Even though it's still August for a few more hours, Fall has definitely set in here in the Pacific Northwest. Leaves are falling, the air is crisp, football has started, and pumpkin ales are already being served (August is too early for that last one...). And although I am somewhat loathe to bid farewell to Summer--all five weeks of it that we had--I'm actually really eager to welcome in the new season.
Fall has always been my favorite. Partly because my birthday falls in it, and partly (read: mostly) because it meant the start of school. I admit it; I'm a totally nerd and I always loved going back to school. The start of a new year, sigh. True, anytime I had to make a change, say for instance from elementary school to junior high, I would make myself physically sick stressing out about the change and the worry of what if I didn't succeed that year (that's the makings of a different post and/or a session with the therapist), but give it a week and all was settled and well.
I was reading Jessica's post the other day remembering the start of college and tripped down memory lane. After reading it, I found it hard to believe that we didn't go to the same university; the likeness between some of her memories and mine are uncanny (even down to the hopeless crush on the artsy English major, sigh). Starting college and that new phase in life is firmly rooted in the Fall and I feel all warm and rosy inside thinking of it all.
Although my school days have passed, I still get excited when it's time to flip the calendar to September. Funny how in literature Fall often represents aging and approaching the "winters of our lives." I seem to have so many happy memories of new beginnings in Fall.
Interestingly enough, almost all of the romantic relationships of consequence (and even those inconsequential high school boyfriends) have all started in Autumn. When I think about it, I've only had one real Valentine in my life, so if I'm single in February it's no big deal. But single in the Fall always throws me for a loop. And, well, as we usher in September tomorrow, I am thinking no loops will be thrown my way. I have a new friend.
I've decided that the best thing about new friends, on top of the butterflies and permanent grin, is that they make you realize your old friend really was not right for you. I mean your friends told you that over and over, and you even thought it was probably true, but no matter how much your friends said it, or how much you convinced yourself, it takes a new friend to really ground that. Thank you, New Friend.
So, goodbye to summer and hello to sweater weather, crunchy dried leaves, and the opportunity for new beginnings and new friends.
8.31.2008
8.27.2008
Overprogrammed
Have you ever had one of those weeks, where you just feel too busy to brush your teeth? Yeah, I'm having one of those weeks. I feel like every minute of this week has been double booked. I'm more than looking forward to the long weekend.
Note to self: Dental hygiene should take precedence over blogging.
Note to self: Dental hygiene should take precedence over blogging.
8.25.2008
I survived. Now bring on the giants.
The improv showcase went very well, thank you very much. I think the audience was entertained, but I left feeling the need for something more.
I remember finishing the 201 performance and feeling ecstatic. And, a little bit (I'm embarrassed to say this), feeling like I was the best improviser that has ever lived. Ever. Okay, clearly my adrenal glands had taken control of my body and mind; I may have been okay, or decent, but far from the Muhammad Ali of improv. But I left the show excited to take 301 because as the best improviser that has ever lived (ever), I was going to go into 301 and come out a star. That's right. People would be lining up outside of the shoddy little classroom on the fourth floor of the building in the Seattle center wanting my autograph on my yet-to-be-taken fabulously glossy 8x10 head shot.
Cut to week one of 301--no queue of autograph-seeking fans. What? Why? One slice of humble pie for Little Ms. Notetaker.
I liken it to the transition between know-it-all teenager and overwhelmed young adult. The phase where one day you know everything and could write the book on it all and the next day you realize all these other people in your life are absolute sages and you know nothing--and you've pretty much known nothing for quite some time and either you've been too haughty to notice or you just blatantly ignored everyone around you out of pure spite. Suddenly you feel lonely and you question everything, but you don't give up because you know enough to see that the other people around you, those yogis of [insert your topic here], yeah, they went through this phase and made it out successfully on the other end. So you can too. That's the intersection I'm sitting in.
So as I left the show last night, I know I did as well as I could for where I am now. And I made people laugh (phew), but I also know better this time. I know that technically our class had improved considerably from our 201 days--we have more practice and are starting to have a better grasp on the fundamentals. I know that I am NOT God's gift to improvising, but that I do have the gifts to be better. And I know that I want to get better, and that after leaving the show I know where and how I can get better, I just need to be challenged and pushed to get there. So I leave excited for the next chapter to grow and improve, but I need a little break. Some time away from improv is needed, which is good because tonight I started to go get lost in the woods.
I remember finishing the 201 performance and feeling ecstatic. And, a little bit (I'm embarrassed to say this), feeling like I was the best improviser that has ever lived. Ever. Okay, clearly my adrenal glands had taken control of my body and mind; I may have been okay, or decent, but far from the Muhammad Ali of improv. But I left the show excited to take 301 because as the best improviser that has ever lived (ever), I was going to go into 301 and come out a star. That's right. People would be lining up outside of the shoddy little classroom on the fourth floor of the building in the Seattle center wanting my autograph on my yet-to-be-taken fabulously glossy 8x10 head shot.
Cut to week one of 301--no queue of autograph-seeking fans. What? Why? One slice of humble pie for Little Ms. Notetaker.
