The Chronic- What? -cles of Comedy

Hey y’all! I’m very sorry I skipped out on about a month’s worth of posting, but I will try to keep up from now on (which is only like 2 more weeks -- OMG!). I needed to take some time for myself, and writing was getting really stressful. All forms of writing were just kind of soul crushing for a little while there, so I stopped writing here. It wasn’t just writing either; I was just generally having a pretty rough time, and I decided I needed to do what I had to get back on track. On track to what? Who knows, but I think I’m closer to being on whatever track I was on now. But it is different; it’s a different track. Not a better or worse track, just a different one, and I like it. I feel like I finally started being a person, rather than just a worker. I’m good a being a worker. It’s not that it comes easy to me, but it comes easier to me than being a full-fledged human. When I can focus on work, I can block everything else out, which means less social bull, but it also means less positive social interaction as well. This is kind of where I was, and also part of why I stopped writing. I have become slightly more social, and it’s a good thing. 

Okay, let’s see if there’s anything I didn’t post about, but should have during my writing hiatus... Well, I posted the music video that I worked so very hard on, and you should totally check it out if you haven’t yet. I am actually super proud of it, and I loved making it, even though singing is definitely not my strong suit. In fact, I’ve already written a couple more songs, and I am desperately trying to get one of them in the final show here. Other than that, I don’t think anything of particular importance has occurred since I’ve been MIA.

However, this week is crazy and full of big, scary, exciting things. Tomorrow (Wednesday), we have our stand-up assignment, which is just as terrifying as it sounds. There is a very good chance that I will get onstage, and then forget my set, freeze, and possibly even start crying. Great... We also have the first part of our final writing packet due this week, which also scares the crap out of me because, you guessed it, I’m not a writer. Lastly, we have our final acting showcase on Friday. The showcase is classic comedy scenes, and I’m not sure it gets more classic than Shakespeare (who just had his 400th death-iversary), so it’s quite fitting that that is exactly what I am doing. To be honest, I am pumped. I loved Shakespeare...a lot.

Collaboration is key. I know for a fact that I work so much better when I am doing so collaboratively. Recently, this special and important flair has been missing from my work. Our cohort (that’s what they call our classmates at the Second City) is definitely an ensemble. We support each other and work together, but only when we are asked to. In my previous work, back at Michigan, I made an effort to seek out opportunities to collaborate. In fact, collaboration was a huge part of my failed first attempt at my sophomore year review…

I returned to Ann Arbor this past week for a portion of my spring break, and, boy, am I glad I did! I like to think of my closest friends there as life collaborators. Even if we’re not collaborating on a specific project at any given time, we always pushing each other to do stuff and make things (real specific, Marisa…). Maybe it’s my slight hunger for competition, but it’s how and why I get along so well with my friends. It’s a symbiotic creative (and personal) relationship.

Although I mentioned that we’re constantly collaborating when we’re together, there was an actual project we worked on during my visit. I mentioned my newfound love of songwriting earlier this week (and, yes, I am aware that I didn’t post anything yesterday…get over it). This newly acquired skill is being put into full effect for my final project for one of my classes, the Professional Comedian. I am creating a music video. Both of my A2 roommates served as my collaborators for this project, and I am so glad! I would have crumbled without them! One of them is an amazingly talented musician, among many other things as well, and the other is one of the best photographers/videographers I know (also among many other things). Roommate #1 wrote the music for the lyrics I wrote, and actually turned my words into a real song. Roommate #2 helped me develop a shot list and acted as star cinematographer! I could not have done this project without either one of these talented minds. It’s not quite done yet, but I am no longer in the state of doubt that I had been about the actual execution of the music video, and I owe that all to Nikki and Anna <3 So, thank you, grrrls!

Today, you shall get a picture in place of a post because 1. it is #tbt and 2. I am lazy and tired.

