Dividing My Attention

     It's possible to love two things, right? It has to be, because I'm doing my darnedest to make this work. I rededicate myself to work and comedy every day. And it occurred to me recently that I'm actually pretty damn lucky. There are way worse problems than having too many things to care about in your life.
     In an amazing and weird way, work and comedy are connected. In an ideal, perfect, dream world, comedy would be my work and they would be connected because they would literally be the same thing. That hasn't happened yet. And it may not and I have to be ok with that. I'm going to keep trying though. In the meantime, I have these two amazing things I enjoy and am passionate about and that's effing lucky.
    I was talking about invocation with a teammate of mine the other day. If you don't know, invocation is an opening for a Harold used to generate ideas for the scenes that will follow. I love doing an invocation. Sometimes, doing the invocation is the most fun bit of it for me. I separate myself and watch the team doing it from the outside and am in awe of how in 3 minutes we went from "flower" to "I Am the Cure for Childhood Cancer." (That's funny in context, really.) We got there as a team because we all worked together and built on one another's ideas and didn't deny or judge anything. And then when we look back at how we got there, we see the thread; we can find our roots from "childhood cancer cure" to "flowers." And we do all of this in about 45-seconds. It's amazing. I love it.
    I'm also reading "Onward" by Howard Schultz. He's an inspiring person; he must be, really, to get to where he is today. He talks a lot about connecting to our roots at the same time as looking forward. "Onward" talks about the struggles Starbucks went through in 2007 and the subsequent economic downturn. He didn't use the same words, but so much of what he described reminded me of an invocation. He had a vision to move the company forward while maintaining the thread that led him back to his roots.
     During the Harold, we rarely go back to just the suggestion. This isn't a hard and fast rule; we do do it. But in general, we build on all of those other things we created in 3 minutes. We don't just live in the past (the past here is 3 minutes ago at the initial suggestion), we move forward. We build using a few guiding principles  we've been taught in our improv courses. And that's what Howard Schultz was doing too. He didn't want to live in the past. He wanted to stay connected to the past (Pike Place Market and the whole lot) while building something using a few guiding principles that he put forth as a Mission Statement.
     Nurture the Human Spirit. The common thread through Starbucks' mission and through performing improv is that it nurtures the human spirit. It happens one cup and one game move at a time.

Oh

     Sometimes that great thing that makes you feel great all the time can also make you feel shitty. Yep, sometimes improv makes you feel shitty. You read about how that can happen, but you secretly hope that will never happen to you. But it does and there is no amount of reading or anecdotes that can take away that sting of the shitty Harold you just did. And you know you have to shake it off, but maybe for about 20-minutes, you just want to dwell on it. You want to wash it down with some Sam Adams Octoberfest and replay the shitshow in your head 15 more times.
     Eventually, you can get off that bar stool and head home and know you'll be back to do it again. What are you going to do? Quit? No. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. You're going to do it again, and it might hurt again. But you spend some time staring at this poster and you know it'll be fine again.

(From http://improvartvice.tumblr.com/)

Moments I Love

     There are some moments that are just great. I had spent the majority of last night at the theatre--I did a marathon if improv shows, catching The Curfew, Death by Roo Roo, and Grandma's Ashes. All were wonderful and totally worth standing in the back of the theater for 4 hours. I started walked home and had that great debate of going out or going home. I had been alone at the theater, so there was no peer pressure to go out. Also, it was just after 11:30 and I was hoping to watch some of SNL. I knew one of my friends is very often at a favorite bar of ours on Saturday nights--not because he has a problem, it's just what is done--so I decided I would swing in the bar to see if he was there. If yes, I'd hang for a drink; if no, I would continue home.
     I walked into McManus at about 11:55pm and headed towards the back. There was my friend, sitting with several other friends and acquaintances, all watching SNL. I took a second to take it in. Ah yes, this is exactly what I wanted. To watch the season premier of SNL with my comedy friends at a bar. This is perfect. I stood a step back until commercial break and then approached the table. A great night was had by all.
     Also, more bars should just show regular TV shows.

