I remember when I first read Voltaire's famous quote: "God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh." It made me laugh. I sat in pensive agreement and mulled over the thought of a lifetime without laughter--a thought too unreal to consider with any seriousness.
My household has always been filled with the melodious euphony of laughter. I remember waking every Saturday morning to the sounds of my mother's uproarious amusement at my father's jokes. They'd lie in bed for what seemed like hours just laughing, and though I didn't understand the jokes, I felt the warm buzz of delight from hearing her unrestrained joy.
When I was old enough, I, enjoyed admission to the adult realm of humor. The jokes I'd heard during my childhood materialized into concrete significance; a testament to my parents' amusement with the world. And I joined the fun.
I watched the best television- seinfeld and the simpsons; got lost in decades- old episodes of monty python which I imitated to my 5th grade peers. I was the go-to girl for a laugh. We'd snicker, giggle, guffaw, and chortle at every opportunity.
The funniest person in any given room, I enjoyed the prestige and humble power of my ability to leave my peers in stitches.
I earned the highest degree of celebrity during high school for not only my quirky laugh, but also my (sometimes elusive) sense of humor. I'd recite from my arsenal of jokes at the drop of a hat, and was always rewarded with the merriment of my audience.
My parents bestowed onto me what is possibly the greatest gift I could imagine: the ability to turn the world into my own personal comedy. I enjoy the better part my time wearing a bemused grin at the absurdity of the world. The minutia of my daily experiences do not escape humorous appreciation, and I think God would like it that way.
