100.

Supposed to be confetti

So it's the last day of 2012, huh?

How about that?

It's like the end....of 2012. Good thing I got (had) to write a check today so I could use my well polish 2012 year writing abilities.

End of the year? Should I do a wrap-up? Oh what? What do I have to wrap up? I really don;t like wrapping presents. Or frosting cakes.

But I can tell you that I did achieve my goal of seeing 100 shows this year!

100!!!

And I wasn't sure I could do it. But on Saturday I saw three shows, which got me exactly to 100.

Here's the breakdown:

77 scripted shows (plays, dance shows)
19 improv shows
5 other types of shows  (awards shows, tributes, combo improv/scripted, etc)
(I know this totals out to 101 because I just realized I forgot to write down that I saw Show X with Andrew Zimmern on 12/10, I don't know how I could have forgotten about that. I wrote a whole blog post about it.)

To help you know my rules, I'll tell the to you. I had very few rules. The show had to a type of art that needed an audience at a location at a specific time and place to work. For example, I counted my trip to the Haunted Basement as a show because I paid admission, saw actors (improv and scripted) and the event requires and audience to work. I also count seeing the Holidazzle Parade as a show because it only consists of costumed performers and was a type of performance, I don't know if I would have counted the Macy's parade. (But really, if I had gotten to see the Macy's parade in person I would bet to put in on any list.)

So many people ask "What were your favorite shows you saw?" and that is such a great question. I know there are a number of top ten theatre lists out there (Pioneer Press, Star Tribune, City Pages, Daily Planet) that have put out some really nice lists. So I'll make up my own categories.

Shows I saw the most: (not counting the upwards teen of times I saw the Rainbow Election because I was working on it.)

1. SuperHappyMelancholyexpialidocious by Seth Lepore
I saw Seth's one man show three times to become the winner of the most often show I saw. I first saw it during it's Minneapolis run in March and then again in the MN Fringe Festival twice (the second time because the first show I was trying to see sold out, then the second show I tried to see cancelled and I had little time and by magic got into Seth's show before it sold out. Not saying Seth's show isn't worth seeing three times, i just wanted to share this fact that I was DESTINED to see Seth's show three times. Also Hi Seth! I see you've found my blog! I figured you would have a Google alert out on your name. Does this make me seem like a stalker knowing that about you? I seriously just guess you might. I mean I have one out on my name but usually I just get alerts about all the other folks named Heather Meyer and their successful marathon times and criminal records.)

2. Pretentious Conversations by Laura Buchholz
I think I can count this live on stage TV show show as having seen it more than once, but the more I think about it, I realize it might not count. I saw this show in it's spring run in Minneapolis and then again in the MN fringe. In the MN fringe it had new guests and actors and some of the same guests. So parts were the same by, parts were different. Since it is a TV show style live show is has different episodes, but I think this was one episode. So I am counting it as seeing it twice. Besides, I know the folks making this show and I think they and this show is delightful.

3. Bump in the Night by Erin Shepard.
This show I saw two times because I loved it so much! No one realizes how much fun a horror themed dance show can be! I was creeped out, tickled (not in the literal way) surprised and impressed by the whole thing. I discovered new music I love and a secret passion to be a dance. This show incorporated dances with Courtney McClean's (Hi Courtney!) special brand of storytelling to make some of the most fun I had as an audience member in theatre all year. I really wanted to join in the zombie dance at the end. 

4. Chicago Avenue Project "It's Raining Cats and Dogs." By the Chicago Ave Project 
I saw this show three times. It is a collection of short plays written for the kids in the Chicago Ave Project through Pillsbury House Theatre, I was fortunate to be able to write one of the vignettess with and for one of the coolest kids ever. Then each of the kids works with a professional director and actor for the play and then the plays are presented for free to the public. I went to every performance.  Adorable, awesome and amazing!!

