I was so in love with the idea of making people laugh for a living that I didn't care what I had to do to get there. Or how much money I was going to make when I did get there.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When I was, like, 15, I realized there could be a career in making people laugh - like, you could get paid to do it. That was insane to me.
It's like, if I had the luxury of choice, and didn't have to worry about making a living, I would definitely want to get into whatever field it was that allowed me to push further and further comedically. Because that's the joy of it.
I wanted to make a living, but I really was not interested in money at all. I was interested in being a great comedian.
From the minute I got to 'Fortune,' I loved my job. I knew myself to be a virtual dunce about business, and I was wide-eyed about how much I was learning.
There was no way to laugh anymore, to love, to care, and there was a sense of guilt in having survived when others had been killed. I turned into a worse workaholic than I had already been by trying to work myself into the ground.
The beginning of my career was so brilliant. It wasn't until ten years later that I went, 'Oh, that was a big, fat fluke and, boy, was I ever lucky.'
To have a job making people laugh really is the greatest thing.
When I was at school, most people were planning on going to university and becoming doctors or lawyers. I wanted to be a singer, and I was laughed at. It was tough, but I never let anything stop me.
I wanted to be in show business, and I was funny.
When I look back over my life it's almost as if there was a plan laid out for me - from the little girl who was so passionate about animals who longed to go to Africa and whose family couldn't afford to put her through college. Everyone laughed at my dreams. I was supposed to be a secretary in Bournemouth.