My Perspective
- Thread starter Gator Girl
- Start date
I guess this journal entry is dedicated to Jeff Griggs. Yeah, whatever.
A lot has happened since I last wrote. The IFL had their draft pick. Which proved interesting after an unexpected tie. Which left no opening for a new General Manager. Charna graciously agreed to share her responsibilities with me. Which means I have to track everyone down. I am pretty excited.
Also, my 5B show opened. We have had two shows. Both of which I am very proud of. Our opening night was truly great. We all seemed to be on the same page. Second show wasn't as congruent but we all had a lot of fun, which the audience seemed to enjoy a great deal. I am personally pleased with myself. I performed better than I have in a while. Still didn't catch everything that I was doing that could have been stronger, but I am getting there. I am aware of it right afterwards. So I know my brain is capable of understanding. Stronger choices, here I come!
The shows were a lot of fun. And I can't wait til this friday for the next one!
Lemme see...what else. I started my improv summer camp with Miles. There are only three other people in there with me. Which is a LOT of improv. 5 hours. 4 people. Eep! I better get better.
I am taking a sabatical from Miss Hawaiian Tropic. Apparently my schedule is too conflicting for the month of July. But I will be back in full force once these classes end.
I wish vacation was longer. Or indefinate. I am stressed. But it's nothing a lot of ice cream won't fix. (Oooooh curse this lactose intolerant body!) It's nothing that eating a kitten wouldn't fix.
A lot has happened since I last wrote. The IFL had their draft pick. Which proved interesting after an unexpected tie. Which left no opening for a new General Manager. Charna graciously agreed to share her responsibilities with me. Which means I have to track everyone down. I am pretty excited.
Also, my 5B show opened. We have had two shows. Both of which I am very proud of. Our opening night was truly great. We all seemed to be on the same page. Second show wasn't as congruent but we all had a lot of fun, which the audience seemed to enjoy a great deal. I am personally pleased with myself. I performed better than I have in a while. Still didn't catch everything that I was doing that could have been stronger, but I am getting there. I am aware of it right afterwards. So I know my brain is capable of understanding. Stronger choices, here I come!
The shows were a lot of fun. And I can't wait til this friday for the next one!
Lemme see...what else. I started my improv summer camp with Miles. There are only three other people in there with me. Which is a LOT of improv. 5 hours. 4 people. Eep! I better get better.
I am taking a sabatical from Miss Hawaiian Tropic. Apparently my schedule is too conflicting for the month of July. But I will be back in full force once these classes end.
I wish vacation was longer. Or indefinate. I am stressed. But it's nothing a lot of ice cream won't fix. (Oooooh curse this lactose intolerant body!) It's nothing that eating a kitten wouldn't fix.
Whew! Well I have just survived my third round of layoffs since I started working at this agency a little over a year ago. This time I wasn't as nervous though. The first was the hardest. They didn't start telling people until the end of the day. Which means everyone had to sit and wait. And know that if 200 were being layed off, that it was a good chance it could be 'me'. I do not feel as home here as I did. And would not be heartbroken if our ties should be severed. However, the thought of losing money for rent or my health insurance is enough to keep me crossing my toes that I am not a victim of the economy. The thought occured to me though....if I lose my job today...I am going to go buy a new DVD and have fun this afternoon. I mean, it's only a week's worth of grocery money.
So now I've got it in my head that I should get headshots. Like for auditions and junk. But I don't really have any goals. I feel like I should have them on hand should any goals pop up. Like maybe I would want to be in a commercial. That would be cool. Like be the "face" that sells a million whoppers. Eh, I don't know. The people who get those things really want them. I am ambivalent. I guess I want that stuff. I just don't want to work for it. It's so uncertain. And I like my one bedroom. I like spending way too much money so I can have more than one room to walk into. I would work for it. I'd put in a hundred and ten percent. But I don't know if that's what I want. I would love to get paid a cajillion monies for a day or two of my time. But I sure as heck don't want to be famous. Being anonymous makes me happy. Not that I don't want to be appreciated for my performing. Oh I do. I love praise. Who doesn't? But I don't want strangers who have websites devoted to the whopper girl. One thing at a time. Headshots. I could use them for auditioning for plays and junk. Yay plays!