Wants and Needs and Wont and Kneads

     There are so many things to do! Just in the world, there are so many things that are available for doing. It's amazing. And sometimes it gets overwhelming. How to keep up?!
     "Wants and needs and wont and kneads" could be the title of this past year. I want to do it all. But I need to sleep and I need a job. I'm wont to jump in to so many projects and get in over my head. I don't knead all that much, but I could take the leap to say I'm kneading myself into the person I want to be. I have wants and needs and I wont and knead. Ah! It's so much.
     Usually it's so much in a good way. I meant to take a nap last night--I turned off the light but left the TV on and set an alarm for 2 hours--I woke up 12-hours later. Apparently I needed that. For a minute I felt guilty for sleeping so much and missing shows I was planning to go to. But again, I probably needed the sleep and in the long run, a healthier well rested me is better for all. This morning I watched a short clip of a Mad Men thing someone had made. I thought "oh man, I need to catch up on that show. I didn't know Rory was on it." And I started to try to figure out how to carve out weeks to catch up on Mad Men. And then all of the other TV shows I need to catch up on.
     I love TV. I haven't seen much of it recently, but not because I don't want to. Recently someone asked me if I watched something and I could hear myself being one of those assholes who starts with "oh, no, I don't watch..." I cut myself off but it was too late. I do watch TV. I love watching TV. I haven't recently because I was doing something else. But it's not a good excuse. I want to watch TV. I need it. I'm wont to watch TV all the live long day. I have no knead analogy for TV.
     I'm going to keep pondering this whole wants, needs, wont, kneads thing, but I think a lot of it comes down to patience. I see all of the things around me that I want to do. I think about all the steps I need to do to get to those wants. And I consider my wont behaviors--some are helpful, some not so much. And right now I think the answer is that in time, with the right balance, I will be able to catch up on Mad Men.

Improv Makes Me Feel Good

     Uh oh, another feel good post!
     Improv makes me feel good. I was lucky enough to be invited down to Improvapalooza in DC yesterday to reunite with Neighbors, a team I had helped form a year ago before the move to NYC. It was a blast. The 11-minute set was totally worth the 8-hour bus ride to and from the city.
     Tonight I get to practice more improv with people I truly like. And then I get to watch improv performed by people who are truly awesome. And then on Saturday, practice more improv. And then on Sunday, improv class! Amazing. It fills my heart with happiness.
     Sometimes I wish I would have figured this out years ago; I've gotten a late start in life with improv. On the other hand, without everything that I did before, this might not seem as sweet. My previous life experience helps to color and inform my scenes and characters, so in that respect, I see this as the exact right path. And I've said it before, but I'd rather die face down in a gutter in NYC than live a boring life anywhere else.
     In the show I performed yesterday, I had a really honest organic moment that probably got the biggest laugh of the whole set, and it made me fly. It was super simple: someone offered me a cookie, I started to take it and then they told me it was a vegan cookie so I gave it back saying "Oh, then you can keep it." I was just having an honest reaction to someone offering me a vegan cookie. The audience loved it. I felt good.
     In real life, I have been offered vegan cookies and I have accepted them and they were fine. But I was being kind by accepting it in the first place; I am not a jerk. But that nuance doesn't play well on stage, and I didn't have time to think about it. I just made a choice and it was great. It was so simple, and small, but still, good. Thanks improv!