5. Off-Book at Huge Improv Theater 
It's hard to say that I went to an improv show more than once because each time the show is different, because it is improv. But with Off-Book, there is a clear structure of what the show is. In this show an actor is assigned a script and memorized their lines (just like a play) their scene partner is an improviser who has memorized no lines and doesn't know what their actor is going to do. So you put those two together and it is hilarious magic. My favorite game is to try to guess what play the scene the actor is reading from based on only one half of the lines. I saw Off-Book twice this year, and performed in it two additional times and had a scene I wrote performed in one of them. 

Improv-wise I also saw Show X at Huge Improv Theater multiple times if we are still counting.

I feel like I am talking about improv a lot. Especially when most of the things I saw were actual plays. I realized even though I saw 76 (1 was in Chicago) plays in the Twin Cities this year, I came no where near seeing all the shows that were offered this year. I only focused on shows I wanted to see. I didn't have to work hard to find shows that I wanted to see to fill my quota (though sometimes I worked hard for the $$ to do so, thank you Goldstar and friends with comps). This would be the cue to go off on some sore of tangent about how theatre rich the Twin Cities is and blah, blah, blah, but my fingers are tired and folks more prolific and eloquent than me have written essays about that. Google one of those. 

So there you have it. 2012=100 shows. Go team me.
  

  

The Moment When I Knew I Was a Lady

"I broke a nail"  has been the stereotypical phrase to exemplify the ultimate in female-ness. Used in millions of school yard antics and improv scenes, it's pretty much a parody. But it isn't because breaking nails do happen. And most often it happens to women, since they are the most common ones with long nails.

I broke a nail this week. But not in the high-pitched "OMG, I can't do that I might break a nail way." I did in the "Oh damn, these 50 lb storage tubs of casters slipped out of my hand and tore my thumbnail half way in the nail bed." 

But to most people those are six to one, half a dozen to the other. Or however that phrase goes.

Either way, I had a tear in my thumbnail right in the center of my nail bed. Aesthetics its aside, the tron nail was threatening to tear all the way off, leaving me with no nail on my thumb.

Ouch. A  nailless thumb. I wouldn't be able to itch all my itches with my famous ten finger itch. Also the odds of my right thumb tip folding back on itself just increased by a number. In addition to the fact that tearing that broken thumb nail off would pull all the way to that translucent layer of thumb skin that is half-way between nail and skin so it's really flexible but doesn't hold up to pressure. You know the layer, I don't know why I am describing it.

The blog post isn't about my broken nail. It's about how I fixed my broken nail.

I have this tear in my thumbnail from lifting heavy irregular things. I still have to lift heavy irregular things all week, so the threat of complete involuntary nail removal is paramount.

I must fix this nail. Quality of scratching my cat depends on it. This is how I knew I wasn't a lady.

From previous experiments, I know that nail polish also is not a strong enough adhesive to hold this bent tear in place. I'd tries many times before, with dreams of tacking the nail down with clear nail polish and no on being the wiser and my nail safe from folding backedness.

I needed a splint. Of course, I turned to my old stand by of all things that need fixing, Scotch tape. I tore a small piece of Scotch tape to create a new foundation over the severed nail.

Now that I had a smooth surface, I needed to protect and mend as much as I could. I survey my nail polish colors and picked out a pale shimmer pink, knowing that as pale as it is, it still wasn't going to pass as an unmanicured hands. But I was out of clear nail polish! I would have to pretend that I am an accidental nail polish wearing.  Pale shimmer pink it is.

I shellacked my Scotch taped nail with 5 (and counting) layers of paint. The build up of all the layers hide the edges of tape finger nail.

Of course, painting this one nail meant I had to coordinate the other 9 folks (finger nails)

Here is where the story loses interest. I painted my nails sort of pink. I have so many layers on the tape that it made me feel like we were going to the Grand Canyon on Elevate the Elderly (this is a made up TV show, I am willing to make it happen it you will produce it.)

So I fixed my nail, just like what any lady would do.


Next but: Cure for the Common noise.

PostScript added 12/13/12: I totally fell asleep while writing this post. In my sleepstate I corrected a number of error but clearly my sleeping self thinks there needs to be a cure for the common noise.

