What I think about when I'm putting on a show

A lot of improvisers I know like to challenge themselves to be more daring. Let's throw into the show some random shit we've never worked on before! Let's fuck with your scene partner to see how they would handle it! Let's take ridiculous suggestions from the audience and see if we can make gold out of shit! Let's get on stage even though your girlfriend just dumped you, your dad just died, you car just got stolen, you have food poisoning, etc! I can't relate to this desire to prove myself by intentionally putting myself under unpleasant circumstances. Sure, it's good to be brave, to not be afraid to fail, to know that it's okay to fail, to know that the stage is a safe place and everyone is there to take care of you, but my examples seem too much like shooting yourself in the foot.

When I have a show coming up, I like to think about the audience. I like to think about the people who have to leave their house. Maybe they're coming to the show after a long day at work. Maybe they have to pay for a sitter. Maybe they choose us over going to the movies or just staying in and watching Netflix. Maybe they have to park on the east side and cross the bridge on foot because parking is cheaper there. Maybe they have to pay for super expensive parking downtown. They DEFINITELY have to pay for tickets to our show. They might end up buying overpriced drinks at the bar. A LOT of money is spent on a night out. I want to give them a good show. I want them to go home inspired. I have met too many people at the theater who told me they had never seen improv before. Well, if you give them a good show, maybe they'll come back. If not, they may never give improv another chance, not just our improv but everybody's.

Even people who have a great time don't always come back. A few years ago I had a chat with an audience member at the Brody who said he had the best of time, and he won a pair of free tickets for giving the best suggestion. I was at every Brody show for almost two years, and I never saw that person again. 

As performers I believe that it's our responsibility to not only to get people to come to the show but also to give them a great time, so that they go and tell other people about it. The least we can do for our beloved art form is to try to do it well.

So please, leave your ego at the door, and get to work. 

Recent Thoughts About Improv

One night I couldn't sleep and wrote all this up. I didn't post it right away, wanting to take some time rereading and making sure that I really mean everything I say. Nearly two weeks later, here it is:

I have been doing improv for almost two years, and during that time I have learned and formulated many thoughts regarding the art form. Some of them I still believe to this day, and some of them I have rendered false. These are what have been in my head recently. I may change my mind about them later, but, as is in improv, it is all about here and now.

1. The best improv classes I have had are ones that is beneficial to me NOW. That is, if I quit doing improv tomorrow, I wouldn't look back and feel like I have wasted a lot of time and money on it for nothing. What improv is doing to me today is more important than what it might do for me in the future.

2. I don't think we should aspire to be like anybody else. We shouldn't look for role models in somebody who is more talented and successful than us. Aspiring only keeps us from seeing and improving ourselves, and from being where we are.

3. Thinking about fame and fortune only keeps you from doing good works. It also keeps you from being a decent person. This applies to all kinds of artists.

4. It's annoying to listen to someone talking about how passionate they are about improv, how improv can save the world, and how everybody should do it. It doesn't cure cancer. It's just an art form. GET OVER IT.

5. Talking about improv just takes away the energy from doing good improv.

6. Just like everything else in the world, improv isn't for everybody. There's nothing wrong with you if you don't like it. Try pottery.

7. If you constantly quote improv books in conversations, you probably have yet to internalize the knowledge and practice what you preach.

8. I'd rather do an unfunny scene than get laughs from making a mockery of the theater by playing caricatures.

9. Instead of telling students not to try to be funny, improv teachers should teach them how to do a good, wholesome yet non-comedic scene.

10. During class, instead of trying to be a better improviser, I constantly try to be a better person.

Changes

Changes are scary, always have been and probably will always be. If you're like me, you have a tendency to think too far ahead, and your thoughts tend to steer toward the negatives. Then you waste a lot of time worrying about nothing and freaking out for no reason, instead of being present, looking around, and realizing that change can be a good think.

I should have learned long ago that you can't plan life. Many things happen unexpectedly, and instead of freaking out about that, why not see it as exciting? A few years ago I worried that I would have nothing to do once I graduated from college, then I found improv. I worried about not being able to get into grad school, then I got in. I worried about moving to Canada, then I decided not to go. There are always options, always new things getting tossed at you, and that isn't always bad.

