Wicked Genius

"Wicked"

We watched this sketch in class the other day and well, I think it's pretty much genius. Tiny Fey and Rachel Dratch show how wicked awesome the Second City stage truly is. Watch and glow in the comedic wonder.

Lonely Banana

I pass this giant banana sticker everyday on my way to class. I just want to say, "I know how you feel banana. I know how you feel. You hang in there, brave banana."

DAY THREE

DAY THREE

As I keep taking classes at Second City, I am gobsmacked by how the lesson I learn can be utilized in everyday life. It's true: life is improv and improv is life. 

LESSONS LEARNED:

IMPROV

1. Whatever you say is perfect and awesome (tell that to my mom)

2. You don't have to talk about your location → ex: Don't say something like, “Wow, Bob I'm so glad we're on our honeymoon 20 miles north of Deluth. Too bad about that bear attack that's happening right now.”

3. Pauses can make a scene more alive. In fact, say less and often the scene will go farther.

4. Build a scene one line at a time WITH your partner

5. Get physical...let's get appropriately physical

6. Yes, it is easier to say “no.” However, when you say “ok” to something you'll go places you never expected. We love conflict, but when you say “no” it's harder to get actually get somewhere and someplace.

7. Saying “YES” leads to TRANSFORMATION

8. Know your objective even if no one else does. Know what you need to get; play it; put it into all your actions.

Pure Imagination

In improv class, I'm rediscovering how much fun it is to imagine. In fact, I find myself humming “Pure Imagination” from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the good version) all the freakin time. Here's a link to the video. Seriously, if you haven't watched it recently take a gander. It makes me believe that my secret dream of someday having a rootbeer float swimming pool isn't just some fanciful pipe dream. Bread bowls are a miracle people!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZ-uV72pQKI

I remember watching this when I was a kid. I couldn't have been older than 6 and that part where he takes a bite out of his daffodil cup- blew my kindergarten mind! I remember thinking, “That man just ate that cup. That man just ate that cup! There are no rules! I can do anything.” I then ran out into the back yard and tried to make a grass shirt (I had heard of grass skirts and believed that people should be able to have grass on their torsos dagnabbit). It didn't work because our grass wasn't long enough to weave, but that didn't stop me from thinking up “doggie cereal” (a box of milk bones in my dog's watering bowl). Vomiting dogs aside, my point is that I think imagination is a greatest energy source on the face of the earth; we just need to learn to harness it and make grass shirts.

Regrets of a Netflix Ho

First assignment: we have homework due for Writing I. We are each to show our particular point of view by writing a monologue based on one of our own minor peccadilloes or comedic flaws. I choose to expose my secret life as a pop culture junkie.

REGRETS OF A NETFLIX HO

Dear Netflix Watch Instantly:

I am writing to thank you for ruining my life. In the Spring of 2010, you offered me a free trial and you knew what you were doing. After a taste of your “stuff” (aka 7 seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer) I was hooked. Since that day I have accomplished nothing and I will never regain the countless hours I have spent glued to my computer monitor watching your legalized digital crack. But, why should you care? You've got my nine dollars and ninety-nine cents a month. That's a pretty cheap price for somebody's soul and that is what it is, my soul. I might have made something of my life, but now we will never know. We will never know what I would have been capable of if not for you. I could have been a doctor, probably not, but I might have. I could have cured cancer. You destroyed any chance the world will ever have of finding a cure for cancer. Right now, I could have been married, or even pregnant. You cost me my imaginary baby and I can't forgive you for that, hard as I try. You are a killer of dreams, unrealistic fantasies and you give people cancer. In a world without you, I suspect that I would be happier, wealthier, and taller. Yes taller, you pusher! I know that I would be tanner, if not for all those hours spent inside my room glazed over with your stash (I watched Poltergeist 3 times, it was really good); I could have been tanner; I could have been somebody.