First time I successfully juggled clubs! This was a true mark of perseverance, and I was so (secretly) proud of myself for finally getting it. I don’t really practice juggling much these days, but I never want to lose my ability to juggle clubs because I worked my a** off to get it down. 

So, try, try again...

I have so much love for music. SO MUCH. Music shapes who we are, and it is something that is introduced into most our lives very soon after entering the world. I know for sure that I was sung lullabies, played Joni Mitchell, and was provided toy instruments right off the bat. (Thanks mom!) 

For someone who loves music so much, I am surprisingly not very musical. It saddens me deeply that I was never musically talented. I did try... I think my best go at playing music was when I picked up an electric guitar at 7 or 8 after watching School of Rock. I actually wasn’t half bad at that point. I remember picking it up pretty effortlessly, in fact. Unfortunately, I was still a competitive gymnast and a tough basketball tyke at the time. I had to make sacrifices if I wanted to be an athlete, and music was one of them. I kept the guitar, but didn’t practice nearly enough to maintain my strumming skills. I also played piano and violin; both of those given up, as well. I even tried revisiting the good ol’ guitar in high school, but I had lost any talent I had once had. Now, I play a bit of ukulele...not very well, I can read music if that counts for anything, and I can carry a decent tune. I hate that I never stuck with any of my instruments, especially since being in a band was always one of my dreams. I guess it just wasn’t high up enough on the list to follow through...

In addition to mediocre ukulele and subpar vocals, I have recently started writing songs. I’m not musically knowledgable to write music or anything, but I am one heck of a lyricist apparently. I haven’t tried my hand at a “serious” song yet, but I’ve already written a handful of musical comedy. I’ve got at least 4 songs written out on paper (or computer, in some cases) and I only started writing in February (last month). I’d say that’s not too shabby for someone with no prior experience or guiding. If you’ve read some of my other posts on this thing, you’ve probably gathered that I do not identify as a writer, I am not confident in my writing, and I generally don’t love writing. LYRICS ARE A WHOLE NEW BALLGAME. I love writing lyrics. It’s a way for me to get my comedy out onto a page that doesn’t bring me pain. My creativity craves musicality apparently, and I’ve got no shame in that. Now, I need to find a collaborator who actually plays music...

Okay, no music post is complete without talking about favorite bands and stuff of that nature, right? I believe in MTDs (Musically Transmitted Diseases). I like to use the term to reference when a friend, family member, or anyone gets you addicted to a band/artist that they love, get it? So, here is my attempt to give you an MTD (gross?). For your (and my) sake go check out SWMRS. They are probably my current top pick. They are so relevant. Maybe it’s just me being a millenial, but their music is amazing and a lot of their lyrics are super important. The frontman of the band is a hyper-intellectual, crazy-talented, super-activist, underage rockstar, and the rest of the band stays true to this. If they aren’t quite your style, that’s cool with me, but give ‘em a chance, eh?

Words, blah, something. I have nothing to say today. I did absolutely nothing. I worked out a little bit, but I didn’t have to leave for that. I am looking forward to tomorrow, not today.

That’s all I got for you today. Sorry guys…

Oh, Hamilton...you are always there when I need you. (The title of the day is straight outta Hamilton.) Alright, spring break post of the day, here I come.

All my life I have wanted to be something that I am not, and even though I am always making changes or having changes thrust upon me, I still yearn for something other. Does this make me selfish? Does it make me one of those girls who has given into societal standards? Does it just make me young? I’m really not sure. 