I wanted change. Since the beginning of the year I realized that many things in my life were not working, and I desperately needed something to change. I just didn't know how to make it happen, and since changes were so scary it was difficult to take that first step. But then life threw a curve ball at me. After nearly a year of intended unemployment--I wanted to take the time off to do the things I cared about instead of making money--I have finally reentered the workforce. It's not to make money but to help my parents out. They own a restaurant, and some of their employees were leaving, so they needed someone to fill in until they could hire new workers, however long that may be.

At first I freaked out. I didn't know if I could deal with the extra things in my schedule. I didn't know if I could do the job that I didn't particular like and sacrifice my time for it. Above all, I didn't know how I could stand being away from the Brody. For a year and a half it had been something I heavily committed to, and now I wouldn't be able to be there all the time and doing the tasks I had been doing almost every week. I was sick of those tasks and needed a break from them, but I didn't think it would be without a choice. That it happened this way was unexpected and terrifying, but once I calmed down I realized that it was all for the best.

I'm making money now. I can afford to buy frivolous things and take expensive improv classes. I learn how to pace myself so that I can still make time and preserve energy for my writing. Aside from missing a few shows each week, not much of my previous life was changed or terminated. In fact, it was nice to be busy and to have somewhere to go. It feels great to be helping my parents out. We don't get along all that well, so that I've been trying to avoid them as much as I could. But now it's time to start the healing process.

I try to spend more time with friends. When you work hard you also have to play hard to balance things out. It gives me something to look forward to after work. Great conversations, mild drinking and watching movies are enough to make my night.

I meditate and practice mindfulness. It reminds me to calm down and appreciate the good side of everything. I still freak out sometimes, but I've been getting better at catching myself doing it and telling myself to stop. I know I'll probably be dealing with anxieties all my life, but at least now I'm learning how to cope with them.

Everything's Coming Up Roses!

So much is happening right now. My first Theatresports show went well, and I got invited to do two more shows, one on New Year's Even and another sometime in February.

I did stand-up for the second time--the first time being 7 1/2 months ago. It also went well, and I'm planning to do it again tomorrow and continue to do it regularly, at least for a while.

I had an audition for a play reading last Sunday, and just got a call today that I got the part. This is my first role since high school, and I'm ecstatic.

I've been dong a lot of tarot readings lately, asking questions about love and relationship. The cards keep giving me answers about my career instead. I guess I'll be single for a while, but at least I'll get to do what I love!

Commitments I'm making to myself this week....

1. Do improv exercises everyday, especially the ones that get you out of your head.
2. Meditate everyday.
3. Finish that psychology book I've been reading so I can read some plays.
4. Stop feeling like shit about myself as a performer. (Affirmation might help with this.)
5. Work out everyday.
6. Learn to sing at least one new song everyday.
7. KICK ALL KINDS OF ASSES AT THEATRESPORTS!!!!!!!

Holy Shit Horoscope!!!

Last night I downloaded this app called DailyHoroscope. I was bored and thought it would be fun. I've never really been into horoscopes because more often than not the predictions are stupid. I also don't believe all the people in the world who were born on the same range of dates would have the same thing happening in their lives. The prediction I got last night was not an exception--it was full of crap and had nothing to do with my life. Tonight, however, I read this:

Negative begets negative, and positive begets positive. You know this Pisces, but you may be feeling rather discouraged about something that is in progress right now. This is a matter that has taken over your time and attention for quite a while, and you were hoping to be further along by now. You started out on a mission feeling determined and hopeful. Yes, you have faced some challenge. But what you need now more than ever is continue along the same positive path you began on, and you will see things turn around.

Every single word of this resonates exactly with what is going on right now. My head was filled with negative thoughts. I had a really terrible time in my improv class today and felt discouraged by the progress. The challenges were bringing me down, and I felt like I should have known better should have been better. Reading this didn't really change my opinion about horoscopes, but it did give me some hope.

Prolificacy/Prolificness

According to the Oxford Dictionary, the noun derivatives of the adjective "prolific" are both "prolificacy" and "prolificness." Unfortunately they don't explain the difference between the two. In any case, the topic of this entry is being prolific--the state of being, not how to be, because that I don't know.

