a leap in the dark...

[Lisa P]

All growth is a leap in the dark, a spontaneous, unpremeditated act without the benefit of experience.
- Henry Miller

I taped this quote to my computer probably a year before my head knew what my heart was planning to do. About six months ago, my heart sprung the news. Actually, my head had a clue by that point, so it was not that hard to leave a marriage of almost a quarter century and strike out on my own. I don’t know how I would have made it if I had not discovered improv. I may go into that in more detail later, but, then again, I may not feel the need. Suffice it to say, improv is saving me, and teaching me how to be myself. I don’t know you all, but I’m willing to bet I’m not alone there.

We had an amazing practice tonight. Ross, we were all there - every damn one of us. You would have been proud. And we had a blast. Next week when we start Level 2 we will knock your socks off. Bill Cochran is a genius (well, so are you, but I’ll save the brown-nosing for class).

It probably helped that I saw both Everest and Shackleford’s Antarctic Adventure at the IMAX last weekend, but there was one point in class, just a minute or so, that I was actually hanging maybe 60 feet off the ground off a rock face, yelling down at Pete. It was pretty scary. It was awesome!!

Later, at Linda’s, we all got into this great discussion about the future of improv in the Triangle, and we got pretty jazzed about it. That’s when Jen and I agreed to start journals. Tonight. Forgive my drunken effort, but I did promise. We talked about how we want to bridge the gap between the short formers and the long formers here. We will be the “new generation” Triangle improvers. Yeah, I know. I sound tipsy. I reelly love you, man. Yu're my besh fren.

Seriously, I wonder where I’m going. Early on I asked Ross if it would be confusing to try to learn long form and short form at the same time. He said no, it was good to learn as much as I could (or something like that; I was drunk at the time). Having finished Level 1 and 2 at ComedyWorx, and DSI Level 1, and having seen a bazillion (I am exaggerating, of course) ComedyWorx shows, and a number of Zygote shows. I can tell you that I am already bored with the ComedyWorx stuff. I’ve seen all the bits, heard all the rhymes. Not that I could get up there and do it. I know that’s different, but I know there is more out there. I will audition again for the ComedyWorx associate league (I was robbed the first time, ROBBED, I tell ya!) I know it will be fun, but I know there is a lot more out there. I look forward to the adventure.

 

[Lisa P]

Get out of my head!

Man, I had shitty day today. I started out the morning having to turn down an opportunity for a free workshop at ComedyWorx tomorrow night because my daughter is in a play. Now there is no way anyone will fault me for that. She has been around there longer than I have, but I felt like I was letting someone down. I’m not even sure who. Probably feeling guilty about the last post. It wasn’t intended to dis ComedyWorx, which has been a great source of fun and friendship for me, but a friend read it that way. So now I was obsessing over the fact that someone won’t like me, maybe everyone won’t like me. I might as well start eating worms right now.

Next thing you know, I’d transferred the whole guilt thing to work, where I was sure I had disappointed my boss, my co-workers, the Dean, and probably the President as well. Yea, she hates me too, or would if she knew who the hell I was. Then I started that ridiculous imaginary argument in my head. You know the one. What if that person says this? Then I’ll just say that. Then they will say this, and I’ll have to answer that. Well then that person will tell all the other people such and such, and that’s just bullshit! Well I’ll show them! I will quit! That’s what I’ll do. But first I’ll mess something up. I don’t know what, but I’ll think of something good. They’ll be sorry then!

Thank God I stopped myself from sending the nasty-gram to the President asking her who the fuck she thinks she is, anyway, talking about me like that. That bitch! (For the record, she is one of my heroes, a very cool lady, and not a bitch at all. Well, she may be a bitch. I only met her once, and she was very nice to me, but you never know. I choose to believe she is not a bitch.)

Went to lunch with my sister, who was very patient with my ramblings. I love my sister. She is not a bitch, either. In fact, she is the one who introduced me to President Nan. I told my daughter how mean everybody in my head was. She just said, “Fuck you, Jerry Seinfeld!” She is the voice of reason. Thank God she is not insane like her mother. Yet.

 

[Lisa P]

I guess I do feel the need to talk about it

I am feeling much better after yesterday’s psychotic episode. Visited Dr. Irene’s Verbal Abuse Website to remind myself of the lessons I thought I had internalized about codependency, guilt and boundaries. I need to remember that even though I have made great progress, I still have a long way to go. I was so wrapped up in my codependent marriage, I didn’t realize how much it affected the rest of my life until I left the marriage. Now I must learn to set my boundaries elsewhere as well. It’s not that the other people in my life would try to cross the boundaries (well, I let my boss do it regularly), but I wind up feeling that desperate need to please and the guilt when I think I have displeased someone, even if it’s all in my head and not being demanded by the people around me. I’m violating my own boundaries, or would be, if I’d set any. Boundaries work in both directions.

