Picking up from last time -
I was royally screwing up every scene I touched on fateful Wednesday.
At that point, I’m so done. I’m ready to dig a hole, slither into it, and never leave. Please, someone chloroform me so I don’t have to experience this for another second. I’m begging you.
It kept getting harder and harder to stand up straight while getting notes. I wanted to fold in half, melt into a puddle , then evaporate so that no one could see me anymore every time I was onstage.
When I felt how hard it was to stand up straight while receiving notes, I was catapulted back to Jordan’s class. History was repeating itself, and somehow I was powerless to stop it.
I most definitely thought about just leaving. It wasn’t enough to not be onstage. I didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity of a stage. As I sat watching everyone else’s scenes, I got smaller and smaller – my posture made my shoulders turn in my neck, and my stomach turn into my feet, and my calves turn into my thighs. Everything was collapsing closer together until I just became a little ball of a person. Please tell me you no longer can see me. In fact, don’t even say it out loud, ’cause talking to me kind of implies you can see me. Just look past me and I’ll know I’ve disappeared.
In the next exercise, Kevin seemed not to even notice that I hadn’t gone up. I almost took that as the blessing it was, just hiding out and letting class end without having to improv anymore. But alas, I knew he’d probably notice before I left. I didn’t want to get yelled at, so I drug myself up there and played “new choice.” Surprisingly, somehow I made it through without dying from it, though I was pretty sure I was going to.
Thankfully, the day eventually ended (after what seemed like about 3 1/2 years). This seems like a little like a re-telling of Jordan’s class, right? This next part is when you expect me to cry all the way home. I definitely would’ve. Instead, I had 3 1/2 more hours of improv left in my night, because I had a drop-in class up next.
I definitely considered not going. How can I possibly improv for another 3 1/2 hours?
I knew that I was strong enough, though. And if I wasn’t strong enough, I was gonna push to become that strong. Jordan told me 10 months ago to be confident. And Kevin told me the same thing last week. By golly, I’m gonna listen.
So, I went to my drop in class that night for an extra 3 1/2 hours of improv. And it actually went okay. I was still intensely holding onto my emotions from earlier, ’cause I just couldn’t let them go. But I did somehow survive 3 1/2 more hours of class without completely imploding.
And this is where I’ll pick up next time.