I remember the first time someone called me funny. It was way back when I was an associate at a law firm. My reaction was two-fold: excitement and anxiety. 

I was excited because I never thought of myself as funny. Like, ever. For whatever reason, I equated being funny with being cool, so as a self-professed uncool person, I was flattered. At the same time, I was worried. Was it ok to be funny? I wanted to be taken seriously! I calmed down when I told myself that if anything, I was witty. I was naturally quick on my feet -- whether it be in a courtroom or a conversation. 

I was stunned. This whole time there has actually been a name for it. It’s a “thing.”

I started taking piano lessons in second grade. I loved show tunes and learned to practice consistently and meaningfully every single day. I broke down each new piece into bite-sized chunks: I practiced slowly, measure by measure, line by line until I made my way to the end. Then, I would put it all together, eventually practicing the piece out of order so I started with a tricky passage and learned to master it. I let myself make mistakes and worked through them. When I wasn't practicing, I could hear the music in my head. While I was reading a book or watching tv, my fingers would often tap the notes on an imaginary keyboard.