| What's new |
[Jul. 8th, 2009|12:32 am] |
Ah boy, a lot's happened in the past little bit.
I quit Dave & Buster's at the turn of the April, and have been unemployed for the past few months. Restaurant service jobs don't come easily to dudes. There are signs in the window that say "Waitresses wanted," ads on Craig's List that say "Looking for female bartenders," and even a manager who told me "You look like exactly what I need. I just hired a few girls and they look like they're all going to work out, but training is slow because they all have second jobs. I'll give you a call if something comes up." Ah well, if she'd rather inflict a ton of scheduling conflicts on herself than hire someone without a rack, let her complicate her life.
Luckily, I've got enough saved up that this hasn't been a problem. But it puts me in an odd situation where I've [i]got[/i] money, but am still scrimping at every corner because I don't know how long I need to make it last. Friends will occasionally buy me a drink, and I don't know how to respond. Yes, I don't have a job and so I accept their generosity, but I'm continuously reminding them to save it for someone who's actually destitute.
Recently, though, gainful employment has found me. Sort of. I applied to be a tour guide at the Museum of Science and Industry, and somehow ended up getting hired to work the Omnimax theatre for the upcoming release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Good thing the interview process didn't include a quiz about the Harry Potter universe, because I've never seen any of the movies or read any of the books.
It seems like it'll be a good job- it's easy, I am thus far quite fond of my coworkers, and the only song I have to listen to all day is this badass little ditty.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0DqPSF2fyo
Beats the hell out of remixes of Perhaps You Would Like a Piece of Me.
And the management seems to have a genuine respect for what we do. For instance, we rotate jobs every 25 to 45 minutes so that nobody is standing in the same place for too long. While this makes things needlessly complicated as I have a tendency to lose track of time, I'm glad to see the supervisors showing an extra bit of concern for us.
There are some downsides, of course. The pay is only 8.50 an hour, nowhere near enough to support me (so I must continue my self-deprivation of restaurants, store-bought liquor and fancy cheeses). The commute is an hour each way, and that's not considering my safety (the fastest route home involves waiting for a train in a place I would NEVER traverse at night). And it's a temporary position, ending in September (around the time the prime hiring season for servers will end). But the museum's a big place with a lot of jobs going around, so I'm sticking to this for now and hoping that after the movie closes I'll be able to get the job I actually applied to do.
Meanwhile, my roommates have suddenly become surprisingly hostile to me. I'll never divulge details in a public medium, but I will implicate what I believe is the source of the scuffle. You see, a lot of the complaints they've made about me in the past are completely legitimate concerns. But they tend to let things boil until they snap. Trouble is, they're all things I could have (and would have) stopped doing in a second if I'd known that I was bothering them. My advice to those of you looking to preserve your roommate relations: if you're ever mad about something, just speak up! You're not being "nice" by not raising a fuss, you're just letting people unwittingly trample all over you for no good reason. And if you're worried about looking like a nitpicker for bringing up insignificant stuff, meet with your roommates once a month to air whatever little grievances pop up, so that you won't find yourself shouting at somebody over a towel.
In any case, things seem to have cooled down a little bit here. It looks like one of them has moved on. But I wouldn't be surprised if the other one never speaks to me again. And they're moving out in August, so I'm hoping I don't get one last fuck-you at the end of the month.
Ah well, I'm glad I've still got a lady who makes sense to me. She is still a highly positive bit of glory.
So is my team. We're just out doing improv for the fun of it all, which makes for the best shows despite our individual disagreements on the finer points of improvisational theatre. We had a pretty good one about a week ago. It's up on Facebook...
http://www.facebook.com/inbox/readmessage.php?t=1169161625010#/video/video.php?v=927185485759&ref=mf
...but I wouldn't expect any of y'all to actually sit through it, as it was taken from the back row and you have a better view of the backs of peoples' heads than you do of us. Oh, and the ending is cut off. So yeah, I'll hold no judgment against anyone who wants to wait for a better video before they check out what I've been up to. I know time is a precious commodity. And with my Improv Olympic student graduation shows coming up in seven weeks, there ought to be a better videographic opportunity in the near future.
