Exper: A Course in Life, Week 1

My first improv class was last week!

I have not had time to write anything about it, because Clay and I have been frantically re-plowing through the previous seasons of House of Cards in an inappropriately short period of time, trying to cram them in before the new season launched (today). Also because despite the fact that I quit my fancy advertising job a year ago, I somehow now have three or four jobs, all of which are exhausting and time-consuming (also, low-paying, sometimes tedious and always rewarding/completely amazing). Regardless, I haven't had a minute. Also, we didn't even make it all through season one. We are watching the season finale right now, neither of us paying attention, which means we're going to need to watch it a third time. If someone could do for me a UPS guy whiteboard-style explanation of the SanCorp-Tusk situation, I would really appreciate it.

To put it simply, I liked my improv class a lot. I liked the other people in the class, I liked the instructor, I liked the fact that this sort of thing is available where I live and that we had all come together in search of it. For a nominal fee, you can be given social permission to do things that come naturally to children - in this case, using your imagination. As someone who gently prods you into moving your body after years of being told to sit still, it is clear that the improv folks and me are in the same business. This is the business of unleashing your emotional demons for the betterment of the entire universe. Anyhow, we did all the things that you wanted us to do - awkward icebreakers, making noises and superhero gesticulations, discussion of the theory of 'YES, AND' and three hours of playing pretend. It was so much fun.

More specifically, here are the things that I liked about it.

1/ The RULES RULE

Improv, while ultimately a silly business, is not some sort of willy-nilly free-for-all. Like yoga, it is a discipline, and the practice of improv is a (loosely) structured team effort or nobody eats. There are clearly defined rules, which are explained prior to each exercise by our cool, funny and smart instructor, Rick. During the game, he interrupts occasionally to issue gentle reprimands when people are not following the rules. He does this with all the firm cool politeness of the English nobility. He spares no-one; not the obviously cool drama class kid nor the woman who speaks almost no English and very clearly has no idea what we're talking about or asking her to do. My ridiculous regard for rule-following has been documented at length; this sort of behavior makes my heart swell. He interrupted me one time and I was so embarrassed, I didn't speak again for twenty minutes. Both improv and western society run on the assumption that participants have agreed to abide by a set system of rules; without this, all is chaos. And we can't have that.

2/ I am nothing if not MYSELF

Despite being a bashful mess at my own wedding for some unexplained reason, I love to be the center of attention. I will steal the spotlight at pretty much any cost, and performance art is certainly no exception. My mother has photos and a pretty good story about me doing this in a community theater production of A Little Princess at the age of 9; despite being very firmly in the chorus with one, maybe two lines max, I pretended to be the lead throughout every performance of the show, mimicking her every move from the background of the scene. I more or less elbowed the other chorus girls (my best friends) out of the way, on stage. I do not recall doing this but the photos are very plain, an incriminating detail that cannot be overlooked. I also don't remember anybody ever telling me that I was doing this or chastising me throughout the course of the show, so I can only hope it was cute or funny or unnoticeable, although the photos would beg otherwise. Anyhow, once we got to the part of the class where the floor was opened up for folks to step in, I could not help but volunteer myself over and over. As soon as a scene started, my brain started furiously pumping about how I could contribute, or, even better, start the next one. I got another gentle reprimand from Rick, this time about taking turns. It was mortifying, sure, and it felt like coming home. This is embarrassing to admit in a public forum, but I'm somewhat comforted to know that this still pervades. It's not a likable quality, but uncontrollable ambition does begrudgingly command a certain amount of respect. I will attempt to be more courteous to my classmates moving forward, but please know that it's killing me on the inside.

