10 Years in New York City

I just hit 10 years of living in New York City, the point at which, New Yorker’s say, you become a “real New Yorker.” I tend to think that promotion happens the first time you watch a stranger literally take a dump on the subway (in which case I’m a real New Yorker three times over), but that’s just my take on the issue. 

Two years ago I wrote a piece in honor of my 8 year anniversary of living in NYC and, upon re-reading it, it’s still spot on!  I still love this city and my life here and almost every night I run around performing comedy—it’s amazing.  I still pinch myself that this is my life.  

But I’m a bit more circumspect about things this go-round and perhaps it’s because 10 years feels like a more meaningful anniversary.  A decade in NYC—what do you have to show for it? 

Well, I’ll shoot you straight—my career is not quite where I want it to be and at 10 years in, I thought that I would be “farther along.” (Oh, this is going to be one of THOSE posts, is it? Yes, it is. If I can gaze at my navel anywhere, it’s here on my old blog where I can overanalyze my own, 90s style, still pierced navel.)

OK OK so, after a decade in NYC, I thought I would be farther along.  

But what do I even mean by that? I’m not sure.  What IS “farther”?  And who decides what it is?  And whenever I decide or you decide farther IS, is that something I even want? Am I happy where I am, however far that is? 

The answer to that last one changes by the day.  

Some days I feel great about where I am—I feel understood, I feel like a member of the community, I think that people know who I am and that I’m pretty funny. I get called in for commercial and sitcom auditions occasionally even though I don’t have an agent or a manager, and that feels great! (Tune into RED OAKS on Amazon Nov 11th! I'm in episode 7 and I'm shameless!)  Also, I truly believe that slow and steady wins the race and, as my sister Laurel and I have always said, Coppocks are never going to be overnight sensations.  We’re workhorses who will get our due EVENTUALLY, but it won’t come quickly or easily.  

But other days I look at my contemporaries and friends who have leap frogged over me—people I used to do open mics with or run around with who now have amazing careers and myriad opportunities presented to them, and while I’m SO happy for my friends to get their due and have these successes, sometimes I feel jealous and completely unaccomplished and think, “am I actually NOT funny at all and this whole thing has been a giant ruse of people booking me just to be polite?”  

But I know that’s not true. (Right?? Right gang? Gulp.) 

I’ve been living in NYC for 10 years, but I have only been really focused comedically for about 6-7 years, I would say.  And that’s because it took me a while to get settled in and learn the ropes and also, more important, it has taken me a while to feel like I deserve to be heard or I deserve opportunities and it’s still an ongoing mental battle.  I think that this feeling is like a cousin to Imposter Syndrome and I’d be willing to guess that a lot of comedians grapple with this one.  

As a comedian, you must feel that you have something to share, that you deserve to be noticed or listened to (even if it’s just silly, strange ideas), that you can contribute to the conversation in society.  And it has taken me a while to get comfortable with that.  During my first few years in NYC, I was extremely intimidated by the comedy scene—by people who had the chutzpah to produce shows, by people who had the confidence to dominate conversation with news of their own careers, by people who knew the right way to be a mover and shaker in the community.  So it took me probably 3 years to really plug in and start getting booked with some regularity.  But then I still had my ongoing self doubts and thoughts of, why would the audience care what I have to say?  I often doubted if I had anything to say that was worth hearing.  And often I still do—I have a hard time feeling entitled to things.  

That lack of entitlement comes from an overabundance of gratitude, I think.  I thank and yet blame gratitude for the fact that I have a hard time feeling entitled to opportunities.   

I’m extremely thankful for my life—for this pathway.  I didn’t love growing up in a small town—I’ve always been an old soul and I just wanted so badly to meet more people, to hear more ideas, to be in a bigger place—small town life wasn’t for me.  Throughout high school I was pretty fixated on college—I could leave my hometown and meet new people and I couldn’t WAIT.  And I never envisioned anything post-college.  I never imagined a wedding or family or kids—I just wanted to get out of my hometown and college would be that.  And I absolutely loved college—my life, my friends, my studies, my activities—it was amazing.  And then I was fortunate enough to live in Chicago and Boston and now NYC and it all just feels magical and miraculous.  I’m not an eye-rolling hipster and I can’t be a “cool girl”—I’m so fucking excited to have an apartment I love and a “normal job” the pays my bills and to be living in NYC and performing comedy and knowing a LOT of people.  I love knowing people! It sounds stupid, but I find it thrilling to pop by an event that your friend is hosting and then know this girl at this bar and stop by this restaurant because another pal works there and then run into another person you know on the subway—it’s amazing! I’m so grateful for all of it.  