Take fabulous care. |
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| The Champeenship! |
[Apr. 6th, 2009|02:17 am] |
On Monday, I went to bed at 4.
On Tuesday, I went to bed at 2.
On Wednesday, I went to bed at 1.
On Thursday, I made and refrigerated a batch of steel-cut oatmeal and tempeh. I have never been enthusiastic about tempeh, but I was led to believe it is packed with B vitamins, which I'm further told are a way to boost one's energy. I also burned a CD to wake up to, so that I wouldn't ignore my current rising theme, of which I am well past bored. I located a bottle of my emergency medicine; my heart's been tachycardia-free since February 2008, but if it tried anything funny I would be ready for it. Then I cleaned my work shoes for the first time in 1.5 years, and went to bed at midnight.
On Friday, I talked Dave & Buster's into letting me out of the party at 10:00. When I arrived at 7:00, it turned out they had goofed and the party did not start until 9:30. They sent me home, after buying me a disappointing meal. I took this as a sign that I was on the right path. I declined several social invitations, then went to bed at 10:30. At 11:00, my roommate began to watch a movie outside my bedroom, and I braved the awkwardness of being that guy who asks everybody to keep it down at 11:00 on a Friday night. Nothing would come between me and my eight hours.
On Saturday, my alarm sounded at 7 AM. I hit the ground stretching, and was fully awake by the end of the song. I shaved, showered, ate my pre-made breakfast, opened and de-pinned a brand new white button-down shirt, donned my nicest jeans and a pair of shoes now free of hamburger taint, and marched out the door.
When I saw that the Clark Street bus was not coming, I trekked southward to where Broadway Street sheds its independence and merges with Clark for a few miles. Along the way, my eyes were opened to the fact that I was awake at 7 in the morning, and for once I didn't hate the world because of it. I marvelled at the gorgeous sunny day, as I watched trucks unload their cargo and newspapers filling their dispensers. Life was beginning, and I was a part of it.
At last, I arrived at my strategic bus stop. Now I was putting my faith not in one bus, but two. And sure enough, the Broadway bus came and filled the shoes that the Clark bus had left empty. And that, friends, is how I made it to The Perennial fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.
Finding the door locked, I wandered around the side of the building and strolled into an unmarked door to find myself in the kitchen. I stated my business, was greeted by a manager, and introduced to a server who would take responsibility for my growth. I hung my jacket in the locker room, and was handed a stack of soft fabric napkins to carry upstairs and begin rolling into neatly-bundled silverware sets.
...at which point the manager took me aside and told me the position had already been filled.
I left without a word. They'll never know how hard I trained for this. The only memory they have of my passing is seven silverware rolls of questionable craftsmanship. |
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| A quandary |
[Mar. 31st, 2009|04:08 pm] |
Yesterday I went in for an interview at The Perennial, a fancy restaurant in Lincoln Park.
I had been there before for an open call, and hadn't heard back. The manager immediately recognized me, and it was the shortest interview ever.
"Oh, I remember you. Still trying to escape Dave & Buster's?"
"Yeah."
"Anything else new?"
"Not really."
He told me I had been ruled out last time because I was deemed too inexperienced for a fine dining environment. But he said with patio season about to start there would be some more shifts to go around. He said I could come in Saturday and follow along for a brunch shift, starting at 9 AM.
Great, right? You'd think so. Except that on my way out of my last day at Dave & Buster's, I backpedaled a little and offered to stick around Fridays and Saturdays. And I volunteered to work a party on Friday night. I don't know the details, but it starts at 8 PM and it's for 400 people. Could last awhile.
The general consensus is that The Perennial is giving me a shot largely because of my persistence, so if I cancel for Saturday then I probably won't get another chance. And it's going to be difficult to get the party covered- I've got plenty of allies at Dave & Buster's who would volunteer, but pretty much everyone is going to be scheduled already. I could tell Dave & Buster's I can't do the party, but I want to keep my doors open there too. Just in case.
I've worked early shifts on little or no sleep before. I can easily phone it in. But Saturday will be a day to impress, so I'm going to need to be as alert and aware as possible, and bags under my eyes will be a turnoff.