How to not be famous: A public bathroom story

Door

Something I did yesterday:

I was first in line to use a public unisex bathroom. A friend of mine was ahead of me, currently in using the restroom. When he exited and I entered the room, I saw that the seat was up.
    "That's fine," I thought, "It's a public room, besides he's a single guy that is not trained into the habit of seat-downing it. Sure, that may make it difficult to learn that instinct later, but I am not his mom nor his girlfriend so bygones be bygones, right?"
    I was only there to blow my nose anyway, I didn't even need to use the toilet, so why did it matter if the seat was up? I didn't matter. I needed to attend to my runny nose machine, which I had aquired from the cold season Christmas I had earlier this week. Enter restroom, blow nose, wash hands; these were my goals. It was going to be a quick in and out. Like jack rabbiting, which is a reference to that one Sex and The City episode where one of the ladies had a dude jack rabbit do her.
    Then I realized I had to put the seat down. Regardless of whether I was going to use the toilet or not, I had to put that seat down. If I left the seat up, the lady behind me in line would assume that I used it that way. Then she would conclude that I had a penis. Then she would mentally say to herself "Ah! That explains the broad shoulders." Then, I would be famous in her brain as "that one woman she saw at the improv theater that had a penis" then she would tell the story to her friends about how she used the restroom behind me and because of her television sharpened CSI detective skills she figured out that I was packing a dong. Her friends would laugh and then share the story on their own with the preface "I have a friend who" then the woman penis bathroom legend would begin. Then one day, someone would tell the story to me and I wouldn't be able to stop from blurting out "that's me! I am the one with the penis!"
  Not that people assuming I had a penis (or awesome stand-up peeing ability) would be a bad thing. I am sure I am supposed to assume I would have gotten a lot more things more easier if folks thought I was packing a dong. That's how it works, right? Penis equals pass? Maybe? I don't know. I don't have one. But that's not what the woman behind me was about to assume.
  I had to get that seat down. Which meant that a new rip needed to in the universe: toilet friendship. I did not grow up with a familairity to public toilets. In my whole first six grades of school, I never once used the public restroom. By junior high, I had perfected the seat squat much to the pride of my well-hardened thighs. In high school and college, I developed more normal restroom habits, including the unashamed use of the seat cover or the homemade seat cover made out of toilet paper. But last night called for me to touch, with my hands, the seat of the toilet and lower it to sitting position. And I wasn't going to even use it!
  My non-penis bearing pride made me do it. I didn't want someone I didn't know to think I had a penis (or stand-up pee ability). I'm not a confident enough person to let that happen. I can't even guarantee she would have thought that. Because I can't control other people's thoughts! I can, however, control what other people see in the restroom after me (hear that, non-flushers?).
  I was going to lower this seat. In the seconds I have spent so far in this bathroom, I still had no way around touching this seat to put it in place. I looked at the floor and saw my winter booted feet. And there is was. Solution-time! I would use my boots to touch the seat. Of course, I was not going to stand bare-footed in the public unisex bathroom. I was going to stand one-legged in the public unisex-bathroom while the other leg I raised to lower the seat with my foot. I couldn't just kick the seat down, I didn't want to tip off the people in the line outside to the chaos that was potentially about to happen in this bathroom. So using foot tension, balancing and all matters of physics, I pressed my booted foot to the side (a non-sitting area) of the rim and executed a controlled thigh lower, keeping my lower leg tense to ease the lid down.
  Tap. Seat lowering achieved. Also, groin workout invented. Now, a stranger won't think anything of me. Nonfame unlocked. Wait, that's not exciting. Infamy is exciting, nonfame is just...just...nothing. 
  Huh. Now no one will buy my book. *


*That I haven't written yet.

94: Some thoughts

I've seen 94 shows this year. I have a goal to see 100. There are four days left in 2013. I have to see six shows to achieve my goal.

Am I going to do it?

I don't know. I really don't. It is possible. But that doesn't mean I am going to be able (mentally) to get my butt into the those seats. Didn't the longest hobbit in the world say something like "The most difficult adventure is stepping outside your door?" True, but for me is the hardest part is not just doing what I feel like in that moment. Fortunately, I have friends who are cheer-leading me in the goal achievement, right at the time I was trying to talk myself out of the goal.

