I’m so happy it’s Friday and the week is over. That means I’m just a few days closer to Improv class No. 3!
(Oh, no. Not another post about beloved improv!)
Since no one reads this anyway, and since it’s basically replaced my pen-to-paper journal, I will spend as much time as I want retelling tales of improv.
On Wednesday a small group of us arrived early to do a few drills and lines for a local cable channel that was doing a piece on the improv school. I know I shouldn’t have been nervous, but I was working with some of the “professionals” (as I have been calling them) and I was just like, “Well, I’ve done only one class, so I really don’t know anything and so I’m just like <blank stare>.” While I didn’t do so hot, I was OK with it, because I think it will be good to show the range of experience and illustrate that even the blankest minds can have fun with improv classes.
So afterwards we went downstairs to meet up with our class. As was previous, it was so fun and so enlightening. We played Big Booty again and I was able to keep my spot for the entire time. Stuart was trying his best to screw me up, but HA! I am too bootylicious for that. Next week will be really fun because everyone will be going for my jugular. Bring it. It will actually be really, very fun when I finally get out.
Reading “Truth in Comedy” has really helped me out so much as I go into the class each week. I completely understand the point of not working to be funny. Funny just happens when you act out naturally. I think that’s why “The Office” and “Arrested Development” are just so much more hysteric than, say “How I Met Your Mother.” None of the characters from the two former shows are trying to crack jokes and one-liners. Everyone is just developing relationships and interacting with other characters. Absurdity and randomness that tie together and bring a set of scenes full circle — THAT is what’s funny.
Highlight of the class was a group of three or four with one person telling a story and the others in the group miming the actions of the story. Again, not a good storytelling week for me. This is obviously my weakness. I’m still hoping and waiting for my natural ability to click.
After class, Joe and I went to My Brother’s Place to get food, but the kitchen was closed so we headed over to Hamilton’s. And we talked improv, improv, improv, a little bit of kickball, and then more improv. It was fabulous.
Yesterday I checked out an apartment in Old Town Alexandria. The craigslist ad sounded promising and the guy rented out the other room seemed cool enough. But when I arrived my eyes must’ve shown my expression of shock because the conversation rapidly became awkward. Smaller than a closet. So, so very small. Possibly even too small for a one-bedroom. As I left and walked back to the Metro, my gut was that this was not a good fit, but I kept making up things to convince myself I could do it. I could get rid of some of my furniture and clothes. I could even get rid of my car if there’s no cheap parking. The list went on.
But as the night went on too, I just knew it was a bad idea.
Luckily, the renter must’ve sensed the same, because he emailed me this morning, saying he selected someone else.
I feel a little rejected (YOU can’t reject ME!) but ultimately, it was a good call. At least it’s not one that has to be made by me. Honestly, I should’ve just expressed my true sense of “well, this is much smaller than I expected” when I first walked in. That would’ve saved both of us a lot of time and effort, rather than me saying, “Oh, this is really cute. I don’t have a TV so I’d be in good shape. (awkward half-laugh)”
So thus continues the adventures of Brewmistress looking for a new home — chances are, I will be living in Silver Spring again. Sigh.
