This place is magical. I’ve never been here, but I’ve been here every night. It’s always the same: a huge stage with a desk and a podium on the left side and a red curtain and a fake stable on the right side. Every night a robot skeleton, a fake horse, and a man come in and add that spark. They have the magic that makes me laugh, informs me about things I never would’ve thought of before, and brings me closer to my mom and to myself. When I was in high school we would tape the show every night, and then Mom let me watch the monologue while getting ready for school the next day. It made getting ready early in the morning so much easier, and as we laughed and discussed the material, we learned more about each other. We understood each other on a new level. I didn’t fit in during my early years of high school, but watching the morning monologues, I knew that at least two people understood me: my mom in my own home and the foreign man in LA. Then I transferred to a new school, and I got it. I learned the biggest lesson: You don’t have to fit in. It’s OK to stand out. People will like you better and more honestly for being the person you really are than they ever would if you were fake. That’s what the self-described “creepy foreigner” was saying all along: All you have to be is you.