Being Focused Is a Joke

The Myth of “Focusing”

If someone asked me to define the word “focus,” I’d probably say something like:Focus means pretending you’re doing one thing while seven other things are quietly falling apart behind you.”

That sounds about right, yeah?

But the proper dictionary definition the one teachers wish I took more seriously back in the day basically says focusing is “concentrating on one task.” One. Singular. Uno. A lonely little task standing on a metaphorical island expecting you to commit to it faithfully.

And honestly? That island might as well be across an ocean with no ferry service, no kayak rental, and me standing on the shore holding a paddle wondering where the boat is.

Being focused? It’s a joke. And not even a good one. It’s more of a dad joke someone tells at 7:30 in the morning before your first coffee, and you laugh only because you’re polite

not because it’s smart or funny or meaningful.

But here’s where it gets complicated. Because while I can’t always stay focused on the stuff I’m supposed to focus on, like bills, dishes, the laundry monster, or the mysterious noise Sheena hears at night that I swear is just the fridge… I can focus when it comes to people.

Put me in a room full of humans strangers, friends, a confused barista wondering if I meant “half-sweet” or “half-caf,” doesn’t matter and suddenly I can focus for hours. I can lock in, be present, and make people feel seen even if I can’t physically see them.

That’s my kind of focus.The people kind. The connection kind.The kind that actually matters.

But the universe, being hilarious, decided to spice my life up with a visual impairment. So now “focus” comes with a little plot twist, a couple punchlines, and a whole lot of blurry faces at least until my new glasses arrive.

So let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about focus, the impossibility of it, the comedy in it, the fear in it, and the wild adventure that’s coming when I finally get to see the world in a way I never really have before.

This is the long version. The coffee-refill version. The “Google is knocking at the door but we’re keeping the lights on” version.

Welcome to my blog.

Chapter One My “Focus” Has Always Been Different

Let me tell you a secret:When you grow up not seeing very well, people often mistake that for not paying attention.

Teachers used to say “J.R., focus!” And I’d be like “Where?”

Because genuinely I didn’t know where they were, or where the assignment was, or what they were pointing at, or why they were mad. I'd just hear a voice in the void demanding that I “pay attention.” Brother, I was paying attention I just wasn’t looking where you expected me to look. My attention wasn’t broken. It was just… rerouted.

Some kids focused visually reading body language, glancing around, noticing cues.

I? I focused with my ears. I listened to tones, the rhythm of footsteps, the sigh someone makes when they’re about to complain about homework for the 400th time. I’d catch things other kids completely missed. I could tell who was lying, who was nervous, who had a crush, and who desperately needed the teacher to forget about the pop quiz.

Turns out, focus isn’t about seeing it’s about noticing.

And I noticed everything… Except where the soccer ball was during gym class, but that’s another trauma for another day.

Chapter Two The Dark Humour of “Focusing on Myself”

Here’s something I’ve learned When you live with low vision your whole life, the world builds a sense of humour for you. Sometimes dark.Sometimes weird. Sometimes inappropriate in a way that only blind comedians are legally allowed to get away with.

People always tell me “You’ve got to focus on yourself.”

And I say “I can’t even see myself. How do I focus on myself?” That joke either makes people laugh, or it makes them question every life choice they’ve ever made leading up to that moment. Either way, it’s fun for me. But there’s a truth hiding under the dark humour I’ve never had the luxury of seeing myself the way others do.

I’ve never caught my own facial expressions in the mirror. I’ve never made eye contact with myself. I’ve never thought, “Oh, that’s what my smile looks like.” When you can’t see your own face clearly, self-focus becomes more about internal stuff like values, energy, purpose, and trying not to walk into pillars (though sometimes I still do). So yeah.Being focused on me has always been a challenge. But being focused on others? That’s my superpower.

Chapter Three Focusing on People My Kind of “Vision”

You know how people say, “I see you”?Like, “I really see you”?

For a lot of my life, my version of “I see you” was more like: “I hear you, and I sense you’re somewhere in the 12-to-3-o’clock region, give or take.” And yet somehow I see people more deeply than most sighted folks do. When you can’t see someone’s face, you pay attention to everything else

the way they breathe when they’re nervous

the pause before they say something important

the little laugh people do when they’re trying not to cry

the weight in someone’s voice when they’ve had a hard day

the excitement in someone’s step when they’re proud of themselves

I’ve built my entire personality around connection. My comedy career. My parenting.My marriage. My place in the community.

I might’ve grown up with limited vision, but I developed something else instead a type of focus that doesn’t rely on eyes at all. I focused on making people comfortable. I focused on making people laugh. I focused on turning pain into jokes. I focused on turning awkward into relatable.

So yeah. I might not be able to focus on a spreadsheet. But if someone needs a moment of feeling understood? Brother, I’m locked in.

Chapter Four The Glasses Are Coming and the World Is About to Look Different

Now here’s where things get real. Soon like soon soon, not “next-year tax-return soon” I’ll be getting my new assistive glasses. And that means I’ll finally experience something most people take for granted

Seeing the actual faces of the people I love.

