I have such an unusual fascination with being different. (At least, I think that it is unusual) I want to feel like I am truly unique. But, I still have a considerable desire for other people’s approval. I want others to connect with me in some way and say: “Yeah, him and I are the same in that way.” How can both of these be true at the same time? Is there one that I truly want and the other is fighting me? Or do I need both sameness and differentness to achieve some sort of “balance”?
Comedy and Humor
That seems to be what makes stand up comedy work. Somebody says something, and we say: “Yes, that is true! I see it the same way!” And we bond to them. We connect with them. This (I’m learning) is why I always used humor as a defense mechanism in school growing up. Some kid would call me a name, or make fun of my clothes, somehow to point out how I was “different”, and I would look for some way to get attention from others so that I could feel “the same” again.
Think about it. This is why we have “inside jokes”…and why they piss off the people who aren’t “inside”. We are connected with someone in some specific way. We share the same ________ (house, class, team, tribe, etc.), and it is only funny to those who share it with us. We enjoy it because we are the same. Others loathe it or avoid it because they are not the same, in respect to whatever is being joked about.
So, why be different? Why do we have Carrottop, Seinfeld, Chappelle, AND Ellen? That’s what I’m trying to figure out! Is variety a virtue unto itself? Help me out here.
Comments
2 responses to “Sameness…Differentness…Humor.”
Everyone wants to feel like they fit in. That’s only natural, but be weary of being like everyone else. Mark Twain said, “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.” Do one thing today that you don’t want to and you won’t regret it.
Variety would not be a virtue in the traditional definition of the term, although I can see the purpose of casting it in that light.
I find variety to be highly contextual, meaning that I want it but only when I feel the choices available to me are somehow unsatisfactory.
This is personal prerogative more than anything else, but I think everyone can relate to the fact that either through issues of comfort or familiarity (sometimes both), some things are better when their options are limited or nonexistent.
Example: when I go shopping for a toothbrush, I want the opportunity to look at various models, designs, etc. All toothbrushes are not made equal. Once I’ve selected my toothbrush, however, I do not want to be confronted with this same decision every time I open the bathroom cabinet. I chose one over all others, and that’s the one I want to stick with until such time as it fails to do its job or I have a highly unusual urge to go toothbrush shopping for no apparent reason.
Choice is a modern luxury. 100 years ago, there was no (consumer, household) radio. 70 years ago, women couldn’t legally vote. 50 years ago, there were no sitcoms. For some people (a smaller and smaller group with each passing year), these are inventions within living memory. I’m not even 30 years old and I’ve still spent a much larger chunk of my life without cell phones or the internet than with them.
If there’s anything I’ve learned about the current cornucopia of choice, it’s that too much of it can kill. It kills rational thought, creativity, even interest. The ability to make quick, logical decisions is paramount, especially today where slowing down and standing still are nearly synonymous. We need variety, but only in small doses.