We all want to believe something amazing. I think we try to believe it wherever possible. I'm not saying that this makes us incapable of rational thought - I'm sure that if we recognise that something might not be amazing, we start to believe that it's fool's gold and stop wanting to believe any more. In fact, a simple chink in the armour can lose the illusion of amazingness, even if the sum total is actually worthy of being called amazing.

So, I guess what I'm saying is that I want to believe that I'm good at what I'd like to pride myself at being good at. I think I allow myself to over-believe that sometimes, because it would be amazing if it were true. I think, then, sometimes, something small might cast doubt in my mind, and I wantonly withdraw all belief, thus undermining myself. The insecurity of the performer.

I read a friend's blog today. It was very complimentary about me. It was even a qualified set of compliments, explaining how I'd progressed from totally shit to the state of compliment-worthiness that was described. How better to prove that you're not bluffing, than to first list the negative opinions you used to hold? So, a very nice review indeed on this particular blog. And I want to believe that I was amazing again. I truly do. From the "official review", I'm one of top 1% of comedians this friend of mine has ever laugheed at.

Thing is... I've listened to the recording of the gig. I've also done enough gigs to know the difference between light amusement and rapture. Though I'm confident enough that I held my own on that particular stage, I've enough perspective to know that there will be better gigs and there will be worse. Having said that, though, it was a nice gig and I'm glad my friends didn't see me apparently die on my arse. That they found it funny enough to enjoy is more of a reward, perhaps, than any reward I've had from comedy of late.

So. Let's pretend that I rocked the asses of everyone in the room. It's what I want to believe for now.