This makes me think of something Bill said at practice Monday – he sees a lot of “yes” and not enough “and”. Emily said the same thing in a different, not quite complete way after the ComedyWorx workshops – that I was really good at accepting offers. That makes a lot of sense. I was a “good” child in a codependent family, and then I married and helped create my very own codependent family. I have always made it my job to say yes, and to make it work, but I never allowed myself to contribute anything on my own - that would never do. That was my controlling narcissist’s job, and he did it well (I’m not calling him names, that’s just who he is). Anything I contributed was never good enough, and I was punished emotionally for trying to steal his thunder. It was not all his fault. I allowed it to happen.

So now I see this. What do I do with it? I must give myself permission to fuck my fear. I must remind myself that I decided not to give anyone, including myself, permission to punish me emotionally, and that the people I’m learning improv from and with are not going to punish me anyway. They are wonderful, patient people.

I am thankful for the friends who push me beyond my comfort zone, and I am thankful for the friends who support me when I get scared because I’m not comfortable, and who throw me the life preserver when I have gone off the deep end and don’t know how to get back to reality. You all know who you are, and if you don’t, I will make sure to thank you in person.
http://www.drirene.com/

 

[Lisa P]

Not that I'm biased or anything...

My daughter was wonderful in her play. The other kids were good, too. Clayton and Philip are always fun to watch, and this was the first time I got to see them in a scripted show. They are great, talented kids.

There was a fashion show, too, and Joanna was the most graceful and poised of all the girls (except for that split second where she almost walked off the edge of the runway – I’ve got to get her some contact lenses). I have always joked that she could wear anything and look great, and she proved me right last night. She modeled a top she designed and made out of duct tape. It looked great! I’m not kidding!

Joanna is a beautiful young woman – confident and self-possessed. I envy her. She is always so comfortable in her skin. She was born that way. She went through the usual shy toddler, separation anxiety stage early – between the ages of 3 months and 6 months. After that, the world was her oyster. I am blessed to have been chosen by God to raise her.

I have become aware that Tuesday’s imaginary rampage apparently included some very real passive-aggressive behavior as well. I sent out several emails on behalf of my boss - from her account. The salutation in one, sent to a major donor, went out as “Dear.” Not “Dear Mr. So & So” or “Dear John” or “Dear Sir”, just “Dear”. While the donor may be charmed by the personal touch this seems to indicate, my boss will undoubtedly be confused when said donor presents her with flowers and candy at their next meeting. On the other hand, maybe it will inspire him to give us a gift. I will not get credit for this if it happens, hence the passive-aggressive behavior. So now I am haunting my boss’s email account, watching to intercept any response like “Why darling, I never knew you felt that way!” or “How dare you address me in such a familiar manner? The very cheek!” or “Your assistant is a moron.”

I’m also pretty sure I broke the new copier Tuesday. I moved one of the trays to reach behind it, and it made a noise that caused me to realize that maybe the tray wasn’t designed to move that way. It didn’t seem any the worse for wear at the time, but today it is hanging crookedly from the side of the copier. It looks quite pitiful, really. There is a note telling people it’s already been called in, and the note does not say “Look what Lisa did!” so I guess nobody saw me. I must try to avoid self-destructing when I have a bad day.

 

[Lisa P]

Right out of the blue

Tee hee. Someone asked me out on a date. First time in 24 years I’ve been asked out. It’s not someone I’m romantically attracted to, but he is a really nice man, whose company and conversation I always enjoyed. He was my boss at my last job, and we used to chat often at lunch – he is a fellow Star Trek fan. It will probably be a week or two before our schedules actually allow a night out, but I look forward to it, as I already know he is pleasant company and someone I trust. A nice, safe first date. I can deal with that.

I have to start thinking about dating, I guess. What am I looking for? I don’t think I want to get seriously involved with anyone for a while. I don’t have the emotional resources for that yet, and I don’t want to throw myself into another unhealthy relationship, so I need to be careful. I will have rules – I’ve already started working on them:

Rule #1 – (this one is for me, and is the most important) I must set boundaries.

Rule #2 – He must respect me and my boundaries.

Rule #3 – He must appreciate improv. He doesn’t have to perform it, or even want to learn, but I will not abandon my interest because of any man.

Rule #4 – He must be a really, really good kisser.