Also, comedic success is a moving target and the pathway is often 2 steps forward and 1 step back.  A certain booker loves you and books you a bunch, then moves away.  You get passed at a club and are psyched about that, then the club closes.  You have a lead on a fantastic opportunity and then the project falls apart.  When you’ve been in the comedy scene in NYC for a while, you can’t help but get cynical about stuff—you have seen a lot of clubs fail and deals fall though and comedians with so much buzz just sorta fade out.  There’s no clear pathway of THIS leads to THIS leads to THIS.  So you just have to create because the creating is its own reward.  You tell the jokes because you love writing and performing and telling jokes.  And if something comes of it, GREAT, but if not, that’s OK, too.  

And I guess that last part is what I’ve been having trouble with lately—reconciling my feelings of gratitude to get to participate in ANY of this with my feelings of, where is it going? Will it lead somewhere? Does it need to? What is “farther along”?  

I don’t know the answer to that, but I’ll keep writing and performing because the doing is its own reward.  And 10 years into NYC comedy life, that’s all I know right now.  

Bachelorette Kaitlyn Ep 5: Broback Breakup, Weasel Arrival

On Monday night’s episode of The Bachelorette we had 0 rose ceremonies, 1 departure, and 1 ARRIVAL.  WAH!?!??!  I know.  Hold onto your hats, love bugs.

The last episode closed with the Clint cliffhanger—would Kaitlyn finally wake up to his sketchy ways? Would he and his shiny forehead manage to fly under the radar and stay in the house with his beloved best friend forever, JJ?  On Monday’s episode, Kaitlyn pulled Clint aside and shot him straight—she doesn’t trust him and a ton of guys have warned her about him. Like a blonde, monotone robot, Clint insisted that he is there for the right reasons, that he had made himself vulnerable to Kaitlyn and that’s scary for him, that she's shy, and that he’s “best, best, best friends” with JJ. Smart cookie Kaitlyn informed him that this has nothing to do with his friendship with JJ and that he needs to go home. They walked back into the house where Clint asked the entire crew, “who talked to Kaitlyn and said that I was mean to you guys?” which is a worthwhile conversation to have as the door is hitting you on the way out, huh?  Not so much.  Kaitlyn apologized to the group (just like the Amy Schumer sketch) and then JJ chimed in to say that CLINT owes everyone an apology for causing drama and wasting their time.  Oh JJ—you’re such a stupid kiss ass. You’re totally the pity bid of the house who can’t bother to do the actual tasks asked of you but instead focuses on winning extra credit and brown nosing. Blech. No wonder you’re a FORMER Investment Banker, chach. Even Investment Bankers don’t like you (and that’s saying a lot, right Corey?).

Clint was shocked to be thrown under the bus by his bestie and the two of them had a tense, private conversation during which each admitted to the other that he had “told you things that I haven’t share with anyone in a long time” and Clint exited by mocking JJ’s tie (ZING!) and calling him a “Beeping piece of Beep.”  JJ then wept for the camera, walked off camera and slapped himself across the face, and said to him self “son of a bitch… suck it up.” Yowza. Methinks somebody grew up in a house where emotions weren’t permitted, and it’s pretty sad for JJ. 

Tanner might be a thin nosed loser, but kid is a wealth of comic relief with his comment that “Broback Mountain became Broback Volcano and erupted.”  Ian tells JJ that his behavior is despicable (hell yeah it is), Kaitlyn cancels the rose ceremony, and the gang learns that their next stop is New York City! 

In NYC the crew stays at a hotel in Times Square (my sincere condolences, boyz) and has 2 group dates and a 1:1 date. 

The first 1:1 date was a rap battle (and it was just as bad as you’d expect, despite Doug E Fresh’s best efforts) of Jonathan (Color Me Badd Miami Vice), Justin (whose hair is growing our horribly), Ben Z. (brick shithouse of love), Corey (current investment banker), Ryan B. (who looks cute in glasses but is highly forgettable), Tanner (whose sole purpose on the show is to make good sound bites), JJ (no one clapped for him—haha! Eat it, loser!), Shawn (who looks a lot like Justin, but hot).  They guys perform a live show and Ashley I. (female Bobby Bottleservice from the previous season of The Bachelor) is in the audience, along with Nick (2^nd runner up from Andi’s season).

Remember this jag? Are you still a "Software Sales Executive"
 if you're an unemployed loser with no boundaries? 

Nick takes Kaitlyn aside after the concert and asks if he can jump into the fray and be a suitor because “the idea that you could potentially be engaged and I wouldn’t have met you bugged me.” But isn’t that the case for ANYONE IN THE WORLD, you boundary-less jackass? There are TONS of people out there who you might be friends or acquaintances with and that doesn’t mean that you get to interject into their lives and be like, “hold up—I know you’re in the thick of the biggest adventure of your life and you’re presently dating a dozen dudes, but you have simply GOT TO TRY dating me!”  Fuck off.  It’s a pretty standard Bach franchise maneuver now (almost every season some jag wad who can’t get over his/her time on the show and simply GET A FRIGGIN’ JOB will show up unannounced mid-season) but it still sucks and the message is, “I have no boundaries and I didn’t bother going after you when you were free and a normal person who had done the show, but now that you’re THE Bachelor or THE Bachelorette, I want in and you should thank me for it.”

Kaitlyn thinks about it and even goes to Ashley S. (total kookoo bird from her season) to get her hair done and talk about love vs. lust. Oh man, Bach contestants live in a full Bach world! The hairdresser is a Bachelor alum! Another Bachelorette alum wants to date you!  Where’s the Bach alum butcher, baker, and candlestick maker?

She decides to go for it and let Nick join the show as another suitor.  The way that Kaitlyn and Nick’s kiss and hug does NOT look like two people who connected via social media, as she claims.  Who knows. 

Justin scores the rose after the rap battle/tense evening on the boat, but as Tanner says, “that’s the most meaningless rose in the history of the show” in light of the fact that said rose was given out just after Kaitlyn told the boys that Nick would be moving into the hotel suite.

Jared (Rhode Island’s finest restaurant manager) scores a 1:1 date and the couple gets decked out for dinner in the Metropolitan Museum of Art then a helicopter ride over NYC.  Jared get a rose. Somehow, rodent-like Jared is growing on me but he still feels like Aidan to Nick’s Big. Damn you, Nick!

The next day is another group date and the crew is Ian (can the hottest suitor please get more screen time, ABC?), Chris (dentist dweeb), Joe (Squished Face), Joshua (simpleton redhead), Ben H. (button nose, personality still MIA) who are going to BROADWAY to walk through a real Broadway audition!  The dance captain who taught them the choreography might be my favorite person ever and during the try out, Chris the dentist does his best impression of what he thinks an actor does (ACT! WITH BIG FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AND HAND MOVEMENTS! LOOK OVER THERE, MY FAIR LADY!) and his over-acting is rewarded when he wins the challenge. Kaitlyn and Chris then make their “Broadway debut” (as extras in a group scene) and—I’m shocked to admit this--Chris officially looks better in a cupcake then he does in a turban.  Post-show Chris and Kaitlyn head up to a rooftop and smooch beneath the New Year’s Eve ball in Times Square.  He gets a rose. 

Meanwhile, weasely Nick is making his way to the Knickerbocker Hotel (where, let’s be honest, he was probably shacked up on ABC’s dime anyway, but they need shots of him “arriving” so he roams around Times Square with a suitcase looking strangely forlorn about his impending love connection).  He does a good job of channeling Bill Murray from Lost In Translation and looking pensive, when we all know that he has never cared about making friends. HE’S NOT HERE TO MAKE FRIENDS! Ahh—the reality TV dating cliches just won’t stop!

The episode ends without a rose ceremony, but instead with another cliff hanger when we watch Nick go enter the suite and say “what’s up, guys.”  We'll find out what goes down next week and I'm excited to watch some BRAWLS!

8 Years in New York City

A few weeks ago I had my 8 year anniversary of moving to New York City and I was too busy juggling work and standup comedy to notice it. But it got me thinking about what I've done over those years. 

