Simple Sagebrush #3
Three weeks ago, I was excommunicated just after getting involved in a group painting and kissing a duck. This was a slightly more exciting time than the week before, when I got bruises hiding from the Elbow Army and moving a single desk drawer into three different places.
Every Wednesday night, it's a new and exciting adventure. Sometimes it's serious. Sometimes it's hilarious. Often times someone gets vaguely uncomfortable, and every once in a while there is a quiet, powerful moment between two or three people. No matter what happens, we all leave smiling, exhausted, and happy.
I pay for this. Like an undeniable magnet, I come back every week, pay my fee, and walk into the small dark room for my two hours of fantasy.
There are many people in this group that have never done anything like this before. Their reasons are as varied as they are - boredom, depression, curiosity, education... Others that have been doing this for years do it because they cannot deny the pull and the joy. Our ages range from barely-old-enough-to-drive to looking-at-retirement.
I hope to be invited into the inner circle. I've still got at least six months before that could even be a potential. I doubt it will happen, but it could. That's an entirely new level of commitment, fear, and joy. It would be worth it.
Sometimes I wonder why I put myself through this. I don't get the adrenaline rush like I would have thought. It's not for accolades or applause. I once had a leader tell me that it was really group therapy with a veneer of dramatics. Perhaps it's those moments of both real and fictionalized truth. It's the joy that comes from getting to try out thousands of new, crazy, and off-the-wall ideas in mere moments.
Those two hours I take every week for my own sanity are two of the best hours I spend every week. It's as frustrating as it is joyful - but when you accept that happiness can be something as simple as being yourself - improv class can be the place you let every facet of yourself out and revel in it.
Every Wednesday night, it's a new and exciting adventure. Sometimes it's serious. Sometimes it's hilarious. Often times someone gets vaguely uncomfortable, and every once in a while there is a quiet, powerful moment between two or three people. No matter what happens, we all leave smiling, exhausted, and happy.
I pay for this. Like an undeniable magnet, I come back every week, pay my fee, and walk into the small dark room for my two hours of fantasy.
There are many people in this group that have never done anything like this before. Their reasons are as varied as they are - boredom, depression, curiosity, education... Others that have been doing this for years do it because they cannot deny the pull and the joy. Our ages range from barely-old-enough-to-drive to looking-at-retirement.
I hope to be invited into the inner circle. I've still got at least six months before that could even be a potential. I doubt it will happen, but it could. That's an entirely new level of commitment, fear, and joy. It would be worth it.
Sometimes I wonder why I put myself through this. I don't get the adrenaline rush like I would have thought. It's not for accolades or applause. I once had a leader tell me that it was really group therapy with a veneer of dramatics. Perhaps it's those moments of both real and fictionalized truth. It's the joy that comes from getting to try out thousands of new, crazy, and off-the-wall ideas in mere moments.
Those two hours I take every week for my own sanity are two of the best hours I spend every week. It's as frustrating as it is joyful - but when you accept that happiness can be something as simple as being yourself - improv class can be the place you let every facet of yourself out and revel in it.
posted by Andrea at 3:15 PM
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