March 14th, 2005

158IgnoreConsensusReality

What’s So Damn Funny? The Role of Humor in Identity by Dean N. Rogers

What’s So Damn Funny? The Role of Humor in Identity by Dean N. Rogers

http://www.uh.edu/hti/cu/2002/v06/11.htm

This unit explores the roles of humor in the formation of our individual identity, the role of humor in society and how our individual senses of humor affect the way we are viewed by others. The lessons within this unit explore literature from this perspective. Students are required to think critically and introspectively through activities in reading, writing, viewing and representing. Ultimately, we will reach a better understanding of ourselves.
158IgnoreConsensusReality

Random Thoughts

I have a conflict of interest. Should I be honest
with myself, or should I be happy? Self-denial is
good. Self-denial works. The past is the past. But
if you live in a fantasy world, you can choose your
own adventure. I'm not a lunatic, I'm a self-made
person. I trust my instincts, and my instincts tell
me to lie.

It's hard to bullshit yourself into having
self-confidence. I tried these self-esteem tapes,
you listen to 'em when you're sleeping. I kept
having this dream that I'm ready to believe in
myself, then Nancy Reagan tells me to just say no.
Nancy wouldn't lie. She's friends with Mr. T.

Besides, who am I to believe in me? And do I really
want myself as a follower? And if I love myself,
does that make me gay? Or just bisexual on the down
low when no one else is around? That might be okay.

When I was a kid, I lived in a fantasy world 'cos
adults were constantly telling me "be more
responsible." But what I heard was "Take more blame.
When are you gonna grow up and take on some more of
the blame around here?" I didn't know the difference
between blame and responsibility. As a kid, we screw
up, and people make us feel bad. That's blame. We
become adults, we screw up, and we learn how to feel
bad without any help. That's responsibility.

I just wanna change my way of thinking. I've done it
before, I hit my head playing soccer. Now when I
hear a referee whistle, I smell blood. That's a
change. So there's hope.

My diary could be a movie. I just need a title. I'm
thinkin' War of the Worlds. Supernatural, wild-eyed
creatures invade my head and tell me to gamble and
shop. But that's already taken. So's my other title.
Unsafe at any speed. 'Cos I could fall apart any
minute.

I have so many voices in my head, my shrink charges
me for family therapy. At least we're acting like a
family now, going to the movies together, helping out
in the kitchen. We still have a few flare-ups. I'll
say I'm gonna mow the lawn, then I yell, "I can't
tell me what to do! I'm not the boss of me!"

School screws you up. Over and over, we take tests
with multiple choice, Agonizing over a, b, c or d.
What are you complainin' about? You got four
choices. You get out in the world, you get two
choices. Bend over or walk. "What happened to c or
d?"

I take pills for Attention Deficit Disorder. Some
people don't take any pills, they don't wanna tamper
with their natural brain chemistry. I'm not throwin'
out all the ingredients. I'm just adapting the
recipe. 'Cos I don't have all the ingredients.
Memory, nope, energy, nada, I'm just making do with
what I got, cynicism, some leftover paranoia.
Sometimes I think God wrote my DNA on the back of a
cocktail napkin.