Because this almost-accomplishment has also caused me to reflect on what is the nature of achieving goals. Is my awareness of how close I am to my goal enough? Does choosing to not complete it count as an act of accomplishment as well? As in knowing that I did not meet it validate the goal? Does it? Or was that just a pretentious sentence?

Am I afraid of success?

The goal is in my grasp. And this goal is completely made up, there is no award for the girl who saw 100 shows this year, hell, most people don't even know this is a goal of mine this year. The people I do tell about my quest, dig it, and get excited about it. I think that is fun, some folks (OK, one.) has been inspired to do his own show goal setting.

It will take deliberate work and planning to see these last six shows. Especially, when all I want to do is float around and hang out and not commit my time away.

Also the The West Wing is streaming on Netflix. So there's that.

Plane Ride!

I took a plane home for Christmas.

And I was the only one on the plane.

For real.

Really real.

The ticketing guy told me it was like the Twilight Zone, except on the Twilight Zone, there was also no pilots.

I had a pilot. And a flight attendant. Who also doubled as the co-pilot.












I walked out to the plane. Right on the tarmac, I imagined that this is what movie stars, heads of state and visitors to the Jurassic Park island felt.


My flight attendant/co-pilot stood by the door. He told me to sit in the furthest back seat, to balance the weight.

I've never felt so heavy in my life. To be extra careful, I put my carry-on on one side of the plane and myself on the other (there were no overhead bins). I hoped my Macbook Pro would offset my pre-holiday snacking.

Co-pilot attendant then walked the short aisle to perform a very intimate safety monologue. If I was casting a play, I would have asked him to read a side and looked down his resume to see his special skills (I hope it doesn't say 'can wiggle ears.')


Then flying happened. Flying.....flying.....flying....flying...........

 
 


More flying...



Did I tell you this plane had propellers?


And seats 15 people?

With no bathroom?

(It's only a 90 minute flight, I can hold it. Also no in-flight beverages, so they are in the clear. Unless folks are not hydrated! Hee-yo! Urine joke!)

And arriving!


My hometown looks like a model town.

It is still too far to touch.


But I was there.









I don't have pictures of Santa greeting me at the door. Or of him air traffic controlling us in. But he was there, holding the air traffic wands, so it happened. Sometimes you just have to believe.

The Like

The like-volution

I used to like someone.
Then I like-liked someone.
Then I was in like with someone.
Now, I 'like' someone.


Like is somehow more powerful than love.

'twas the day full of call of the wildman

Christmas is day for being with my family and doing what brings us together. This year, it was watching Call of the Wildman marathon. ( I would make a link to the show but i am typinh this on my phone and google can help you.)I hadn't seen the show, which meant it was important that that flaw in myself be fixed. I know understand. For those of you who do not know what this show is it the Kentuckian Steve Erwin ( may he rest in peace).


 Ernie Brown ( the turtleman) is a happy, animal loving dude.


The show is pretty a amazing.

Heather's Holiday Haiku

Home.

The temp is below freezing
Negative twenty
My DNA is not fur

(Obviously, I did not blog about yesterday like my previous post said. I think the Internet is frozen from the weather. Send sticks and fire.)

Tomorrow I will write about today
Today I was the only passenger on a plane
This is not fiction
Santa opened the plane door
This is also fact

Yup.

Yup, I am few minutes late blogging today. I am trying to figure out if the airline I am flying onto go home tomorrow is a real airline. So that is all I am going to say right now.

Hey! I am still in this show!

This is like I am a 12 year old.

Tomorrow! Is the last night of Holiday Mixtape 2012! Soooo, if you live in Minneapolis or are in the regions of the Twin Cites, come on down to the Brave New Workshop Student Union (2605 Hennepin Ave, Minneapolis. [It's historic! For reals, check it]).

Ahhhh!!!!!! Sketch comedy! Improvisations! Holiday laughter! Get your funny on before the world ends! (Because that is supposed to happen today, right?)

Holiday ha-ha!

A Now.

