These Faces

How do you know that you're at Second City? Well, for me I knew I was living the dream when I got to see these awesome faces everyday. These peeps kept me honest and in stitches.

You also know you're at Second City when you pass these cheerful gargoyles on the way to class...

 I am desperate to set these guys up with these ladies...

Ah, l'amour, l'amour, toujours l'amour

Waiter, There's a German Woman in My Comedy Writing Class

There was a German woman in my comedy writing class and I swear for 2 weeks I thought we were part of some social experiment. At first, I thought she was a obscure American performance artist attempting to create a groundbreaking portrayal of a German Zelda Fitzgerald. Then I thought she was some kind of Second City plant; that we were in fact part of a sketch about a German woman in a comedy class. Then I realized, she's just a German woman in a comedy writing class and it really doesn't get any better than that. 

And now for "Germans Who Say Nice Things" with Steve Carrell and Dana Carvey.

A Blueberry Sky Saturday

Took these shots during my trip to Boston (the land of clam chowder). Here's hoping you're having a deliciously color-coordinated Saturday!

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