Not Meeting TJ

Something rad about the Chicago improv scene is how transparent everyone is on the performer-to-performer level. Like, on Sunday I got to see my teacher perform in his show. I'd just spent the whole week chatting with him. He said, "I encourage you all to befriend me on Facebook."

The woman who INVENTED longform bops around the building. We do our lame warm-ups on the same stage that Tina Fey, Tim Meadows, Amy Poehler etc. played on. They were all once in Level One. I spill coconut water as I'm trying to tip-toe through a talent crush's class. He waves his hand like, "Eh, don't you worry!"

Some people are comfortable with this easiness. Javvy and I talk about how amazing the Tuesday night set was. A member of said set walks by. Javvy says, "Hey man! Great job!" I keep quiet. I know people like compliments...but all the time? From randos? Maybe he's just trying to get to Starbucks before he teaches, you know?

This leads me to how I haven't met TJ yet. For those of you who don't know, arguably the best improv show in the world currently is one called TJ & Dave--featuring, as you may have guessed, TJ and Dave. TJ is a phenomenal performer. I've gotten to see him a few times in different shows, and every time I am totally blown away by his skill.

I'm also blown away that for being THE man of improv in 2012, he is so accessible. He just walks around the theatre kindly and patting friends on the back. He hangs out at the bar for a moment. Tonight as I left a show he was in, he was outside on the sidewalk with some dude chillin'. I keep having opportunities to meet him. I mean...this is THE GUY. I SHOULD meet him. But...I think of what questions I have, and then I don't really have any. Like...I know what people say secrets of improv are. I could ask about his experience, but I could also save his time and find an interview online. Honestly the only thing that's not a dumb question is "What does your arm tattoo signify?" But what? Am I just going to meander over to him sometime and ask and then peace?

At the very least I could just say, "I love your work," shake his hand, and then I will have officially met TJ. But, honestly, as I thought of that, I realized that whole interaction would be for me. I don't want to GIVE him anything. I just want to be able to know TJ held my hand. In twenty years when people are talking about "the greats," I want to be able to say, "Yes. We met." That's rude of me, don't you think?

EDIT: Right after I wrote this post, I went to sleep. I dreamt I was auditioning for the second role in a two-person play starring TJ. Wut?

8.5

Chomp chomp chomp!

Last Saturday I went to the performances of a 24 Hour Play Festival and then to see some of my improv team dudes' longform group do a set at a tiny artsy venue. I really liked having a night of watching people perform. I've been onstage so much lately, I forgot how nice it is to be an audience member.

Chelle told me I was going to be surprised post-show. As promised, I got into her car, closed my eyes, and started singing "Super Bass." When she told me I could open my eyes, there was a warm box of thirteen donuts on my lap. LOCAL LATE NIGHT DONUT SHOP! We were headed to a party after, and I biked, so my only option was to eat all the donuts before going home. Can't bike with a box of donuts, you know?

To make a long story short, I managed to give 4.5 away, but the party ended for me sitting in the driveway with Chelle and a couple other girls, as I nommed through 8.5 fresh donuts. People would come and go--sometimes they took a donut, sometimes they didn't. One guy, who had done improv that night, passed, and I said, "Great show tonight." He was hopping into a car. "Thanks!" he yelled back.

This guy was at my improv show Friday night. Afterwards he was hanging around with my cast. I said, "Oh, we haven't officially met." He said, "Yeah...I saw you at the party, but I was leaving, and you were, like, having a girl pow wow..."

"Oh, I was eating a box of donuts."

"Haha! Yeah, something like that!"

"...No. That's what I was doing."

"Oh."

The moral of the story is that I love Chelle. She's undergoing surgery right now, so, this one's for her. <3



I said, Excuse me, you're a hell of a guy.
I mean, my, my, my, you're like pelican fly.

On My Degree

Koon. Winter 2011.

Been meeting a lot of new people in the past few days--orientations for TAing, small talk with strangers, Graduate Student Welcome Parties. So, you know, people keep asking what I'm doing, and I say, I'm getting my MFA in Dramatic Writing. And, then, pretty much always:

"So, what does one do with a degree in Writing?"

Um...write?

Yeah, I get what people are saying without saying: Where'syourstability? How'reyougonnaeat? Doyouhaveanykindoftalentanyway?

But what I want to say is...I am passionate about dramatic writing. Wouldn't you be concerned if I were doing anything else? Believe me, I didn't pick to pursue this degree because I was in it for the surefire cash. You, strangers, aren't exactly bringing light to my situation, you know.

Most importantly: Ifyou'renotHAPPYwhat'sthepoint?

Ain't about the ca-ching ca-ching!
Ain't about the ba-bling, ba-bling!