My ex was a lousy kisser. I used to like kissing, but I had given up years ago on ever being kissed well again, and it made me sad. Recently, a friend reminded me that there are men out there who can kiss well. Ideally, they will be the kind of kisses you see in the movies – the kind that leave one breathless and weak in the knees. Maybe that is too much to ask, but I will set my standards high, as they are mine to set.

 

[Lisa P]

She dreams in color

I usually remember my dreams. I used to assume everyone did, but most of the people I know do not remember their dreams. How sad for them. I have lots of vivid dreams, mostly in color, and I enjoy my dreams, even the occasional scary ones. When I dream about someone I know, I feel like I need to tell them about it. They do not usually want to hear about it, and tend to think it’s creepy, but I feel like I’m being dishonest somehow if I don’t tell them. I guess that is strange. Of course, I don’t tell people if I have embarrassing dreams about them. That would be creepy. If you are ever talking to me one day and notice that I seem to have trouble making eye contact with you, well, now you know why.

I had a dream last Saturday night that is sticking with me. It had that “important” quality I have come to recognize as my mind’s way of telling me to look at something. I have carried it around with me all week, and I still think it has something to tell me. I even wrote it in my paper journal (yes, I am keeping secrets from you), but I don’t think I’m done with it yet. Maybe if I put it here, it will help. Feel free to fast forward if you hate dream sequences.

I dreamed that I came home and found that my apartment had been painted, re-carpeted and redecorated, and the management told me that I had to move Wednesday because someone else was moving in. They seemed to think I should be ok with this, and even happy about it, so I went along with it at first. I noticed that they had even carpeted the fireplace. They said it was cleaner that way. That upset me, because I love my fireplace. I looked out on my little deck, and I got sad, because I had been looking forward to the nice weather so I could sit out on my deck, and now I wouldn't get to enjoy it. I started crying so hard I couldn't talk, and I was trying to tell everyone I didn't want to leave, but nobody seemed to care. I looked around and saw that there was all new furniture. I wondered where all my furniture was. That upset me, too, because some of the things I have belonged to my great-grandmother, and I treasure them.

Then Joanna was there, and she was telling me that she liked the new furniture, and she showed me that my furniture had all been moved into rooms I didn't even know I had. Everything was arranged beautifully, and I decided I would not let anyone make me move, and that I was going to keep all the new furniture, too. I didn't know if I could afford it, but I would figure out a way. I immediately started ripping out the carpet in the fireplace so I could light fires when I felt like it, even though I discovered that one of the rooms I hadn't known about also had a fireplace. I announced to everyone that they could not just evict me. I had not done anything wrong. I was staying.

I know there is something here. Just typing it made me want to cry - particularly the part where Joanna showed me the rooms I didn't know I had. In my other journal, I made some observations, but they aren’t very satisfying when I re-read them. Maybe I should just forget about it for now. The answer will come to me.

 

[Lisa P]

Edith Keeler must die

My son just stopped by to wish me a happy Mother’s Day. It was nice – I really did not expect to see him. We put the “fucked up” in dysfunctional. Josh was born just two days after my eighteenth birthday, and he suffered for it. I wish I had been a better mom for him, but I didn’t know how. I tried really hard, and did the best I could, but it was not enough. I don’t feel guilty about it, but I feel sad about it. To paraphrase Maya Angelou, I did then what I knew how to do, and when I knew better, I did better.

Josh is a brilliant young man, who is very skillful at survival and making bad situations work out somehow. I wish I could do something to make him happier and less restless, but I think he would be restless no matter how he had been raised. That’s just who he is. The controlling narcissist is his stepfather, and was hard on him from the time he was two. As much damage as it did to me, I can’t imagine how Josh must have struggled to cope.

I wish I had had the courage to pick him up and walk out way back then, but there’s no point in that. As screwed up as I am, one thing I make a point of is never looking back. You can’t change your past, so looking back and second-guessing yourself is just mental masturbation, and not very satisfying at that.

Besides, every good Trekker knows that if you change even one small thing in history, the whole future gets all fucked up. It’s just not something you want to do, even if you could, which you can’t, because if you did go back and you succeeded, you wouldn’t have known to go back to change anything, so you wouldn’t have gone back, and therefore couldn’t have succeeded. I’m probably not explaining this right. I slept through temporal mechanics at the Academy. The professor was dull as shit. Jennings – you could probably explain it better, I’m sure.

 

[Lisa P]

Sometimes you have to get your own glass of water

A family therapist told me years ago that my habit of dealing with strong emotion by filing it away to deal with later (when I had the time and energy, ha ha) would exact a high price when the filing cabinet got too full. You were right, Victor. Fiddle-dee-dee.