This looks like a scouting badge.

Am I supposed to talk about the apocalypse?

Well, it sure must be a sign of it becuase I went to urgent care this morning. I never need medical treatment.

And I didn't today. After being informed I did not have strep throat. I was annoyed that the doctor (or the nurse that informed me) didn't help me with a game plan.

So I have been taking a lot of advil and tylenol, but the generic brands. And I bought a humidifier today. The apocalypse is now.

Too much, too soon

In the spirit of and in preparation for Fiberuary, I ate a lot of fiber today.

This was not a good idea. There is a reason internet medical articles tell you to slowly increase your fiber intake. Excessive pain in the gut is one of them.

Two packets of oatmeal. 2 whole wheat English muffins and Polaners All Fruit with Fiber is a lopsided lunch.

This is all I will say today.

Bowling theory.

Tonight was my company holiday party.

We went bowling.

I won the most animalistic bowling award.

It was a decorative green lead glass candle with snowflakes on it.

I won it because my bowling theory is -the harder and faster you throw the bigger the explosion of the pins will be and therefore the likelihood of knocking more pins down will happen.

I don't know if it worked. I did get one strike. And more than one gutter ball.

United Sandwich Alliance and other USA things

For being a country that really likes to win things. I've always thought we kind of lost at the country name game.

The United States of America. That is such a specific, boring name. Unless specificity is our thing, but I don't think it is.

Our name is a whole sentence. The subject=States, the verb=of, the predicate=America. What kind of states?=united ones.

The really cool names of countries are one word, like the really big celebrities: Madonna, Beyonce, Prince, Spain, Brazil, Egypt, Russia. These names are mysterious, exciting, tempting.

The United States of America....that hides nothing. It describes our country, rather than name it.

USA, USA, USA!

Yup, that's one word. But even then it is an acronym, not a real word. And our name doesn't even have to be a real word, that is what cool about other country names. Canada, Ecuador, India. Those names only mean those countries. USA could stand for anything.

Underwear Station Arrival. Universal Sand Apple. Ubiquitous Solutions Association. Undue Sappy Atoms. Urging Several Alligators.

92

92.

I have seen 92 shows in 2012. My goal is to see 100. By this evening, I will be at 93.

Will I make it to 100? Probably. At least I think so. I'll be home for Christmas, so I doubt there will be any plays happening in the wilds of ND. But I have a plan to see another this week before I go. Which means I will have to see 6 the last week of December. Hmmm.....can I do it? I know HUGE Improv Theater has three shows for $10 on Friday and Saturday night, so that can help out. Plus there still are some holiday shows I want to see, like The Danger Committee's We Three Kings: Stocking Full of Awesome II. So I am confident I can do it....as long as I remain viligant.

This whole goal started in 2011, when I wrote down every show I went to just to see how many I see in year. Or at least, how many I saw in 2011. The total was 75. I had seen 75 live performances of plays, improv or music. That is when I made the goal to see 100 in 2012. At that time, 100 seemed really daunting. In January of 2012, I saw 4 shows. That wasn't the most exciting start. But in August, I saw 25 shows because of the fringe festival.

Will I get to 100 by December 31? I am going to try. But my rule is I only want to see shows that I am interested in seeing, not seeing a show just to reach my goal number.

Also, I am allowed to break any of my rules at any time. Because 92 is still a pretty good number.

July in Paris in December

You know how people do the whole Chirstmas in July thing? Well, this I am going to do July in December right now!

This July I went to Paris. So here is some Paris in July in December:




 What a nice morning! I will look out this window!

I'll get on this bus....
















 Hmm....how about a snack?














Seems like everyone else has the same idea.












Food!



















What? It's already night? I guess I'll look out my window again.

Holiday Villian Alert.

The goose in question loose on the streets

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat.....

You know the words, you know the song, but did you know that the goose has gone into hiding?

However, as you can see here, I have captured a photo of the goose in question. Early evening on December 13, 2012. I saw this goose parading down Nicollet Ave in downtown Minneapolis AS IF EVERY THING WAS NORMAL.

