Snapshots of Improv Class (And Why I Love It)

Just so you know I haven't fully become a cranky theatre grad school elf, I should say I love teaching college improv. The world becomes better after each class. Kinda being cheesy. (Like, cue montage of me pushing open the blackbox doors to U2's "Beautiful Day" and like cartoon bluebirds chirp around my head as I smile at everyone in the Fine Arts Center.) But, partially, I really believe that my students and I become better after each class.

Some Wonderful Things That Have Happened Lately:

-I dismiss class, but say "I'll play a round of Beastie Rap if anyone wants to stay." They all stay.

-Two Entenmann's pumpkin donuts protected by only a Ziploc get decimated in my backpack. On my way to the trash I say, "Unless anyone wants them" and someone does.

-We play a goofy version of tag where when you're "it" you have to yell stuff, and a nice boy who always dresses in black runs ferociously after a girl in heels while screaming, "THE SUN'LL COME OUUUUT TOMORROW! BET YOUR BOTTOM DOLLAR!"

-After getting feedback that the token awkward, shy guy always plays himself, I ask him to play the school hottie jock. He is still awkward, but adds details like, "I wasn't listening in class because I was texting my girlfriend who is a cheerleader."

-Today a student gave a history presentation on Christopher Guest.

-A kid sends me his homework via email, includes a poem with such lines like "I broke up with my girlfriend because she said like/ Hitler was a jerk 'cos of the Third Reich."

-At mid-term I make them sit in a chair in front of everyone and hear all their strengths and weaknesses from classmates. They often fidget, but no one has gotten defensive, and everyone has felt unique and appreciated. This has nothing to do with my teaching and everything to do with how you can't help but love people you improvise with.

Scared of Heights

"My stomach," Muffy said.
I felt my eyes pushing forward out of my skull.
The canyon was bigger than I expected.
The height.
My stomach lurched a little too.
Er--not my stomach. My...
lungs. Yes, the air--
yes, something about it.
Uh, er, there were--
too--
many feelings.

I felt more than I expected.
This is a place my father was when he was a boy.
This is a place that is one of seven.
This is a place I have now been with my college roommate,
my best friend, my Canyon Sister.
That is what we kept yelling in the car
that we drove
for hours
without any music
because we were talking
so much.
Bigger than I expected.

But everything looks perfect from far away.

Come down now, but we'll stay.

Clams

Tough white shell.
Soft pouch.
Pearl.

Getting to AZ

Pookie and me in matching tees. Sunday.

What an absolute WHIRLWIND of a week. For those of you keeping track:

-My sister and I roadtripped from the Midbest to AZ. This was pretty much entirely enjoyable and entertaining. We listened to a lot of Next to Normal and the Bossypants audiobook. We also got to stay with Wizzy in Okla and I finally used a voucher for a free stay at a deluxe hotel in New Mexico! Boy, did we need it. Pookies were tired, so tired, one of the pookies accidentally fell asleep at 10 PM while watching The Adjustment Bureau. Boop.
-I got more and more giddy with each hour of the drive into AZ. We saw A REAL LIFE TUMBLEWEED Y'ALL. Mountains! Red Dirt! Cacti! I love the land here.


View from a lookout point off the highway. Saturday.

-We stayed with my aunt's best gal pal--a true delight. She cooked us amazing veggie cuisine and made us feel at home. A very necessary feeling during days of apartment hunting.
-We spent hours and hours and hours making/meeting/enduring appointments to see different housing options for me all around the city. Some sketchy, some decent--ultimately, I settled on sharing a condo with two other students a mile away from campus. I just moved in today!

Those are the basics for now! It's weird being in a new city pretty much all by myself, but today was a great day. Tomorrow I will bring on the real deets. I just couldn't in good conscience go to sleep another night with the most recent entry of my blog being a lameo poem about the sunset. SO LAME.

Walk to Culvers

Walked out the front door just past noon.
Trotted down the steps, unlatched the gate, left the yard.
Headed north on the sidewalk--first I was swimming in french fries.
Wendy's baking up fresh batches of sea-salt thick-cut for lunch rush.
I held my iPod in my hand.
It's black and smooth. A song from Grease
played. You Better
Shape Up.
Several children, elementary school, played in a front yard.
All boys in trunks.
One held the hose and yelled. He sprayed wildly. I jumped
the puddles.
The clouds formed.
My face felt dark.
I had no reason to go to Culvers. I did not want
anything. Just a good walk.
Uphill.
I turned around.
The wind whipped. The kids were gone.
I waited at a light.

The Garden Cafe Your Mother Loved

On the Philosopher's Path in Heidelberg, Father's Day

My father was younger than I am when he was last in Germany.
The years fly by, fly by.
Next thing you know
next time you go
it's with two grown daughters.
And they eat in a garden cafe your mother loved.
And philosophers walked garden paths
years ago, years ago.
We walked it last week.
The years fly by, fly by.

Dance Around

Just dance around. Don't make any choices.
You're never going to know
what to do!
Tra la la.
Dance around.
Tra la la.
Dance around.
Just dance around. Don't win any hearts.
You're never going to know
who to love!
Tra la la.
Dance around.
Tra la la.
Dance around.


Muff & Jamba, wedded big time

Up Now

I know the night. I know this night.
I have been up doing small things upon things
for no reason
besides I can't sleep.

After the surprise
"It's late!"
come the tries
to drift, but
the clicking lamp back on, the rolling, scoot, sit.

I am up. I know this night. Boredom.
Moving slow. So
slow. Then, sweet night
is here. I know this night! This night
reminds me that it's all fine. I am alone.
It's so quiet. Blanche whirs, stops. I write, stop.
There's something personal here--something very
velvety. I love this night!

I move with more excitement. I sort through new inspirations.
I gracefully gather up all the yolk of dreams and ex-worries.
I whisk them into night's filling. Night's work.
I work. I plot. I plan--it's all good until--

I know this night. Oh, how I know it.
I'm alone again.
It's fall again.
It's cold here. I need some noise to drown out my own remembered conversations!
Please!
A noise!
I know this night
of let-downs. Of pasts--they do not change.
I know the night now. I know it now.