So, anyone got any sleep advice? I'm making a concerted effort to go to bed earlier this week, so that by the time Saturday comes, getting up at 7 won't be much of a stretch. Or should I just sleep until 5 PM on Friday, so that I will have only been awake 16 hours when the brunch shift comes?
Keep in mind caffeine is not an option here; as far as I know I've been heart-condition-free for over a year now, but since it did come back after the first surgery it's best not to push my luck. |
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| Where I am |
[Mar. 18th, 2009|05:23 pm] |
Good day, folks! In light of my lack of recent bloggeries, I felt it sporting to drop a few humdrum details of my recent livings.
Improvisational pursuits are pushing along nicely. I'm currently in level 4B at Improv Olympic, meaning I have about five months left in their program. Meanwhile, I'm finally starting to gain some comradery with my classmates outside of faces I see for three hours a week. A few of us broke off and started our own team. We don't have any shows yet, but for the moment we're rehearsing once a week and at the very least keeping our brains fresh between classes. I'm also about to start writing classes at The Annoyance.
All's well on the lady front. I don't understand why people break up with their significant others and then say "Well, at least I'm free now." I've never felt more imprisoned than the time between breaking up with Heather and hooking up with Lisa. Every time I went out, I always had to look my best, out of fear that I would meet the love of my life and she wouldn't take me seriously because I had a neckbeard and a gaping hole in my jeans, or write me off as gay because I was dressed like a watermelon. But as it stands now, I enjoy a great deal more liberty. If the only clean clothes I have are unflattering, fine. If my bedroom is in a sorry shape that would scare off an unexpected lady visitor, the danger is moot. I'm a lot better at keeping a woman than I am at getting one, so I'm in my element now. Of course I still try to maintain my appearance, and still try to pass myself off as an appealing specimen, but there's a lot more room to do what I please.
Chicago and I are getting along, now that I've survived the murderous winter. I love chasing down buses, and being able to walk most anywhere I want to go, even though all my driving soundtracks are collecting dust. I suppose I'll have to bust out the iPod at some point.
My living situation is still working out. Sharing a three-bedroom apartment is a lot different from sharing a dorm room; Zachary and I survived for three and a half years with a co-existence largely powered by the strength of our friendship, but now I'm living with people who have opposite schedules and personalities. They're at work when I wake up, and asleep when I come home. For the most part, all they know about me is the messes I leave behind. So I've had to man up and do my best to keep the disarray largely confined to my bedroom. Everything else- most notably, spending my leisure hours without waking them up- is second nature to an amateur ninja. At this rate, I plan to stay here for a good while.
The one thorn in my side continues to be my job. Yesterday we had a meeting announcing the implementation of General Service Staff. As it stands, I am a dining room server; I work only in an area where people are sitting down to enjoy their meal. Elsewhere in the building, cocktail servers wait on people playing billiards or shuffleboard, or maintain booths in the arcade area. But these designations have been eliminated, and soon the two staffs will become interchangeable.
I have no interest in the idea of my charms being viewed as a distraction from video games. It appears it may be time for me to become a full-time job hunter. I don't want to abandon my employment without finding a suitable replacement, especially in an economy like this. But the sad truth is that I may never find another job without first feeling the urgency of unemployment. I have enough savings to survive several incomeless months, a girlfriend who hails from an impoverished background and knows how to make a dollar last, a simple mind that can be amused cheaply, and intel that suggests that this is the prime time to find another serving job. I can only hope my motivation will strengthen in this time of need. |
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| Details |
[Nov. 28th, 2008|12:12 am] |
Let me tell you about this here lady of mine.
Meet Lisa:
-She is a fellow improviser. She's a year ahead of me on the path I travel toward comedic fulfillment, so she has been a wonderful resource for my inquiries on how the improv world actually works.
-She is dedicated to her craft. She'll go outside during the roughest of Chicago weather to make a movie, even while she's on her period.
-She is a teriffic listener. If I am ever interrupted by something, she will always come back and ask me what I was about to say, even if it takes five minutes to get back to it. This also means she will catch and ridicule me if I so much as mangle a single consonant, but like a good improviser she treats every mistake like a gift. This results in an environment where everything I do is the right choice, and it is quite comfortable.
