both hands

today, i got a manicure at the hotel's spa. it was nice, and not something i do very often, but once i have it done i feel way more professional and kind of dolled up. also, it makes me feel like i'm in a chris isaak video.

the woman who was giving me the manicure asked me what i do for a living, and i noticed that i exhaled deeply and said "comedy". i don't know where this weight-of-the-world shit came from - i think it's because said statement opens up a conversation that is usually frustrating thereafter, but come on - i hated myself for a second for being so negative about something i love. her eyes lit up. "you do?", she asked, looking really interested. "wow, i wish i could do that."

we proceeded to sit for a bit and chat. this woman then told me that she grew up with sam kinison, and that his brother was her first love. "they were great people," she said, "and their father was an amazing preacher." i then started wondering how many similarities preaching and comedy had, and that the same skills seemed transferrable, and i liked this.

this woman had lost everything in hurricane katrina, and had moved here about a month ago. she started working here two weeks back, but then her sister got in a car accident and she went home to take care of her. she brought her two daughters here, too. she told me her son wanted to be a comedian when he got older, but her son died at 10 years old, tragically killed in a car accident ironically on the way to his baptism at church.

"sometimes you can just tell when someone has it, and i think he did," she said. "i'm sure he would've been famous," she continued, wistfully looking down at our hands. i smiled, because usually this kind of thing annoys me - obviously, someone being famous isn't within their control; there's just so many things at play - talent, luck, connections, the works.

this time, i kept my mouth shut.
"you're probably right," i said.