Improv: The Art of Gift Giving

It was the first week of speech team practice since the new school year had started.  I stood in the center of the journalism classroom after school, knobbly-kneed in my maroon plaid skirt and my wrinkled gray sweater.  I had never done this before, but I felt ready.  Our coach gave my partner and I the prompt, "a tourist in a foreign country."

As soon as my partner started speaking fluent Spanish, I froze, got angry, broke character, and said, "I can't even do this. I don't know Spanish. How am I even supposed to make a scene if I can't even understand her?"

And this will forever go down in my history as the first and the most cringe-inducing improv scene I have ever performed.

***

The first time I tried structured improv was by way of a bribe.  A complete cosmic accident, really, looking back on it.

I was almost 15 years old and a freshman in high school.  It was May, and in July, I had planned to go on a service trip.  I had been hassling a bunch of my teachers to pledge money for my trek across rural, shanty-town Kentucky, because my parents weren't going to let me off so easily like the other parents did and write a check for $600.

Most teachers were empathic, and gave a solid $20, no contest.  But Donna Patterson, my world civ teacher, she wasn't going to make this a one-sided deal.

"I'll give you $50," she said, "but on one condition."

As the youngest of three girls, I had become somewhat accustomed to compromise and negotiation.  She had my attention.

"You have to attend an informational meeting and workshop for the speech team.  Then you'll get your money."

Like any self-absorbed, asshole teenager, I agreed, not really planning to follow through.  Why would I want to be on a speech team?  Don't they just stand around and give speeches?  I'm pretty sure I revoked my public speaking rights when I was the morbid 5th grader who gave a 4H Speech on Lizzie Borden while all the other girls in my class were doing Michelle Kwan or Mia Hamm.  I'm actually surprised and a little concerned that that didn't raise any red flags or warrant a note home to my parents.  If you don't know who Lizzie Borden is, Google her.  That's cause for worry.

I must've had nothing better to do that afternoon, because assuredy, I went to that meeting, and by the time it was over, I had pledged my next three years of high school to the speech team.

Donna Patterson never gave me that $50.  In fact, she didn't even come back my sophomore year.  Just vanished.  No explanation.  Was she ever even real?  Was she my Ghost of Speech Team Yet to Come?  I may have been duped out of fifty bucks, but in reality, she gave me much more.

***

On improvisational principle, I love it when things come full circle.  There is something so satisfying about a story wrapping itself up so nicely, and pinching itself off with a pretty bow.  The AH-HA! moment, as they call it--when a scene ends on the perfect button, when you get that big laugh, when a punchline hits and the stage is swept.

Last night, I stood on stage with a complete stranger, and was given the prompt, "Mexico."  And as my partner started the scene speaking Spanish, it wasn't until then that I reflected on how far I had come, and how responsible improv has been for that growth.

The scene played out beautifully, lost in translation, as we purposefully confused 'dinero' with De Niro, and kept getting frustrated at what we were supposed to 'si'.  And we created an honest portrayal of what it's like to find common ground when you can't understand a goddamn thing someone else is saying.  And in those quick moments when we were thinking on our toes and grasping for truth in our humor, I had my AH-HA! moment.

***

I went to a tiny, liberal arts college in Indiana, 90% because after I visited, I learned that there was a campus improv group.  Why else would I subject myself to living in the middle of nowhere for four years, if it weren't for something I was beginning to become passionate about?

Auditions for Evil Petting Zoo were really exclusive--the only reason I caught wind of them was because my PA had the inside scoop, and he knew I was interested.  Auditions were a two-part process: the first night was a workshop to get to know the members and play a few improv games to prep for The Big Night.  The second part was The Big Night: sweat-inducing, exhilarating, and a complete blur.  I vaguely remember playing 3-line scene, and finishing a round by getting on my knees and saying, "forgive me father, for I have sinned," which turned out to be a great subtle blow-job/priest joke and got a big laugh.  Other than that, I can't even tell you what day it was or who else came to try out.

After auditions, I texted both of my parents, letting them know how nervous I was, and how there were so many other people that could've been better than me.