Watching a shared monolog about a father berating his three year old son for wasting his life was not as much fun for me as it might have been for the others. It was not as outrageous as some might think. It was chillingly close to a rant once directed toward my then four year old son. How could I have allowed it? I was afraid.

I found a flaw in my previous pep talk about giving myself permission to fuck my fear. The first thing I need to do is give myself permission to give myself permission. I still keep waiting for someone else to do it. I am sorry I made that your responsibility. It is my responsibility.

I am afraid. I am afraid that what I contribute will be inadequate, unacceptable, so I contribute nothing. Don’t hand me the horseshoe. Hit me over the head with it next time.

I envy Jen’s ability to use her emotions. She can play a character that is curled up on the floor sobbing. I am afraid I would simply wind up curled up on the floor sobbing. No fun to be had there. Move me into a corner, get me a glass of water and try to pretend I’m not there.

Tonight I have a ComedyWorx workshop. I am looking forward to it, because the group had a lot of fun together. I don’t know how many of us will be there. We all wanted to continue, but we lost momentum because we were left hanging for so long without any communication about the audition and our future in workshops. Nevertheless, I will take advantage of opportunity to work on giving myself permission.

I know some of my friends worry about me. I have a friend who can just look at my eyes, even when I am smiling, and know that I need a hug. It helps. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, because he knows I will talk about it if I have to. Don’t worry about me. I will be alright, I promise.

I am afraid, but do not mistake this for vulnerability or delicacy. I am strong and resilient and not as easily injured as you may think.

 

[Lisa P]

Self improv-ment

I had a lot of fun at the workshop last night. Four of the original seven of us made it back. We spent a lot of time talking, since we had specifically asked for feedback, but we did get to practice some scene work. We were rusty since it’s been over a month since we’ve been together, and I remained trapped in my head for most of the night. We’ll get together again next Tuesday and will have more time to actually do some improv then. After that we may get another chance to audition. I will give it my all.

To be fair to myself, I was operating on less than four hours of sleep. Sleep has been a real issue for me the past couple of months. I can’t seem to shut down – there is so much rattling around in my head. I guess that’s why I have trouble finding my way out of there. It got a lot better when I started writing stuff down. The rattling transfers to the page, and is much less disruptive. Not all the rattling is unpleasant, by the way. A lot of it has been quite nice.

Improv is not helpful with the sleep problem. It is often what starts the rattling. Sometimes Joanna and I will sit up talking about improv until way too late. She is in the high school league at ComedyWorx, and she started Ross’s DSI Level One 1 class last night. She’s the one who got me started improving in the first place. We have a lot of fun discussing scenes and characters and what works and what doesn’t and who said/did what funny thing and the different thought processes needed for improv vs. scripted plays and on and on into the night. Hey, my 16 year old daughter wants to talk to me. A lot of moms can’t say that. I’m not ever taking that for granted. We have fun, and it’s worth the lost sleep.

Spell check keeps wanting to autocorrect “improv” to read “improve”. That sounds about right.

 

[Lisa P]

You just can't trust squirrels these days

I am tired. I just don’t give a shit today. Someone hit Joanna’s car and broke the tail light. The note they left must have been stolen by squirrels, I guess. Fuckin’ squirrels. Can’t trust a one of ‘em.

I told the boss I’m taking a personal day tomorrow. It’ll do me good. I will try to catch up on some sleep, and I will walk the dog around the lake. Then I will finish fixing up my little deck. I sat out there and read a little while last night, and it was really nice. I have a whole bunch of candles out there, and I lit them all and listened to some Delirium. Quite relaxing.

I have a little water garden out there with a water lily in it, and I’m going to put in a new filter and get some more fish. The two I had in there died in the last cold snap – it was really way too early. I buy cheap fish – I think of them more like fresh flowers than pets, since they tend to die quickly. Whenever I have one that lives for a long while, I name it, and then I am devastated when it dies. I still mourn Elvis, the blue suede gourami. He apparently decided he had nothing to live for, and he jumped out of the tank while I was cleaning it. I didn’t even see him until the next day. Poor guy.

 

[Lisa P]

Naked domestic goddess

YAY! Sleep. I feel much better. I was beginning to look like a raccoon. You know, all hairy and walking around on all fours looking into the neighbors’ trashcans. Seriously, I was way too sleep deprived, and had gone far beyond just dark circles under my eyes.

Got some good, solid sleep, with lots of great dreams. In one dream, I was apologizing to an authority figure who would not accept the apology, and he was really obnoxious about it. I told him that I would not apologize for him not accepting my apology. That may sound confusing, but victims of abuse (physical and verbal) become convinced that they are somehow responsible for the unacceptable behavior of their abusers. Very important dream for me.