So now I've got it in my head that I should get headshots. Like for auditions and junk. But I don't really have any goals. I feel like I should have them on hand should any goals pop up. Like maybe I would want to be in a commercial. That would be cool. Like be the "face" that sells a million whoppers. Eh, I don't know. The people who get those things really want them. I am ambivalent. I guess I want that stuff. I just don't want to work for it. It's so uncertain. And I like my one bedroom. I like spending way too much money so I can have more than one room to walk into. I would work for it. I'd put in a hundred and ten percent. But I don't know if that's what I want. I would love to get paid a cajillion monies for a day or two of my time. But I sure as heck don't want to be famous. Being anonymous makes me happy. Not that I don't want to be appreciated for my performing. Oh I do. I love praise. Who doesn't? But I don't want strangers who have websites devoted to the whopper girl. One thing at a time. Headshots. I could use them for auditioning for plays and junk. Yay plays!
Goodness me. Well, I have just been assigned two new people to assist. Which brings up my assistant duties to 15. Several of them are VPs. I think I would be more annoyed if I didn't have so much goof off time due to my efficientness and disorganization. You heard me right! I am efficient. And my desk is in shambles.
I feel like that guy from Men in Black. The one that had the adorable little alien inside his head that was operating the machine of his body. Yeah. That little alien is the brilliant improviser in me. And the rest of me is merely a wall, or blocking agent. Besides, who doesn't want to see a cute little alien doing improv? I am on the edge of something. All I have holding me back is my lack of self confidence. That's all. Not a big dealio. Teehee. Yeah right. I love it when I get the advice to just be more comfortable with myself. Um yeah. That's something that a few words can help me overcome. "Hey, don't be shy" Yeah, ok. Sure! But I am working on it. I love improv so much. It scares me. Every time I do it. It scares me to get on stage in front of an audience, and it scares me to even do it in class or a rehearsal. But I love it. I dread going to class. I dread going to rehearsal. I dread going to a show. And the moment I step on stage and start a scene I am in a state of euphoria.
My 5B show this past friday was sooo much fun. I felt like I was on. I was told to get out there more. But it's such a big cast I don't want to take stage time away from other people. I am becoming armed like a bad mofo improv ninja. The summer intensive I am taking is kicking my butt. But man am I getting some great tools for my belt. In a few months when all of these ideas settle in my brain, I should be an improv force to be reckoned with. Wheeeee! That, and once I stop being shy. Man I am happy with the 5B show. Really. It'll be so sad when it ends. These are my peeps I've been working with for a year. Well, maybe I will get put on a team with some of them. My fingers and toes are crossed.
My 5B show this past friday was sooo much fun. I felt like I was on. I was told to get out there more. But it's such a big cast I don't want to take stage time away from other people. I am becoming armed like a bad mofo improv ninja. The summer intensive I am taking is kicking my butt. But man am I getting some great tools for my belt. In a few months when all of these ideas settle in my brain, I should be an improv force to be reckoned with. Wheeeee! That, and once I stop being shy. Man I am happy with the 5B show. Really. It'll be so sad when it ends. These are my peeps I've been working with for a year. Well, maybe I will get put on a team with some of them. My fingers and toes are crossed.
I've been having improv dreams again. Every so often I have very realistic dreams with people I know. I have done complete shows and improv festivals in my sleep. And they are always brilliant. Probably because everyone knows what everyone is thinking...because everyone is me! I think/hope that other improvisers do improv in their dreams.
Lately I have been skipping over the doing improv part and into the recieving notes portion of a show. I get notes for shows in my dreams. And because they are so realistic with the actual people I do shows with, and getting notes from the people I would be getting notes from, I get confused as to what really happened. Is that a scene I did, or did I dream it? Did this person tell me I need to work on my edits, or did I tell me I need to work on my edits? I realized I was doing this and getting reality mixed with neverland when I was recalling show notes with a friend. But we never recieved notes on that show because our director was not there. But I remember getting notes. In the greenroom of IO. But it never happened.
Lately I have been skipping over the doing improv part and into the recieving notes portion of a show. I get notes for shows in my dreams. And because they are so realistic with the actual people I do shows with, and getting notes from the people I would be getting notes from, I get confused as to what really happened. Is that a scene I did, or did I dream it? Did this person tell me I need to work on my edits, or did I tell me I need to work on my edits? I realized I was doing this and getting reality mixed with neverland when I was recalling show notes with a friend. But we never recieved notes on that show because our director was not there. But I remember getting notes. In the greenroom of IO. But it never happened.