Just after midnight, I received that e-mail, reassuring me that I was good enough, and welcoming me to the group.

***

Improv is something seemingly easy, but can't be taught with words.  It's something that you feel inside of you when the moment is right.  It's intuition.  It's gut.  It's truth.  One of my first teachings on improv was the book 'Truth in Comedy.'  As a fledgling member of Evil Petting Zoo, we were passed down copies of the book as a sort of initiation.  This is where my improv journey would truly begin.  Even though I spent a few years flirting with improv on my high school speech team, I had only scraped the surface in terms of the true cogs behind the art.

Anyone who has ever studied improv knows that the first principle is "Yes, and..."  Even the moguls like Tina and Amy will tell you that if improv were a religion, Yes, And would be ruler of all.  Yes, and is a way to accept everything.  The good, the bad, the really confusing and the unexplainable.  No idea is a bad idea, and if it's thrown to you, you catch it and you run like hell.  It is a way to be open to all options, even if you have no idea where they will take you.

***

My junior year of college, I decided it was time to pay tribute to the improv gods, and make the pilgrimage to Chicago; the birthplace of improv. With a passionate personal essay and sterling letters of recommendation, I got an interview at the iO--one of the first interviews they did outside of regular performers who interned for free classes.  I vividly remember Mike Click, the right hand man at the iO, bringing a dog and a jar of peanut butter to my interview, asking if I was allergic to dogs or peanut butter.  After that initial screening process, he told me I could start next week.

I worked under Charna Halpern, one of the writers of 'Truth in Comedy.'  It took all I could to keep it together when she was in the office.  I bought her dogs sausage patties once a week from the Salt and Pepper Diner downstairs, and I'm still not convinced she knew my name.  I walked the same halls that Del Close--the father of improv--walked.  I passed framed pictures of every Improv Great there ever was--Tina and Amy (obviously), Rachel Dratch, Vanessa Bayer, Seth Meyers, Mike Myers, Horatio Sanz, Neil Flynn, Chris Farley.  Every time I entered that building, with the sickeningly-sweet smell of bleach, commercial soap and sweat, I knew it was where I wanted to be.

***

One of the greatest lessons I have learned from improv is taking the more interesting choice.  If we stay with what we know, we can never experience growth.  If we close ourselves off, we can never see what potential we truly have.  Exploring all aspects of a scene is a necessity for improv.  Exploring all aspects of life is what makes us human and what makes us interesting.

Improv is a branch of metaphysics--what is real, right now?  What is in front of you?  How can you make this proposed world better?  Another core principle of improv is the act of gift-giving: what can you give to your partner or your group that will better the whole?  It's not about cutting someone down to get the cheap laughs.  It's about creating a living, breathing scene where people can walk in and walk out and leave a lasting impact.  Improv is about making others look good at the benefit of your own group.  It is not about walking out of a scene when you feel uncomfortable, getting angry because you can't think of an innovative path, or breaking character when you think the scene has gone too far.  It is about groupmind and being on the same page without even realizing it.  It is about taking care of others in order to take care of yourself.

The best times of my life have been times inundated with improv.  It is a time to let go of everything you know that is real and breathe life into any alternate universe that you desire.  That moment on stage, when the lights are on you and your group, and no one else matters.  That moment when you can leave all of your true worries behind and play someone else for a change.

You are whoever you want to be, for as long as you want, in any world you create.

***

I have been steadily involved in improv for about 10 years now, and the change I have seen in myself is astonishing.  I am more selfless, but I am more self-aware. I am more grounded, but I have more dreams.  Improv has taught me that whatever I am dealt, there is always a way to deal with it--even if I don't speak fluent Spanish.

Improv was a gift, serendipitously bestowed upon me; it was something I never knew I could be so passionate about, but something that has kept me seeking higher ground.

I love performing, but better yet, I love teaching people to perform.  I love teaching people this art, because it's only fair to give back the gift that was given to me by so many people.