And there will be someone I will have trouble making eye contact with later.

It looks like rain, so I ditched the dog walk idea. I like walking in the rain – it’s good for what ails ya’ – but being dragged in the rain by a 90 lb., easily distracted, lunatic dog is not so relaxing.

Instead, I did some much needed naked apartment cleaning. The cleaning was much needed. The nakedness was a bonus. I don’t know why it is that naked housework is so much more satisfying.

I haven’t a clue what to do with myself tonight. I didn’t hear from Charles. I could call him, but I’ve decided not to. I’m not really interested enough to pursue him, and I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. I guess I will go down to ComedyWorx as usual. Hopefully Toba’s Revenge and Typhoid Mary will play. There have not been enough audience members the last couple of weeks, and that’s a damn shame, because they’re worth watching.

Joanna is spending the night with friends and I will be all alone. I don’t mind being alone when I know she is coming home, but when she isn’t, I get lonesome. What will I do when she goes off to college? I have never lived alone. Something else I have to learn how to do.

Oh well, I’m off to get some fish. I will tell you their names later, if they live.

 

[Lisa P]

Aren't you somebody?

A friend just gave me some good advice. I was worrying about someone else’s problem, and he told me how he has spent too much of his life doing that, and that he decided to be more selective about whose problems he internalizes and which problems of theirs he address personally. I have my own issues to work out, and I should be more selective about what I choose to internalize. Truth be known, I think internalizing someone else's problems is a way to avoid dealing with my own. Can you say ‘codependent’? Whoop, there it is!

I went to ComedyWorx last night for the 8:30 show. It was fun, but the audience was just bleh. They offered great suggestions, and participated, but they didn’t clap or share any energy at all. The players tried their best to energize them – Jorin was all over the place, and so were Jen and Larry – but it didn’t seem to help. Philip’s folks and I tried to clap hard enough for the whole audience, but we were only three, and just couldn’t do it by ourselves. Oh well. I was raised to appreciate it when people are working to entertain me. Funny thing was, it really did seem like they were enjoying the show. They just didn’t have the manners to applaud. And, again, no one hung around for the Zygote except me and the O’Bryans, so there was no show. We went to Jorin & Sarah’s to play Apples to Apples instead. Much fun. Many thanks to our hosts.

Had another dream last night that is sticking to my brain. I didn’t intend for this to turn into a dream journal, but it’s as good a place as any. I dreamed I looked in the mirror and noticed that my new tattoo had faded so much that you could barely see it. I was really aggravated, because I love my tattoo. It’s one of those things I always wanted to do, but didn’t feel like I was “allowed”. It’s a pretty thing – a Celtic knot about 4 ½ inches across, green, fading into yellow at the center, right in the middle of my upper back. Anyway, there wasn’t really much more to the dream than that, but I think it has something to do with fearing the loss of the new found independence that I am still so afraid of.

Well, I have to go get ready for the Duke Children’s Classic dinner and show. My sister gets tickets every year, and she always brings me. We have fun celebrity spotting. A lot of the people are athletes, so I don’t know who they are, though they all look familiar, but there are some show biz types there, too. Nobody to get really excited about, but it’s fun. We did stand near Lewis Black last year, and I hung out at the sushi table with James B. Sikking (he didn’t know we were hanging out - he was just stuffing sushi in his face). He is a lot shorter than he looked on Hill Street Blues. He played a Federation starship captain once, too, I think. Jeff Foxworthy is always there, too. I’ll tell you tomorrow if I see anybody worth mentioning.

 

[Lisa P]

Life is full of patterns

Ho, hum, no celebrities worth mentioning at dinner last night. The show was great. Branford Marsalis performed, and was awesome, and Jo Dee Messina (Bring on the Rain – one of my current theme songs). Jeff Foxworthy hosts the show every year. His redneck jokes crack me up because about every other one of them applies directly to someone in my family.

I feel like have got to do something about the inertia gripping my life lately. It took all the strength I had to pick up and leave home. Now that I’m free, I don’t seem to know which direction to go. I don’t know how to act without someone telling me what to do. I’m just drifting aimlessly. Maybe that’s what I need to do right now. Just ‘be’ for a little while, and not try to take off in any particular direction.

I used to spend as much spare time as I could quilting. I would escape to my sewing room and just zone out on the work for a couple of hours. The ex really resented the time I spent doing it. It was ‘me’ time, and not ‘him’ time. The last year or so, he usually made it so unpleasant to try to take time for myself that I just didn’t even bother. One of the things I looked forward to doing after I moved out was spending all the time I wanted quilting. I don’t think I’ve spent a total of two hours on it in six months. Why is that, I wonder?

