Letters to Sandwiches: Bánh mì

I don’t even know where to begin.  You’re just really intimidating to me, Bánh mì.  I want to try you.  I want to know what you’re all about.  I’ve heard nothing but amazing things about you and know of several restaurants in the area where apparently, you’re quite amazing.

You have too many ingredients on you that I typically would not want anywhere near a sandwich, or well…most meals.  Cilantro?  No.  Bánh mì, perhaps you don’t know this, but I detest cilantro.  Hot Peppers?  Most of that idea makes me uncomfortable.  Peppers and I have some issues, and I have my spicy and not quite so spicy days. Pickled carrot?  Ok I might be down with that.  Pickled daikon? I don’t even know. I’m sorry.  I think I’ve had pickled daikon before, but I’m not 100% sure.

Considering my slow return to meat , I’m still a bit iffy but I get nervous when works like “head cheese” and “pork floss” get tossed around re: your general ingredients.  I know what head cheese is, Bánh mì, but pork floss?  I can only assume. I assume it is delicious, but my desire for knowledge ends there.

I want to know what love is. I want you to show me.

I believe that, unless we’re talking about Peppers or Cilantro, you really shouldn’t make substitutions to ingredients.  Obviously certain ingredients are put together because they are pleasing upon combination, and who am I to mess with what someone else has deemed perfection?  I’ve let green peppers slide before just because I thought maybe I was missing something with a flavor combination.  I WAS.  It was the only time I have ever though “Green Peppers aren’t so bad.” That thought has not crossed my mind since.  Green Peppers are the devil, Bánh mì, and you are dancing with them (in the pale moonlight, no less).

Just thinking about taking a bite out of you, Bánh mì, makes my lips burn.  My nose is starting to tingle painfully.  Spots on my tongue are twitching in such a way that my eyes, speckled with precipitation, search for something to drink.  Sparks shoot through my throat and down my esophagus.  My stomach braces itself for the inevitable pain of delicious spice.  You’re not even here, Bánh mì.  I don’t even know if my assessment is close to correct.

You scare me, in a good way.  I want to order you, and I want to destroy you.

You might destroy me first.

Breaking Bad (habits)

What is going on guys?!  I am beat.  I spent a pretty great chunk of time in Wicker Park today, visiting different potential venues of Learnapalooza.  I feel like I got a lot accomplished!  And, I got a last minute gig as a Tech Director on Monday nights for the next two months!  Who needs “going back to college for theatre” when you can just do stuff?  I do love this town!

This week in improv news: I’m trying to flex some improv muscles that I either never or rarely use, in class.  It’s finally occurred to me (I guess?  Way to wait til the fucking end!) that I’m in a safe place, and if something doesn’t work, well it doesn’t matter!  I’m working on that confidence thing I mentioned in my last post.  Way to go, me!  But there’s still a very serious problem that I have, which comes and goes in waves: breaking, aka losing my shit.

I want to be clear and say that I am not laughing at myself.  I’m not the kind of person who thinks “oh man, I am so hilarious.  Everyone! Gather around! Come hear how hilarious I am!” because I’m pretty sure I’ve proven over and over with this blog that my self esteem when it comes to…most things…is on the pretty low side.  I giggle at things my scene partners say that catch me off guard, or the situations that we find ourselves in. There is a part of my brain that just wanders off, no matter what, and goes “OMG JESSICA WHAT IF THIS WERE REALLY HAPPENING?! *GIGGLE FIT*” and most of the time, I cannot stop it from happening.  Some people have told me that it is cute.  While I think that is sweet, I just don’t want it to happen.  At all.  I don’t think it’s cute.  I think it’s a nuisance.

Now, there are two schools of thought on breaking in a scene.  On one hand, the audience can tell that you’re enjoying your time and having fun playing up there with your friends.  On the other hand, you’re taking the audience out of the moment, thereby fucking up whatever characters and imagery you just worked so hard to suck them into.  I’ve seen seasoned improvisors break, and it just made me chortle with glee!  I think it’s so adorable (yes I DO have double standards).  It also doesn’t make me feel as shitty.  But it’s also a very “Ohhhh no they didn’t!” moment when, as an improvisor, you see another improvers lose their shit, in the sense that you know they were trying so hard to keep it together and then, with one fell swoop, the jenga tower of imagination has crumbled. As a Giggler, I feel for them.  But I also feel not so alone.  Except…I feel like I am doing it much to frequently.