How Good Moods Fade

     I was in a ridiculously good mood this morning. The type of good mood that pisses other people off. I had no real reason to be. It was 4am and I had only gotten about 2 hours of sleep. But I was standing in the train station outside of work, listening to my iPod, just doing a little dance. I was in that good of a mood.
     By noon, I was NOT in a good mood. I had talked to a lot of people by then, and most of the them were mad at me. One of them accused me of not speaking English based on the fact that I didn't hear him ask for a sandwich. By the way, this is unacceptable to me. I powered my way through the transaction, but I made sure he was aware that it is incredibly rude of him to ask me,while wearing sunglasses indoors, if I speak English simply because I didn't hear him. He won't change his ways, I'm sure-once an asshole, always an asshole.
     And that's how good moods fade. You put yourself in the real world where people are supportive and nice. In improv, people are supportive and nice. Even when they're not nice in the scene, they're nice in general. And they're supportive. They don't walk into a coffee shop looking for a fight. Or, if the scene called for them to walk into a coffee shop looking for a fight, they would, but still, they wouldn't be assholes about it. What I'm saying is that improv is better than real life. Improv creates good moods. Real life creates bad moods.

Slowly but Surely

     Oliver took a two month vacation, and it's taking a bit more prodding to get full on into work mode than was expected. My thoughts have been over taken by coffee and improv, sometimes at the same time. I have Netflix laying on my floor. I don't even know what discs are in the envelopes; it's sad. Unwatched Netflix is my primary indication that I'm just too busy!
     I'm not, of course, actually too busy. There are a lot, a whole lot, of people who are way busier than me. And who handle it much better. I'm just tired and lazy and don't want to pick the Netlfix up from the floor. And I like to sleep. So the Netflix go unwatched for a few days or a week. I'll get to it eventually, because it's in my list of priorities just below eating, sleeping, and improv, but above laundry and grocery shopping. So don't worry about me, I'll get to watching and reviewing movies and TV shows from 5 - 20 years ago soon!
     The 2 month break was somewhat of an experiment. It failed, really. I was experimenting with the idea that putting a pin in Oliver would give me more focus on other things. I beat myself up over not writing enough sketches and scripts, etc. What I failed to recognize is that Oliver was an outlet, and an outlet was good. Oliver is a bit of a conscious for me. Or he's not at all that, because that's a little too out there to say a blog I write is somehow another part of my brain that makes me know the difference between right and wrong. It's not that. I take that back. But he was important to me, so I'm bringing him back.
     I kicked it off with the homage to Best Friends Forever, my new favorite TV show. Hell, it's just my new favorite thing. We've been given six episodes, and I've already watched those 6 at least 5 times. The first Sunday after BFF day, my BFF and I made cinnamon rolls and had a BFF Marathon. It was amazing, and one of the only types of marathons I'd ever participate in.
     So, slowly but surely, Oliver will come back to life. He'll still be just as aimless as ever, because when you keep starting over, that's how your thoughts go--aimless and wandering.
     One other thing: I received the greatest compliment in quite some time the other day and I've been reveling in it ever since. I went to the improv jam on Wednesday night and was called up in a group that my teacher was in. FF to the next class and I said "I went to the jam on Wednesday" and she said "Yeah you did. And you crushed it." So when I feel even a little down, or I almost fall asleep on the train and miss my stop, I just hear her voice say "Yeah you did. And you crushed it." It makes me feel good, because crushing things feels awesome.

Oh, The Weekend

     The weekend is a nice time to put all our worries aside. Put a pin in them, as the saying goes. Cut loose, let your hair down, Frankie Say Relax! I'm not trying to brag here, but I had a pretty awesome weekend full of improv, making an ass of myself, and the Oscars! Yay! Shiny!
     Improv Jams are awesome, and the Lady Jam is even more awesome, for two main reasons--1. it's for ladies, and 2. DANCE PARTY! It's fun that it's for ladies because the idea of ladies supporting ladies is really important. It's not about excluding guys (in fact, there were several gentlemen there, a Front Row Dudes chant, and the host brought a guy up for one jam). It's about including and supporting your fellow women players. And of course, the dance party. It's just effing fun.
     The other really fun part of jams is the party after the jam. All the cool kids head out to the same bar and enjoy a few drinks and some more good times. And that is where I am afforded the opportunity to make an ass of myself. I do it like this: experienced improviser whom I've watched for years introduces herself to me, I gush, she tries to get away, I feel foolish. Still though, I'd do it again!
     I also had my Improv 101 Grad show this past weekend. That was also very fun. People actually come to watch! Like woah! We're not awesome, but we try, and expectations are low. We said words, we made characters, we performed scenes, and people laughed. Success!
     After the show my friend Riley and I went on a search for a bar showing the Oscars. It was not that difficult. We sat and watched for a bit and tried to read lips since the bar didn't have the closed caption on. It was good times. Then I rushed home at a commercial break, missing Best Song and a few supporting roles, getting home just in time for the last three awards. My roommate said exactly what Meryl Streep said half of America said when her name was announced. I, however, feel this way about Meryl Streep:


