Still

After all the eulogies and stories this weekend…even after watching this Sunday morning’s “Meet the Press”–the very one that T. was preparing for when he died, … I’m still so sad. It’s no longer because of the loss of a great journalist or a weekly institution. It’s because everyday someone dies who has no intention to do so. He has heart disease. She’ll get hit by a car. It all happens so fast and without any control. And even more reason why we need to live and love every day.

I made sure on this Father’s Day to call my wonderful grandparents and share with both of them my gratitude and love.

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And..

I get it that Tim Russert was the fair yet tough interviewer. But why is it that that’s so unusual? It’s a sad state that the revered, honored, beloved journalists are the ones who are called tough and fair. Tough and fair are the two characteristics that every journalist should strive for.

And if journalistst today can’t do those two basic things–then yes, it’s true, Russert was the best and last great journalist of the times.

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Tim Russert

So sad. I feel so sad for his family and his colleagues at NBC. I always respected Tim Russert as a broadcast journalist. In a world where the lines between new and entertainment are constantly blurred, he seemed to be one of the best role models for aspiring reporters. My favorite part about reporting was when I’d ask the questions that made people pause and think. He did that so well.

As I hear more about his role as a mentor and good manager, it makes me really feel sad for his NBC family.

And hearing about the importance his family played in his life–that’s extra sad.

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Didn’t want a second date anyway

As I expected, I didn’t get a call back.

As I left the DC United game (Super fun! And they won! I must go to more games this season!), I looked at my phone saw two missed messages. I pushed a series of buttons to see my missed call log, and it wasn’t any unknown callers. I said to a friend, “OK, there’s still 9 more minutes before 10. It could happen.” I looked back at the phone eight minutes later. I watched as the time changed to 10 p.m.

Anywho, still proud of me. No way in 100 millions year would I have thought I would’ve tried to audition at this time.

Next time will be harder because I know I’ll want it more.

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Friendly competition

When I began improv classes in September, I didn’t have much idea of what I wanted to do with what I was learning other than having a good time. I had no desire to perform. Being in a real improv group–not something I saw myself doing.

Funny how a few months can change things. Doing improv is just so much fun that why wouldn’t I want to perform? So when word got out that my favorite WIT group, Caveat, was holding auditions … I blew it off.

I deleted the e-mails announcing auditions, and I clicked past the webpage with the details. I named off 15 different reasons why I shouldn’t audition and didn’t want to. Yes, I think I want to perform, but not right now. And no way do I feel ready to play with Caveat. They’re just so good!

But. Saying no and making excuses is not why I’m learning improv. I’m doing it because every scene, class, show, potential performance is one more opportunity to push myself a little farther. That’s so terribly cliched, can probably be found in some self-help book in a shelf in Borders. But it’s true. I love the sense of “I don’t think I can do this…whoah! But I did. Holy amazing.”

So I signed up, I showed up, and I played it up! I can’t  really say I was too nervous. I just wanted to be able to perform as best I could, just to see what I could. There were only four people in my group, and I knew two of them. It was a very casual, playful experience. I just kept reminding myself, “Jump out! Have fun! Do it! Be anyone or anything but you!” There were players doing funny moves, and so I laughed. And like how it goes in improv, I had some good moments, and I had some moments where I think back and realize I could’ve done it better had I done bolder, stronger choices. I heard in my head, be physical, have emotion, go to your environment. But it’s still tough to remember everything and keep it going. Practicing more, no doubt, I’m sure, will help.

Surprisingly, I was more nervous about playing with people who I think are really good and not so much about being judged by the group’s members. I had two of them as teachers, so I knew they knew my strengths and weaknesses. And the other two guys are way friendly and supportive. I really hope I helped the others in my group play the best they could to.

I’d like to believe that every audition will be as friendly. I doubt that’s the case. Hopefully, when the next set of auditions rolls around, I’ll remain as calm and mindful of doing my best and having fun.

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Begins again

A lot has happened since my last post.

