IMPROV - a Life Lesson in trying to learn life through a lesson in comedy.
My "God" is George Carlin in the sky. Some of those top people on my 'bucket list' to eat dinner and watch a ball game with are Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray, John Cusack, James McAvoy, Leah Remini, Kate Hudson... one of them was most definitely the great George and I consider his guidance to be fair and sarcastic, real and objective. His narrative is relatable and gives self-responsibility. I digress, most of my happiness (as with most people) is found in comedy.
I was raised on Steve Martin, Martin Short, SNL when it was 'good' and Caddy Shack. Monty Python and Who's Line is it Anyway were always the go-to common ground for family television and Mystery Science Theater was on every single Thanksgiving before the game. Comedic delivery, crass and tactless language, a sarcasm and wit that almost felt like Rosanne was seeping from my mother at all times. My father was more of the Tim Allen comedic and was usually telling a tall tale or trying to blow something up. Between the moments of trauma and chaos of a broken home there was a large piece of saving-grace, the comedic moments. The moments we all remember and laugh over...
Dad getting his finger nearly taken by a crab on the TX shore. Dad blowing up the backyard and telling the firemen it was the neighbor kids, my drunk mother ordering a single fry from the drive-thru and a plethora of other legendary 'stories'. I have always felt comedy was a way to band aid something, a temporary distraction fix. Something that was a short cut from 'dealing with serious things'.
After years of psychology, years of life, decades of life, years of parenting, and falling up the stairs more than I have down, I've learned something; having a sense of humor IS healing your way through trauma. Most of the greats, those Robin Williams and Jim Carrey kind of comedy icons have terrible stories and yet still managed to make the world laugh. Though not all comedians find the humor healing enough, it helps others and not having their comedy is a loss. I sometimes till grieve over Robin Williams and the bright light he brought into this world. Have you re-watched Good Morning Vietnam lately? Hilarious... genius.
Through my anxiety issues lately - and by issues I mean crying, depressions, scenarios of not wanting to leave my bathroom or apartment - I have found that I love my humor. I need it to survive. So why do I push it off and consider it some sort of shortcut when instead I KNOW that it is a strength? Stigmas, taboos, struggles, being vulnerable, all of these things go with being a comedian 'professionally' and though I don't think I have what it takes to make money doing comedy, I think I'd like to explore more of my funny bones.
It has been a long time since I've done any sort of acting other than voice work. I was on stage doing pageants and bluegrass festivals since the age of 3 and when I had children, I stopped doing 'that stuff'. I've signed up for a local Improv Class as the BVW and if they go well, I'll sign up for more...
I want to see the best parts of me grow and that means nourishing the plants and parts I love. <3
I was raised on Steve Martin, Martin Short, SNL when it was 'good' and Caddy Shack. Monty Python and Who's Line is it Anyway were always the go-to common ground for family television and Mystery Science Theater was on every single Thanksgiving before the game. Comedic delivery, crass and tactless language, a sarcasm and wit that almost felt like Rosanne was seeping from my mother at all times. My father was more of the Tim Allen comedic and was usually telling a tall tale or trying to blow something up. Between the moments of trauma and chaos of a broken home there was a large piece of saving-grace, the comedic moments. The moments we all remember and laugh over...
Dad getting his finger nearly taken by a crab on the TX shore. Dad blowing up the backyard and telling the firemen it was the neighbor kids, my drunk mother ordering a single fry from the drive-thru and a plethora of other legendary 'stories'. I have always felt comedy was a way to band aid something, a temporary distraction fix. Something that was a short cut from 'dealing with serious things'.
After years of psychology, years of life, decades of life, years of parenting, and falling up the stairs more than I have down, I've learned something; having a sense of humor IS healing your way through trauma. Most of the greats, those Robin Williams and Jim Carrey kind of comedy icons have terrible stories and yet still managed to make the world laugh. Though not all comedians find the humor healing enough, it helps others and not having their comedy is a loss. I sometimes till grieve over Robin Williams and the bright light he brought into this world. Have you re-watched Good Morning Vietnam lately? Hilarious... genius.
Through my anxiety issues lately - and by issues I mean crying, depressions, scenarios of not wanting to leave my bathroom or apartment - I have found that I love my humor. I need it to survive. So why do I push it off and consider it some sort of shortcut when instead I KNOW that it is a strength? Stigmas, taboos, struggles, being vulnerable, all of these things go with being a comedian 'professionally' and though I don't think I have what it takes to make money doing comedy, I think I'd like to explore more of my funny bones.
It has been a long time since I've done any sort of acting other than voice work. I was on stage doing pageants and bluegrass festivals since the age of 3 and when I had children, I stopped doing 'that stuff'. I've signed up for a local Improv Class as the BVW and if they go well, I'll sign up for more...
I want to see the best parts of me grow and that means nourishing the plants and parts I love. <3
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