I hate it.  I get really embarrassed, and I feel shameful about it. I leave scenes feeling really shitty and beating myself up about why can’t I stop myself from being so damn tickled, and remain present for my scene partner.  Every time I giggle in a scene, please know that I feel as though I have failed you, anyone with whom I’ve ever giggled in a scene.  Also, know that you’re funny.  To me, anyway.

I want to be as present as possible in scenes, and, as luck would have it, that’s exactly what AP5 is turning out to be about.  Thank goodness, because I need to shake my giggles, or figure out a way to incorporate them into the characters I’m playing.  I have successfully done that a few times.  Anytime I play a character who is sad or crying and I start to giggle, I can “cleverly” disguise the giggle fit into more hardcore sadlycryness.  Happy characters?  Yes.  Giggle fits can help pull that character into a higher level of happy and awesome. But a deadpan character?  Or an angry character?  Or every other character who is not laughing or crying?  This will take some work.  Susan encouraged me to recycle, in the sense that this CAN be worked into scenes as long as I don’t drop my character.  I want so badly to be better and just not laugh.  I will get there; I just need to practice.

Now, honestly, I don’t giggle in every scene.  I can keep my shit together pretty well sometimes!  I had a really strong patch for a few years where I wasn’t giggly, and I think that was partially because I was doing lots of short form and therefore, my brain didn’t have time to snap away and wander to lulzville.  In my AP4 class, I was taught an excellent trick to keep my giggles from popping in: Keep talking.  Anytime your scene partner isn’t speaking, just talk.  That worked well, but that will only go so far, and work for certain characters.  This will be an on-going effort, which I look forward to working on but am slightly worried I’ll never quite be able to master.

Holy crap. No astericks?

What is or was your bad habit, not just in improv, but anything?  What did you do to knock it off and just be awesomer?

Confidence? More like “Nonfidence”

Yes that is the greatest title for a blog post. You’re welcome!

Hiya!  I just spilled coffee all over the left-side of myself by sitting in a broken chair.  It was actually really funny, and the major plus-side to all of this is that I’m wearing a shirt which already has a huge coffee stain on it (I’m wearing it under a sweater, since I’m classy…and fancy-clothes poor), so it’s all good!  Coffee shirt!  I smell AMAZING.  Not even kidding.  Oh, and the coffee wasn’t super hot, so all in all, it was a much more pleasurable experience than, say, the McDonald’s Lady Incident*.

Je suis un gâchis mignon.

My first AP 5 class was a week ago today, and my brain is still overloaded.  The whole thing, when I look back on it, is like one of those dreams that you have where there are two versions of you (the one who is interacting with people, and the one who is watching the whole thing going on).  It was a very surreal experience for many reasons.

First off, Susan Messing is a wealth of knowledge.  She is a-fucking-mazing.  She’s whip-smart and has so much experience, which she expresses and describes in ways that make you feel like you are there, in that moment she’s explaining, even though whatever she’s talking about could have happened decades ago.  Pretty appropriate, considering her approach to improv is to be in the moment 100%.  I could listen to her speak the whole time we’re in class and not given many fucks if we didn’t actually get up and do any improv.  I feel like a better improvisor simply because she is making me think about improv from a different point of view

We started with an exercise to get us all out of our heads and into the moment.  Two of my classmates jumped up to start, playing that game where you hover your hands over the other person’s, and they randomly go to slap you (aka Chicken, aka, whatever you called it when you were little).  Then, they were told to hug it out for a bit.

Next, five or so people were instructed to attack the back wall of the room and BE SPIDER-MAN.  Just all over the wall.  Spider-man it up (I definitely typed “Superman that ho” because I wasn’t paying attention just then.  Wtf).  So the two guys were slapping at each other, the Spider-mans were going nuts on the back wall.  Then it was time for everyone (Slappers, Spider-mans) to hug it out.  QUICK NOTE: You’re thinking “Spider-MEN!” and I don’t care. Also, I’ve typed Spider-man so many times that I started to convince myself there was a ‘y’ in it and had to Google the correct spelling.  There isn’t a ‘y’.