•  Survived big annual conference at work–even had to give presentation and moderate panel to substitute for my boss who was ill. Was I awesome? Basically, yes.
• Completed improv class 1B. Had showcase. Showcase wasn’t our best performance, but it was pretty good. I’m proud of the character I played.
• Had private performance with a small group at another venue in the city. It was an improv performance only for our friends. Seemed to go OK, but I wasn’t totally feeling it. Friends said it was great though.
• Completed a one-day class about storytelling, specifically of the “get up in front of an audience and perform” variety. I have mixed feelings about it. Part of me thinks it would be fun to pursue storytelling as a creative outlet; another part says improv is just too much fun, storytelling is too much work.

No doubt some other cool things have happened, but I have already forgotten about them. Anyway, tonight I begin improv Level 2! I’m excited but not nearly as much as I was previous levels. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had enough of a break (like the infinite-seeming time between 1A and 1B). Maybe it’s because my old 1A class has split apart farther, and I’m in the class with some people I’d rather not be in class with. Maybe it’s because I know it’s going to be more challenging. Maybe I need to stop worrying and just go have fun.

I think that’s what I need to do. And so I’m off to start Level 2.

Not so much

I have a group of people and we are performing a special invite-only performance in just a week for our friends. I wish I could say I feel good and confident about it, but sadly, I don’t. We are so very, very, very far from doing the kind of show I’d want to see. And there are 101 reasons why it’s not working. Well, maybe more like three. And I’m not going to get into that level of detail.

Improv is so hit or miss. We had such a great practice last week that I felt like no matter what we did in the performance, we’d be awesome. But tonight, our practice was less than fun or funny, and I guess we’d do OK, but it would not have been improv I’d have been proud to be a part of. And the ensemble show — ugh. It’s so not close to being ready for primetime.

I hate that my happy, fun improv world has been infected with not-so-fun drama. I guess it’s inevitable, that the social worlds we live in will ultimately create dramatic worlds. I just want to have belly-busting fun once again.

Done

I completed WIT’s Level 1B. I didn’t recap all that happened during the class very much, which is a little bit of a shame because so much good stuff happened. All the different tactics, techniques, exercises–a lot of it just seemed to fall into place and click. I still have so much to improve, but I stopped feeling like I’m the worst improviser-type person ever.

The showcase is Sunday. I feel fairly confident that we’ll do a solid job, despite a few worries and concerns regarding some stuff I’ve seen us do in the past. But I think we’ll be OK.

Now I’m waiting for WIT to open up registration for the next session. It’s on to level two! But before that, I’ll take a one-day storytelling class through another fun-looking group. I think I’m pretty good at weaving together words on paper to tell a nice nonfiction narrative. But doing it verbally? In front of people? Hmmm…we’ll see.

What Could Be Better?

Well, hello there.

Every night after improv, or every time I return from doing something fun, or often when I hear or see something ridiculous, I think about this blog. And I think I should write. But then I don’t because other stuff gets in the way. And so it goes. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Improv the past two weeks has been incredible. Challenging? Yes, and so excellent. Last week I left class (it was about solidifying the scene) feeling a little blah–not as much as I had at other times, but just enough to overthink all my problematic scenes or exercises.

But then on Wednesday, J and I had practice with one of the classmates from his advanced class. HOLY WOW! I felt on-fire. Yes, there were scenes I did (we did just two person scenes) that were weaker, but overall, I felt myself doing some fabulous stuff. Really reaching deep and pulling out a big emotion or focusing on setting up a location. Wednesday practices give me faith that I may just be able to pick this improv stuff up afterall.

 Class yesterday heightened that feeling (look at me, using improv words outside of improv world!). The exercises were challenging, but I put my all into them. I felt silly at times, even botched up one–but I my classmates and instructors just rolled with it. And yes, it’s very true, mistakes in improv can be gems.

In one exercise, which seemed horribly terrifying in the beginning, we were given a location and had to play within the environment but without talking or pretending there was another person around. The teacher would call out expand and we’d play with whatever we were stuck on, finding different ways or bigger emotions to work with. When he called out advance, we’d continue along, advancing the scene, maybe finding someplace else to go or finding something else to pick up.

