day and he was doing his best to give off this aura that he wasn't anyone special and didn't want to be disturbed.
I don't think it worked. People still mobbed him and wanted to sing "Daves I know."
I'm not sure how I know that story. Maybe my brother told me.
-
I guess I don't think I'm shy anymore. Magic cured part of it. Journalism cured part of it. Fifteen years of small town living killed the rest of it.
When you live in a small town, you tend to think everyone is just a friend you haven't met yet. As such, I've developed the habit of engaging complete strangers in conversation. Most people enjoy it, I think, but sometimes I'll talk to someone who's not feeling sociable and that's cool. I respect it.
When we were teenagers, we used to take pride in describing ourselves as "anti-social." What this meant was that we didn't want to go to the mall with our parents. It meant we wanted to spend Saturday night in our bedrooms, playing Ultima V on the Commodore 64 and feeling sorry for ourselves.
-
Joy can be found it solitude but I think our happiest memories will be built when we are with other people.
-
I used to enjoy walking alone at night. I used to like thinking I was in danger of street gangs or murderers. I wasn't. Southwest Calgary was about as safe a place to be.
I'm happy I was a shy kid though. I'm happy I didn't have a whole lot of friends because it taught me the joy of reading. I have a letter from my late paternal grandfather. In it he writes that books are some of God's happiest gifts.
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