I had a weird thought on the bus this morning. Or more of a grounding thought. As I was fading in an out of consciousness and envisioning a Dunkin Donuts iced coffee in my belly, I heard a cough. An annoying repetitive jerking cough from an adorable little boy sitting across from me. And of COURSE my first thought about this child was "what if he is a bomb." Logical, right? I guess that's what happens when I wake up to the news. I felt a slight wash of fear. I can't imagine what the people in the middle east must be going through. Get on a bus to go to work or school. Be blown up. Someone cleans up the shrapnel. Someone cleans up the bodies. They never know. They are just doing their thang, going to work or school. The End. I shrugged off the thought and continued my iced coffee daydream. What if that little boy who won't stop coughing is a bomb? I wanted to yell at his mother for allowing such a thing. Oh, right. Coffee.
I got stopped in the bathroom. The woman heard I was an improviser. She has hired Second City to perform at her son's Bar Mitzvah. And after overcoming the jealousy of the money this woman must make, I said yes, I do improv. But not at Second City. Then she proceeded to ask me how many people would be performing, what their names are...etc. I politely told her she should probably ask the person she booked this with. She continued. Will they be good? Yes, I am sure if this is through Second City, your son and guests will have a good time. Will they be appropriate entertainment for a Bar Mitzvah?
I wanted to say, "Look, lady. I don't know. Now take your rich jewish butt over to that toilet and use it. And stop wasting my poor jewish butt's time."
I said, "I don't know." Then I pushed her head into the sink, karate chopped her in the guts and laughed at the blood gushing from her head. No, I didn't. I merely smiled and went back to the half of a cubicle under the air vent and the flickering florescent light.
I wanted to say, "Look, lady. I don't know. Now take your rich jewish butt over to that toilet and use it. And stop wasting my poor jewish butt's time."
I said, "I don't know." Then I pushed her head into the sink, karate chopped her in the guts and laughed at the blood gushing from her head. No, I didn't. I merely smiled and went back to the half of a cubicle under the air vent and the flickering florescent light.
How interesting would it be to have a clone? For research purposes, of course. To find out how your personality would be so completely different when exposed to different life experiences, regardless of genetic predisposition. If even one little thing were different in my past, how would I be different? Like what if there wasn't a chorus at my highschool. Would I have been able to put so much focus on singing? Or if I had chosen to go to Florida State and not Univeristy of Florida. I probably wouldn't have been allowed to audition for shows as an outsider to the theatre dept. And they don't have an improv group. Atleast not like Theatre Strike Force. That was an amazing experience.
Who would my clone be without these experiences? Would she be boring? Or an accountant? Or would she have some exciting and cool profession due to her need to do something creative, and lack of any other outlet. Is creativity part of my physical makeup? Do we choose to become creative. To utilize the part of our brain that everyone has? Or are people genetically predisposed to chase their creativity.
Would my clone be shy like me? If they didn't have a brother? If they weren't teased? Or if they had been teased more, paid more attention to by their peers. So weird to think about it. About how I became who I am.
Who would my clone be without these experiences? Would she be boring? Or an accountant? Or would she have some exciting and cool profession due to her need to do something creative, and lack of any other outlet. Is creativity part of my physical makeup? Do we choose to become creative. To utilize the part of our brain that everyone has? Or are people genetically predisposed to chase their creativity.
Would my clone be shy like me? If they didn't have a brother? If they weren't teased? Or if they had been teased more, paid more attention to by their peers. So weird to think about it. About how I became who I am.
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There is a guy at work I find fascinating. His name will be Alvin for this journal. Alvin frequently invites me to go out on his boat with him. And I always say yes. Just like he always says he is coming to my shows. We both know that neither is going to happen. Atleast I hope so. Alvin is atleast in his 50s, he is overweight, scruffy and has big glasses. He is from Kentucky. He is most likely an alcoholic. I have never seen him drunk. But during our conversations about his boat, he will bring up the $200 he spent on tequila or jack the weekend before. Or how much he is craving to go home and have a six pack of beer. Alcohol comes up in nearly every conversation with him. Alvin also drives a tractor on the weekends to earn extra money. I imagine he'd need extra income spending as much he does on liquor. He likes to come to my cubicle and hide from work for a little while.