Meryl Streep could play Batman and be the right choice from Kristian Møller Jørgensen on Vimeo.

I like the Oscars because they're shiny.

The Color of My Sleep

    Someone in my dreams last night told me "you're good at math, and that's good, but maybe you should learn some emotions." And I thought that was a little harsh, dream Tina Fey. We had just gotten ingredients to make pancakes and then I stopped a runaway van. The comment seemed to be from nowhere.
     But maybe my dreams have a point. It's nice to be good at math. But learning emotions is important too. Also, I'm not that good at math, so I need emotions to fall back on.
     We do emotion drills in improv where you enter a scene with a defined emotion and you stick with it. Recently a fellow player did this drill; he acted like he was on drugs. "Were you playing that you were on Ecstasy?" "Yeah." "You know that's not an emotion, right? It's not like 'Happy, sad, on ecstasy.'" We all had a good laugh. Good take-away--being on drugs is not an emotion.
   

Jammy Jam

     Through a series of music searches, I found the song "Tickle Me Pink" by Johnny Flynn. I like it a whole bunch and have been jamming to it for a few days.



     Another kind of jam I like is an improv jam. In case you're not familiar, an improv jam is a special kind of format of improv where it seems like there's almost no format at all. The general guise is a (long form) montage where anyone can improv with anyone for a set. A set is typically 10 minutes long. When you arrive, you put your name in a bucket. The night starts by pulling 8 names from the bucket. Those 8 people go to the stage and get a suggestion. Then they improv a series of scenes. Boom. That's it. So simple, but so fun. People of all improv levels do it, so it usually all turns out fantastically. Everyone and every idea are supported. And sure, sometimes things fail, but in a good way. Because failing is how you learn. By the end of the night, every name has been drawn from the bucket.
     Another great thing about improv jams is they are often free. So if you're curious about it, just show up and sit in the back and yell out suggestions.

Shouting Out Words

    Reading is fundamental.  Often, after the fundamental part wears off, it's hard to keep at it.  I like the idea of reading.  In fact, I like most bits about reading, except for when I'm actually reading and I drift off to sleep after only reading 4 pages.  Then I start feeling bad about myself.  I want to be a reader.  I want to read everything I can get my hands on and actually remember it all.  I want to know things.  And sure, I know some things, but there are just so many things out there to know; I want to know more of them.
     A typical way to get an improv show started is to ask someone to shout out a word.  From that word, themes are cultivated and scenes unfold.  I was at a show the other night and the word that was shouted out was irrigation.  Ah, what a great word.  Irrigation.
     Irrigation is one of those things we learn about when we're in school at some point--5th grade maybe.  But then we don't irrigate much, save for a wound or two, and we tend to forget the specifics of it.  We know it's how farmers water crops.  We can picture sprinkler heads and long lengths of pipe.  Irrigating up a hill is probably a thing.  It's probably difficult, but the irrigation engineers figured out how to overcome it.  Other than that we don't think much about it, so we tuck it away in our brains.
     Of the 8 people on the improv team, I would guess about 5 of them were irrigation experts.  How the hell did they remember all of that about irrigation?  A reservoir?  Catching overflow?  What the hell?  There is a chance they were completely bullshitting, but I actually don't think so.  Not everyone on the team offered new irrigation information and the information seemed specific enough to be completely accurate.  It was unreal.  It made me want to read a book about irrigation so I wouldn't be caught off guard for when it comes up again.
     I don't really want to read a book about irrigation.  I can't imagine how long it would take me to get through since I'd be reading it a page at a time between 8 hour naps.  This is because I think a book about irrigation would be very very boring.  However, I would like for all the information I do read to stick in my head.  That way if I'm ever in an improv show and someone shouts out "ornithology," I'll have a think or two to say about puffins and ostriches and the study thereof.    
   