What I want to be changes as I change, but it is always something that I am not. When I was really young, I wanted to be part of a bigger family. It’s always been just me and my mom, and all the wonderful animals we’ve collected along the way. (Also, special shoutout to Andi and Kris, who also lived with us at various times in my life <3 much love to both of you!) As I got older, I grew happier and more content with my tiny, amazing, supportive household family, but I also gained more family than a girl could ask for. I am talking about chosen family, of course. The next thing I can remember want very badly to be was healthy. I went through, and still sometimes to continue to go through, cyclical autoimmune sickness that spanned from weeks to months, and comes back randomly over the course of years. I usually get this wish of health these day, save for when I get an occasional cold or virus. Next, I wanted to be talented. I suppose I am kind of talented, but I’ve never really seen it or accepted it the way other people have. I wanted to be talented like my friends or the performers I would watch. This one I don’t think I ever achieved, but I realized that I was skilled in other ways from the people I admired, and I am still working on accepting that fact. Now, I want to be both less and more of myself. It’s a contradiction, I am aware, but the world is full of them, so get used to it. There are certain aspects of me, my personality and being, that I am so proud of and wish could be magnified. But there are also parts of myself that I want to just be gone, both physically and psychologically. So there, I’ve said it: “I am not satisfied.” That’s probably a good thing though. If I were satisfied, I would just stop, right? I’d plateau. That’s what causes midlife crises, I’ve heard; you get everything you thought you wanted, and then what?

I am from Boston, I live in Chicago, I go to school in Ann Arbor, and I work in St. Louis. A woman of the world (country) is probably the correct term for me right about now. I’m stuck in this place where I don’t know where home is. Or, maybe I know exactly where it is, but it’s in more than one place, and how could that be a bad thing? (It’s not.)

Boston will always be home...well, not actual Boston proper, but I did go to preschool there every day for my early formative years, so, yeah, Boston proper too! You can’t take away childhood from me, and I would never want that. So, Boston, you are my home! 

Then, there’s idea of hoMe. For those of you who don’t immediately get that reference, it’s a UofM thing. We’ve decided that we have the monopoly on the letter M. Don’t get me started... As much as I resent my university, there is a certain amount of home-type feeling associated with it. I have made some of my best friends there, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.

Next, we have my chosen family (not that I don’t choose my real family too, love you guys!). St. Louis will always have a piece of my heart (cue Janis Joplin). There are so many good memories in that place, and some not-so-good ones, too, but that only adds to why it feels like home. I know that I will always have a place in STL. It’s kind of like my fairy tale land.

Finally, we come to the last piece of the puzzle: Chicago. I’m here now, and it’s the most independent, grown-up place I’ve ever been. I’m still not totally sure how I feel about it, but it definitely has some home to it. I feel like I can really survive this crazy world we’re in here. I have found a network, two of my closest friends are here, and my experience has been filled with firsts. Pretty much any place that a “first” happens gets to be a kind of home for me, so Chicago, you qualify I guess.

In my last post, I think I neglected to mention that it’s SPRING BREAK, *explicit content*!! That means no more teachers’ dirty looks...oh wait, that’s summer. We’re not quite there yet. I have a goal for spring break, two actually. I’m guess that neither of them will actually be achieved but that’s okay with me. Goal 1: Write something here every day, so I don’t get rusty over this week without constant assignments. It can be however short or long as I choose, but I will attempt to write every day. Goal 2: Do something uncomfortable every day. This can be physically, emotionally, or mentally uncomfortable. I’ve found that nothing truly terrible comes out of doing these kinds of things, so I’ve decided to push myself!

So far, I’ve been good with my goals. It’s only day 2 of spring break so I’ve still got plenty of time to mess this up, but I believe in myself (kind of)! 

In case you’re curious:

Thursday

Goal 1: I had class today, so I excused myself from writing today.

Goal 2: I went to a concert alone, and made 2 new friends (which is not easy for someone with as much social anxiety as me).

Friday

Goal 1: See post entitle “Dream Realized”

Goal 2: Forced myself to stretch for 30 minutes, oversplits and chest stands included. 

Saturday

Goal 1: This post.

Goal 2: Went for a mile run.

