Saddest Songs in the World. Stop It!

*I don't think I've posted about this topic. If I have, I hope I say something unique that makes you think, "this rant and tip sounds fresh and new!"*

Music is everywhere, and I can't control it. Lobbies, restaurants, waiting rooms....everywhere, and I can't turn down that bad song, or turn up that really great song. This might just be a hypersensitive guy talking, but sometimes it feels like there's a goal out there to play the 50 Saddest Songs of All Time. "Coming up next at Panera Bread, the top 40 sad songs that'll make you cry." Ahh, please. Is there a solution? Can I have a solution? (I actually have a solution...but I'm creating dramatic tension.)

(Hold it......)
(Hooooooooolldd it............)
(Now!)

Well, fortunately, I do have a solution, and I hope it helps you if you're finding yourself, "I get it One Republic. Life has challenges."

Create an audio cocoon. Fight back with your own bubble of awesome!. Whenever I'm at a restaurant, I place my phone down next to the free bread (you don't have free bread at your restaurant? Find a new restaurant! I won't pay for my carbs!). I'm not setting the phone there to prepare for the latest Facebook Snapchat Tweet. No! I'm setting the phone there to prepare for the inevitable Ed Sheeran and Adele. Steel yourself against the onslaught of woe! When you hear the first beats of Coldplay, grab that phone, open up Spotify, Songza, or Amazon Music, and start that emergency playlist of good music.

IN CASE OF DEPRESSING BEATS BREAK GLASS AND HIT PLAY

Break it! And crank up the volume. Crank it up loud enough to battle back the garbage. You've just created a dome of happy at your table. You're sitting, safe and sound....good sounds! Be careful not to turn the volume up too loud. You don't want to disturb the person sitting at the table beside you. They might be enjoying the music over the restaurant sound system (I don't know how they could either. But, it's possible.)

I do this all the time...much to the chagrin and eye roll of whomever I'm sitting with. Well, I might not have the respect of the person I'm sitting across from, but at least I have good music.

P.S. I actually had to listen to other music while linking these songs. I think I might be a little too sensitive

P.P.S. I know you could just buy a pair of headphones, and be less dramatic then my suggestions. But! Think of the person sitting at the table! You still want to have a conversation. 

P.P.P.S. They might not want to converse with you anymore though. It's the risk we sound-phobes face everyday!

Habits and Improv Autopilot

Comedy loves patterns. Rule of three. In improv we love patterns. In improv we're looking for the game....what can we heighten!

Outside of improv, however, how often are you looking for patterns? I'm trying to find them, because I have quite a few. I know I can disengage and slip into autopilot.  Patterns and habits can offer solutions, but it also feels like this personal fog. I'm pretty skilled at making it through a day, accomplishing a lot, but not being present. Autopiloting. That's not really an accomplishment. In fact, it's pretty terrifying I drift away like that. What patterns do you engage in every day? Why do you do that thing you do?

Habits are helpful, it would be a little daunting and overwhelming to think through everything completely before taking action. We'd probably never be able to get to work.

This morning, before heading to work in Sacramento I noticed I mindlessly locked the window....on the second floor. I agree, it's minor, but why do it? I do it everyday. I don't want someone to break into my house. That's why I do it. That's why I habitually lock doors (sometimes I check 3 times. I have some mild OCD. It used to be very un-mild and debilitating. Phew. Thankfully that's behind me). I'm really worried I'm going to lose something. I lock the doors and windows because I want to be secure.

Everything means something more. Everything we do in life means something more. I think the same can be true for onstage. In fact, if we pause to notice the things our characters do, we'll discover a lot of truth, without having to make up anything.

When you wash a cup onstage (because there seems to be an endless supply of dirty dishes), do you place the dish in the cupboard (there's a lot of storage space in improv houses too)? Wait! You didn't dry that dish!? Why didn't you dry that dish! That's interesting. Don't you think so? You could think so. What does that mean? Why do you do that? There's a lot there. I'm curious about it, you can be curious about it to. You're the one who made the choice. I want to respect your choice onstage. You should listen to your habits onstage too. We can turn off the autopilot.

I'm not lecturing.....I'm reminding myself to turn of the autopilot too. :)

Improv Advice: Avoid the Complex

Is reading a chore? Pick up Beautiful Ruins! I was going to say "I'm working through it," but that's not an accurate statement. It's not work. It's a joy to read. I look forward to every 30 minutes I get with the book, and feel reinvigorated when I put it down. I already dread finishing it, because these aren't characters I want to leave.

I've been wondering, "why do I love it so much?" What is it about these characters in Los Angelas, and Italy that reach out and connect with me, an improviser in Rocklin. I can't connect with fishing villages, and pitching a script to an aging producer.

I do, however, instantly relate to the emotions, the fears, the longings. These are three dimensional characters, and not caricatures.

One moment grabbed me. It said, "see! Improv is this thing! Well, it could be this thing if you slow down onstage." It's a lived out Hemingway "iceberg theory" moment, but the author Jess Walter was nice enough to walk us through it. We didn't have to imagine everything that was being felt and thought. Jess shared Claire's mental dive, the things that happen in a blink of an eye, but become buried under the brief response.

      "So what did you see in this guy?" Shane asks. "Originally?"
       Claire glances up. What did she see? It's to corny to say-but all she saw was all the cliched shit: Stars. Flashes of lights. Babies. A future...she felt like she'd never been fully alive before the moment Daryl first touched her...when in the middle of it she looked up and saw herself...every bit of herself...in his eyes.
       Claire shakes the memory off. How could she possibly say any of that here? And, so she simply says, "Abs. I saw abs."

That's a snippet of her whole "cliched shit." And, she dismisses it all, so something trite. (the whole section is on page 194 of Beautiful Ruins, paperback)

Ahhhhhh. How many times do we do that onstage? Think of something honest, and ditch it because it's a "cliche" or "not good enough." I know I've been guilty of that.

"How could she say that here?" We should be saying that here, onstage. Those are the moments that set improv apart from other stage plays. Each person brings their unique memories to a scene, and those memories can make for some complex moments.