I wish I were more prolific as a writer. Isn't it admirable how some writers can just turn out one best selling after another. Now, I'm not shooting to write best sellers, never have and never will. Instead, what I find enviable is the fact that these writers can turn out works of which they are proud one after another, making writing seem so effortless.

Stephen King, one of the most prolific writers alive, doesn't watch any television. He only reads and writes, which to him keeps his mind on literature so that he doesn't have to make effort to get his mind in the writing mode. I see his point, but asking me to give up television is like asking a librarian to give up reading; it's not my life and soul but it sure does bring me a lot of joy. I don't think that's the sacrifice I'm willing to make for my career--at least not right now.

My improv training used to help me to come up with ideas and inspirations, but I have gotten so used to working in collaboration with others and realizing how great an idea can be when I develop it with other people that I feel helpless on my own. Everything is a double-edged sword.

On my own...

I used to have improv class on Monday night--now I don't. So now I am free on Monday and Tuesday and have been so for a few weeks. Sadly, I have no one to hang out with. I wanted to spend the free time with my friends, but nobody is available. So I have to learn to keep myself occupied.

One of the things that have been keeping me happy is showtunes. I know that sounds really gay, but it's the truth. I've been listening to so many cast recordings, discovering songs and stories that make me so happy. I've been singing so much showtunes I think my voice is getting higher.

Another thing is Netflix. It's like my life support. I don't know how I had survived before Netflix, and I don't want to know how to ever live without it. I just re-watched all three seasons of "Arrested Development" and It Was Just Banging Awesome. Don't you ever wonder why, after all these years, no other shows have managed to surpass that level of greatness?

Anyway, I'm going to be performing in Theatresports for the first time next week. I'm excited as well as nervous. I went to a party last night (Thursday) and invited a lot of people to come see the show, so hopefully they will all show up as they promised. (I'd be overwhelmed even if only half of them showed--love you guys!) So that's another thing that's keeping me occupied now. I'm going to be doing so many acting/improv exercises to prepare for the show, making sure you all have a good time.

Until next time.

Bitchin' About Improv

Ian, one of my former improv teachers, never let me or other students get away with using our hands to mime objects while I was studying with him. Many young improvisers tend to turn their hands into guns or phones on stage, but nothing else; that is to say, when their characters are holding a can of soda, they don't use their hands to mime the can or the liquid inside it, but when they pick up the phone their thumbs and pinkies automatically spread, the three fingers in the middle curl. It took a long time and a lot of effort on Ian's part for me to finally get rid of the habit. The other teachers I have agree with this rule, but no one is as strict about it--perhaps because it's not as severe as, say, denying an offer--but I wish they were, because right now seeing improvisers miming these objects is one of the things that annoy me the most. I have a friend who not only mimes guns and phones, but hats and underwears and whatever else she could imagine. My thought is this: 1) Wouldn't it be ignorant for the other performer to overlook the sudden absence of her arms while taking notes of her big, pointy hat? 2) What would she do if suddenly she needs to use her hands, dropping the hat? and 3) Wouldn't other methods be more successful?

Not too long ago I played a character with three arms. It was a spontaneous endowment that I came up with right as I was on stage. Within a second, while I myself was still absorbing the information, another improviser jumped out to play my third arm. Had that not happened, I would use "stage painting," which is stating that there's a third arm attached somewhere to my body, and pretend that it's there. I prefer what actually happened, because it allowed me to work with the other improviser to create my character. The third arm subsequently became another character. However, I wouldn't have disliked the second method, because not only does it not limit my physicality on stage (by having to use a part of my body to mime the third arm) but also allows the audience to use their imagination to create the arm into whatever they want it to be. If I made it clear enough they would know it was there; there would be no need to mime it when I could just manifest it out of thin air.

A few months ago I played a character with magical powers. It wasn't one of my finest moment (imagine that!) but I did enjoy using magic. This is what I love about what we do. It could be said that on stage you can be anyone and anything, but on improv stage you can really be anyone and anything. I am freer than I can be anywhere else. To limit myself physically or any other ways in improv would be to take that that power away, and what would be the fun in that?