About the only thing I’m feeling driven to do right now is improv. I knew from the moment I started the first workshop that this was going to help me reclaim myself. It just felt so right. It still feels right, even when I’m feeling like I really suck at it – which happens a lot. Every once in a while, though, I do something that feels good, and I know I can’t give up.


I thought I had finished this entry and since no title jumped out at me, I figured I’d look in a little book I have about quilts to find a quote that seemed to fit. Look what I found:

“I’d rather do a crazy quilt; you don’t waste anything that way, and they’re easier too. You just pick up the pieces and start sewing them together… crazy quilts make their own patterns, whether you try to or not. A color here picks up a color there, and it seems more interesting sometimes than knowing how the whole thing’s going to look from the first time you make the first block.”

Hmmm. I guess I’ve been interested in improv longer than I thought.

 

[Lisa P]

Have foot, need glass slipper

A little girl, dressed in her Sunday best, was running as fast as she could, trying not to be late for Bible class. As she ran she prayed, "Dear Lord, please don't let me be late! Dear Lord, please don't let me be late!" While she was running and praying, she tripped on a curb and fell, getting her clothes dirty and tearing her dress. She got up, brushed herself off, and started running again. As she ran she once again began to pray, "Dear Lord, please don't let me be late...But please don't shove me either!"

I got an email from the ex today giving me his new address and phone number. That means the house is sold and he has moved out. That was harder news than I expected it would be. I was promised a happily ever after, damn it!

Today I am happy for friends who are on their way to happily ever after. You will have it, because you know how to take care of yourselves, and you know it is about making your scene partner look good. It gives me hope that my happily ever after is out there, too, waiting for me to find it.

Much love and many blessings, Ross & Heidi!

 

[Lisa P]

They're crayfish (you had to be there)

DSI class last night felt really good. I needed that. I’ve been feeling like an anchor lately. I don’t mean in a good, stabilizing kind of way. I mean in a drag everyone down and keep them from moving forward kind of way. Last night I felt like I was not as hesitant as I have been in past classes, though I’m still a long way from where I need to be.

One thing I’ve noticed is that even though I may not feel great about what I’m doing, I never feel bad about notes. I love the notes, and I can’t wait to hear what Ross has to tell me. It doesn’t feel like criticism. It feels like building blocks. Sometimes it takes me a few times to get it, but I really want to get it.

Tonight at ComedyWorx I realized that I have been learning and growing, even if it’s not as fast as I want to. It was pretty awesome to find myself doing and saying things without over thinking everything. At one point my scene partner was completely at a loss as to what he was doing, so I just told him, and it was easy! Everyone in my DSI class who has watched me stand staring and waiting for someone else to do the work will be amazed to read this. Don’t expect too much too soon, guys. Baby steps. I’m working on it - I’ll get there (if CeCe stops picking on me).

I notice that having the CWx workshop the night after DSI seems to help. It’s like I’ve had some time to digest what I learned and a chance to apply it while it’s still fresh in my mind – something to think about as we talk about starting up a practice group.

I’m very happy about improv today, and totally in love with all my classmates. Sorry if I’ve been holding you back, but I really appreciate the fact that you haven’t cut me loose. You’re the best! See you at the bonfire!!!

 

[Lisa P]

You can't have anything nice

Well, shit. No more Zygote. This after hearing that ComedyWorx may not last. Now I’ll have to drive to Chapel Hill for my improv fix. Not that I wasn’t already planning to do that – I’m doing it now, but it’s nice to have options.

I’m not sure why the Zygote took the skin off anybody’s nose anyway. It’s not like any money was spent on advertising. I don’t know anything about running a business (despite the fact that I work at a top ranked business school – no small wonder I’m unhappy there), but I can’t imagine that keeping the lights on for a couple of hours costs all that much. Maybe I’m being naive.

I am disappointed in the people at CWx. The Zygote performers were their friends and teammates. They should have been supported – can’t you people support your friends? Don’t you people realize what a gift you have here? Read Gypsy’s question thread – there are people out there who do not have the resources you have, and they still love improv. They would LOVE to be able to see what you took for granted. Shame on you! Shit, the main supporters lately have been Chris and me (two people who weren’t good enough for CWx, but we still felt like we wanted to be there to be supportive and have fun) and the O’Bryan’s, who just plain ROCK. Oh well. Whatever.

It’s been that kind of day, anyway. I hate my job. My life (in between improv classes) is boring. Yeah, I know – if you’re bored, that must mean you’re boring. Whatever. Thank God for my workshops, or I’d just shrivel up and die from being so boring.