As you can see from this photo, the goose is trying to pass herself of as a non-threatening goose. A goose just on a walk, maybe to work. A goose who wears shawls and hats to protect her from the weather.

A goose just like us.

But this is what we really know.


1. Christmas is coming.
2. The goose is getting fat.


This goose is the ring leader of an international crime ring about stealing holiday cheer from merrymakers.....which means this goose is the new Grinch.

The world has been ripe for a new Grinch to take over holiday un-merrymaking ever since the Grinch's heart grew three sizes larger. Now, all the Grinch does is re-enact that one time He Stole Christmas.

But it all comes back to this goose. We don't even know the diabolical deeds she is up to, other than, Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat.

Which means:

Better watch out.

A Love Lesson from Gollum

The Hobbit Movie is coming out. 

Which made me reflect of the Lord of the Rings movies..then made me wonder:

What's all the fuss about the ring? 

(It’s been a long time since I’ve read the Hobbit, but Ill piece stuff together from my multiple viewings of LOTR movies and the internet)

So here goes:

Biblo is at Bag End doing his thing. By luck and happenstance, he gets involved with an adventure and finds himself with a match-made in Middle Earth, the perfect ring. Even though Bilbo and the  ring are pretty happy together. Gollum really wants that ring  back in his life.

Gollum doesn’t know how to live a single life. His named even changed because of the ring  remember? He used to be Smeagol and now he’s Gollum. The ring is Gollum’s life. Gollum would totally be into just hanging out forever in his dirty apartment sitting on top of pizza boxes rubbing the ring forever. But, are you? (Hey, Gollum! If you liked it you should have put a ring on it! Right? A ring on a ring? Right? Get it? No?....Yeah, you do.) It appears that his goal is to badger the ring into being his again, that and of course killing whoever gets in his way and eating them like a sandwich.

So that’s pretty much any ‘romantic comedy’ right? Or at least that’s want (some, you know who you are…) lady magazines tell ladies their lives should be. Go after the ring! Your life isn’t really happening until you have the ring! Sacrifice everything in your life for the ring! The ring is everything.

Later, Bilbo is over the ring. Till death do us part comes and goes. And the ring finds a new partner….Frodo, everyone’s favorite Elijah Wood. Boy, here’s comes Gollum again, just wanting that precious. But even then, Elijah has a hard time with the ring, getting his fingers cut off and all.

Have we learned anything from Gollum? That ring obsession will only lead to a horrible death in the fire magma of Mount Doom?

So the  lesson here is, be careful of rings. They might be wonderful  but get too crazy about them and you get your fingers cut off and you fall into Mt. Doom. 

Confession Time Part 2: Secret Fantasy

Oooh, it's Confession Time again!

And now is the time I tell you all my fantasies. I don't claim for it to be unique. In fact, I know a number of people who live this fantasy every day. And others who pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for this fantasy.

It all starts with pair of underwear. Mine. Maybe someone else's too, but most definitely mine. And these underwear are no longer on my body. But they have been, boy, have they been. These are dirty undies. Soiled panties if you will. And I take these undies and I toss them on to the pile of other unclean underthings, bras, swimsuit bottoms, maybe even a towel in there too.

Then in my bare feet, I step back and discover....that was my last stick of clean clothing in my home.

What ever will I do?

That's right. I will wash my clothes. I will do the laundry. Yeah, do it up right. I will throw all those stinky clothes right into a washing machine....my own washing machine....any time I want.

That's right, my fantasy is the fantasy of many. A fantasy where the amount of laundry I do is determined by my own procrastination rather than by how many quarters I have.

Poetry of the Sasquatch

This is how good a sasquatch would be at Photoshop.

Ah, poetry! The choreography of words!

I thought a very special treat for you today would be to delight your senses with poetry!

Ooooh! I can feel you collective gasp of anticipation. I hope I don't over excite you when I tell you that this is poetry of the sasquatch!

Oooooh! You all just clenched up your stomachs all at once! I can tell by the heightening of the universal tension in the world!

Wait, no more!