Bitchin' About Improv

Improv is a funny thing. Sometimes it makes me feel like a rock star, sometimes a loser. I've gone through phases where I felt like I was better than anybody, and phases where I felt like I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Learning has never been this way for me. Usually you keep building that knowledge wall block by block. I've watched my knowledge wall collapsing again and again, but I'm still here.

I feel like a rock star when I work with people I like, trust, and respect. You usually get a good scene out of that, or at the least you will have fun. It's like hanging out and having a conversation with a good friend--it's hard to go wrong with that. Unfortunately at this state I don't get to pick and choose who I work with. You can probably fake affection, but you can't fake trust and respect.

I respect people with talents. I trust people who put the time to better themselves, especially when I get to better myself with them in classes, workshops, and shows. It's a relationship; it takes time to build. Some people think that because we don't have a script we don't have to make any preparation for an improv show. Our preparation is in getting to know each other and learning to work together.

Last Sunday we had a show. One improviser got on stage with no idea in his head. I watched him slowly but surely build the scene from the ground up, no word was spoken. Another improviser joined him, watched and waited for and worked with the first. I knew these two personally and it was beautiful to see the trust between them as they were creating a scene together. Another person jumped into the scene and started dominating the scene verbally and soon enough hijacked. (Long sigh of disgust, Keith-Johnstone-style....)

Honest Moment

I have many bitchy thoughts about which I have been refraining from writing. But once in a while we all gotta be honest, right? So let me begin with this: You know what I'm so sick of? I'm so sick of hearing my fellow improvisers say shit like "I had an idea but I thought it was stupid so I didn't want to use it," or something to the effect. First of all, if you're on stage and you're just standing there saying nothing, isn't that more stupid? If you have nothing to contribute then why are you up there at all? Second of all, how many times do our teachers have to tell you that 1) No idea is stupid; 2) You're supposed to build on the idea with your fellow players, and; 3) It's best to have no idea at all? You think Tony Kushner improvised "Angels in America" in one draft? Fuck no. And if you have an idea that good and that complex then you're supposed to throw it all away before open your mouth. How are you supposed to dole out your grand idea without making your exposition too heavy and making yourself too domineering an improviser? I have tried to use complex ideas before and they failed every time. And when you say that you have a stupid idea, it makes other people question their ideas and possibly make them feel stupid too, causing them to not want to say anything next time they get on stage. What's left, then, is a bunch of improvisers standing silently on stage like stumps. Then the people who know what they're doing feel like they're hogging the stage. Then we all feel like shit. Then the audience feels awkward. Then the show sucks and we all go home feeling like failures. Thank you.

Art & Life

EXACTLY a year ago--I looked this up and couldn't believe what I found--I saw a play called "Dog Sees God," a spin-off of Charles M. Schulz's Peanuts. I was so moved by the story and inspired by the great performances of these young and incredibly talented actors. I went home thinking about how much I wanted to do that. I went and saw the play again two weeks later. It wasn't long afterward that I went to Ashland and finally decided that I really needed to find my way back into performing art somehow. It was then that I found an ad on Craigslist advertising the Brody.

Tonight I got to do a short improv jam session with two of the show's actors, Joel and Lissie. I had learned a few months ago that the director of the show, Brian, was a performer at the Brody, whom I saw on regular basis--I was ignorant enough to not have read his name in the program. Brian had brought them to the Brody to jam with us. I had a great time, and felt like my theater life had come in full-circle.

Art is important. I don't think we believe that enough. We may admit it, but in the end it seems that most of us still value other things above art. As I stood before those two performers after the jam, describing to them how their show had brought me to where I am, I realized how powerful artists are. Indeed those people had changed my life. And every time you get on stage you have a chance to do exactly that. It may be one performance out of three, twelve, or a hundred that you do of one particular show, but you have no idea who's out there in the audience, and how much you can do for them simply by doing what you love and doing it well.

I have to work with people who couldn't give less shit about the opportunity given to them, people who abuse the stage and the art form because they don't care. I'm glad I'm not one of them. I'm pissed that I have to work with them. But I'm sure that if I work hard enough I won't have to run the same race with them forever.

