Semester of Lulz

Lowsta and me covered in donut debris from a sketch yesterday.

It kind of blows my mind how much comedy I've done in the past few months. I don't know how to feel about it. Most of the time I've really enjoyed it and tried to learn from it, but, oddly, when you do it so much, you start to operate at a lower level of excellence...not because you're tired, but because it's not special.

If you do a new sketch show every week, it's not a big deal if you kind of flub some lines and turn something that was good on paper into something that's just mediocre on stage. Improv every week? It all runs together and you start not to care.

Thursday we did our last improv show of the semester (for me the year since I teach during our show in the spring term), and I didn't even think to think of it as meaningful. Tomorrow is our sketch "Best Of" show. Today we rehearsed for almost five hours to prepare. At the end of it all, my face was on fire, my brain clogged with all the lines of previous week's work and props to bring. Isn't this supposed to be fun? It is. It really is. I'm just overworked.

I did stand-up last night too. I did alright, but I would have done better if I had actually worked any of my bits instead of just sort of prancing around a couple funny ideas I had been mulling over lately. Just no time. I mean, gosh, I've got three final projects due in the next, like, 72 hours.

Basically: I'm not sure what my future holds for the funny biz. I've got sights set on a summer program, sure, but what about just next month? Can I do this again? I really do not know.

I do know I have met some good people through comedy--some better than others (boop). Ultimately I guess that's what everything's all about: "Well, did I meet some cool people?" And, if you do comedy, it's basically a given. I dunno, guys. I dunno.

What made us think that we were wise?