This is wild for me. Terrifying, exciting, emotional.It's like being told you’re about to unlock a new DLC pack in life “Faces: The Expansion Pack.”

Let me describe how I see people right now

everyone is a blur

skin tone shows up (white, brown, Black)

hair is basically a smudge in a direction

no eyes

no nose

no mouth

nothing that says “this is uniquely you”

People are basically walking colour-coded ghosts.

Soon?

I’ll see Sheena’s actual face.I’ll see my mom’s expressions. I’ll see my kids’ eyes when they talk. I’ll see my audience reacting to my jokes.

I’ll see the world in a way I’ve never seen before.

But that also means…

oh no. People will be able to look at me… and I’ll actually see it.

HELP.

People look at each other all the time. Apparently this is normal. Apparently humans make eye contact to connect, flirt, bond, communicate, intimidate, or awkwardly avoid each other at Walmart.

I’ve never really experienced that.

I just “estimate” where someone is looking. My superpower is “eye contact by vibes.”

With the glasses?

I’ll have to adjust. I’ll have to re-learn social cues. I’ll have to memorize facial expressions like flashcards

This one is happiness.

This one is sarcasm.

This one means they think your joke was weird but they’re trying to be polite.

This one is Sheena telling you you bought the wrong milk again.

It’s exciting and scary. Because I’ve lived 30+ years in a world where everyone kind of looked the same. And now?Everyone will be different.

Real.Detailed.Human.

A new world.

Chapter Five Learning Faces Like It’s School Again

I’m genuinely nervous about the whole “learning faces” thing. Most people do this as babies. Babies stare at faces all day, drooling, absorbing information, imprinting on the world like tiny interns in the office of life.

Me?

I’m about to do that as a grown man.

I’m going to be standing there, looking at someone, and they’re going to be like

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

And I’ll be like:

“Oh. Sorry. I’m studying you.”

Which, by the way, is a great way to never get invited to a neighbourhood barbecue again.

It’s going to take time for me to understand things like

a genuine smile

a fake smile

a sad smile

a “you’re embarrassing yourself” smile

a “dad please stop talking” smile (my kids will use this one a lot)

People will say

“J.R., you’re making a weird face.”

And I’ll say

“So are you! Who taught you that one?!”

But I’m excited. It’s new. It’s an adventure. It’s scary but the good kind of scary. Like roller coasters, or parenting, or eating gas-station sushi.

Chapter Six Growing Up Without Focus (The Orange Juice Story)

Growing up, kids loved making fun of each other. It’s the unofficial Olympics of childhood.

And one insult that really got me was

“You’re so dumb, when the orange juice said ‘concentrate’ you stared at it for an hour.”

At the time, I thought

“Wow. That’s rude.”

Now I think

“Honestly? That’s a pretty solid joke. Wish I thought of it.”

Kids can be cruel, but sometimes… Sometimes they land a good punchline.

And hey look at me now. A grown man who laughs for a living. A grown man who tells stories about his childhood pain and turns it into comedy shows. A grown man who knows that humour heals even the painful stuff.

So to the kid who said that Congratulations. You verbally roasted me into the comedian I became.

Chapter Seven The Joke of Focus And Why I’m Okay With That

So here’s the truth

Being focused is a joke. At least the way most people define it.

But not in a sad way. In a “reality is funny if you’re willing to laugh at it” way.

I get distracted. My brain goes everywhere. I’m blind, I have ADHD, I’m a comedian brother, my thoughts are basically squirrels with microphones.

But focus isn’t just staring at something. Focus is what you choose to care about.

I care about people. I care about community. I care about sharing laughter. I care about helping others feel less alone. I care about the world even the blurry version of it.

And soon I’ll care about the not-so-blurry version, too.

Chapter Eight Thank You for Focusing on This Blog

If you’re still reading this?

First of all, congratulations you deserve a cookie. A sugar-free one if you’re on a journey with me.

Second, thank you.

Thank you for caring enough to sit through the chaos of my thoughts. Thank you for supporting Blind Guy Comedy. Thank you for helping keep my website alive, because yes Google is absolutely knocking on the door like an angry landlord.

Running a website isn’t cheap, and if you enjoy these long blogs, the storytelling, the comedy, and the journey I’m on…

Consider buying a coffee. It’s five bucks. It keeps this site running. It keeps the stories coming. It keeps Google Ads away like I’m holding a holy shield made of caffeine.

One coffee a day keeps Google Ads at bay. That’s the slogan. Keep me online, keep this blog free, keep the laughs coming.

Focus Isn’t What You Think It Is

Here’s what I’ve learned and what I hope you take away from this 5,000-word ramble

Focus isn’t about doing one thing perfectly. Focus is about caring deeply about the things that matter to you.

And if you care even a little you’re focused enough.

I might not focus the way textbooks want me to. I might not focus the way sighted people do. I might not focus on the same details others see.

But I focus where it counts.

On people.On connection. On kindness. On laughter.On community.

And soon thanks to the new glasses I’ll have a whole new world to focus on.

And maybe, just maybe… For the first time in my life…

I’ll see it clearly.