-She is an unapologetic dork. Though our interests diverge (she leans more toward Star Wars, while I align myself with video games), I am tremendously thankful to have found someone who can appreciate the appeal of all forms of nerdic arts.
-She grants me the right to catch myself digging a conversational hole, say "The Right Answer," and then change the subject with no further question.
-She pays for her half of dinner.
-She is comfortable with me hanging out with other girls.
-She enjoys my company enough that she has no qualms about hanging out with me while I clean my room or do laundry (I try my best not to abuse this).
-She is committed to the prevention of overexposure, and raises no complaints when I want a night off from her.
-She loves a good adventure. She'll make a mad dash with me to catch a bus, stop to decipher graffiti we find, and cheer me on while I try to climb stuff.
So yeah, life is good up here. |
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| Progress |
[Sep. 17th, 2008|06:57 pm] |
I had an audition on Saturday for an new improv team at The Playground, another theatre that doesn't have quite the same brand name recognition that iO does. Figured it would be a great start, and would do me well to be doing improv more than three hours a week.
The audition went horribly. It wasn't necessarily that I did a terrible job, but I was outclassed by nearly 100% of the competition. I know I'm out of practice, but that's no excuse for THAT kind of universal skill gap.
Then I realized something. The qualities of a strong improviser are all things I practice constantly in my daily life. I put myself in other people's realities and build on them, I recognize little quirks in daily interactions and explore them, I bring back jokes at the perfect times, and I commit full-on to what I'm doing even though I usually have no idea what's going on.
And yet... these qualities frequently fail to manifest themselves on the stage. I have a habit of just going out there to deadness, or worse- not going out at all because I haven't got a clue what to do. Part of the problem is that when you impose a vague directive for me to work around I can come up with the occasional moment of absolute brilliance, but when I'm allowed to do anything I most often do nothing.
Luckily, I didn't have to beat myself up over this for very long, because it all came together in class the very next day. Teacher told us that if you play yourself, you won't be able to immerse yourself in the quirks of the scene because your natural impulse will be to question them.
Which makes perfect sense, because when I'm doing my daily-life version of improvisation, I'm still working around the rules of society. When a customer at Dave & Buster's wants something ridiculous, my response still has to factor in the fact that we can't give them a free meal, a million dollars, a Corvette and a partridge in a pear tree (and yes, I've been asked for all of those). On the other hand, while in improv it might not necessarily be the best answer to just hand them whatever they want, I'm still limiting myself by playing with that mentality.
And then she said something directly to me. She had just forced me out on stage to one of the weakest initiations I'd ever made, and then told me I was holding back as though I hated every scene I was in. She told me to stand on the sidelines slightly leaning forward, and that engaging my spine would make all the difference.
Fuckin' A was she right! We repeated the exercise, and just shifting my weight half an inch forward exposed me to a world of possibility. Not only did I know exactly what to do when my turn came, but I had an answer to what I would have done differently on everyone else's turns. And let's compare initiations:
First time: "Stop flailing your arms!"
Second time: "Wow Uncle Skeeter, you sure shot that duck good! You'll make a man out of me yet."
And to think, all I had to do was lean forward, which is how I've been slouching most of my life. |
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| The next step |
[Aug. 8th, 2008|02:56 pm] |
After a late night at work, I was perusing my friendly neighborhood Facebook when I happened to catch something on my mini-feed. One of my Improv Olympic classmates from last year had posted on the wall of another of the same, asking for advice on registration. I had not realized registration was open, so I headed to their website to research my options.
As it would turn out, there was a class that was perfect for me. It was taught by the woman who invented the curriculum, located in the prime theatre (instead of a dusty annex somewhere in the underbrush), on a day that I wouldn't mind taking off of work (if I took Fridays or Saturdays off I would sink into poverty in an instant), starting on an appropriate date that I won't miss the first session (I'm going to a wedding in Philadelphia at the end of the month). This class would fill up quickly, if it hadn't already.
I called them this morning. The lady told me where to go on their website to register, but I could not for the life of me find the link. So I called back to ask her again, but someone else answered and tried to register me by phone. He said my credit card wouldn't go through because of an invalid address. I asked him if I could show up in person and give him a check; he affirmed this, but did not guarantee the class would still be available when I arrived.