   

MURDER

     Murder is wrong.
     I suppose other than that, I don't actually have a lot to say on the topic.  So why bring it up?  Because when I asked Mary what I should talk about, she said "MURDER."  Except she probably said it like this:

Ok, fine, I couldn't fine the audio file I wanted to embed there.  But you know how she said it.
Then, a few minutes later, I was considering changing for my upcoming improv show.  I was wearing a henley-style shirt.  This is the style shirt Dexter wears when he murders people.  I decided I should change into something less murderer-like so people wouldn't get confused.  I want them to know I'm there to entertain them, not to kill them.

Wednesday Rain

     Yesterday I told Mary that it always rains on improv days.  We made a few jokes about turning that into a song.  But really, I can't remember a time when I've had improv class or rehearsal and it hasn't been raining.  Then on the news yesterday the weatherman confirmed that on six of the last eight Wednesdays, it has indeed been raining.  It really does always rain on improv days. 

Why I Hate This Guy, Mike

     Mike doesn't listen.  I met Mike back in January in improv 1A.  He didn't listen then, and he doesn't listen now.  "Mike, the scene is not about pirates.  Don't bring up pirates."  Guess what Mike still brings up? 
     Mike thinks the following things are funny: child abuse, hopelessness, desolation, mud huts.  And I don't mean that he thought they were funny once.  In the 10 months I've practiced improv with this guy, he brings at least one of these things up in every scene he does.  He has never done a scene where he plays a father and does not say "I'm not too crazy about these kids" or "the middle one, not so much."  It's maddening.
     He seems to not understand reality.  During an exercise in class, he was asked to give three situations that he and his scene partner could be in.  They were a student and a teacher, which was already pushing some boundaries in the world of improv (teaching scenes are frowned upon).  Mike first suggested an incredibly elaborate scheme in which he had one final hope of raising standardized test scores by using the only smart student in his class.  He next proposed that the student was in fact a student-teacher, and Mike was his mentor.  His final suggestion was that he was teaching the Force, but Brian was using it for all the wrong reasons.  I shook my head for three solid minutes.  He was told to go with the student-teacher scenario, presumably because it was only one that wasn't completely fucking bonkers.  And in true Mike fashion, he began with a rant about how everyone was stupid and terrible and there was no hope to be had.  His scene partner looked lost; the rest of us were bored.
     He wears toe-shoes.  He wears them all of the time.  I've heard him explain how he has his "dressy" toe-shoes, and his casual toe-shoes.  It takes all my energy to not punch him in his stupid smug face.
     He does this thing.  He doesn't watch TV.  He reads a lot of books.  And then he liked to tell all of us about how he doesn't watch TV or stay in touch with current cultural phenomena because he prefers books.  And then he also continues to explain how he's an outsider, desperately trying to fit in.  He started a scene endowing his scene partner as Ramses.  Apparently Mike was playing a slave who was building the Sphinx.  Not only did no one understand what the hell he was doing, no one cared.  At the end of the scene, when we tore it apart, he was indignant about it.  How could we not understand what he was trying to do?  Well, because it's improv, not fucking history class.  You walked on stage and said "Oh boy Ramses, I think this is the best nose I've ever done."  Sure, we're the idiots.  Fuck you, Mike.  Also, nobody says "oh boy!"  Stop doing it. 
     The sound of his voice is grading.  His face looks stupid.  He breathes through his mouth.  At this point, there is nothing this guy could do that would alter my opinion of him.  He could put all that book reading to use and find the cure for AIDS, but I'd still push him down the stairs while screaming "who's gonna aid you now, ass?"  He's had so many chances, I now don't believe he can ever do anything right.  Also, I think other people need to start calling him out on all his bullshit.
     He negates offers.  This is a big no-no in improv.  And I suspect he doesn't always realize he's doing it, because again, he's not paying attention, he's not listening, and he doesn't have a firm grasp on reality.  He makes side comments in scenes that he thinks are funny.  Not only are they not funny, but they break the reality of the scene and completely ruin it.  He'll break character to make a crack about a mud hut.  Need I say it again?  NOBODY CARES ABOUT MUD HUTS!  He leaves his scene partner bewildered at every turn.  I started a scene with him once where I was clearly carrying an umbrella and I stated "this rain ruins my picnic."  He said something like "nobody was going to come anyway" in his stupid voice and did not acknowledge the rain.  The teacher called a time out and asked him what he thought I had in my hand.  He said "I don't, maybe a hanky or something.  I ignored it."  We know you ignored it.  Because you're an ass.
     Those are just a few of the reasons I hate this guy, Mike.  If there were a giant hole that led directly to the center of the earth, I would push him in.  Then I'd spit in it and hopefully my loogie would hit him in the face just before he melted in the earth's core.      

