Music helped me, growing up: it very much felt like a companion and made me less lonely.

Hymns have always sounded like sung spells to me. I never felt included in the magic of the God songs I heard growing up - I knew I was going to hell before anyone ever told me that I was. People found comfort in this all-knowing source, but I felt frightened and found out. I developed some weird and very dramatic complexes.

I keep making the music I do because I feel very purposeful about making things that would be helpful or quell some loneliness in people. I really needed that when I listened to music growing up and even now, so I don't mind that sense of duty.

I've had people send messages that said, 'I'm sorry how I treated you in high school.' It was just through kindness. I still think of the world the same way I did growing up. When I got hurt, I decided that this is how people are. But the world is changing, and even those people have changed. And I have. I need to let go, too.

I grew up in a family that was very barbed and difficult, and there was a lot of humor. None of it was painless humor. All of it was at someone else's expense. It was kind of always about power.

Sometimes I'll be sitting with my friends; I'll say something Koothrappali-esque and make a face. There is a lot of Koothrappali in me as a human being. A lot of mannerism, humor, mischievousness, my innocence. So I don't know if I bring him home so much as I bring myself to him at work.

We're going to continue to focus on family comedies because that is something that our audience really comes to ABC for. But at the same time, we're going to push the boundaries of what a family comedy actually means.

I've been doing comedy since I was two. You know, kids who make other kids laugh. The sickness had set in! I could make my friends' parents laugh; I had a sense of what was silly and funny.