I threw on the first two articles of clothing I could find (I had slept in my underwear) and bolted out the door. The theatre was about a mile away.
( So I ran. ) |
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| What? Seriously? |
[Jul. 23rd, 2008|04:34 pm] |
I've been dealing with a lot of movers lately. I put my information up on a website so they'd come to me, and they've been bombarding me with calls and quotes non-stop. They're relentless, pushy, and some are even a little sketchy- I got two calls in a row from different people who claimed to be from the same company. It's aggravating, and I grimace every time my phone rings. To the point that I even gave a rather cold reception to an unknown number who turned out to be a friend calling me to say she was getting married.
Then, on Monday, I found out that an old fencing buddy is also moving to Chicago at the beginning of August. And he'll have enough room in his U-Haul for my stuff. So now, not only will I be splitting a $450 rental (gas included) instead of paying $1500 for a mover when my load is way below the minimum, but I'll have someone to help me carry stuff on both ends of the journey. And I won't even have to take another lonely bus ride up.
You know, it's times like this that I wonder whether the ridiculous luck that always seems to come my way has interfered with the strengthening of my character. I mean, I suppose it's reassuring that people seem to like me enough to go out of their way for me, and that's definitely a valid skill to hone and develop, but... when someday I suddenly find myself with nobody, will I be ready? |
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| Inconsequential detail |
[Jun. 24th, 2008|03:30 am] |
In six hours, I'm taking a bus up to Chicago. I will not be returning home without either...
A) Finding a job and signing a lease
or
B) Suffering a humiliating defeat at the hands of my own incompetence.
I'll be couch-hopping, doing a dance of ingratiation to keep myself off the streets. I predict that this will help me accomplish my reconnaissance mission more quickly because of all the back pain that comes along with sleeping in a multitude of unusual positions.
I'm not bringing Lil' Brudder this time, so I'll be in touch whenever I can sneak onto someone else's computer.
Stay beautiful and amazing. |
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| Life again |
[Jan. 30th, 2008|09:25 pm] |
So, a lot’s been happening to me lately. Here are the selected portions of my current situation which you might find interesting. This time, though, we’ll strike the bullet points in honor of transitions!!! Some of them might be a little forced, but self-expositional writing for large and diverse audiences is hard enough for me as it is, so take what you can get.
Let’s do this!
I still don’t have the internet at my apartment. And to be honest, I’m not in any hurry to get it. It’s kind of liberating to walk in and not have something I immediately feel compelled to check on. Livejournal, Facebook, email, various webcomics, a browser game here and there… I feel their absence, but it turns out that whenever I do get a chance to sneak on someone else’s computer, they’re all still there waiting for me. And this way, they don’t consume every last spare moment of my time. Ever sit down, click on a few things, and then realize three hours have passed? Not a problem anymore. Of course, that’s a temporary solution; I will need the internet sooner or later, and when the temptation resumes its relevance I’ll just have to become a stronger person.
Unfortunately, I have need of strength in other areas that have waited long enough. Namely, my love life. To be honest, it’s never been anything to be proud of, but up until this point it has always managed to find fantastic and spectacular ways to disappoint me (but the other people in those stories value their privacy more than I do, and it’s just more fun to tell stories that make ME look bad. So don’t ask me for details). And while I’d prefer if things had just gone my way once in a while, I’ll admit that the sheer incredulity of the situations I got myself into time and time again was entertaining enough to help me get over the pain. Now, it’s just as fruitless as ever, but it commits the cardinal sin of boredom; suddenly, every lady who catches my eye has a boyfriend. Over and over again, stopped dead in my tracks without even giving my curiosity the honor of knowing whether they would have been interested. Disqualified from the Olympics, event after event, on technicalities, and never getting to see the judges’ scores. How lame is that?
A lot lamer than apartment life!!! My place (name still pending) is never what you’d call “clean,” but impressively enough it also never passes a certain threshold of messitude and it spite of the disarray it’s always sanitationally optimistic. People from all around have jumped on the chance to get rid of their extra furniture and appliances, and little by little I’m digging my favorite stuff out of Chateau Rinsqué.