I have given you my youth and my self-respect; but, you want more. For now you have delivered the final blow, the final indignity. Oh, you know what I'm talking about. The five complete seasons of Rod Serling's Original Twilight Zone circa 1959-1963 you just released? A series which you yourself describe as being, “groundbreaking and relating humor tinged tales that touch on supernatural subjects such as alien invasions, xenophobia, time travel and dream logic” with 137 episodes of creepy hitchhikers, pig people, three eyed martian men. In the name of God, how is a girl supposed to resist something like that? I don't expect you to answer that. There are certain questions that none of us can answer.

Please understand. I am not blaming you; I am merely asking you to take full responsibility for my actions. I am a proud woman, but I lose myself when I'm with you. Now, it's too late. I will never do anything again and you have to live with that fact. You've built your castle on my carcass of dried up dreams and my $9 and 99 cent future.

Sincerely,

Maren Lovgren

P.S. Enclosed please find my check for the month of July

DAY TWO

DAY TWO

So, we're going to jump back into the handy dandy time machine to two weeks ago on my first day of classes at Second City's summer immersion program. Picture it, a Monday in early July. The men and women live much more simply then. They still drive cars.

I awake with the dawn. Being a crazy person, I spend way too long deciding what to wear. Final decision: my lucky yellow sweater, striped shirt, and jeggings. Jeggings, they are better than sliced bread and twice as comfortable.

Note the progression of photos. The one problem with traveling alone (aside from the mind-numbing loneliness and time for introspection) is that you have no one to take photos of your loneliness except for your best friend, mirror. Oh, mirror you're the best and that bright white flash, simply a product of our love.

First picture: Feigned confidence

Second picture: Practicing my “Will you be my friend?” smile → Hey, it worked in kindergarten

Third picture: Freaked out desperation

I hop a bus to the training center and run up the escalator to my first class. This week is Improv 1 (mornings), and Writing I (afternoons). Going up the escalator, I spot all these pictures of Second City alums along the wall: Gilda Radner, John Candy, Catherine O'Hara. I am filled with the 30 Rock Tina Fey line, “I want to go to there.” Then, I realize I am there, here. Cue: Delightful hysteria and well-covered panic.

We're divided into classes and I find myself with about 9 other Nervous Nellies. We introduce ourselves and I can already tell that I like these peeps. Our teacher is the delightful Micah with a spring in his step and a clever yet profound saying in his mouth (that last part sounded weird). But, anyhoo we jump right into games etc. I don't have much time to take notes; but, here is what I grasp.

1. Everything everyone (including me) says is awesome!
2. Never say no, always say yes...and...
3. Every mistake is a gift
4. If every mistake is a gift, then my life is Christmas

We break for lunch and a group of us heads over to Boston Market where I proceed to eat a chicken. About half of us pile back into Second City for our afternoon writing class with Andy Miara, another wise man and I must mention another comedy genius. Here is what I grasp from this afternoon's class.

1. Comedy writing is not about just writing jokes, it's about writing relationships
2. Get up and go for it/write it/act it...who the hell cares (aside from my mother)
3. At Second City, shows are written through improvisation → which means they generate many scenes and then test them with an audience
4. A comedy writer needs to develop an ear for an audience → how and why do jokes land? How and why do scenes succeed?
5. The RELATIONSHIP is the key to coherently building an emotional and yes humorous story
6. Once you find your hook (what's working) push and heighten → I imagine this to be like funny child birth
7. You don't have to have all the answers when you start writing something → let the scene work with you
8. We want to see TRANSFORMATION: characters and situations that are dynamic and always changing emotionally

By the end of the day, my mind is filled to capacity. I end up walking back to the hotel (2 miles) just so I can decompress. I grab a Panera's salad, baguette, and huge ass chocolate chip cookie and pass out on my bed. Today was amazing, but I definitely feel like I'm in the deep end of the comedy pool and I forgot my floaties.

DAY ONE

Hello friends.  Prepare to jump into your trusty ol' time machine! Because of my freakish procrastination, the next several posts are going to take you back into the not-so-distant-past to the first few days of my Chicago, NYC, Boston extravaganza. But, first Chicago, where it all began!