We’re told we will have another chance to audition for the associate league at ComedyWorx in the next week or so. I would really enjoy that, but I am not going to get too excited about it. Once burned, twice shy. I’ll do my best and have fun. That’s all the emotion I’m committing to it. I don’t have any to spare right now.

 

[Lisa P]

Mr. Livingston, I presume.

Now I’ve got myself thinking about being bored/boring. Up until recently I hadn’t been bored in, oh, about 20 years or so. Hmmm. It makes me think about my role in my abusive marriage. I hated that whole pattern of abuse and avoidance. I hated walking on eggshells all the time. I dreaded that feeling of tension building up before each verbal attack, and the chronic feeling of despair that resulted from the constant little “you’re not good enough” jabs.

But it was never boring.

What does this say about my participation in the abuse pattern? Did I encourage it? I don’t think I encouraged it. That is the kind of thinking that abusers use – “I hit her because she just wouldn’t fucking listen”. That was actually the punch line to a favorite joke of his, and was punctuated by punching his fist into his palm. He never, ever hit me physically, but words and behavior can be just as destructive.

Did I allow it because it relieved the boredom? I wonder. I have known people who have crisis after crisis, and it seems like they often subtly engineer those crises to make life more interesting. It’s like they are addicted to the excitement.

What I went through wasn’t exciting, though – it was grueling, and it was heart wrenching. But it was never boring. I was constantly trying to think of ways to try to please him, or to avoid angering him. Constantly trying to anticipate his wants and needs in an effort to head off the inevitable criticism of my inadequacy as a wife/mother/cook/housekeeper/woman/person – whatever the theme of the day might be.

I am incredibly relieved that I no longer put myself through that. It’s been a couple of months since I was last drawn into an abusive conversation with him, and I firmly drew my boundary and told him that I would not allow him to cross it. He tried, and I ended the conversation and did not allow it to be restarted. The effect was amazing. I didn’t hear from him again until last week, and he tested the boundary, but did not attempt to cross it. It was good. It was very good.

But I fear that I may allow myself to fall into familiar patterns again. Not with him. There is no way in hell I will walk back into that relationship again. But he didn’t start abusing me all at once. It was a gradual, subtle thing. Will I allow someone else to do it to me?

Time to start working on making myself less boring. I have spent too many years thinking the only interesting things about my life were the other people in it. And they were interesting. My ex is a really interesting person. Charming and handsome. Lots of great stories. He was a firefighter, and an anti-terrorism trainer. He wrote the National Guard’s terrorism response training manual. No shit.

It was easy to lose myself. It will not be so easy to find myself. I’ve been lost for two decades. But I’m in here somewhere. And I’m probably not as boring as I think I am, if I will take responsibility for making myself less so.

 

[Lisa P]

Here's looking at you, kid.

Today was a good day. I always say it’s a good day when I turn on the TV and Mel Gibson is on. Really, I actually say that. When Joanna is in another room and hears me say, “It’s a good day” she knows Mel Gibson is on. Today it was “Bird on a Wire”. Silly movie, but there’s some nice Mel beefcake in it. Since he started to direct, he doesn’t show his ass anymore. Pity.

It was an extra good day today, though. I went to Wal-Mart (after the movie, of course) and there in the discount dvd bin I found not one, but two Mel Gibson movies – Forever Young (very nice ass shot) and Road Warrior (ahh, I love the classics).

I love movies in general. They don’t even have to be that great. I just like movies. When I really like a movie, I don’t have any trouble at all watching it over and over. One of my favorite things to watch on TV on a Saturday afternoon is “Overboard” (another silly piece of fluff). I bought the dvd from the discount bin, but I’ve never watched it. It’s only fun to watch if you find it on TV on a weekend afternoon. Hey, I don’t make the rules.

I have a pretty big movie collection. I haven’t had a lot of time lately to sit and watch them, but every once in a while I will just veg out and watch movies. I’ll usually do a theme – all Mel Gibson, all chick flicks, all Star Trek, etc. Once I get in a mood, I don’t want to shift gears.

I have two favorite movies. Casablanca and Blade Runner. An odd combination, I know, and two movies you’ll NEVER find when you turn on the TV.

I don’t know why I love Blade Runner. I know it has a cult following, and I could probably go online and find all kinds of stuff, but I can’t be bothered. When I’m in the mood to watch it, I turn off all the lights, because it is a very dark film, and I just get into the mindset and enjoy it. Harrison Ford is a pretty close second to Mel Gibson, by the way, though I don’t know if we’ve ever really seen his ass.

