So. Three days of Improv have happened.
GUYS! GODDAMMIT! IT IS SO! GOOD! IT IS SO GOOD!!! I'm nine hours into this world of awesome and already, it's all I want to do. All of the time.
...
OK, so potentially a slight exaggeration. I'm in a play right now, too (!!!!!!!!!FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!...also, another topic for another time...) and it's pretty glorious, so I don't think I'd want to give that up. Also: spooning.
But, point is I love this shit. I LOVE it.
I kinda caught myself off-guard the first day because I felt like the most eager girl in the room, (I very well might have been, and I guess that's not so out-of-the-ordinary for me, now that I think about it...I'm a generally eager chick...That's a good thing, right?...), and I thought to myself Shit, I hope that I don't seem too obnoxious to these people. I hope I don't look so over-eager that I'm, like, alienating everyone else in the room with my excitement and want to just kinda do everything and ohfuckitIdon'tcareIjustwannaDO this LET'SDOTHIS!!!!!
So, I did.
The first two days, admittedly, I felt pretty much like a badass. We were doing all of these various exercises, learning the basics about "Yes" & "Yes AND", selling imaginary products, becoming Experts on Everything, and I was fucking KILLING it. KILLING! IT! I knew that I was getting it, I knew that the material and I were jiving with each other and that I was somehow creating some pretty clever pretty funny shit. (Without forcing it, of course. No one likes a person who tries to force the funny, it's just bad news. But again, another topic for another time...probably next time...). And it felt awesome. I heard a future conversation between my instructor and Amy Poehler in my brain:
"And, I distinctly remember thinking right off the bat that she just got it. That Angela just understood what Improv was and what Improv could be right from the get-go. It was crazy. Bitch is good. And smart! But, I mean, I guess that's why she's so busy now doing..."BlahBlahBlahBlahBlah, and yes, I know, I got way ahead of myself, two days into class. It's fine.
So, two classes/the first six hours in, the world felt great.
...
The beginning of class on Wednesday, the air started to feel different. The vibe in the room was still ultra positive, I was still inexplicably amped and excited but still, there was some kind of thing happening in the room that felt newer and scarier almost. Foreign.
But, I paid it no mind and moved through the first half of class with the same eagerness and uber-confidence that I had owned and exuded the previous two classes.
Hi! Can I have a suggestion from the audience please?
"Feather."
Feather! Thank you.
...
Sweetheart, look at all of the beautiful birds out here in the park today.
...
"...Honey, I just wanted to tell you...I slept with someone else. Yesterday. ...A man."
You slept with a man? Yesterday?...Here? In the park?!
HAhahahahahahaha!!!
(BOOM! Look at me! I OWN setting up a scene post-suggestion!!!! TAKE! THAT!)
(PS, When I became this person who talks to herself like some competitive asshole jock-type, I have no idea...and it's weird for me.)
We took a ten minute break and upon our return, a new idea was introduced: The Gift.
In Improv, The Gift is a choice that you make about your scene partner, an indication of who they are and where you are, and should be solidified within the first two to three lines of the scene. It doesn't have to be hilarious, but needs to generous so that you are your partner are 100% clear about where the scene is jumping off from.
Sounds simple enough, right?
Also: I like giving gifts. Sounded to me like a delightful piece of cake.
We initially took turns going down a line and coming up with classical pairs of people, just to establish that whomever you are needs to completely correspond with whomever your partner is:
*"I am a stoic security guard."
And I am a saucy female bank robber.
*I am a disgruntled housekeeper.
"What's 'disgruntled' mean?"
Angry. I am an angry housekeeper.
"Oh! I'm the trophy wife who hired you."
And then, we swapped and assigned the roles to one another:
*You are my SAT-tutor.
"And you are my prize student."
*"You are a neurologist."
And you have a tumor the size of a watermelon.
And then, we were told to assign the roles to one another through dialogue...and, for some reason, that's when shit got tricky:
*"Doctor, I just wanted to thank you for the lovely colonoscopy this morning."
... (...Uhhhh...Wait. Wait a second. Why am I blanking?!)
Hey...Patient. Dear sweet Patient...I really wish you wouldn't try to seduce me over my colonoscopic skills...here...in this hospital, here.
(...Um...what the fuck was THAT, Angela, and when did you start to talk like an ESL-student?)
And then, before I had time to really think that over, we progressed from there into full-fledged scenes, using the precisely same idea:
*"The suggestion is Camaro. Thank you."