This lady knows what I'm talking about.

The hugfest ends.  Slappers go back to slapping to fuck out of each other.  Spider-mans go ape shit on the back wall.  The next three people are instructed to do the most realistic chicken impressions that they can.  So they get all up in there and crouch on the floor, flapping their wings and making chicken noises.  Then it was time for everyone to hug it out once more.

Final round: With the Slappers a-slappin’, the Spider-mans a-spi(y)derin’ and the Chickens a-chickenin’ (?), the final four of us were instructed to hold hands, form a circle, and skip around the Slappers while singing “It’s a Small World”.  So we did.  Let’s take a step back for a second.

Two guys slapping at each other in the center of the room.  Five or six Spider-mans climbing the back wall.  Three Chickens clucking around the free floor space.  Four Skipping Singers circling the Slappers, careful not to hit the Chickens.

And then it was time for everyone to hug it out.

After the hug-out, Slapping, Spider-manning, Chickening, and SingySkipping started up again, but then everything gets all slow-motiony for me, because my friend and classmate Jen was suddenly out of our skipping circle and cringing in terrible pain.  At first I though she may have twisted her ankle, but as it turns out, she tore her Achilles Tendon.  It was super scary.  We took care of her the best we could.  Class continued, but I was worried and nervous about Jen’s future in the class and not focusing the best I should have been.

I’ve seen and been in shows where people have gotten hurt.  I’ve hurt myself during shows as well.  But It’s never anything like super serious.  I’ve seen cuts, scrapes, bloody noses, ripped off finger nails, twisted ankles, bumps and welts, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around something so debilitating (she had to have surgery and will be off her feet for several months) occurring during improv.  But it does happen.

After that, working on living in the moment in scenes was difficult for me because I’m a worrier by nature, so I’m really looking forward to focusing on it tonight since I know Jen’s safe and sound at home (heart symbol!), but still bummed that she’ll miss a lot of what we’ll be working on.  But she will be back!

I’m looking forward to the approach of really living  and feeling everything in the moment of a scene.  I spend a lot of time worrying about where everything is going and what our end goal is instead of appreciating what my partner and I are doing in scenes (this is based on how I feel in scenes and see myself as an improvisor, which you know, it’s always great to dissect the fuck out of how you, yourself play, right?), and I just want to do whatever I can to make sure that their idea is the right one because surely, mine sucks**.  I think this class with give me the edge of confidence that I’ve been looking for, and melt away all the crazy weird scary nerve wracking feelings I have after scenes where I analyze, piece by piece, everything (that I think) I just did wrong.

*I wrote that in the morning.  I proceeded to spill so much coffee on myself throughout the course of the entire day that I am seriously considering buying a t-shirt prior to going to class because I look like a complete idiot.  I also really like t-shirts.

** It doesn’t!  It does NOT! I will nurture and love my ideas!

Sometimes it’s hard to be a (fill in the blank)

Good evening! I’m not overly political, typically.  I vote.  I read articles. I typically know enough to nod and spout some random cohesive thoughts and ideas with regard to upcoming elections. I know things, guys! I try not to really discuss politics unless I am wasted, though, because I get very passionate about certain topics, like poverty, education, war, human rights, and so forth.  It’s just getting more and more difficult to keep my mouth shut, and here is the end result: I’m blogging angry and sad, with a heavy heart, and an aching back.

Right now (well, for a while now), I am really, really, REALLY disappointed with the laws being passed left and right, and how they affect women.  How they affect men. How they affect children.  How they affect the elderly.  How they affect couples who don’t fit the archaic stereotypes of what a family is “supposed” to look like. How they affect single-parent households.  How they affect single (or relationship-having but not married-) people.  How they affect healthcare. How they affect education, from the beginning of a person’ education and all the way through.

I feel helpless.  I read stories about how people are losing the right to their privacy, being strip searched for little, if any, reason.  I read about how women in some states are being traumatized by having to carry stillborns full-term because of certain laws that are in place. I read about people being treated more harshly every day simply because they’re not your “average” white, Christian-looking American.  I read about kids whose parents know they won’t live through their teens because of street violence.

I feel so helpless.  I don’t like what I’m seeing.  I don’t know what to do about it.  I understand that there need to be laws, but I don’t understand why the laws have to be so regressive and detremental to such a vast array of people.

