It Was Picture Day

Yesterday was One Day, Ten Photos Day. Check out my pics here: Nancy's 10 Photos.

For Inspiration Purposes

This video is over an hour long, just so you're prepared. But it's also great. Amy Poehler doles out some great advice. And she and Jane Lynch just have a great time talking to each other. My favorite bit of advice is about the decisions we make and how most of em are 51/49 anyway and then we kinda go "eh, i don't know. Fuck it, let's go."

amy-poehler-in-conversation-with-jane-lynch-live-talks-los-angeles-2197090086 - Live Talks Los Angeles Videos - Biography.com

Nothing is Free

     On Tuesday I went to the gym.  I'm not a very good gym goer.  I make it in about once every 4 - 7 days.  I went in after the Labor Day holiday with decent intentions to do a 15 minute kettle-bell workout and then a walk/run and some stretching.
     I started on the kettle-bell portion of it and one of the gym's trainers approached me, clearly marveling at my perfect form and athletic prowess.  That's usually the case when someone starts with "are you ok?"  Anyway, I was fine; he introduced himself (Paul) and offered me a free 25-minute personal training session.  There didn't seem to be a catch, so I agreed.
     Paul is a giant.  You'd see him coming if he were walking through a redwood forest.  He makes all the exercises look very easy.  He was throwing kettle-bells around like nannies throw around babies dogs throw around dead bunnies they were rags.  He'd demonstrate the really simple exercise, hand me the kettle-bell, and be all smug as I tried to replicate what he had done. 
      He became very aware of my athletic prowess towards the end of the session when I was leaning on the side of a bench and tried to say his name but it just came out "pao."  I remembered the point of personal trainers.  You really aren't ever going to push yourself that hard, but when a giant is standing over you, you kick it into high gear.  He was nice enough, and at the end of the session, I thanked him and then tried to not vomit in the gym.
     The next day: pain.  Everywhere.  Two days later:  still pain.  I don't walk right anymore.  I'm an 80-year-old man trying to walk down stairs.  My gait has been transformed to that of an elderly person with a hot load in their pants.  It was a free workout session, but I'll be paying for it for days.  Nothing is ever free.   

Bad Ideas

     Sometimes coming up with bad ideas is really fun.  It's part of the brainstorming process and when you want to be a comedy writer, fleshing out those bad ideas can be a laugh riot.  Sometimes you've wasted a full day being essentially counter-productive, but you've laughed a lot and maybe shaken some of those ideas out. 
     Sometimes you don't know an idea is bad until you've fleshed it out.  Also, sometimes that bad idea just makes for a great example to keep coming back to.  I keep using the example of a girl traveling to Mars as an idea for a story. It's a terrible idea, but I keep using it to explain different aspects of story over all.  I'm working on that project I mentioned a few days ago, and my writing partner and I were discussing the inciting incident.  "You know, inciting incident.  Like the thing that makes the girl go to Mars."  When trying to figure out what kind of story we wanted to tell, I threw out "well, if we were telling the story of a Martian on Venus, it'd be classic fish out of water."  My writing partner thinks I really want to tell a story about Mars. 
     And maybe I do.  This is the bad idea that keeps on giving.  This is where I can go to flesh out character traits that probably won't work and esoteric science puns that only I think are hilarious.  I wanted to name our character Tess so I could use the "as in 'of the d'Ubervilles'" joke.  I got the same reaction from the room that I would get if I told it on Mars.  Silence and confusion.  I might still use it though. 
     A bad idea is better than no idea at all.  Of course sometimes bad ideas are allowed to go too far, but that's not the point, or what I'm talking about.  My mother used to say that a bad *whatever* was better than no *whatever*.  It usually panned out.  Bad breath is better than no breath at all.  Bad brakes are better than no brakes at all.  A bad storm is better than no storm at all.  Hm, that one doesn't really follow.  But many others do. 
     Anyway, the point was that many times, these bad ideas just crack me up.  For example, a wee bit ago I was struggling to think of a topic to write about.  I was joking with Mary about several topics, such as listing things I don't like about work.  (I've already said too much.)  Obviously, this is a bad idea.  But it makes me chuckle.  And eventually I can work through that bad idea and hopefully move on to a much better one, like bad ideas!
     So, managers and agents, look for the first draft of "Tess Goes to Mars," coming to your mailboxes soon! 
INT.  SPACESHIP - DAY. 

