I’d like to think I’m pretty open when it comes to just about anything. Except maybe my counselor at Camp Half Moon, when I was twelve. Long story short, after confirming it with my bunkmates, that counselor and his “friendship lotion” were transferred out of our cabin and we never spoke about it again.Being present and open has been an absolute necessity in my new improv class at Upright Citizens Brigade, now in its third week. I like everything about it, but what I love it most of all is how incredibly tough it is.
Each week, my classmates and I are put through really challenging stuff, like the circle exercise, in which one at a time, we stand surrounded by our 16 classmates, who rapid-fire four questions at us. Even if you don’t know the answer, you’d better make something up, and make it sound credible. I was asked why oranges are orange, how a combine engine works, why McDonald’s stops serving breakfast at 10:30 a.m. and why one of the guys in my class is strangely attracted to the dudes in the movie 300.
Often, when the pressure’s on, I break into a sweat over a tricky improv scene, and I think to myself, if I wanted this kind of abuse, I should just have a conversation with my fifth-grade oboe teacher. But then I realize that’s what makes it great – being scared shit and coming through. Even if you think oranges are orange because there’s no damn way anyone’s eating a purple.