I’m not a moron, and I know that not everyone is going to be happy no matter what laws are in place…but to make so many people so miserable?  What good does this do?  Who are the law makers and the law passers actually helping?  I’m getting upset just typing this. I am so worried about the future that I couldn’t imagine ever bringing a child into this world, which will, and has, become so restrictive.  We’re moving backwards!  We are moving backwards, as a society, and as a culture, every day.

I don’t expect everyone’s problems to end just because the world is sad as fuck.  I know there are things out there that make our lives worth living.  I see hope in the eyes of people all the time.  But not enough.  Not enough hope, and not enough people holding on to it.

I wish I had some sort of a solution, and that I could say or do something to make things better, open up people’s eyes, show the people who keep coming up with, and passing, these ridiculous laws that these things should NOT be.

I am thankful for the creative outlets that I have, and for the people in my life who are equally, if not more, outraged and incensed by what is going on, with whom I can laugh about our (potentially?) bleak futures, and plot our escape.

I know I am not less of a person because I am a woman, and I wish there weren’t people out there who think I am (not to say that you do. I should hope you don’t think that). I don’t think anyone is less of a person because of their sex, orientation, religion, politics, etc.  But I will judge the shit out of you if you’re a dick.

Don’t eat the Pie

Hey, how’s it going?  Guys, I have to admit, I feel like I’ve gotten a bit off track with my blog, what with talking about my sleep issues and my general life weirdness, so I am sorry about that.  On the other hand, I think it’s important to get through things the best way one (me? you?) knows how, and if that’s in writing out feelings, then so be it.  It’s helped me a lot, and I thank you for being rad whilst I do my thang.  Most of the times, this is like a letter looking to my friends (irl and via the internets) for guidance or to share experiences, and you guys comment (either here or via facebook and twitter) and reinforce that we’re all here and everything’s cool and maybe I’m not as crazy as I think.  I enjoy our dialogue is what I’m trying to say. Oh god.  This whole paragraph makes it sound like I don’t have friends in real life.  I do.  I swear.

Let’s talk about some more awesome stuff!

On February 16th (what’s up, specificity!), I auditioned for a play.  I don’t remember if I mentioned that, but I think I did and it all got muddled in some bullshit.  While I wasn’t feeling particularly awesome on any level that day, I really don’t want to back out of auditions for any circumstances, unless I’m legit sick or need to be out of town (both of which I’ve had to do and felt really bad about canceling).  I went to the audition and wasn’t really sure what to expect, this being my first non-improv (sort of…we did some improv but also did some cold reading of lines!) audition.

The second best part of the audition is that I didn’t have time to psych myself out and be nervous because I had six million other emotions running around my brain.  The first best part of the audition is that I got a part!!!

The facts are these:

Dear sweet zombie Jesus I miss this show so much

The group producing/directing/writing/etc-ing the show (‘Armaggedon Pie’, which takes place in a diner during the apocalypse) is called Cor Res.  Stealing a portion of their excellent bio from their excellent facebook page (which you should go like), “Cor Res (“the heart of the matter” in Latin) is a theater company focused on bringing comedy to the stage through a lens of gravitas.

With strong knowledge of both improvisational and scripted performance, the group includes an ensemble of actors and writers in creating full-length theatrical works. Starting from a skeleton storyline, a cast of actors fleshes out ideas through improvisation, and a team of writers pare down and polish the work into a scripted play.

Formed in 2010, Cor Res is a young group already with striking success. The first production, “Gastrong! The Musical,” was put up during one of the worst winters in memorable history, across sporadic Wednesdays, and still garnered 300 attendees and made a profit with zero budget.”

These folks are straight up awesome (follow them on twitter!).

We’ve been rehearsing for like a month now, doing improv to build out our characters and learn who we are to each other, talking about what our town and diner are like, and so on.  This creative process has been so cool so far, and I’m beyond thrilled to see what comes of it.  It’s only going to get more awesome and more interesting, and I can’t even begin to describe how amazing it is to be a part of the project.  Seriously, my only complaint is that we only have rehearsals once a week.  For now.  Because I love spending time with everyone and learning new things about each of our characters.  Yep, I’ve entered excitable puppy mode again.