Here it is:     



Poetry of the Sasquatch
By Heather Meyer, who is not a sasquatch but wrote this poem as if she was one, but she is not a sasquatch,

I made a footprint in the snow
that showed all people which way I go.

Making my way to my home
dreaming of when I am not alone.

When the people come and knock my door
down, for tea and cookies and more.

I leave my feet marks over the ground
waiting, waiting for them to be found.  

Not often one sees my big foot marks.
Are they too light? Are they too dark?

Human dream of when we meet
Will I be scary? Will I bee neat?

They search and look but never do they find
The actual self, I call mine.

They find one footprint large and different.
And say "but why is there only one footprint?"

And I say, "Ah human, so much you wish you knew
that footprint if from when sasquatch carried you.

Don't know where this is going, but Andrew Zimmern was on the way

"leave"ing you with quesitons

What do my characters want? And other moments of trying to figure it out.

My MFA mentor gave me a lot of solid feedback on the 'shitty first draft' (copyright someone else) of the full length play that I am making exist.

Ultimately, I need to figure out what my characters want. And then be clear about it. I think I know what my characters want....at least to some extent. But obviously, if I just wrote 'I think I know" and "at least to some extent" that means I can be more clear and more specific.

Which makes me remember my freshman year acting class in college. It was all about what you wanted in a scene and then how was I going to get that goal.

THIS IS THE SAME THING!

This also reminds me of the first real improv class I ever took where it was about what was your character's deal and what did they want.

THIS IS THE SAME THING!

My whole artistic life is all the same thing. Which means, like anything important, I need to hear it many times from many places.

Then, this evening I went to HUGE Improv Theater to see Show X Featuring real life celerbrity Andrew Zimmern! Yes, that Andrew Zimmern from the Travel Channel's Bizarre Foods! And if you know me or read this blog a bit you know that I have a thing for the weirdest thing on any menu. And life goals of eating both maggott cheese and fugu, both things totally pale in comparison to the things Andrew Zimmeren experiences.

Anywho, I am not sure yet how me talking about seeing Show X with Andrew Zimmern and my artistic learning paragraphs at the top match up yet, but they will. You will see.

At Show X a guest storyteller, in tonight's case Andrew Zimmern tells stories, which then improvisers use as fuel to create scenes, this scenes then inspire the storyteller into a new story, which inspires new scenes and so on and so forth.

Go it? It's an improv form called an Armando.

At one point, Andrew told tale of being presented with a bowl of donkey skin cut into donkey skin noodles. As expected, the crowd gave a collective 'gross' sound to which Andrew replied (not an exact quote) "Don't have contempt for something you have not tried, stretch yourself into something new, like I did by coming up on stage here tonight." (again, not an exact quote, but the feeling was there.) Well, that turned the collective gross out groan turned into applause.

At this point in this blog post I wish I had a clear way to tie in the first half of this blog post with the second Show X half. Usually, by now I would have some sort of clever metaphor I could throw it to look like I planned this all along.

You know what. This blog post is an improv set. I started with one thing: characters who didn't know what they wanted and now that has morphed and flowed into a post about not knowing where I am going.

Why?

Because this blog post did not know what it wanted! There's totally fun and interesting stuff in here, but very little story. Because the character (Me) doesn't have a clear want. Or maybe I do but I did not execute it clearly.

IS THIS TYING THIS UP?

I don't know but this is what I got for today.

Andrew Zimmern!

Minneapolis Superhero Sighting

Dear Helpful Strangers of Dec 2012 and what I expect to be early 2013,

Thank you for helping push out my car. I didn't expect you to show up out of nowhere. But then, I saw you walk over, away from your cute girlfriend holding a Pizza Luce box to help me. That is how I knew you were a superhero. No mere mortal has the willpower to resist an adorable one holding a pizza. You are powerful indeed. I could tell by your willingness to assist me, a stranger, free her car from the show, that you are a member of the most secret and exclusive superhero alliance in all of human history: The Alliance of Snow Strangers. Your kind comes in many forms; women, men, children, bundled up unidentifiable creatures on two legs, dudes in boots, ladies in flats, people without mittens, parents with kids in tow, dog-walkers.