Isn't It Always About Me?

     If you're kinda a bitch, and you wear hoodies all the time, and an ex-boyfriend is in an improv troupe called "Bitches in Hoodies," could that be about you? 

Monologist

      I just enjoy saying the word monologist.  Who's the monologist tonight?  Anybody want to be the monologist?  We're doing a show and we have to have a monologist.  Yes, we need someone to tell a story.  A story we call a monologue.  Hence, we need a monologist. 
     My improv team, who is being shoved from being a practice eff around group into an actually performing troupe, is adopting this monologue opener format.  It serves us well since we have a short performance time- only 10 minutes.  And rather than having a dedicated monologist, any one of us can step forward and take on the role.
     We can get to some wonderful places from just one word.  The word was penguin.  A teammate stepped forward and told a story about a penguin who got lost on its way to Antarctica and ended up in New Zealand.  And we were off.  We spent a great deal of time in a scene in 1963 Germany.  A few of us (me) didn't really understand the history of the time.  We ended on my personal crowning moment with the line "first let's see if the pie is moist, then we'll work on you." 
     We were given the word precipice.  I stepped forward simply to announce it was one of my favorite words but I don't get to use it often enough.  Sometimes I stand on the street and say "I'm on the precipice of this curb." 
     For the word rainbow, Abby stepped forward to tell a story about a wonderful poem she wrote as a 2nd grader and how all of the colors were just too beautiful and as a 7-year-old, she couldn't decide on just one.  By the end of the scene, I was writing acrostics in a card factory that employed 1-year-olds, the division Abby was relegated to for being too stupid to make a poem from the word orange.  Somewhere in the middle was a wonderful tag-out game where David couldn't choose between ten different things.
     He was given the choice of ten cereals and he said "I don't want to choose, I want all of them, mixed together, in one bowl, mix them all together."  Colleges: I don't want to choose, I want to go to all the colleges.  Wives:  I want to be Mormon, I don't want to choose, I want them all.  Caskets:  I don't want to choose, put me in all of them.  Circles of hell:  I don't want any of them. 
     We spent a lot of our rehearsal working on monologues and mining themes from them.  I prefer the monologue opener because 1. it provides more fodder to mine from and reach a theme and 2. it doesn't get the audience so stuck in their heads about the one damn word they said.  I've been to shows when people walk out saying "the word was pumpernickel, and they hardly talked about pumpernickel at all."  But honestly, if you had just watched 30 minutes of people talking about pumpernickel, you kind of would have wanted to scrape your face off, no? 
     This is why themes are important, and why I like having a monologist so much.  You can pull so much from the story, as well as the way the story is being told.  Even if it's just a small tale about a lost penguin.  