Whine Whine Whine

I've been slightly disappointed with myself this past week. I'm in the middle of revising yet another draft of my short story--this one will be sent to a few friends for peer-editing. But the process requires way more effort than I had anticipated, so that instead of working on it I have to set it aside. I've been distracted by the sun. when it's nice like this I want to go sun bathing or riding my bike instead of working on my story. My improv classes and shows also take up a lot of time. Since I don't go to bed until very late at night, I do have a lot of time to get some work done after I get home from the shows. By then, however, the day has left me spent and I just could not make myself work. I spend hours in front of the computer doing nothing productive. My brain just shuts down.

Once every few weeks this happens to me, and I learn to just let it go. Eventually my brain will recover from all the fatigue and will be back on track. When I think about people who work really hard at what they do and leave some time to do mindless things like watching movies or playing video games, I realize that my working and playing help them to maintain the balance in their lives. In mine, however, there is no balance. I turn everything I play into work, and there is barely anything that I do purely for fun. I used to read for fun, but then I majored in English and turned myself into a scholar of literature. I used to do improv for fun, but, wanting to much to be great at it, I turned it into a full-time job and dedicate every day of the week doing it. Don't believe me? Here's my current weekly improv schedule:

Sunday: Harold workshop / doing show (we're back on July 18th!) or seeing show.
Monday: Harold workshop
Tuesday: PSU class
Wednesday: Practice group
Thursday: PSU class / sometimes seeing show
Friday: Jam session / seeing show
Saturday: Practice (by myself) / seeing show

I don't mean to whine. I love what I do, and that's why I'm doing it, and I find a lot of reward in applying yourself to the things that you love and taking them seriously. The problem is that it's hard to do this and work on my writing and continue my studies of literature and theory, not to mention the other things I've been studying on and off, things I also find very important, such as history and sociology. Recently I've also added spirituality and the betterment of my soul to the list, so that's another thing to study.

I still believe that there is a way to do it all, if I meditate often enough to the point where I can make myself rest and generate energy at will. So that's what I'm trying to work on as well.

Thoughts about Singing (and Life)

When I was in high school, I was training to be a classical singer. I was a baritone with a few more high notes than other baritones, giving me hopes that one day I could become a tenor. Tenors were badly needed, so that my director put me in the tenor section, hoping that I would be a good contribution.

I wanted so badly to be a tenor, because most of the leading male parts in musicals are tenors. Most of my favorite male singers were tenors. Having the potential to become one, I worked so hard trying to strengthen and expand my high register. I would try too hard to hit the notes and end up flatting. I would get sick constantly, and it would take forever for my voice to recover due to the strains I put on it. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I spent most of each year coughing.

Fortunately, any damage I had done to my voice when I was younger didn't last permanently--it was great to be that young. But if there was one advice somebody could have given me then, it would be this: Relax, kid! You're in fucking high school. You have your whole life ahead of you. Your voice is still changing, and will continue to change for a very long time. And it will change however it wants to change; no matter how hard you force it, it is out of your control.

Harder than I worked to be a tenor, I worked to resist being a baritone. Most of the time I insisted on trapping myself in my head voice, trying to sound pretty to avoid developing that warm baritone sound. I turned out to be a nasally, mousy singer who sharped and flatted constantly because I didn't use proper techniques. I never developed I great classical voice suitable for operas. I spent those years hating myself for the bad singer that I was. Had I embraced my baritone self, I might have felt better about myself, and life could have turned out differently.

I'm not writing this because I feel sorry for myself that I didn't become an opera singer. I have found other things in life that I enjoy so much more. I'm writing this because I spent many years thinking a lot about my voice, and from time to time I still do. It is still my source of creativity, and I incorporate it into so many things that I do. Thinking about this today makes me realize the importance of accepting who you are and living in the moment. I have found an art form wherein I can be myself and use everything that I have. Realizing what you have and learning to use it is very necessary. For a long time I felt useless, but now I know that I'm not--I just chose to trap myself and my talents instead of letting it evolve. Once I learned to embrace myself, I realized my full potential, and it's fun.