You always arrive right when you are needed, as if all cars are equipped with a bat signal that turns on when the wheels start spinning in the snow drift. You give it a push with no judgement. You know that snow is beyond our control and blaming someone for getting stuck does nothing to get them unstuck. Thank you for jumping in with clear directions, a willingness to wield a shovel and only needing a sincere thank you before you return to your alter ego as regular guy going to eat pizza with your girlfriend (Sir, I am sure she was super turned on by your willingness to help a stranger.)

With a city less enthused about the appearance of snow, the sightings of your kind warms the winter air. You give us hope that our city will one day be free from the shackles of dense winter snow. One day, we hope to no longer be terrorized by streets frozen by the evil sub-zero temperatures. But until that day comes, we have you, Alliance of Snow Strangers, to help us fight back.

Thank you Alliance of Snow Strangers for protecting our fair city.

Much gratitude,

Car driving Minneapolis Citizens

A Little Holiday Thanksgiving.

In January of 2005, I went to the 10pm closing night holiday show at the Brave New Workshop. The show: "A Very IKEA Christmas or Some Assembly Required."

That show was outstanding, the laughing was so deep, so hearty....so magnificent. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen. I could blog about it by the foot on this blog, but nobody wants to read a foot long blog.

(I also wonder if this show was the reason I started working at IKEA the fall of 2005 and was there for five years. Well, this show and Brooke.)

But what I am here to say is that seeing that show was one of those magical moments where I knew my life had changed.  I wanted to be a part of this, this special crazy holiday comedy magic.

Last night, I opened Holiday Mixtape 2012 on that very stage. In addition to other classic sketches I had seen in other holiday BNW shows, I got to sing the epic and legendary Brave New Workshop's 12 Days of Christmas: Shrieking Mother's Chorus.

Originally, this was going to be a long sappy post about life and the roads we take and quoting Wicked.

But the simple matter is: life is amazing. And I am thankful everyday for it.

100 Short Story Contest

Check out my new Photoshop skills!

The Loft Literary Center is having 100 word short story contest.

As someone who likes contests and has a short attention span (Ask me about my 90 minute theatre rule) this is perfect for me.

(Yes, the contest is for Minnesota writers only, but if you aren’t from MN don’t fret it looks like http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/ has a weekly 100 word story challenge. So you there you go!)

But back to the Loft Literary Center Contest!

Entries are due January 4^th. That means you have 28 days to put together 100 words. Let’s math that out. That’s 3.5 words a day! Thousands of people do NaNoWriMo every November and they write 50,000 words in 30 days. Even the people who don’t complete it can usually bang out 1000 words for so. That means you (and I) can string together 100 in 28 days.

Now, I bet you are saying this, “I can’t do that. I am not a writer. I am not good at those things.” Or a million other excuses. Guess what? Those excuses could be your 100 word story! It’s only 100 words, that’s like four tweets. Or two Facebook status updates.  You can do it.

Here, this is what 100 words looks like:

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four. Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four. Fifty-five. Fifty-six. Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty. Sixty-one. Sixty-two. Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five. Sixty-six. Sixty-seven. Sixty-eight. Sixty-seven. Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine. Seventy. Seventy-one. Seventy-two. Seventy-three. Seventy-four. Seventy-five. Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. Seventy-eight. Seventy-nine. Eighty. Eighty-one. Eighty-two. Eighty-three. Eighty-four. Eighty-five. Eighty-six. Eighty-seven. Eighty-eight. Eighty-nine. Ninety. Ninety-one. Ninety-two. Ninety-three. Ninety-four. Ninety-five. Ninety-six. Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One hundred.

Not scary at all!

Wait? What did you just say? Oh, the old “But I am not going to win,” excuse. Does that really matter? It’s not about winning. It’s about doing! Have you seen the name of my blog? It’s The Culture of Doing Things! It’s not called The Culture of Winning Things (if it was called that there would only be a blog post about the time my business card won free Jimmy John’s for my workplace.)

So let’s write some words. But only 100 of them! 

For your reference, this blog post is 404 words.