... ... ...(Crickets...crickets chirping...no ideas...anywhere...)
"Hey, there, little lady, why don't you come on over this way so I can show you our fancy new Camaro. It's a great first car for a great young lady."
OK.
"Isn't it nice?"
It's beautiful!
"Now, I know you don't have a lot of money."
No, I don't have a lot of money. But, my dad sure does.
And then, our instructor brought the scene to an abrupt halt:
"Angela."
Yes?
"Where's his gift?"
Oh! Shoot. (FUCK!)
"He gave you the gift that you're a young girl shopping for a car in a car lot, right?"
Right...
"So, what are you gonna give him back? You gotta give him something back."
Oh. Shoot. Right, you're totally right.
"Also, you told him No."
Oh no! I did? (Oh NO! I DID!!)
"So, you've essentially made the scene all about you."
Oh. (OHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!)
I felt embarrassed. I felt selfish and embarrassed, and was pretty sure that I was blushing...which inherently means that my entire face turns bright red. I felt like everyone in the room was looking at me with a "What the fuck is happening to you?"-kind of glaze.
"Try again."
OK.
"Your new suggestion is speed bump."
...Speed bump. Thank you.
... ... ... ...And I spontaneously squat down to the floor.
Dad, can you help me fix this tire on my bike?
"Angela, where are you?"
Dad, can you help fix this tire on my bike out here in the garage?
"Better." (Phew.)
"Sure, Honey."
Thanks, Dad.
And there's silence while he comes over and mimes checking out my bike.
"Can you go grab me my tool box?"
Oh. Sure. (Wait. Where's my Gift?)
"Don't drop it this time."
OK. I won't.
"It's heavy." (Where the hell is my Gift, man?)
Here you go.
"Thanks. Now, can you go grab me my cup of coffee over there?" (OK, seriously, where is this going?)
OK. Sure, Dad.
"Don't drop that either, you're always dropping stuff." (WHERE'S MY GIFT?!)
I got it. Here, Dad. ... ... ...
...
...
So. I drove really fast over that new speed bump up the street, I'm sorry.
And, once again, the scene screeches to an abrupt halt:
"Angela, you didn't drop anything."
Wait. What?
"He said that you're always dropping things, so why didn't you drop anything?"
Oh. (Oh. ...Wait...) So, um, was that my Gift?
"Of course!" (Aw, shit.) "Here. Let's let another pair get up there."
GOD! DAMMIT!!!! Goddammit. I had felt like I was doing so well and kicking so much ass and now, all of a sudden, I was failing, epically, and in front of everyone. And over a concept that sounded so simple.
WHY WAS I NOT ALREADY MASTERING THIS IDEA?!?!?!?!
We tried a series of other exercises throughout the remainder of class, all within the same vain, and all of which I met with the same sense of bewilderment.
I felt like a douche.
I called that boy that I date immediately post class and vented to him about my epic fail and complete and total embarrassment over my piss-poor showing.
I had looked so good the first two classes, and then I ran into this stupid fucking road block today and I just looked like an idiot, Honey.
"No, you didn't."
It was AWful! Yes I did! I completely had no idea what I was doing and couldn't wrap my brain around anything and it all sounded so simple but it wasn't at all, and...
"You're being retarded."
...What?!
"Angie, you're not failing, you're learning stuff! You took this class to learn stuff, remember? Of course you're not gonna be good at everything or understand it all right away, you've never done anything like this before!"
(...Oh...) Oh. Right.
"Right. Cut yourself some slack. It's new, you'll get it, try to have some kind of patience with yourself for once."
It had been such a long time since I was in an actual classroom, that I had forgotten just what a perfectionist I become in that regard: I am a complete and total impatient perfectionist. This is true in everyday life as well (although you guys knew that, obviously, you did), but that feeling essentially quadruples when I'm in a class.
I don't know why. ...
...No no no, I do:
I want to be good at pretty much everything and I don't want to accept the fact that that can't happen right away. I don't like knowing that I have to go through an awkward clunky phase before things get pretty and fluid. I feel like no one will be interested in watching me stumble, they'll only be interested in seeing me having my shit down.
...Well. That is just dumb. And impractical. And is in absolutely no way going to happen with this Improv-thing. I'm not going to be able to avoid stumbling.
This class is, again, the complete antithesis of everything else that I've learned up to this point; that's a good thing.
And, for as much and I hate not knowing things, I've never been one to turn down getting a little messy...
Ah. Fuck it. In I go.
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