Missed Opportunities

I haven't written in a while, which is probably a missed opportunity in and of itself. All successful (and mostly likely unsuccessful writers) say that you have to write every day. Your life should never be without you recording your thoughts (or editing them down) so on that front I've been sorely missing. I've been in Chicago for four months now, and "missed opportunities" has become a theme of my life and thoughts ever since I made the choice to come here. Missed opportunities back in San Diego, where I've gotten to watch my friends (via the ruby lens of Facebook) open theaters, perform shows, teach classes, and live life.

 Ultimately, the decision to move here was also one of choice - Chicago, despite its faults, is still the unparalleled, uncontested champ for improv. The quantity is staggering (which is not always a good thing - more on that in another post, perhaps), and the quality of the performers and educators is remarkable. This is a city that is very forgiving, and highly welcoming of an adventurous spirit and an experimenter's mind. Every night that I get home and just "don't really feel like it", I remind myself that this is why I'm here. I left behind my friends and a (modestly) successful "career" in improv in San Diego to come and take in the new and bold. The great and the terrible. The predictable and the unknown. 

This post is really about missed opportunities - a phrase whose un-necessary length I'm only just now beginning to appreciate - and what they mean for us as artists. On one hand, we may look at improv communities and not see that. San Diego, as Chicago (and I strongly suspect a lot of places) is a player's market. Too much stage time to fill, too many teams, a variety of stages, and a glut of shows to watch. It makes it hard on producers, but great for content creators with a relatively lower barrier to entry. Even so-so teams are virtually guaranteed a slot, and great teams have a blank check. Same goes with players: person A graduates class, starts a team, gets noticed, and is instantly on twenty teams. It's wonderful to be asked, of course. We are all broken people, and getting attention in this way triggers the monkey part of our brains that desperately wants group attention.

"Oh, so this is another 'stretching ourselves too thin' post"? Yes and no. When you say "yes" to everything, you can't truly say yes to anything. As improvisers we consistently overlook the power of editing, which truly is our (and pretty much any artist's) greatest tool. What we choose to show other people, when, and for how long, is nearly more important that the content itself. At the very least, poor presentation can kill a great show just as well as slick polish can make a turd shine. What we choose to put our energy in to is an enormous strength, one that should not be taken likely.

 Now back to (Ctrl+V) missed opportunities - we also get burned the other way by making light demands on what we want to work on. Netflix is always calling, just inside the range of human hearing, beckoning: "Up next" and "If you liked every episode 'Elementary' you just watched, you may also enjoy another 80 hours of binging something vaguely similar". When I left SD, I had multiple students tell me "you were the best class I ever had", which is nice, but probably an equal number saying "I always heard you were good, but I never made the time to take you", which sucks. And not just because I didn't convert them into the first camp, but because it means they never understood what is meant in the conversion of intent to doing (or they were being nice). (I should point out not everyone falls into these camps - there is a minority camp that responded in seconds by saying how they were going to break up my teams and give away my classes. Can't win them all.)

 By this I mean the dead celebrity effect - artists of all kinds, whose work is seldom (or never) discussed is suddenly elevated to high status when they pass. I couldn't name anyone who really talked about Bowie in 2014, but when he passed everyone suddenly had a deep memory to share on Facebook. This isn't meant to demean anyone who shared a feeling, all of which are completely valid and I can only assume genuine. It's meant to highlight that our monkey brains also can't connect with the idea of something being exhausted until it is. No one wanted Atari ET cartridges until they were dumped in the desert, and then they became collectible, rare, and valuable. Everyone wanted Beanie Babies until there were too many of them and the bubble burst. We inherently tie value into availability (supply/demand) and connect our own motivation to this worth.

Basically, what I'm saying is: don't wait. Don't skip the teacher you want to take, the show you want to do, or the place you want to be, while also considering what it is you really want. Anyway, that's my long way of saying I'll be back in SD teaching in February. My good friend Elisa is putting the whole thing together with a workshop, some social time, and a show. I hope (if this is something you truly want to do), you'll come: http://improvsuperpac.com/ska/