Last night, I hosted an improv workshop with dear friends who have had the same passion for improv as I have had.  We were given the gift of improv that is only acceptable to be passed on to others, in hope that they will find the same passion.  In hope that they will find the same comfort and the same freedom.  In hope that it will not take a $50 bribe to convince someone that they can captivate an audience, but convince them to believe in their own talents.  It is a selfish thing to keep talent to yourself, that is why improv is the gift that keeps on giving.  That is why improv is the gift that I keep giving.

The Disturbing Mass Appeal of Donald Trump

Before you make any assumptions, please, let me stop you right there.

No, I, personally, do not find Donald Trump appealing, even disturbingly so, and no, I would never contribute to lessening the value of our society by ever putting him in any position of power in our government.

But as a former student of television and digital media, I'll give him a fucking round of applause.

I vividly remember the Bush/Kerry election in 2004.  I was in 8th grade, attending a private school in Louisville, KY.  If that isn't a big enough giveaway, my parents were both Republican, as were most of the parents of the kids I went to school with, which was apparent when it came time to vote in class a couple months before the election.  Our social studies teacher, Mrs. Combs, had each of us write who we would vote for on a slip of paper.  After everyone took a few intrusive peeks at the surrounding ballots, we dropped them in the box at the front of the room.  Mrs. Combs tallied the votes, and after she told us that the vote was overwhelmingly Bush, she asked us why.

What did she mean, why?  Just because.  It's some stupid, fake class election.  Why did she care, why? Can I get back to passing notes now?

But why did we vote the way we did that day?  Because it was how our parents would have voted? Because it was how our friends had voted?  She asked us what we knew about the candidates, if we knew anything at all.  And we all glanced around the room at each other in silence, like most awkward, fledgling teenagers do.  That very moment was the spark that encouraged me to start following politics.

At that point, Facebook wasn't public, and Twitter was seemingly light-years away.  You may have had a few friends on MySpace or blogged about your feelings on your private Xanga account.  If you had a phone with a camera you were lucky, and the only websites that even crossed your mind on a daily basis were AOL and Ebaum's World.

My parents still received the local newspaper and religiously watched FOX News--live, because DVR was black magic back then.  Television was where I got my news.  There was no TMZ, no Mic.com, no Onion.  The debates were long and tiresome for my teenage brain, but the day after, they would always recap the talking points on morning shows and websites like CNN, MSN or Yahoo.  Just dry-cut, bare bones, let's-talk-about-the-issues-but-also-safely-mud-sling-a-bit politics. All of the commentary was mostly sterile, with a few jabs here and there, but the conversation remained political, not personal--the way election coverage should be handled. 

Pop culture was a pretty separate entity, altogether.  Presidential candidates were presidential candidates, not celebrities--you either loved them or hated them for their policies, their voting history, or because of a predisposed inclination to a certain affiliation.  You never saw articles or videos or memes (it's 2004--what's a meme?) slamming a potential first lady about her looks or leaked iPhone photos of the incumbent devouring a Big Mac in between caucuses.  Back then, the only place you could've seen George H. Dubya toss his cookies right next to the Japanese Prime Minister was on a rogue episode of VH1's "I Love the 90's." Now, it even has a Wikipedia page dedicated to it.

Be completely honest with yourself.  If I were to ask you which you would Google faster, "George H. W. Bush's foreign policy" or "George H. W. Bush pukes and then passes out at the dinner table in front of over 100 diplomats," which one would you choose?

Don't be ashamed!  I picked the puke story, too!  But the thing is, I also know about his foreign policy because I made it a point to educate myself, even if I was still in diapers when he was vying for the oval office, because history will always repeat itself, whether you accept it with open arms or recalcitrantly tell all of your Facebook friends how FUCKING PISSED YOU ARE AND THAT YOU'RE MOVING TO CANADA.

Enter Donald Trump.

Trump is using this super sneaky and super smart tactic to his advantage. Because he knows how connected we are in this digital age.  He knows that maybe some people know just a little bit about him politically, or maybe they know nothing at all about him politically, and people might be inclined to peruse his policies, but it's guaranteed that they will always Google and Share and Retweet his puke on the Prime Minister moments.