I remember about six months ago he came up to my cubicle to chat a bit. I remarked that he looked a little sad. He proceeded to tell me how his son had been shot in the head that weekend. Oh my god. How do you react to that? He told me his son was this big philanthropist and do-gooder. He sounded like a saint. Always doing for others. Then Alvin said it was some kind of conspiracy with the police. That a gang and the cops were in cahoots to wipe out this man whose only purpose in life was to make others happy. Wow. How do you react to that? I nodded and said he sounded like a fine individual and I hope they catch who was responsible. Or the long chain of people who are a part of the conspiracy get brought to justice. He said it probably would never end. That he would be involved in a battle for the rest of his life. Then he laughed and said he had spent $500 on liquor and had finished it all off. He didn't realize he had until the next day when he noticed all the bottles were empty. Poor Alvin.
And now he is in trouble with HR for harrassing another assistant. He has been telling everyone in the mail room that they have hooked up. And he found her home phone number and constantly calls her to go out with him. Did I mention he was old? And has a big ol' gut? So now HR is watching him to make sure he leaves her alone.
Alvin steals lightbulbs for me. For me to take home. I have a pile of lightbulbs under my desk. He is a very interesting person.
I remember about six months ago he came up to my cubicle to chat a bit. I remarked that he looked a little sad. He proceeded to tell me how his son had been shot in the head that weekend. Oh my god. How do you react to that? He told me his son was this big philanthropist and do-gooder. He sounded like a saint. Always doing for others. Then Alvin said it was some kind of conspiracy with the police. That a gang and the cops were in cahoots to wipe out this man whose only purpose in life was to make others happy. Wow. How do you react to that? I nodded and said he sounded like a fine individual and I hope they catch who was responsible. Or the long chain of people who are a part of the conspiracy get brought to justice. He said it probably would never end. That he would be involved in a battle for the rest of his life. Then he laughed and said he had spent $500 on liquor and had finished it all off. He didn't realize he had until the next day when he noticed all the bottles were empty. Poor Alvin.
And now he is in trouble with HR for harrassing another assistant. He has been telling everyone in the mail room that they have hooked up. And he found her home phone number and constantly calls her to go out with him. Did I mention he was old? And has a big ol' gut? So now HR is watching him to make sure he leaves her alone.
Alvin steals lightbulbs for me. For me to take home. I have a pile of lightbulbs under my desk. He is a very interesting person.
Wow, there are so many journals now. I couldn't even find mine.
Last night I coached a rehearsal for my IFL team.
A whoo whoo! I'm telling!
My coach was unable to be there and a substitute could not be found. And I wanted my peeps to rehearse. How much damage could I cause anyways? I felt a little awkward afterwards feeling as though they were holding back or not trusting what I was bringing to the floor. But I realize that what my insecure brain percieved as distrust was merely confusion on the part of the performers. Which is totally cool. Because I was giving them concepts that fight against what they have probably had ingrained into their brains. The idea that yes anding isn't always the best way to intiate a scene. That it can take a few exchanges for the whole idea to get out there. That yes anding early on can create confusion. Not always, but this was just a new skill I was trying to share. Just because you call someone mom and say the milk is spoiled in the fridge, doesn't necessarily mean you have clearly defined your idea to your scene partner. Once it is understood, then let the anding/gameplay begin. I also wanted to teach this to them because some of them were a little nervous working with Miles, and understanding a little better how he approaches a scene, I thought would make them less likely to crack. And know that he isn't being judgemental or antagonizing by waiting to see what page they are on with their initiation. BTW I've learned tons in the summer intensive with Miles and am exploding with all kinds of useful information that will be gold once my brain can put it into action. Another point that kind of popped out at me as a big "what?" was the idea that adding a specific to a scene might hurt it. Especially when playing the game of vagueness and not naming some "thing" that has been made important to the characters. The thing can be named at any point. And heck, if that thing is named late in the scene, it probably will get an audience reaction no matter what it is as long as the players treat it with the same importance after it is named as before. I could talk about improv for ever. I want to. Especially today. Someone talk to me about improv theory. I have to go book some travel.
Last night I coached a rehearsal for my IFL team.
A whoo whoo! I'm telling!