Since arriving here, there has been a lot of discussion about dream jobs and future plans. This is one of the most stressful things for me to think about. I don’t think it’s just a me problem, but I certainly feel the pressure. I have so many dream jobs, and I can’t just pick one, so when people ask me “if you could have any job, what would it be,” I never know how to answer. Here is a list of jobs that I would LOVE to have:

Film editor

Artistic Director of a theater company

Actor

Production Designer

Circus Performer

Director

These are truly dream jobs. I don’t think any of these are actually going to happen. (Although I have already done a lot of these things, I haven’t achieved the level of work I “dream” for.) 

In my professional comedian class, we are currently developing our final projects. We are supposed to choose either a spec script, a writing packet, a web series, or a performance showcase, whichever type of project is (hopefully) going to be useful going forward for whatever work we want to do in the future (a.k.a. “our dream jobs”). I have chosen to create a web video; it’s going to be a music video. I wrote lyrics for a satirical song, and will be producing/directing/starring/editing a music video for it next week. It’s going to be a lot of work, but it actually is something that I’ve only dreamed of, seeing as I’m afraid of singing.

Speaking of music, Marisa went to a concert last night. It made me realize that my dream job isn’t specific. My dream job is to be artistic. That is enough for me any day of the week. It was at this show that my eyes opened to the fact that all I need is some creativity in my life. Honestly, I would be happy to be a roadie! It’s not what I’d want to do for my whole life or anything, but it’s actually something I’m really interested in doing. I love music, I love lifting heavy things (especially as a girl), I love helping, and I love traveling. It seems like roadie could be the perfect job for me. There is some unfortunate stigma around roadies, but it truly seems like the job would be a dream. So, next time someone asks me, “roadie” will be at the top of my dream job list. Sorry mom, I guess college was a waste... 

I did it. I’m proud that I lasted this long. I am not proud that I did it though. What is this horrible thing I did, you ask? I did not write a post for last week, 2/29-3/6. RIP my writing streak. Don’t fret! This is not the end of my blogging; it is just the end of my authorial dignity. I feel as though I kind of deserve a free pass on this blunder due to my illness, but I’m not one to take handouts, so I am taking responsibility for my actions (or non-actions). This is my make up post, there should be another this week as well.

Okay, time to start I guess:

I LOVE CRITICISM. I know a lot of people say this, but don’t actually mean it, and then they go and get mad if you actually do criticize them. I mean it for real though. From the age of 3 to 10, I was a gymnast. Starting at 4 1/2, I was a competitive gymnast. Yes, that young. My coach was a strict ex-Chinese gymnast, who did not understand the idea of coddling at all. I am very thankful for this in many ways, although I cried a lot at the time. If our legs were not straight on beam, she would hit us with a pool noodle (occasionally swapping out the pool noodle for a wooden dowel). She pushed us to our physical, and sometimes, emotional limits. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I had these experiences, but I would prefer to never have to do that again. She never gave us any positive praise. Well, she never gave me any positive praise; she did however praise the girl who is now dancing with ABT praise... Regardless, it only made me work harder in hopes of one day receiving some of this praise. I do exaggerate a bit by saying “never,” but it was extremely rare. This made the positive approval all the more meaningful. It meant that I really truly deserved the praise. I would feel so proud of myself.

This concept has, however, hindered me slightly since then. See, now, as a result of my crazy gymnastics coach, I do not accept compliments well. Sometimes, this makes me come off as if I am phishing for compliments. Well, here’s the truth, world, “I AM NOT PHISHING FOR COMPLIMENTS. I JUST HAVE A COMPLICATED HISTORY.” There I said it. So, if I am surprised or in disbelief sometime when you try to compliment me, please try not to be off-put by my reaction. I do appreciate it somewhere deep down inside, but I probably just feel like I haven’t earned your approval yet. This distrust of easy compliments is what drives me, so please don’t squash it. I need it to continue on creating (and living, probably). But, I’m sorry if I have ever offended you because I didn’t know how to take your compliment or kindness. It’s a me problem, but that doesn’t mean I’ve dealt with it yet (or want to).