I survived my first Del Close Marathon

     I wasn't actually concerned about not surviving it.  But still, I survived!  It was such great fun! I had some separation anxiety from my UCB wristband when I had to cut it off this morning.  One of my favorite moments, a moment I really felt proud of, was Sunday night at the Asssscat 3000 show.  I was sitting in the back row of the auditorium with a group of people all from WIT in DC- I was on the end.  At intermission, one of the girls in the middle got my attention so we could start the wave.  Sure, why not?  We decided it would better to try to start a "downward wave" where we started at the back of the auditorium and went to the front.  So I attempted to start it, yelling "1, 2, 3" as loudly as I could and standing up in wave fashion.  We repeated it several times, hoping people would catch on.
     Then we chanted "downward wave, downward wave" a few times and started it again.  It didn't completely catch on, but enough people got the idea and it did make it down to the front.  The crew people at the front of the auditorium even finished it off.  It was lovely.
     In the middle of the second half of the show, Matt Bessar asked what the chant was during intermission.  We yelled it out.  "Wait, what?"  We said it again.  "What's a downward wave?"  That was my cue.  "1, 2, 3 ... woooo" and we did the most half-assed downward wave you've seen.  It was glorious.  He hung his head a bit.  "Wow.  That was, uh, I've never seen that before."  He turned to the rest of the Asssscat cast and they confirmed that they also had never seen that before.  Still, he seemed into it.
     It was like we got a giant high-five in the middle of the Asssscat 3000 show.  It was awesome.  My mother would be proud.

The Del Close Marathon isn't about running

     I'm heading up to NYC this weekend for the Del Close Marathon.  It's my first year and I'm really excited to be going.  I won't be participating, but experiencing it is enough for me, this time around.  Someone described it as the Bonnaroo for improv.  Bonnaroo!  We all know how much fun Bonnaroo was.  And the DCM is all indoors.  And it doesn't involve sleeping on the ground. 
      A few groups from DC I know will be there, and at least one group I know from Boston will be there, and I'm familiar with one or two groups from NY.  I've become an improv junkie and I'm ok with that. 
     The use the term marathon the same way I use the term marathon, not in the way people who run 26.2 miles use the term marathon.  It's just a lot of improv, nonstop.  One show after another after another.  There's more than you could possibly ever see.  Even if you wanted to, you couldn't see it all because it's spread out over three (four including the stage you pay extra for) theaters. And now-a-days, there's no good reason to stay up for 48 hours straight.  It won't all be good, but that's part of the joy. 
     People who are in the improv community are very familiar with the Del Close Marathon.  People who are not in it have never ever heard of it.  It's a pretty sharp dividing line.  A couple friends were taken aback when I just said "I'm going to the Del Close Marathon."  "Why?" then would start to ask as I said "it's an improv marathon."  "Oh, that makes more sense.  I couldn't figure out why you would run a marathon."  They're right.  I wouldn't.  Watch something for hours and hours on end?  Yes, that I'll do. 
     I packed my suitcase (backpack), I printed my bus ticket, and I'm counting down the minutes until my bus leaves.  At the urging of a few friends (esp Mary), I rented a hotel room.  Mary was actually pretty insistent; I debated on how she'd feel about me sharing this conversation, but it's too good not to share:
 me: should i try to just stay up all night friday to save $200?

 Mary: no

  you'll end up getting murdered in washington square park

 me: honestly, i expected you to say yes

 Mary: because that's where they'll drag you

 me: i won't get murdered

 i'd probably just fall asleep in the theater

 Mary: And then a murderer will walk in, clock you over the head, carry you to WSP, and murder you.