In the 8 year period that I’ve been living, working, and performing in NYC most of my college and hometown friends have gotten married, bought houses, had children.  I have done none of those things and society tries to make you feel like a real screw up for choosing a different path—especially as a woman.  I’ve had plenty of moments at weddings or cocktail parties when I’ve been prodded for information about why I’m unmarried and questioned as to whether I’m “still trying to do the standup improv skits."  As much as I resent these questions, I’m not ashamed of my life’s path—I’m super proud.  Sometimes people look at me with concern and pity—I don’t have a family or a house to return to at night and to these people, that is unimaginable.  No, I don’t have kids (nor do I want them) and I don’t have a traditional life and I love every minute of it.  I often think of the scene in Good Will Hunting when therapist Sean Maguire snarls at snobby Professor Gerald Lambeau, “I didn’t fuck up—I chose this life.” 

I chose this life and the past 8 years of performing standup, storytelling, and sketch comedy in New York has been phenomenal.  My years spent in living Boston and Chicago were great, too, but New York is where I found my comedic voice so it will always have a special place in my heart.  

New York is where I moved to after I had been living in Boston for a  few years and trying out standup.  I was working for Prentice Hall and when they relocated my team to NJ, I was laid off.  I didn’t know what to do and my boss at the time (who is now one of my best friends), Anathea, encouraged me to be thoughtful and deliberate in plotting my next steps.  She knew that I wanted a change both in my publishing career and with standup and she suggested that I move to New York City.  I thought about it and made some plans, then my generous uncle Jim offered to let me live in his Upper East Side apartment and before I knew it, my parents had loaded up the Buick Roadmaster (rest in peace, Land Yacht) and moved me into uncle Jimmy’s apartment.  It was like a "Fresh Prince of Bell Air" situation and I was the luckiest girl in the world.  Anathea kept her job, relocated to the Upper West Side, and would commute out to the office in NJ.  As we found our way in NYC, Anathea and I would often say to each other, “Holy shit! We live in New York City!” when something magical happened. We just couldn’t believe everything that was at our fingertips—culture, shows, restaurants, excitement.  

My first sketch comedy class started 4 days after I arrived in New York and my life here has been comedy ever since. 

New York is where I met hilarious people in that sketch class at UCB and connected with 2 brilliant ladies to form a sketch group (rest in peace, Walking Contradiction) and my classmates and I went on to make movies, teach, sell books, and write for SNL.   

New York is where I learned how to produce and run a show (rest in peace, basement of Two Boots Pizzeria and Luca Lounge) and be part of a comedy community.  

New York is where I have found 9-5 work (let’s be real—9-6 or 7) at 2 different publishing houses that has been professionally rewarding and where I have met great people.  

New York is where I’ve met a lot of terrible ex-boyfriends, including one who stood me up on Valentine’s Day (you’re still a loser, Nick B.) and another who wanted to "get successful at comedy THEN find a partner” (how’s that going for ya, Kevin?) but also where I’ve found some wonderful boyfriends who have taken me out to some of the nicest restaurants in NYC (I’m pretty sure you were in the mafia, Craig, but we had fun while it lasted!) and taken me mudding in rural New Jersey (I’ll always think of you fondly, Ryan—even with your Axe body spray).  

New York is where I wrote and rewrote and rewrote my book proposal over 18 months, then sold my book to HarperCollins, cranked out roughly 60,000 words by sequestering myself inside my apartment every weekend for 8 months, and hosted an amazing book release party.  

New York is where I discovered the Sex and the City bus tour and got myself hired so that I could parlay my love of SATC into a second job.  For 3 years, every Sunday at 3pm I could be found outside the The Plaza waiting for a posse of 55 awesome visitors and fellow SATC fans to board a bus and cruise NYC for 3 hours while I told jokes, pointed out spots from the show, and did crowd work.  It was the most bonkers and fun job I've ever had. 

New York is where I learned how to tell stories and found the ceaselessly inspiring storytelling community that has enabled me to share some of the most triumphant and heartbreaking moments of my life with an audience. 

New York is where I learned to accept that I’m high-energy onstage and I should stop fighting that instinct—that’s me.  

I often say that when I started doing standup, my entire life made sense.  And as I reflect on the past 8 years of amazing shows and terrible shows and open mics and crummy road gigs and storytelling shows that make you explode with both laughter and tears and book proposals and rooftop comedian parties and packed subway cars and afternoons at Coney Island beach and check spots and writing meetings in random cafes and drink tickets and walking around with a bag full of wigs and props and running into fellow comedians on the street when you both say, “hustling to a show—give ‘em hell!” and feeling completely understood as an artist and a person, I want to pinch myself.  Holy shit, I live in New York City.