My coach was unable to be there and a substitute could not be found. And I wanted my peeps to rehearse. How much damage could I cause anyways? I felt a little awkward afterwards feeling as though they were holding back or not trusting what I was bringing to the floor. But I realize that what my insecure brain percieved as distrust was merely confusion on the part of the performers. Which is totally cool. Because I was giving them concepts that fight against what they have probably had ingrained into their brains. The idea that yes anding isn't always the best way to intiate a scene. That it can take a few exchanges for the whole idea to get out there. That yes anding early on can create confusion. Not always, but this was just a new skill I was trying to share. Just because you call someone mom and say the milk is spoiled in the fridge, doesn't necessarily mean you have clearly defined your idea to your scene partner. Once it is understood, then let the anding/gameplay begin. I also wanted to teach this to them because some of them were a little nervous working with Miles, and understanding a little better how he approaches a scene, I thought would make them less likely to crack. And know that he isn't being judgemental or antagonizing by waiting to see what page they are on with their initiation. BTW I've learned tons in the summer intensive with Miles and am exploding with all kinds of useful information that will be gold once my brain can put it into action. Another point that kind of popped out at me as a big "what?" was the idea that adding a specific to a scene might hurt it. Especially when playing the game of vagueness and not naming some "thing" that has been made important to the characters. The thing can be named at any point. And heck, if that thing is named late in the scene, it probably will get an audience reaction no matter what it is as long as the players treat it with the same importance after it is named as before. I could talk about improv for ever. I want to. Especially today. Someone talk to me about improv theory. I have to go book some travel.
Sitting on the bus this morning I found myself staring at some woman's leg. And thinking to myself "That is a weird shade of tan. That ankle bracelet is pretty cool." to the tune of greensleeves. Then I snapped out of it and it took a lot of effort not to start laughing at myself. Brains are weird.
I discovered another quirk of mine. Well, really I have known about it but didn't think it odd. I do not like to be lifted. Now, if it is in the context of a scene, fine, don't mind it. But for some reason people have this need to pick me up off the ground. Always have, my whole life. Maybe it's because I am small. But I'm not THAT small. Fairly average. Yet man, woman and beast must pick me up with every hug...with every greeting. Sometimes in mid conversation a person will reach over and lift me off the ground. Why? I don't like it. My feet like being on the ground. They do. They are happy there. So who is the weird one? Me? For liking control over my person, or the masses who have this uncontrollable urge to lift me. I think they. I think they.
I discovered another quirk of mine. Well, really I have known about it but didn't think it odd. I do not like to be lifted. Now, if it is in the context of a scene, fine, don't mind it. But for some reason people have this need to pick me up off the ground. Always have, my whole life. Maybe it's because I am small. But I'm not THAT small. Fairly average. Yet man, woman and beast must pick me up with every hug...with every greeting. Sometimes in mid conversation a person will reach over and lift me off the ground. Why? I don't like it. My feet like being on the ground. They do. They are happy there. So who is the weird one? Me? For liking control over my person, or the masses who have this uncontrollable urge to lift me. I think they. I think they.
Sometimes I like to pretend that I am famous. Especially on stressful days when I am receiving very little respect from those around me. Someone yells at me on the bus, I am famous. Someone steps on my foot in the elevator and doesn't apologize, I am famous. I get asked to make several hundred photocopies and am reprimanded for not getting them done in a half hour, I am famous. Today I am just generic famous person. Or, yet to be discovered famous person. It's fun to think to myself, "If this person only knew who they were asking to make their travel arrangements. If they only knew the soul, the talent, the brillance of this person they are asking to call Avis for a rental car. They will be kicking themselves. Seriously. They had the opportunity to cavort with the likeness of me and chose to waste it. They have no cool stories to share at dinner parties about me. What a complete waste." And other days I like to pick a particular celebrity to pretend to be. One of my favorites is Tom Cruise. I get pushed out of line at Marshall's. I am Tom Cruise. Ooooh they will feel horrible tomorrow, when they see on Entertainment Tonight that Tom Cruise was at this store. I get pushed into the side of the building that is being washed and get soapy water dumped on my head. I think, well, Letterman will just eat this stuff up! Can you believe there was someone who didn't recognize Tom Cruise, AND pushed him into a wall of soap. Yeah, Letterman would love that. Ah, well now I have to go back to photocopying and basking in my own glow.
collating collating collating collating. I easily made over 2000 photocopies today. And hand collated them. They were pamplets, which meant I couldn't just run them through the machine. And for the 7.5 hours I was standing in front of the copy machine, I was wishing soooo bad that I could sing. If I could only burst into song, this would be so much easier. If I could do a few dance moves, being on my feet this long just might be bearable. But they already think I am crazy here. Just ask the girl who thanked me for helping her when she couldn't get the machine to make two copies for her. Why does it always work for me, she asked. Well, I give it french fries. Even copiers need to be loved. She laughed, slowly backed away and then dashed down the hall. I will probably never see her again. My back hurts. And I didn't let one tune escape my lips. collating. Eep! It pays the bills. It pays for my stylish, comfortable furniture. And my food. And my digital cable. Oh ok. I'll collate.