"Primal Compulsion" and what it means to me

I'm doing lights for this long-form show at the Brody. Actually, I do lights for a lot of shows at the Brody, but this is the first show for which I was officially asked to do this particularly task. It makes me happy for two reasons: 1) I feel much more confident with what I'm doing after getting to know exactly what the director actually wants from me, and; 2) The rehearsals so far have been some of the funniest moments I have ever spent at the theater or anywhere in my life. I get a great abs workout during every one of them from laughing so hard. I really believe in this show; I think anybody who has never been to the Brody before will keep coming back after seeing this one, which is why I'm trying so hard to get people to come see the show despite not being on stage myself.

I am also very grateful to my friend Manuel Hall, the director of the show, for giving me this opportunity, which came at the time when I needed it most. There was a guy that I liked, who probably had zero interest in me. I was in a state of mild depression combined with significant loneliness and a sense of worthlessness I hadn't felt it a while. Getting to do the show meant that I was busier and had less time to think about negative things, and my focus was taken away by something that I enjoyed and the people that I loved being around. In some ways it saved my life by filling me with a lot of happiness.

I offered to make the poster for the show, simply because I had the time and had been aching to do something like this again. I used to make a whole lot of posters and fliers for the Queer Resource Center, back when I was in college and volunteering for them regularly. Recently I've been appreciation certain skills, such as poster making, that I have learned and developed when I was younger, as they are still useful in my services for others. I enjoyed making this poster a lot, and hope you all like it too.

Bitchin' About Improv

Doing improv sometimes makes me feel like a genius, sometimes a complete idiot. I don't know if I'm good at it or bad or what. There is so much to learn, and so far it feels like all the successes I have had big and small are accidental; I happened to make the right move that one time, and a lot of times I don't. The more education and practice I have the more confused I am, but perhaps that's what true knowledge is supposed to be like.

Improv challenges my brain and feeds my soul. Sometimes it does one more than the other. Right now my brain is tired and my soul is starving. I've lost my appreciation for the laughter and applause from the audience, because I do the work to improve myself, not to gain their approval. And saying that out loud or writing it down make it sound really wrong. I guess I feel more like a student now than a performer.

Evaluating my Negativity

I have many patterns of behavior conspicuously apparent upon observing my own history. One of which is the topic of this discussion. I'm not sure if it's truly a bad thing--it certainly has some bad effects attached--but I have a tendency to turn my favorite hobbies into serious pursuits. The first of the series of examples is classical singing. I was sixteen when I joined my high school choir, and all I wanted to do was to sing and enjoy the beauty of the music. However, soon afterward it became an obsession. I was working so hard trying to be the best I can possibly be. I woke up early before school to practice sight-singing. I took weekly voice lessons, and spent about three hours everyday working on my voice. I was in two to three choirs, while occasionally performed in musicals. While I enjoyed the process to some degree, I also had a hard time dealing with the failures and let it destroy me on many occasions. It wasn't until I gave up my dream to do music as a profession that I actually began to truly enjoy expressing myself through music and felt immensely more confident in my voice.

In college I began to do the same thing with literature. One of the reasons I chose English as my major was because I loved to read. Reading was one of my most favorite hobbies. Nowadays, when people ask me if I am reading something "for fun," the answer is simply that "I do not read anything for fun." Sometimes I have fun reading something, but surely that is not the reason I picked up the book. Everything I read serves to benefit my studies. I NEVER read for fun. There is no such thing as "pleasure reading" in my life.

And now that I'm working harder and harder everyday on becoming an improviser, I feel the need to criticize everything improv-related in the same way that I criticize the books I read. I do it in order to learn. But by doing so, it makes my focus on the activity very negative. Again, I do gain a considerable amount of pleasure from the activity, but I do spend a lot of my time on criticizing the progress and pondering upon my weaknesses and failures.

After my class yesterday I thought back about all the characters and scenes that I did, and I was surprised by how many ways I was able to enter the scene with aggression and judgment. Many--I'm a natural at it, but it's bad for the work that we do. My understanding is that my negative attitude toward the activity is so tremendous that it affects my performance.

While I admit that this tendency of mine has by far been destructive, I also believe that it is, on many levels, constructive. I don't think it necessarily is a bad thing to acknowledge your flaws and try to fix them. I suppose my problem is that I dwell too much on the negative, and that I need to do more of the opposite and keep the balance between the two in order to not let myself sink into the dark pit of self-destruction, as an artist and as a person.