My place was the Metro. So I started by attempting to insert a Metro card into the slot. I hear “expand,” and I bend the card, rub the card, shove the card in again and again. At the cue “advance,” I put the card in my pocket, open the emergency exit gate and walk through. I’m now on the platform. I stretch out over the platform, crane my neck, looking for the train. I’m impatient. I check my watch. I sit down on the bench. I make a disgusted face and pull my bag closer to me, cross my legs and read. Eventually, after expanding and advancing, I’m frantically pacing the platform, yelling and grunting and so, so annoyed and furious that the train is not yet here. Oh, and I think it started raining too. Yeah, I yelled really loud.

I know there are ways I could’ve done better. I accidentally started “talking” to some invisible station manager before remembering we weren’t supposed to do that.  Instead, I could’ve just thrown down the card and walked through the gate. And I could’ve finally had the train arrive, and I’m so busy pacing and screaming that I miss it, causing more anger. I’m sure there are way better things I could’ve done if I was better at miming.

But I’m still awesomely proud of what I did. Mainly because I didn’t wait to be last.

I did a fun scene with Lisa too. Two catty girls–high schoolers, we’ll say–who were in a bathroom, making insults about hair and clothing. I can’t really recall specifics except something about a 1996 copy of Vogue and my acid-washed jeans. It seemed like we were listening, reacting and heightening, and the scene went fairly smoothly. Although, it was so conflict-y. When you heighten to the point that both people are yelling, how do lose and still say in character?!?

After class, as we all gathered our things to leave, the teacher reaffirmed that as you practice more and as you get more used to jumping in with emotions, characters, environment, relationship, heightening, it all really does become more natural and instinctual. Building up that mind muscle and stuff.

So, there ya go. Two weeks anticipating my next post, and it’s all about improv. I’ll throw in a few odds and ends to dilute its strong improv-concentration. This season of “Lost” is already amazing after only the premiere. Today is Fat Tuesday, and I’m seeing a whole bunch of people tonight and celebrate with fruity drinks. And Saturday is a fun trip to Annapolis with k.ball people.

Now only 96 percent improv.

About Celebrity Rehab

Over the weekend, I saw an episode of “Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.” I heard about this show in passing while watching other cheesy VH1 shows, and I sorta shrugged it off. “What reality shows will they think of next?” I guess there was a little bit of shock and appall regarding the show–people ranting about the ethics of exploiting D-List celebrities in their vulnerable moments.

After seeing the first two episodes, I think it’s great. I’m not the only one.

It’s not easy to watch. It’s really painful to see former “Grease” tough guy Jeff Conaway slumped over, drooling, rambling incoherently and then screaming in pain as the drugs work their way out of his system and then watching him make 57 different excuses as to why things needed to go exactly his way.

Rehab and addictions are ugly, and this show shows it. But I’m sure as it continues, we’ll see some touching moments. I hope one of those moments is Daniel Baldwin dropping the lies, the program-speak and getting real. He’s a freakin’ robot right now, and Dr. Drew is SO on to him. I can’t wait for the confrontation to come, when Daniel is called to the carpet on his phoney-baloneyness.

People, many whom I’m sure haven’t even seen the show, criticize how people are being exploited because, I guess, you can only reveal your true self and your inner pain when in private. But is that really true? Teenagers across the Internet post videos on Youtube talking about their eating disorders, their depression, their self-abuse. People are blogging, with their real names and their real photos, describing their history of sexual promiscuity and drug addictions. Whose to say that no one is feeling better when they share?

I have my own things I keep to myself. Sometimes I think about writing a little more personally–really talking about hopes, fears, pain, sadness, disappointments, dreams. But I still find myself going to the old pen and journal–that’s where the deep stuff goes. But whose to say what I’m doing is any better or more therapeutic? I think I’d feel more real and more authentic if I could share some deeper stuff with others. I think we’d all benefit if we could be more truthful about our fears, our disappointments, our sad moments, our dreams and our wishes.

A panel of experts may disagree.

But until then, I’ll watch “Celebrity Rehab” and hope for the best. I’ll also hope that the show goes a long way in helping people feel more comfortable about discussing what we feel must always be kept quiet.

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