A muse.

I don’t have a problem laughing at myself. I do it all the time. Like that time I fell asleep on the plane and woke up drooling, just as I awkwardly made eye contact with my neighbour.

And I love to share the laugh with an audience… as long as you’re laughing with me.

But right now I seem to be at the butt of some great big joke, with everyone laughing at me. I’m facing off to a tough crowd — my inner Saboteur.

It all plays out like some farcical show. I’ll be having a good day. I’ll come across something I think I’m good at, and think: hey — maybe this is my thing.

And then it begins.

“HAHAHA- don’t make me laugh!”
“What a joke, she thinks she’s good at that… GET OFF THE STAGE!”
“Hey, where’s my refund?!”

Be quiet, you. I’m trying.

“Don’t give me that!”
“Yeah? Well, it’s not good enough!”
“Pff, ‘trying’… Try harder next time!”