Man, yesterday sure was a heap of yucky. And at the end of the day when I conveyed this message of woe to those around me, alls I got was understanding. Well, there are days when a person doesn't want understanding. "Oh, I've had days like that," or "This one time I had a job in which..." You know what buddy? In this moment, where I feel like a pile of icky frustration, I don't want your detailed story that relates or is worse. I want a hug. That's it. A little friendly snuggle. We will compare war stories at the bar this weekend. I don't know if that is an improviser thing, or if all people do that. I live in such an isolated world of friends, it's hard to make sweeping accusations about the world. Oh well. Anywho, I notice people(improvisers?) do this a lot. I catch myself doing it in mid sentence and sometimes stop. When a friend is relaying a tragedy or something positive that is important to them, my first reaction is to make a connection and then share something similar, or inspired by their monologue. Oops. Real world alert. Sometime a person just needs an ear. Not an improviser. And in my case, sometimes I just need a hug.
Last night the dam burst. Our show wasn't so bad. And we only had like two audience members besides the other teams present. But I freaked out. I got on stage and felt like a deer in headlights. Then afterwards I was so angry at myself I burst into tears. Probably cried for a good hour straight. Thinking about things such as, how could I let myself freeze. How could I let my team down. How could I have so little confidence in myself, I know I am a good improviser. Where does all this come from? And why won't this headache I have had for two days, go away. It was terrible. It was unlike me too. I have dealt with not so hot performances before. Many times. But the subtext in my brain as I was on stage was "I don't want to be here. I want to curl in a ball and go to sleep. I have nothing to add to this." Of course, that was when I was doing a monologue that was not getting edited. My team and coaches cheered me up. I mostly felt bad about not being there for them. Then I walked home in the rain and cried for like another hour. I need a nap. Soooo bad. But I have a show tonight for 5B. It's going to be great. It has to be. And by great, I mean I will just have fun.
I also was upset, because as terrible as I felt, a friend insisted to me that I was a hypochondriac. Great. Is that something you tell a hypochondriac? Anyways, if this "friend" knew how much horrible excrutiating pain I am always in, and that I hide from the world, maybe they would hold their diagnosing tongue. I wonder if normal people can understand the idea of never not being in pain. There is not a moment in the day where I can honestly say that I am not hurting. But I try not to talk about it much. It comes out because humans can only hide so much. Whatever, screw them for making me feel like shit when I was already down on myself. And screw that fat lady on the bus who kept elbowing me in the boob as she adjusted to attack her morning crossword. And screw the cafeteria for charging me 30 cents to add cheese to my grits. Who eats plain grits?
I also was upset, because as terrible as I felt, a friend insisted to me that I was a hypochondriac. Great. Is that something you tell a hypochondriac? Anyways, if this "friend" knew how much horrible excrutiating pain I am always in, and that I hide from the world, maybe they would hold their diagnosing tongue. I wonder if normal people can understand the idea of never not being in pain. There is not a moment in the day where I can honestly say that I am not hurting. But I try not to talk about it much. It comes out because humans can only hide so much. Whatever, screw them for making me feel like shit when I was already down on myself. And screw that fat lady on the bus who kept elbowing me in the boob as she adjusted to attack her morning crossword. And screw the cafeteria for charging me 30 cents to add cheese to my grits. Who eats plain grits?
I am in a much better mood today. I almost wanted to punch someone for yelling at me the minute I came into the office this morning. However, I decided to use that energy for good and not for evil. I found a job I want to apply for online. Everyone keep your fingers crossed for me, this sounds a whole lot more up my alley than this slave crap I have been doing. I know, I know. My current job is better than a lot of other people have. But this place is in a downward spiral, and who knows when the next round of layoffs will be. They have started implementing all kinds of weird security crap around here because of 9/11. Like a bomber is going to come into this half empty ad agency on michigan ave. We ain't no sears tower people. Ah. My rant for the day. Yeah, so I want this job. Atleast from the description I want it. Please let my scrappy portfolio be enough.