Despite having never seen Risky Business, I am always on the lookout for an opportunity to come sliding into a room wearing mid-calf white socks, underwear, a white button-up, and sunglasses. Surprisingly, this is a pretty comfortable outfit for me, even onstage, in front of strangers (or non-strangers). Therefore, it is not something I will be doing in class this coming week.

This week is “Risk Week.” In our writing class, we have been assigned to perform something risky. We can interpret that however we want, so pretty much anything goes. As I have previously mentioned, singing and being sexy onstage are two things that make me vastly uncomfortable, but I don’t know if I think that uncomfortable and risky are the same thing. Plus, I’ve already done those two things in class. I really struggled trying to figure out what would be risky for me. I first thought I could spend 3 minutes eating fast food in front of everyone. As someone who has not eaten fast food in like 10 years, that’s kind of risky I think. Not good enough for me though. I then thought of recreating a scene from one of my favorite movies, The Breakfast Club, but restructuring it to reveal a secret of mine. Again, not good enough. Finally, I decided on writing a Suessian poem, complete with couplet after couplet, revealing a truth about me that I don’t even know is true. I’ve written the poem twice, almost identically, but with slightly different endings. I have not yet chosen which one I’ll read, or if I’ll read both. I wonder which would be riskier? 

This is not the only risky business I’ve been attending to. For those who don’t know, I have a complicated medical history regarding my upper GI tract. I’ll spare you the details, but just know it’s been a long ride for me. The past few days, these problems have decided to knock on my door again. This means that I am unable to eat much, if at all. It’s okay, it really is. I’ve had to deal with this numerous times, and, look, I’m still alive. I’m calling this a risk because not being able to eat makes me extremely tired, and I know that I’m going to have to balance this tiredness with my crazy comedy schedule. I can do it; don’t worry too much about me, but I’m not really looking forward to it. Sickness sucks, guys! Like, for real! The good news is that every time I’ve gotten sick in the past, I’ve gotten better...

Sickly,

When did “funk” start having negative connotations? Like, there was a time when funk just meant a kind of music, right? Now, funk can be used to describe an unpleasant aroma or a rut in someone’s work ethic.

I mention this because I am in one of these so-called funks, and no amount of funk has been able to remove me from this funk. I shouldn’t really be complaining; I know that there are some writers/creatives who sit in a funk for years, and, here I am, complaining about a three day funk. I wouldn’t be so whiny about it if I didn’t have deadlines out the wazoo looming over me, but I do, so now I’m whining. 

I have two upcoming papers due next week, as well as some short responses, journal entries, and a sketch. I cannot make myself do any of these. I just do not want to write right now (I know it’s contradictory since I’m writing this but let me have this). Well, I never want to write, but I can usually convince myself to do it, but not today, Satan! 

All I want to do is dance. For those of you internet-goers who don’t already know, this is not a completely random desire. I am (was?) a dancer. I danced all through high school and have continued through college as much as possible. For as many tabs open that are research for all my homework, I have dance classes and different dance studios open to match. Then I start crying because I don’t have money to pay for a dance class because all the dollars are going towards my comedy program.

 It’s been 4 weeks and I’m already sick of comedy. That’s not true! At least, it’s not actually what it sounds like, and I had a very seasoned comedienne affirm my slight apathy yesterday, so I think I’m okay. I’m not really sick of it, but I do feel like it’s the only thing in my life right now, and that’s not healthy for anything. It’s like when you’re in a relationship and you think the only thing you can do or care about is being with your partner. That’s unhealthy, and it’ll make you resent each other pretty damn quickly. It’s important for you to have your own thing. I feel like comedy and I haven’t found our own things yet, and we’re getting to that resentment stage. It’s worsened because I think that I’m the only one in the relationship that has gotten to stage so far, and comedy can sense it, which just makes it more clingy...and nobody likes clingy.