I’ve also been eating some strange stuff (stranger than usual). It’s comforting to know that my longtime curiosity for combining unconventional foods has endowed me with a valuable survival skill of being able to eat whatever I can get my hands on and somehow making it work. If you give me decent ingredients, I’ll give you a decent meal.
Though I am a little red-cheeked to report that the other day, after a month and a half of living here, I found an empty closet. An entire closet. Right next to my front door.
Just… roll that around in your head for awhile. Go on, I’ll wait.
I’ve probably been missing it because of my rush to get to work on time. Serving at Dave & Buster’s has turned out reasonably well for me. I made a ton of money in the past month (though it’s slowed down considerably, and I’ve been encouraged to make like a squirrel and store nuts for the winter). I also noticed I tend to get pretty good hours in spite of the vast number of people who hold seniority over me. I think I’ve made a good impression on my DH (Department Head; still a server, but with some administrative powers like making the schedule). I work a little slowly, and make some really stupid mistakes, but I show up largely on time, care about what I’m doing, get people’s backs when they need it, and stay until the job is done, which is apparently enough to outclass the competition. It probably also helps that I’ve made a respectable showing in staying out of the thick cloud of drama that engulfs the restaurant. And that’s a nice feeling, because when I worked retail some time ago I felt like they only really kept me around because they were amused by me; Dave & Buster’s definitely has lax hiring standards, but I do feel more like a valued employee there.
Unfortunately, it’s looking more and more unlikely that they’ll ever make me a bartender; half of the servers and barbacks there either bartend or have bartended somewhere else, and on top of that it seems that Dave & Buster’s prefers to replace lost bartenders by rehiring former bartenders. So things could be better, but all of the other servers say they like it better than anywhere else they’ve worked. So maybe I’ll crosstrain to barback, then later down the line I can use that experience to become a barback at a smaller or newer bar. For the time being though, I am enjoying serving.
Which brings me to the most bothersome thing I’ve been kicking around in my head lately (and an internet-lite life certainly gives you time to think). I’ve finally met the biggest obstacle threatening the pursuit of my dreams. And it’s not overprotective parents (I wouldn’t trade them for anyone else, for the record). It’s not my naïveté or shorthandedness of practical skills. And it’s not even the left-turn traffic light at the Galbraith exit of I-71 South that always, ALWAYS stops me for at least three minutes at 2 AM in spite of the fact that there’s never any traffic coming from any other direction (but that malevolent little creature is definitely a close second).
No, the biggest thing standing in my way is my general complacency, and ability to be happy with pretty much whatever I find. And up until now I’ve always been nothing but proud of that, but let’s face it: if all your troubles disappeared when you peeled dried glue off your fingers, what motivation would you have to improve your situation? So I have to prod myself, get myself agitated, tell myself: this apartment, Dave & Buster’s, Ohio, are all treating me well, but somewhere out there is something better than all of them.
But I’ve got to take one step at a time, and up next is a stab at life without a heart condition. I’m going in for surgery Monday, February 4th. It’s the same thing they did last winter break, but this time they’re going to try extra hard not to miss. I’ll be out of the hospital by the end of the night, but out of commission for anywhere between a week and a month. The good news, though, is I’ll probably be at my parents’ house a lot more during that period, meaning I’ll be in touch more.
See y'all around. |
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| The life update |
[Nov. 8th, 2007|12:03 am] |
Okay, I've been avoiding this post for months. Ever since I got back from Chicago, to be precise. I guess it was an uncomfortable subject, and I didn't want to talk about it until it developed a little bit. Not really as a way of running from my problems; more like finding a really good hiding spot so that by the time they catch me I've figured out a way to deal with them.
Ironically, though, in the time that I've been avoiding public announcments, I've told all of this to most of you individually. So if you've talked to me in the past month and asked me how life was going, you've probably heard most of this already. In fact, I'll even lj-cut this at the proper time so that those of you who are up to date can just run along without missing anything.