Here I am right before hopping into the car for a quick jaunt to SFO airport. Note the awesome camoflage bag my dad picked out for my early b-day present. Yes, your eyes do not deceive it has a rockin' pink stripe. At first, I thought it would be too big, but it ended up being the perfect schlep-around messenger/minivan (seriously I could carry a toddler in this thing). My dad actually found it at the Sports Basement, and hid it underneath a pile of ski gear just so no one else would grab it before I could ok it. I love my pops; he is both sneaky and thoughtful!

At SFO, I got to fly out of the newest terminal, Terminal 2 via Virgin Air. The terminal is super green (aka ecologically aware). I was just bummed because I misjudged my takeoff time by over 40 minutes! Ooops! So, I got to literally run through the terminal while attempting to purchase a cinnamon-apple scone (a girl has got to eat) and it was not until I was walking the plank to the plane that I realized that I was about to fly with my fly unzipped. I now feel much closer to Terminal 2.

I hate to fly, but the flight was pretty easy. I watch a-lotto television. Where else can you watch 4 hours of Real Housewives of New York City with impunity? I'm trapped in a metal bird, a captive audience. I was supposed to land and go straight to Second City to see a show, but I had forgotten about one thing: the Gay Pride Parade. It took me almost 2 hours to reach my hotel room and I didn't even get to see the parade :(  I was staying in the Lakeview area at a hotel called the Willows. Here is a picture of my hallway, which I swear looks like a scene out of the Shining. I get chills just looking at it (REDRUM!)

Once I got in my room, I was seriously so exhausted that I didn't even know what to do with myself. So, I ate this giant ass cookie that I nicknamed Pangea (the supercontinent). It really helped and it really looked like Pangea.

 Before bed, I brushed my teeth and combed my hair and placed this ironing board under my door as a means of preventing would be intruders. You know, just the typical things.

Goodnight moon. Goodnight pangea. Hello Chicago!

Let's Take This Show on the Road

Have I mentioned that I'm a terrible traveler? I mean terr-i-ble. When I told KD, my best friend from college, that I was going to Chicago for two weeks by myself, she literally said to me, "How's that going to work? You're a terrible traveler." 

See, I didn't walk till I was 2. I didn't learn how to ride a bike until I was 10. I didn't get my license till I was 23. On my way back from studying abroad in London I almost ended up in Trinidad. True story. I make silly-stupid mistakes when I travel. I forget my native tongue. I drop things, heavy things. I lose scarves (hello Heathrow airport circa 2004). I leave my fly unzipped and then walk down the aisles of planes smiling. I really don't know how to get a move on.

So, when it came time for me to pack for this trip, I had to mean business. 

3 weeks + 3 cities = 1 carry on bag and freakishly large "purse/personal item"

The big picture (minus 3 button up shirts that were in the wash)...holla!

A tapestry of over-packing...and pineapple floristry...

My bling with an elephant theme.

I decided to bring some comfort flicks for the trip. I have netflix, but sometimes a gal needs some portable coping mechanisms. What did I pick?

1. Funny Face: A gawky young lady travels abroad

2. Almost Famous: A gawky young man travels abroad with rock stars

3. The Trouble with Angels: Two gawky young women get in trouble in a nunnery

4. Sabrina: A gawky young lady travels abroad and becomes Audrey Frickin' Hepburn

5. The Sound of Music: A gawky young nun travels abroad,finds love, avoids Nazi, meets some orphans -> Good times all around

6. The Music Man: A dapper traveling salesman travels and takes a small town by storm

7. Now, Voyager: Betty Davis has a nervous break down, travels abroad, and comes back Betty Frickin' Davis

8. African Queen: An awkward minister's sister and an awkward drunk travel down an African River...and fall in lurve

9. Tangled: An awkward long haired lady breaks out of her tower and has a good time doing it

9. Elaine Stritch: The most amazingly talented bad ass ever performs...travels across a stage...remains a badass while doing so

MMMMM do we se a trend? What are your favorite motivational flicks?