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Humor's Impact on Me (College Essay)

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Humor's Impact on Me (College Essay)

Post by schuzhin » Wed Sep 26, 2018 11:54 pm

For as long as I populate this giant blue rock that we call home, I will find humor, by far, to be the most fascinating and important thing that humanity has to offer. This appreciation reaches all the way from my own corny puns to complex satires that I fail to understand. The beauty of humor lies in its ability to draw the negatives out of a situation and transform frowns into smiles, tears of sadness into tears of laughter, a bad day into a good day. To myself, and most likely to many others, humor also serves as a defense mechanism, a temporary sunshine ahead of an impending storm. Defense mechanisms are often construed in a poor light. Everyone has them, and most are ashamed of it. I, however, am very content to have humor as mine. My reliance on humor has blossomed ever since my little patchy-haired, manipulative, adorable “dog” stumbled through my front door for the first time.
When we first got Katya, she was fairly energetic. I remember she could spend an entire day doing laps around our dining room table - clockwise. Only clockwise. She actually ran back then, as far as her little legs could take her before succumbing to exhaustion, which would usually be after roughly 10 seconds. As the years have gone by, however, those feats of athletic excellence have gotten rarer and rarer. She’s lost her hearing entirely, gotten significantly slower, and has become more like a stuffed animal and less like a living creature. I do not think I have seen her run in two years.To her credit, she has learned that fake coughing will get her most of what she wants.
My brother and I routinely crack jokes at her expense, such as theorizing that she is a robot sent by aliens to test the limits of human patience, much to my grandmother’s disapproval. She is not fond of us making fun of her favorite grandchild. My argument is simple -- the day that Katya dies, we will all be sad. There is no avoiding that. But in the meantime, why should we look upon her objectively pathetic existence with gloom when we could be laughing? What my grandmother often fails to remember is that dogs do not speak English, especially deaf and unintelligent ones. Our jokes at Katya’s expense are not hurting anyone, and never fail to lift our spirits, so why not poke fun? Everytime my brother and I mimic her hideous cough, scream her name from behind her, or merrily watch her scamper up the ramp we custom-made for her to avoid the porch steps, we are able to forget for a little while that her health is deteriorating. If a joke can substitute laughter in for sorrow without hurting someone, there is no universe in which it should not be welcome.
Humor is an extremely important part of my life, encompassing my entire existence as well as those fortunate enough to consistently hear my jokes. This fixation with humor stems from my brother and I’s jokes about our little Katya. I am undoubtedly grateful for the laughs she’s provided us, even if they come with the added bonus of hellish coughs and occasional surprises on our carpet.

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