My 5B show on friday went well. A little chaotic of course, but fun. And that's what I needed. My friend Jeff from the mail room came and was hollerin' at me from the audience. That was fun. I've never had someone holler at me on stage before. Though I have seen it done. This friday's 5B is on break, but I have my two person show dealio with Miles as a final tadah! for the summer intensive I took with him. I am nervous and excited all at the same time. I know I will be fine up there. Two people. Wow, two people. I am so used to performing with 18. Time to enjoy the stage!!
My 5B show on friday went well. A little chaotic of course, but fun. And that's what I needed. My friend Jeff from the mail room came and was hollerin' at me from the audience. That was fun. I've never had someone holler at me on stage before. Though I have seen it done. This friday's 5B is on break, but I have my two person show dealio with Miles as a final tadah! for the summer intensive I took with him. I am nervous and excited all at the same time. I know I will be fine up there. Two people. Wow, two people. I am so used to performing with 18. Time to enjoy the stage!!
AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I have so much stuff in me!! So much good wonderful driven creative passionate stuff!! Yet I have so much self doubt. I couldn't fall asleep last night. Because my brain actually started thinking things that I didn't want it to think. Things such as, I should just quit. What's the point? What really is the point of improv? I love it, but it drives me insane. It causes so much stress in my life. And what am I working towards? Not being paid for my efforts, that's for sure. I know people who have been performing their hearts out for upwards of 10+ years and are sleeping in their own filth or on someone's couch. Not that I do improv for the money. But it started to get under my skin when I was thinking about the masses of talent that are going unappreciated. The masses that are working their collective butts off to make someone else money. Ugh. I was thinking it would be so easy to just stop. To get season tickets to IO and the Playground. And just be an audience member. How easy would that be? And this job. It is so easy to just keep it. And to go home like a normal human being, make dinner, watch tv, go to bed. Perhaps shower somewhere in there. Why do I need to do anything important or creative. Can't I just enjoy other people doing that? And get some sleep for a change. Why is my brain thinking these things. And mixed in with these horribly self depricating, doubtful trains of thought were ideas such as becoming fantastically happy and comfortable with my improv. And fantastically happy with who I am. Not so shy and constantly judgemental of myself. And thoughts of putting together a portfolio to find a fulfilling day job. And thoughts of this great movie idea I want to write. But I am distracted by the voice that tells me to just be a spectator. Not just for improv, but for life. And this time, it seems like a good idea. Which scares me. It would be so easy to just walk away from everything and become "normal".
All it takes is one good scene.
I had rehearsal last night, rehearsal I did not want to go to. And it was fun, nothing spectacular. But I had one scene that was just good. Granted I laughed my way through it. But it was a good scene. I felt I could do no wrong and that it could have gone on for ever and be interesting and fun. What was it about that scene? What was I doing right? Why did it feel so comfortable, and how did I get there? I feel so inconsistant. How is it that I can find that place. And sometimes no matter how hard I try, I cannot get there. But that scene, that is why I do it. And as much as I beat myself up about improv and my inconsistency...I know I can find that place. Somehow. And I suppose if I continue working hard at not working so hard, that I will be able to find that place more often. And pretty soon I will be that good improviser that I crave to be.
Improv!!!!!!!! (Stella!!!!!!!!!<Rosebud!!!!>)
I had rehearsal last night, rehearsal I did not want to go to. And it was fun, nothing spectacular. But I had one scene that was just good. Granted I laughed my way through it. But it was a good scene. I felt I could do no wrong and that it could have gone on for ever and be interesting and fun. What was it about that scene? What was I doing right? Why did it feel so comfortable, and how did I get there? I feel so inconsistant. How is it that I can find that place. And sometimes no matter how hard I try, I cannot get there. But that scene, that is why I do it. And as much as I beat myself up about improv and my inconsistency...I know I can find that place. Somehow. And I suppose if I continue working hard at not working so hard, that I will be able to find that place more often. And pretty soon I will be that good improviser that I crave to be.
Improv!!!!!!!! (Stella!!!!!!!!!<Rosebud!!!!>)