I Like This

This is great. These are the types of things that keep me going.



     Broad City makes me glad the internet exists. Some days I'm not too keen on it, but then awesome people put out awesome comedy and I'm over-the-moon for the internet again.
     I watch this. I like this. I love this. I want to do this.

Countdown to LA: 2 days!

Listening: An Exercise

     My assignment for this week is to listen.  It seems simple enough, but with most things that are doled out as assignments, there's more to it than meets the eye (or ear).  First, it means removing my ear buds- not something I enjoy doing while on public transportation.  It turns out I don't like listening to other people, but listening to other people is a great way to learn about them.
      I admit I had briefly forgotten about this assignment and didn't spend time listening at the grocery store.  That may have been self preservation.  It struck me this morning though, when I overheard a conversation that thrust me into the moment and I remembered I was supposed to be listening, because I was supposed to hear moments like this.
      I was waiting for the elevator to go to my 8th floor office.  The door opened, and there were already two men inside.  I stepped inside, along with another gentleman who was waiting.  I pressed 8.  The door started to close and I saw a woman approach.  I stuck my arm out to stop the door so she could get on.  She gave me the mildly appreciative nod and pressed 7.  4 and 6 were already lit up.  I had taken my ear buds out at this point and was wrapping them around my iPod.  Apparently someone to the right of me recognized the woman.  I ascertained from the ID card hanging from his pocket his name was Greg.  I don't remember her name now; I'll call her Julia.

Greg: Good Morning Julia.

Julia is slightly confused, and looks around the now crowded elevator.

Julia: Oh, hello.  Good morning.

She waits just a second, and then-

Julia: Congratulations.

And then Greg puts on his best Eeyore impression.

Greg: Yeah.

What?  Yeah?  She says Congratulations and you say Yeah?  And not only do you say yeah, but you say it in the most depressing manner possible.  Was she congratulating you on your failed suicide?  I say, even if you're not happy about whatever someone is congratulating you for, notice the fact that you're in an elevator with three strangers, and they now think you're a complete dick.
     By now we were at the 4th floor and someone got off the elevator.

     Greg: What are you here for?
     Julia: A meeting, what else?
     Greg: For us?
     Julia: I'll get off with you and talk to you for a moment.

Yep, weird.  The elevator stops at the 6th floor and they both get off.  Then I hear Julia say "actually, no."  The fact that I overheard her means either she wasn't concerned about me knowing this information- (so why wait to say it?), or she thought there was some sort of invisible barrier on the elevator that allows only those inside to hear what's happening inside, regardless of the position of the door. The door closed and I got to make a superfluous stop at the 7th floor- apparently where Julia's meeting was. 
      I have a few theories about this conversation, and their relationship.  I think Julia and Greg and might be the stars of my next sketch, "Congratulations on your failed suicide attempt." 

You Take Your Inspiration Where You Can Get It

     This is a mantra of mine, and I think it is oh so true.  I've discussed it elsewhere, for example, in the post Words You Don't Hear Anymore....  Some days it's more poignant than others.  You don't really get to choose when you'll be inspired; there are different types of inspiration also.  I started writing this post as a reflection of the evening I experienced last Tuesday night.  I was lucky enough to be in the audience for the Kennedy Center presentation of the Mark Twain Award for American Humor to Tina Fey.  It was inspiring.
     All parts of it were inspiring, from the majesty of the event to the presentations given by comedy legends.  It's hard to put into words just how magical and mind-blowing the whole event was.  It'll be on PBS.  Check it out, then maybe you'll start to understand.  It stands to reason that as an aspiring comedy writer, this was practically Mecca, and therefore it would be impossible to not be inspired by this event.  I let is wash over me.  Of course it wasn't my reason for attending, but again, I'll take it where I can get it.  Er, inspiration that is. 
     Other times small moments are my inspiration-  the sun rise on an early fall day, a guy falling up an escalator.  I also keep pictures and memorabilia around my work area for inspiration.  At work I have a sign that reads:

 People must think that this job is inconceivable to me.  Or incredibly, remarkably amazing to me.

 It doesn't have to make sense to others.  It keeps me going every damn day.

At home I also have a few inspirational posters around my work space: one from the Friar's Club, one from UCB, and this photo:

That's one that helps get me back to my roots, in case I ever forget where I came from.  I take my inspiration where I can get it.