On the Jams
At UCB, Monday-night jams and Wednesday-night jams are different.
Monday night feels like I’m with a famous person in my family - a famous person who might even bring over a few other famous people. I’m sort of comfortable around them because they’re technically family, but I also haven’t seen them for a while, and don’t really know what they’re up to. Everyone’s also taller. Much taller.
Wednesday night feels like I’m with some sort of extended family. I’m comfortable, even though I don’t know anyone, but I can’t yet predict how anyone thinks, and am hesitant to do something too drastic because I don’t want to disrupt familial flow (or, in this case, cut anyone off).
I’ve now reached the point where my heart isn’t pounding into my ribcage and causing my sternum to vibrate when I’m on stage, but I’m also not thinking. And not in the good way of “not thinking” where ideas flow effortlessly into your brain’s mouth and you’re going to live like Tuck Everlasting. It’s actual blankness. I look into people’s eyes and I hear wheels turning, but I can’t see the wheels yet. Or I see them, but only one second after they’ve turned (i.e. when they’ve just started their next line / move). So this tells me that I’m still nervous, even if the physical component of it is gone.
How do you approach a teacher with the question, “I don’t know what to say,” in an improv class? If the answer is all my nerves, then that’s great, because there’s room to improve. But if the answer is all my nerves, then that’s also terrible, because I’ve always had nerves when doing anything, and now I’m doing the rawest form of everything-I-want.
I’m going to keep going to the jams, even if it’s one of those “oh that girl again?” moments for regulars in the audience (sorry, guys!). Improv’s led to a lot of awesome discoveries for me, and I need to create opportunities for myself to get more of them. And, as the Adventure Time saying goes:
“Sucking at something is the first step towards being sorta good at something.”
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