So as you may remember from the last lifepost, I really enjoyed my month at ImprovOlympic. Great place, loads of fun, and most importantly, there was a sense of belonging that tends to be absent in a lot of environmnents, even those where I'm well-liked. I don't meet a lot of people who are on the same wavelength that I am, and as such have an odd ability to be lonely in a room full of people. But improvisers train themselves to connect ideas together (you kind of have to if you want to make an entire play out of a single word), and their reliance on teamwork demands that they be able to recognize one anothers' trains of thought. As a result, I never once found myself having to explain any of my jests to them, and was even told on several occasions that no matter how abstract my comments were, they always made perfect sense. I was home!
Of all the issues I've dealt with in the past (and there are a few of them- I'd expound, but it would seriously derail this rambling), one problem I never had was finding myself. I've always known who I am; my trouble was always about figuring out how to work myself into the rest of the world. I guess you could say I know all of the facts about myself, but none of the context. I have a lot of talents- I can write, I can act, I can do stand-up, I can make a reasonable showing at pretty much every aspect of a film except lighting, and I can sneak up on people who are actively searching for me. Several witnesses will even confirm that I'm an impressively mediocre rapper. And yet, I don't really do any of these things well enough (or often enough) to make a career out of them.
So when something like this comes along where I find an empty space in a jigsaw puzzle that's about my size, you damn well better believe I want to jump in and see if I fit. But of course, it's more complicated than that.
( And now the part most of you have heard... ) |
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| I'm home! |
[Aug. 20th, 2007|03:10 pm] |
I have returned from Chicago! Actually, that was a week ago- I've been busy having enough stuff to keep my room messy, enjoying a computer less than eight years old, and listening to a collection of more than five songs.
There's a lot to say, so I'm going to break this up into a few different posts. We'll start with my experiences in the Summer Intensive proper. You know, the fun stuff.
ImprovOlympic's whole philosophy is "Truth in Comedy." Thus, they emphasize honest and true-to-life characters over laughs, as those are meant to come from their natural interactions with one another.
This fact alone didn't surprise me, but the effect it had on classes sure did: we performed no small number of kick-ass scenes without the slightest bit of humor. It was a little unnerving at first, since those of us who take the comedic path are accustomed to using laughs as an auditory measurement of our progress, and silence normally indicates suckage.
But here's something I noticed again and again: the more uncomfortable you make people with drama, the more they start wanting to laugh. And when that one little comic bit comes (and someone will inevitably throw something in if it's a public show), they'll be so relieved that it will hit them that much harder. Even what would normally be a throwaway line can expel them from their chairs.
We had five different teachers over five weeks, each with their own wisdom, and sometimes with contradictory philosophies, expecting us to use what worked best for us. I think my favorite critique that I got was that I play too intellectually, and should try picking an emotion and actively trying to ruin a scene by playing it too hard.
I saw something else there that really inspired me: there's a guy that hooks his iTunes up to a soundboard and does improv sound design! He uses it three different ways: a dance party where he changes the music every minute and generally responds to the flow of the dancers, a show that actively doesn't give a shit (so he tries to mess with the performers), and by far the most impressive, an improvised movie that he underscores.
Naturally, as a man with an interest both in improv and in sound design, a chance to pursue both simultaneously is something I must seize. Clearly, I must steal this man's job right out from under his feet. Or, at least, prove myself capable of serving the same function so that when he moves on to bigger things I'll be the shoe-in replacement.
I think the first step is asking if I can guest-host a dance party, since that's the only gig that's not an actual show. The problem is, my musical tastes are a little esoteric. I'm your go-to guy if you're looking for Sri Lankan hip-hop or Gypsy techno, but I drastically need to be brought up to speed on the stuff everyone else has been listening to. So I went on a dowloading binge. Bringin' Sexy Back, Milkshake, Hollaback Girl*, Fergilicious, Right Thurr, My Humps, Work It, even Bye Bye Bye... within five minutes, I owned so many of the songs I've been hiding from for the past five years. And Hey Ya.
But I need more! What other quintessential songs are people going to expect me to have if I tell the world I'm a music-playing colossus?
*Although, now that I've seen the video, Hollaback Girl is awesome- so let's have an "I told you so" from Alison. |
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actionjack's journal
Happily Shocked
Psyched