Every now and then I think about how I am the first person who will ever act my part in this play, and that some of my lines might actually be created by me, and it is hard to describe how overwhelming and humbling and fucking crazy that feels.  I know it’s nothing earth-shattering for some people, but it’s just a really cool feeling, having never been a part of something like this before.  I feel extremely grateful that I’m getting the opportunity to work on something so unique, and for my first project outside of a class.  Everyone I’ve explained this all to has the same reaction of an expression of wonder mixed with wtf.

I can’t gush enough about how fucking rad it is.

It’ll be a dark comedy, and, if you’re in the area in September or October, you should come see it!  I’m sure I’ll blog more about it as the months progress…in between more posts about the random other nonsense that can’t help but occur in my day to day.

Welp, off to rehearsal!

I don’t go to sleep to dream

Welcome to my sleep difficulties follow up post!  I’ll (try to) keep this short and sweet, but definitely not lacking in the crazy and weird and kinda dumb!:

I <3 MELATONIN!!! 

I’ve been sleeping a lot better thanks to either Melatonin or a belief in the fact that it will assist me with sleeping.  I don’t know which, and I don’t really care!  I’m going to keep on taking it until my brain decides it’s not working, or it actually doesn’t work!  HAHAHA!  HAHAHAHAHA!  HAAAHAAAAAAHAAAAAA*HAAA!

Things are still a bit off-kilter in Jessicaland.  I keep getting on the wrong trains and not realizing it for quite a while.  I’ll attribute this mostly to not really paying attention to most things as soon as I put my head phones on because I’m too busy imagining situations where the music I listen to would be heard by everyone, and suddenly we’d all break into dance**.  And yet, I want bigger, better headphones.  The ones that cover my entire ear.  I had those back in my New York days, and they are fantastic.  Just try to pry me from my synchronized dancing alternate reality once I get some of those!***  Uh, I also have caught myself staring into people’s eyes while on the train, but not while I’m thinking about it (Like I’m not doing it on purpose).  It isn’t until the person smiles slightly or looks away that my brain finally sends the “CREEPSTER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” alert.

Because I’m sleeping again, my dreams are coming back (at least, in a capacity where I can remember them).  The good side is that I’m not having horrifying nightmares, as I am wont to do.  I can’t even tell you how many times I have been killed in my sleep.  The bad side is I keep having dreams that lull me into this false sense of everything being wonderful, and when I wake up…well, it’s not ‘horrible’, but it’s not my dream.  An example:

Over the weekend I had a dream that I was getting married to one of my friends who, in real life, is dead.  The wedding was sweet and perfect, though I didn’t get to see him much afterwards because we were talking to friends and family, etc.  When I woke up, I had a splitting headache not unlike one you might have after spending an evening (and the wee hours of the morning) drinking some serious fucking martinis (I had not a drop of the devil’s liquid the evening previous), and the ever-depressing realization that everyone I’ve made an “If we’re not married by the time we’re 30, we’ll marry each other!” pact (which I realize using the word “everyone” makes me sound slutty but it’s good to have options AND by the time I made each pact, one of the other pact makers was already dead).

While on one hand, it’s really fucking depressing, on the other hand, my morbid and jesty brain can’t help but think “I guess they didn’t want to make good on their pact, SO badly in fact, that they took their own lives.”  Yes, in case you were curious, my brain enjoys rhyming a bit for dramatic and comedic emphasis.

I am not so deluded to think this is actually the case.  Believe me, I’m not that damaged.

What’s up, getting super off-topic!

I am still going to try the rest of people’s suggestions, partially because my sleep isn’t feeling very restful and also because last night I tried to fall asleep sans Melatonin and my brain just laughed and laughed at me as I thought the same thoughts over and over.  Also I just read over this.  What am I even talking about?

Maybe this is how I’ve always been and I’m just realizing it now?  Or maybe it is how I was before and it’s all coming back.  Either way…parts of it are fun.  Other parts are frustrating. Here’s a picture so you don’t feel like you just had to read crazy ramblings for like, however long it took you to read this:

I can't put into words how much I miss North Carolina right now, but I feel like this does the trick.

*I think I’m sleeping, anyhow.  I could be completely wrong.

**So you see, I’m descending into madness pretty quickly.

***Don’t.  I’ll bite you.