I was recently introduced to a concept that resonated with me. It’s called FoMO. (Not to be confused with “mofo” which is short for “motherfucker.”) No, my new favorite concept is FoMO which stands for “Fear of Missing Out.” In a sentence: “I was exhausted but I had some serious FoMO so I forced myself to go out anyway.” It’s when you’re sitting around and there’s a party/event/gig that you’re not sure if you want to attend but then you realize that your fear is that if you don’t go, you will miss something. Nothing is worse than leaving a party and having your friends tell you the next day that you missed this amazing wild thing that happened right after you left. But you don’t want to be the loser who refuses to leave a party either. I’ve tried perfecting the art of leaving a party once I’ve determined that nothing else interesting will happen.When I was little, my mother had a hard time convincing me to go to bed. Not because I was difficult, but because I was sure that after I went to sleep, all the interesting things would happen. Adult things, secret things. The worst was when mom was having friends over and I’d have to go to bed early. I’d lay in bed and listen to the waves of grown-up laughter downstairs. It infuriated me that adults could laugh so hard and not even think of including me. I think this early-development FoMO is what made me want to make people laugh. Oh, to be on the inside track of what makes the grown-ups downstairs laugh.
In college, I had a job in a bakery. The job required me to be present and on my game at 5:00am. That’s an ungodly hour for anyone, let alone a college student, to have to fake being awake. It was FoMO that kept me at parties until 4:00 where I would reluctantly excuse myself to go home, shower, change and go off to work. FoMO prevented me from sleeping for months at a time. And, in FoMO’s defense, it was all worth it. It’s the wacky adventures that makes people long for their college days. (Certainly not the exams and papers.)
And now, I have FoMO for comedy gigs manifested in the fear that if I don’t get out and do comedy every night, I will miss something. Some key element that will help propel my comedy career to the top -- finally wording a new joke perfectly, a fateful meeting with a soon-to-be famous producer, bombing or killing so extremely that I really learn something -- I don’t want to miss any of that. I did a gig last Saturday that ended at 7pm. Afterward, all the comics were talking about which gig they were off to next. I already had non-comedy-related plans with friends that I was looking forward to, but damn, did I feel the FoMO for all the gigs was wasn’t doing Saturday night.
Life is nothing if not a balancing act. Lately for me, the balance seems to have four rings: Comedy, things-I-do-to-pay-rent, socializing and sleep. I’m assuming that some of these will converge in the future. (Can’t I make money doing comedy with my friends in my sleep? Let’s get on that!) Often, when I’m doing one, I have FoMO for another, which I know is a terrible and very un-Zen thing to say. And sleep is the first to go since I can’t really miss anything (except sanity) while sleep. Ah, FoMO, the best new acronym for disquiet that regulates my life.