Casablanca. What can I say about Casablanca? It is wonderful, and most of you have probably never seen it, because there aren’t any explosions or car chases. No special effects. It does have Nazis, but they don’t torture anybody or blow anything up. Nobody morphs into anything, and the only super power in evidence is the desire to sacrifice one’s own interests for the greater good. It’s just full of people talking to each other. It’s all about relationships and values and old-fashioned stuff like that.

If you will take the time to sit down and watch it, you will find that it is strangely familiar. You have heard so many of the lines without even realizing it. “Play it again, Sam” was not one of them. That line is not in the movie at all – the line is “You played it for her; you can play it for me. If she can stand it, I can. Play it.”

“Round up the usual suspects” is a familiar line that springs to mind immediately, but there are so many more. I started typing a bunch of them, but I realized I was basically typing the whole last scene. It’s been repeated so much it’s cliché now, but every time I watch it, I get caught up in it.

And Humphrey Bogart – he had it all over Mel Gibson and Harrison Ford. They WISH they were Bogey.

 

[Lisa P]

Rage? You want rage? I got your rage right here, pal.

I think I scared my classmates. I know I scared myself. Tonight’s class was all about musical improvisation. I was a little apprehensive, but looking forward to it all the same. Singing is fun and happy.

After warming up, Ross lined four of us up and asked the others to give Dave an emotion – they chose rage. Ross had Dave do rage in a variety of ways, and it was cool. He even got all red in the face. Then Billy did rage – wait a minute… we don’t each get our own? Shit. Rage. That’s in the fucking emotional filing cabinet. I do NOT want to go into that filing cabinet. Fucking Ross, reading my fucking journal. He knows this. And he knows what I need. I need access to the fucking filing cabinet.

I am not sure how long I would have screamed if Eric had not tapped me on the shoulder. I was going to a pretty dark place. I was not really aware of anything else at that point. Years ago I worked at a daycare where there was a child who would have seizures and stop breathing. Whenever it happened, we would touch his cheek and he would breathe again. That was kind of how it felt.

Now that it was loose, it was buzzing all around me like an angry swarm of bees, and I pictured myself running screaming out the door, with the swarm of bees following me. Then Ross made me do it again, but focus on him. It was hard to vent all that rage at a friendly face, but it was good to be able to vent it at a friend I know I can trust. Ross White is not afraid of raging bees.

It took me a little while to regain my composure, but I am not quite as afraid of what is in the filing cabinet now. I think the rage was the scariest thing in there, and I was able to take it out and look at it and I did not die, and I did not kill anybody.

After that, the singing was not all that difficult.

 

[Lisa P]

What do you do with a drunken improvisor earleye in the mornin?

Pete and Jen’s party Sunday night was about the most fun I’ve had in a long time. We all played and drank and slogged through the mud till the wee hours. We played Apples to Apples, the Poo version. Shitloads of fun. Then the lightweights all went into the house to sleep. CeCe, Brian and I were the only souls brave enough to stay in the slightly leaky tent, and we had more fun that everyone else put together.

We went on a journey that started with poo, traveled through the Congo, visited monkeys, camels, chocolate, Belgium, toothless Belgian men, Belgian chocolate, London and the native Londonese (whom we liked, because they were less likely to kill us than the Congolese). We staged a pre-dawn raid on the Congolese village up the hill (a potty run to Pete and Jen’s house, complete with real torches) and determined that the Congolese would probably eat poor Carlos the cat, who ran into the house, ah, village during the raid. Pete came out and shushed us, but we were having none of that! No, we were not! We were drunken British men!

I had fun at ComedyWorx tonight. I know I said I wasn’t investing too much into it, but I got to thinking about what Ross was saying last night about commitment. If we aren’t willing to commit, we shouldn’t bother doing it at all. I decided last night that if I am going to do the ComedyWorx thing, I’m going to commit to it 100%. I concentrated on doing everything as big as I could. I worked hard to say anything rather than nothing. I really tried my best, and I felt good about it. I did a couple of things I am very happy about. As a group, we didn’t always do great things (hell, we didn’t often do great things), but I tried as hard as I knew how.

Bobby arrived in the middle of the practice, which was initially disconcerting, since he is auditioning us tomorrow, but I just decided to keep doing my best and go for it. Tomorrow I will do the same thing. I will commit 100%. And then I will ask when we will hear something and make it clear that I want to know about the decision within that time frame. Depending on the decision, I will ask what the next steps are and when we can expect to move on. I feel empowered today.

I should. After all, I did single-handedly liberate the O’Bryan’s flashlight and bring it safely back to the tent. I am a national hero in Poovania.