If you don’t understand, that is a reference to one of my favorite musicals, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. This is relevant for many reasons, three of which I will now list:

The name of that song is “I’m Not That Smart”

Spelling Bee is one of my aspirations 

I do not have siblings

I do NOT feel very smart here. Don’t feel bad for me; I’m not being self-deprecating. It is just a fact. I don’t feel very smart here. I’m not afraid to own it. It seems like everyone else here is a writer extraordinaire, and I’m just sitting over here like “Writing scares the life out of me!” I’m very slowly getting better at it bit by bit I think, so that’s good. See below for more anxiety-ridden posts regarding writing.

Okay, point number 2. Spelling Bee is one of my aspirations, more as a writer than an actor, but I’d take either. If you don’t know anything about the development of the show, I’ll give you the short version: it was based on an improvised play, and then built upon from there. Short and sweet. This is how I want to make work. I am not a confident writer, but I am a semi-confident improviser, and an even more confident improviser when I am not up there alone. I think working towards writing a full show through improv would be so cool. Oh wait, that’s what I’m doing here, now. Well, yeah, but it’s different here. We’re working towards a revue, which is a sketch show, not a fully fleshed out, cohesive, plot-driven show. Not to put down revues, they’re awesome! I can’t wait to be in one at the end of the semester! But, there is something really special about creating a real BROADWAY show through improvisation, and that’s something that I can only dream about doing (for now).

I love kids. Please don’t make that sound dirtier than I meant it. I used to work at a daycare, and I’ve worked at numerous summer camps. Kids give us a great perspective on the world. “Kids” is a very vague term, but I define it as anyone younger than me. I also just call people “kid,” even if they’re older than me (especially if I have a crush on them...it gives me an air of disconnect and coolness...or something). I spent, somewhere around, 11 hours on a train last weekend. It was so worth it! I visited my “kids” in St. Louis to see their big show. They brought me so far out of my reality, and it was wonderful. We gossiped (which I never do), we stayed up late (not drinking), and we hugged (a lot). 

I always end up playing a kid on stage, so it’s very hard for me to not cast myself as a kid. I’ve been trying to fight against that urge, but I consistently fall into the child character, or a child-like one. I don’t really have a problem with this but I do know that I am going to eventually grow out of my ability to play a a kid, if for no other reason, than for my physical aging. For this reason, I have been trying to figure out what my “type” is other than “kid.” I have not been successful. My closest guess was “a bro who also happens to be female.” Too specific... 

I am not completely confident of when the last time I peed myself was; it was either when I wet the bed because I had been dreaming that I was on a toilet peeing, or it was when I just couldn’t get to the toilet fast enough after walking home…both of these occurred last week. Just kidding, they both happened sometime in elementary school. Fortunately, I do have adequate control over my bladder now. 

Since we don’t have official class every Friday, I can now say that I HAVE COMPLETED MY FIRST WEEK AT THE SECOND CITY!!! Glad I could get that out. I don’t think that I have ever been more terrified of anything in my life. As someone who identifies as far away from “writer” as possible, this week has made me metaphorically pee myself (who knows, maybe a little pee did come out once or twice and I was just too nervous to notice) multiple times. 

I don’t remember a time that I wasn’t insecure about my writing, which is part of why me writing this blog (or whatever this is) is so important. I am forcing myself to do shit stuff (gotta keep it friendly for the kiddos) that I am not comfortable with. Contrarily, I don’t remember a time that I wasn’t secure writhing on the floor or hopping around like a doofus in front of people. I can only hope that my physical skill/comfort will be enough to serve as a jumping off point. Of course, I cannot rely on physicality since, as I have been taught multiple times this week, physical comedy is only one of five slices of the comedy pie (Get it? Like a pie in the face…). The more pie the better, so I can’t wait until my pie is more complete. However, I am extremely far from that metaphor being complete right now, and I am okay with that (not).