  I've seen it a hundred times.

me: Wow. that's a lot of work for one little murder

  perhaps he'd rape me first...or after

 Mary: well, WSP is a no rape zone so it'd have to be before.

 me: oh good.

  no, wait

  i'd prefer after, if i could choose

 Mary: right, well you can't.

  so you should get a hotel

     It made me laugh a lot harder than it should have.  Also, as a side note, when I searched for the conversation, I searched for "murdered" and 17 conversations came up.  Sure, of course.  Why wouldn't there be 17 conversations where I talk about being murdered.  I feel like I'm giving away industry secrets here!  

A Forgiving Audience

     Tonight is my improv showcase.  At the end of each semester, WIT puts on a student showcase where each class performs a set ranging from 12 to 18 minutes, depending on the class.  This semester I took two classes- level 1A again, and level 2: character.  This means I get to be in the showcase for  27 minutes.
     I've been debating on changing between sets.  About 2 seconds after raising the question, I realize it's preposterous.  Why would I change?  So people don't recognize me?  I would love it if people recognized me.  Unless I do something terrible in the first set and need to wear a bag over my head for the second.  However, changing my shirt is not going to create enough doubt that it was me.  If anything it'll just make people think "Oh, the inappropriate girl changed her shirt, hoping we wouldn't recognize her and call her names.  Who does she think she is, Madonna?"  Plus, in my experience, the audience for the showcase is incredibly forgiving.
     It's a group of friends and family who you've sheepishly asked to attend.  They paid $0 to get in.  They are expecting nothing.  If you can manage to walk on the stage and make sounds with your mouth, they'll be thrilled.  Anything above that is completely amazing to them.  They laugh at things that sometimes make you think "that's what you're laughing at?"  And then some of the pressure goes away.
     Last semester I started a scene reading a newspaper.  A fellow player came out and commented on the news, and in about three lines I had insulted her and all people who don't finish high school.  I was mildly appalled at myself, but the audience was up for it.  They are very forgiving.
     They were also very forgiving during a scene about an abusive husband.  I remember wiping the scene perhaps prematurely after the line "this is why we shouldn't teach women to read."  I felt like I may be blatantly admitting I didn't want to do a scene like that and perhaps I was breaking some improv rules by not letting it progress.  On the other hand, the edit was warranted, and got a bigger laugh than the line did.  The audience was right there with me.
     The showcase is a great way to cut your teeth performing.  It's a safe place.  The audience knows you or at least knows someone who knows you.  They're already on board with the concept that you just learned this stuff and they're there to be encouraging.  You learn how performing like that can be such a communal experience.  They'll laugh at the face you didn't know you were making, and they don't know your go-to character is a bad Sling Blade impression; they'll think it's genius.
     I'm cool calm and collected now, and I'll pretend to be that way for the entire night, but about 10 minutes before we go on, I'll have butterflies.  It always happens, with everything.  Every bit of public speaking, presentation, first day, etc.  Any moment when you get butterflies in your stomach, I get them.  But I choose to push through them.  Because the end result is always better.  People often worry about failing at these things, but really, the only way to fail is to do nothing.  If you just make any sounds or do anything, someone there will support it.  And the audience will love it, because they're really forgiving. 

Priorities

     What's the moment when you realize you have adjusted your priorities?  Sometimes this type of thing just happens.  I realized mine had changed sometime between 6:30 this morning and about 10am.  I'm doing my best to not judge myself.
     This morning I woke up in my groggy state not quite sure when the last time I showered was.  And here's the gross part- I decided I didn't care enough to just remedy the situation that take a damn shower.  I figured improv, drinking, and sleep were more important; those three things had taken precedent in my decision making last night and I gave up the idea of showering in favor of them. 
     Then a few hours later the office manager commented on my hair.  She noticed I got it cut and yammered on about not pushing it behind my ear and if I let it fall forward I would look younger.  I said I didn't want to look younger, but she insisted and then came over to me and, well, touched my hair.  She commented that it was soft.  Yes, it is soft, it is also unwashed. 
     I think I have to quit my job now.