3. Improv, like most things worth pursuing, is WORK

It is not easy to be funny. It is not easy to anticipate what people will like. It is not easy to remember to trip over props that do not exist. It is not easy to wholeheartedly go with the implied assumptions of a person you just met an hour and twenty minutes ago, whose brain-space you do not yet even begin to understand, while living in a city which constantly reinforces the idea of sleeping with one eye open. All of this is okay with me. I love to be a student, and I love to work. If pencils weren't the bane of my left-handed existence I would have sharpened myself a nice bouquet before class. I brought three pens instead, on the off chance that A. we had to take notes (we didn't) and B. something happened to the first two pens (it didn't). I believe in preparedness and I believe in work. I like the idea that I am a student of comedy, just like I like the idea that I am a student of yoga and a student of life. I believe that the good things in this life are worth studying, and I am looking forward to having something new and entirely non-take-apart-able to try to dissect.

That's all. Week one was fun. Week two is in hot pursuit, and I am looking forward to it.

By the way, we decided to do this 9-minute teaser recap thing instead of re-watching everything because Clay had his pants on fire and just could not wait for me to sharpen my pencils over what exactly Francis was up to in season two (spoiler alert: it was a lot). If you have access to the UPS guy with the whiteboard, please do send him my way. RAP RAP.

Exper: A Course in Life

My entire life, or at least since the beginning of my social awareness, I have been trying desperately, to varying levels of success, to achieve the following adjectives/personal labels:

1. cool
2. funny
3. smart

Luckily, once you hit the mid-late 20s I think you begin to take on the mental capacity to understand that 'cool' is something you are born with. If you were not, attempting to find it is a waste of time and anxiety and money and headspace. I now understand that 'cool' should be replaced on everyone's list with 'confident' or 'secure' or something of the sort, and that switcheroo should happen just about as soon as possible. Cool is exhausting. Just do you. And THAT, my friends, is what makes you cool. This is why the nerds prosper later on in life, once they work up the juice to be psyched about their nerd status. Nerds are usually nerds because they're uncommonly good at something that society eventually values, even if it's video games.

Also luckily, to the same extent that cool is not a thing, I find that being funny is just highlighting the best parts of situations, something anyone can do, and being smart is within the reach of pretty much anybody who's interested. Taking most of the time and energy you used to spend trying to crimp your hair (cool) and diverting all of that into the never-ending quest for funnies and smarts will take you far in life.

This is my postulate.

I found myself in a bit of a rut on the above as of late, as ya do, and as such have signed myself up for an 8-week course in improvisational comedy. Improv classes! At a theater. In Manhattan. FREE SHOW AT THE END OF THE COURSE. What is this life?!?! I have also found myself in a bit of a rut on the writing front and thought I'd marry the two here for you, an upstanding member of the society that values the two-for-one. In my head, there are endless parallels to be drawn between the ability to disregard one's awkwardness and all things that are beautiful in life and I plan to carry on about those parallels at great length in this public forum. And likely also in my yoga classes. Get excited.

This is to be categorized as a Life Experiment. Because what is life, if not one giant improvisational comedy? Nobody knows what's coming next, not even your shaman, you shameless hipster. And comedy can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.* I must take the time here to express the urgency with which I recommend experimentation. Without a bit of experimentation in our lives, we devote our existence toward the paying of bills, and this I can neither live with nor abide. Experimentation is how we learn and have experiences. Seek out any word with the root 'exper,' really, and only good stuff can come of it. I also believe that it is possible to experiment within the guidelines of the rules and laws of your given society. This is how genius money machines like molecular gastronomy and yoga teacher training and trapeze classes end up making the big bucks (do they? I have no idea). Plenty of drug-free fun to be had out there, people! Only you can prevent forest fires.

I will begin my improv education at the Magnet Theater. I know two things about the Magnet Theater:

A. My cool, funny and smart friend Emily works/performs there
B. My cool, funny and smart friend Kelly took improv classes there, and when I mentioned Emily (A.) she said, "I've heard of her. She's cool and funny. And smart."

Magnet Theater, please take my money.

Class starts tomorrow. I signed up for it yesterday. I'll see you on the other side.



*Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, quote modified, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (screenplay)