Through a Mic (Updated)

One of the most humiliating moments of my life was in high school. It's a vivid nightmare I look back on when I think of public speaking. A crowd of my teammates and their families. Two hundred people. I had prepared a speech, but lost my confidence in the words I had written down. Fifteen-year-old me decided the best decision was to throw the paper away and riff. I opened the ceremony with, “I forgot my paper,” followed by “Give it up to the coaches,” and started the applause. I must have given out ten different moments of applause, all the way down to the cheerleaders, who weren’t even present. I was the captain. The leader of the team. I was clutch in big game moments, in front of thousands of people. But I choked during a simple end-of-year banquet speech.

In college, I remedied this by taking a public speaking class. Bashing on the injustices of political discourse and failures of the justice system. When I was passionate, I prevailed. I rehearsed. Delivered. When I held fraternity meetings, my public speaking was sharp. More conversational. Sometimes comedic.

Sometime after college, I lost the ability to speak. Not completely, but I lost the confidence I had built. This inability to voice how I feel or speak what I truly mean has started to hinder my social skills. It’s like a fog during conversation.

There’s someone in the local scene that I am enamored with.. I resort to simple questions to get her talking. It does make me a good listener, and I’m sure she appreciates that. However, it doesn’t get me anywhere. She’s strong and independent. Not to mention, she’s perfect in every physical way. 

I used to be good at this. My thing was to ask them out that night or the next day. Drinks, coffee, or some odd spot that no one goes to. I’ve always been good at that. I have never been afraid of rejection. I sniff out the vibe immediately. I have this respect for time — not just my own, but for them too. I know that’s how people become lonely. It’s this newfound sense of respect I have for myself.

I need to find a new outlet to speak. Writing is nice, but who reads anymore? If you’re reading this, I truly hope you reach out for drinks. I mean, actually talking. Words spewing out of my mouth. I need to improve my conversation skills, or else I’ll be living in a shack alone with no retirement plan besides walking toward the ocean undertow.

I watch comedians four nights a week, often two shows a night. They have this bright aura to them. Dark in reality, yet confident. Most of them have interesting family dynamics from being on the road, but they all have strong relationships. It’s almost like a seal of approval when they meet one another. You started at a bowling alley? I started in a laundromat. Instant connection. It’s grueling work. You just have to accept that you won’t be good enough to be paid for years.

I like the idea of comedy because it opens doors to writers' rooms and collaboration on projects. The only thing I find in the cons section of this self-debate is the social media aspect of it all. Club bookers base your worthiness on your following and viral content. It does make sense because it’s a metric they can follow when figuring out if you can sell tickets. I just hate that it’s part of the norm.

Not to mention, finding a niche that teeters on the line of not being offensive just to make it.

Who knows? As my 20-year-old brother says, maybe it’s a skill issue.

UPDATE: 9/29/2025

I did my first show at the Wiseguys in Downtown SLC last week. It was unnerving to say the least, but I got what I wanted out of it. Now I just need to keep going. Work on my delivery, stage presence, and writing. I think I can keep doing this.