And psychologically, this directly relates to some weird, fucked up escapism principle we have to not be satisfied with the mundane lives we live.  This is why we read fiction (does anyone read books anymore, show of hands?).  This is why we watch TV.  This is why we share viral articles or videos that are outrageous or hilarious or heartbreaking.  We have this desire to constantly experience extreme emotion, as long as we're not the ones directly facing the consequences or painful truths.  Because we have access to a 24-hour feed of whatever we want, we have become so desensitized to everything.  The only thing that shocks us and catches our attention are the extremes.

Last year, Nielsen reportedly ranked over 1,400 TV shows, which FX CEO deemed as "too much TV."  And he's absolutely fucking right.  Watching 'television' is such a loose term these days, because there are so many OTT streaming services that make our escapism extremely portable and constantly at our fingertips.  We spend over five and a half hours viewing video content per day.  We are checking our social media accounts on our phone 17+ times. And Donald Trump is capitalizing on his clout every single time you watch or share a video of him reciting some imbecilic tirade about how incompetent he thinks women are or how big of a "pussy" he thinks Ted Cruz is or how much he loves the Bible, but can't stop misquoting it, religiously.  See the irony there?

I studied sitcoms in graduate school, and the most fun I had was creating hateable, outlandish characters for sitcoms. The quintessential character that everyone loves to hate.  Those characters are so fun to write for, because they are never held accountable for anything that comes out of their mouths, and for that reason, they quickly become the series favorites.  They always play the antagonists and they're always rotten to the core--no redeemable qualities to be seen, whatsoever--but if that character was removed from the show, no one would watch.  It would be a show about people getting along peacefully and living their lives with a few conflicts here and there, but ultimately, there would be no story.

Everyone lives vicariously through the antagonist.  They say things and do things we only wish we could say and do to our 'fill-in-the-blank': shitty boss, messy roommate, cheating partner, lousy friend, nosy parents.  The one-liners are pure gold, and we think to ourselves, "oh my gosh, that's so funny, I want to say that to someone, because that's exactly how I feel!"  But the thing is, we are so inundated with television as the norm that we accept it as how we actually should be living our lives--as antagonists.  Our digital boundaries are so blurred with the introduction of continuous access to media and "reality" TV drama, that we can't separate what is acceptable to happen on Bravo's back lot, from what is never acceptable in our own realities.

Donald Trump is no stranger to our television industry.  Since 2004, he has been one of the main components of "The Apprentice," and "The Celebrity Apprentice."  He knows how to work cameras, especially in the reality TV business.  He knows that the biggest media outlets look for the biggest shock factors, and he has no shame in putting on a horrific persona to ensure that he has the most talked about political platform and most buzzed about social stories--because he knows those are the only things we will share.  We have to ask ourselves what kind of society are we heading toward when almost half of an entire political party supports a presidential candidate because he "seems not to give a fuck," and declares he will "bomb the shit out of ISIS," instead of outlining a true plan for foreign and domestic terrorism.  He loves to recklessly insult people, and uses cruel humor to 'relate' to his supporters, as if he thinks he's a stand-up on an HBO special, not a presidential candidate.  And the sad thing is, people actually buy into this and stand behind it.  We are becoming desensitized to reality and opting for a scripted life with someone who 'tells it like it is,' instead of really looking into what it takes to run the most powerful country in the world.  And it's scary.

In 10 or so years, when your children are participating in a class election, and their teacher asks them, "why did you vote the way you did?" what will you have to say? Because it was how their parents or their friends had voted?  Because it was what Facebook or Twitter or any other social media site told them to do?  Because it was what some undigestible, fictional television villain with hilariously crude and inappropriate witticisms inspired them to do? Or will it be because they used technology to their advantage and looked beyond the viral videos and reality TV and perceived safety net of escapism in order to separate our on-screen indulgences from our perfectly mediocre realities?

Donald Trump is the antagonist in this season of America.  And if we elect him, sure, we have a story, and we'll have fodder for season after season.  But if we do everything in our power to make sure that he doesn't get within miles of the White House, we can all live peacefully, which is a story with a happier ending.