So, last night was the first annual Improv Thursday though the Syracuse Improv Collective. Improv Thursday was almost hashtagged in this post, which means that my insanity is getting the best of me.
It was difficult, but it was done. At first, I denied stepping up, prolonging the inevitable and saying that this really didn’t have to be done. However, people applauded, and the pieces were received for better or for worse. I’m grateful to have this support system from the people involved with the Syracuse Improv Collective, and I’ll forever hold them responsible for gaining confidence. My buddy, Brian, showed up to his first SIC improv experience, and I’m glad he could have made it.
It was his birthday yesterday. Happy 30th, buddy!
Gaining confidence is with that person; however, it’s the group of people who support you that ensure this transition is a smooth one. I’m lucky.
So, this will be my last post with My in the title of the post. It’s sounds conceited, which I’m not.
It’s best to look like an asshole, not sound like one. The former we can laugh at, laugh with; the latter we cannot forgive. We can not be sure who said that, but their hand needs a firm shake. To make my point further: I face-planted into a door yesterday.
My readings were political. Kidding. They were honest pieces, which touched upon life and love. No regrets even though I think I sucked. I’m glad to have followed through.
Now, it’s time to prepare for Brooklyn.
Here are a couple pictures from last night.
I play with words and invisible objects.
A mind, a pen and a piece paper have the best relationship ever.
"Remember this--if you shut your mouth, you have your choice."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald