The “Something is Wrong With Me” Professional Certification
Every comedian eventually hits a crossroads where they have to decide: Do I go to therapy, or do I just write ten minutes of tight material about why I can’t eat cereal without feeling judged by the cartoon mascot? Most of us choose the latter. There is a specific kind of liberation that comes with admitting—publicly, under a spotlight, for strangers—that something is fundamentally “off.”
In the real world, “something is wrong with me” is a cry for help. In the comedy world, it’s a business model.
The Anatomy of the “Wrong”
When we say something is wrong with us, we aren’t usually talking about a medical emergency. We’re talking about the observational glitch. It’s the inability to walk through a grocery store without imagining a high-stakes heist involving the rotisserie chickens. It’s the way we process trauma by wondering if the funeral director’s tie is “too cheerful.”
Psychologists call it “divergent thinking.” Comedians call it “rent money.”
The Social Tax of the Funny Mind
The struggle of the “something is wrong” lifestyle is that you can never truly turn it off. You’re at a romantic dinner, and while your partner is pouring their heart out, you’re distracted by the fact that the waiter looks exactly like a younger, sadder version of Danny DeVito. You want to be present, but your brain is busy drafting a screenplay about a time-traveling bus driver.
This is the Comedian’s Paradox: To be great at connecting with an audience, you often have to be slightly disconnected from reality. You are the observer at the party, not the life of it. You’re the one standing by the chip dip, analyzing the social dynamics of why people only take the broken tortilla chips when they think no one is looking.
Turning the “Glitch” into a Gift
The most successful stand-ups are the ones who lean into their specific brand of “wrongness.” Whether it’s social anxiety, weird physical tics, or a bizarre obsession with 19th-century maritime history, the audience isn’t there to see someone perfect. They are there to see someone who is just as dysfunctional as they are, but with better timing.
When you stand on stage and say, “I think something is wrong with me,” and 200 people laugh, they aren’t laughing at your defect. They are laughing in relief. They’re thinking, “Oh thank God, I thought I was the only one who practiced arguments in the shower and still lost.”
Why We Keep Doing It
Ultimately, being “wrong” is the only way to get the world “right.” We use our skewed perspective to highlight the absurdities of modern life—the weirdness of dating apps, the existential dread of a software update, and the mystery of why we all have one “junk drawer” filled with batteries from 2004.
So, if you feel like your brain is wired backwards, don’t fix it yet. You might just have a career. Just remember: if you start talking to the batteries in the junk drawer, that’s when we move from “stand-up” to “clinical observation.”