I liken it to the transition between know-it-all teenager and overwhelmed young adult. The phase where one day you know everything and could write the book on it all and the next day you realize all these other people in your life are absolute sages and you know nothing--and you've pretty much known nothing for quite some time and either you've been too haughty to notice or you just blatantly ignored everyone around you out of pure spite. Suddenly you feel lonely and you question everything, but you don't give up because you know enough to see that the other people around you, those yogis of [insert your topic here], yeah, they went through this phase and made it out successfully on the other end. So you can too. That's the intersection I'm sitting in.
So as I left the show last night, I know I did as well as I could for where I am now. And I made people laugh (phew), but I also know better this time. I know that technically our class had improved considerably from our 201 days--we have more practice and are starting to have a better grasp on the fundamentals. I know that I am NOT God's gift to improvising, but that I do have the gifts to be better. And I know that I want to get better, and that after leaving the show I know where and how I can get better, I just need to be challenged and pushed to get there. So I leave excited for the next chapter to grow and improve, but I need a little break. Some time away from improv is needed, which is good because tonight I started to go get lost in the woods.
8.23.2008
Becoming a valley girl
Note to self: Stop thinking and just breathe and feel.
I'm anxious. I've been anxious for a couple weeks now. I've got an improv showcase tomorrow evening and I'm all up in my head about it. And, since I've been knocking around my head for quite some time, I think I have it all figured out.
I've been doing bad improv lately (is it any coincidence that when you type in improv in Microsoft Word, it auto corrects it to "improve?" Hmmmm), and that's been troubling to me. It's not so much that I've been bad that's bothering me, it's the fact that I just absolutely freeze. I'm not offering anything up to my scene partners and just lose all sense of character. I think this is the result of two things, 1) the natural process of learning, and 2) the ghost that haunts me.
I don't know why I think that I am exempt from the learning process--the process where you learn new techniques and skills, and without a doubt you always get worse before you get better. But it took me awhile to catch on to the fact that I was in that valley of trying to break myself of my old habits and incorporate new and more productive habits. I'm desperately trying to climb my way out of it, but I think I may need to wallow down here a little more. I'm trying to rush my way out of this "phase," when really I think I need to just be in it and soak it all in, so that when I do eventually get out of here, I'll be on solid ground and won't ever slip back down to the very bottom.
But the problem is that my little ghost is what's trying to nudge me out of this valley; the little ghost I like to call perfectionism. Ah, yes. That is one I have yet to shake, or at least tame. Ever since I can remember, I have been an extreme perfectionist, down to every minute detail. And that still appears to be my M.O. (case in point, the kitchen). Therein lies the rub between my natural tendencies and improv. In improv, there is essentially no right or wrong, there is just how you respond to what you are given. It's all about reaction. Sure there is thinking involved, but I think the key is to get as comfortable as you can with the fundamentals so that you can turn your brain off and just go with what you're given. And lately, my freeze is coming from me trying to make sure that I hit all of the fundamentals and that I make the perfect choice, or give my partner the perfect offer. And by virtue of stopping and thinking, I essentially render "perfection" impossible.
And, okay, this probably applies to more in my life than just improv.
So I'm going to resist the ghost and the urge to be perfect (am thinking this is much easier said than done), and I'm going to put on some good ol' galoshes and much around in this valley until I have a complete lay of the land. I'm going to try and stop myself from over thinking and allow myself to just react.
I'm anxious. I've been anxious for a couple weeks now. I've got an improv showcase tomorrow evening and I'm all up in my head about it. And, since I've been knocking around my head for quite some time, I think I have it all figured out.
I've been doing bad improv lately (is it any coincidence that when you type in improv in Microsoft Word, it auto corrects it to "improve?" Hmmmm), and that's been troubling to me. It's not so much that I've been bad that's bothering me, it's the fact that I just absolutely freeze. I'm not offering anything up to my scene partners and just lose all sense of character. I think this is the result of two things, 1) the natural process of learning, and 2) the ghost that haunts me.
I don't know why I think that I am exempt from the learning process--the process where you learn new techniques and skills, and without a doubt you always get worse before you get better. But it took me awhile to catch on to the fact that I was in that valley of trying to break myself of my old habits and incorporate new and more productive habits. I'm desperately trying to climb my way out of it, but I think I may need to wallow down here a little more. I'm trying to rush my way out of this "phase," when really I think I need to just be in it and soak it all in, so that when I do eventually get out of here, I'll be on solid ground and won't ever slip back down to the very bottom.
But the problem is that my little ghost is what's trying to nudge me out of this valley; the little ghost I like to call perfectionism. Ah, yes. That is one I have yet to shake, or at least tame. Ever since I can remember, I have been an extreme perfectionist, down to every minute detail. And that still appears to be my M.O. (case in point, the kitchen). Therein lies the rub between my natural tendencies and improv. In improv, there is essentially no right or wrong, there is just how you respond to what you are given. It's all about reaction. Sure there is thinking involved, but I think the key is to get as comfortable as you can with the fundamentals so that you can turn your brain off and just go with what you're given. And lately, my freeze is coming from me trying to make sure that I hit all of the fundamentals and that I make the perfect choice, or give my partner the perfect offer. And by virtue of stopping and thinking, I essentially render "perfection" impossible.
And, okay, this probably applies to more in my life than just improv.
So I'm going to resist the ghost and the urge to be perfect (am thinking this is much easier said than done), and I'm going to put on some good ol' galoshes and much around in this valley until I have a complete lay of the land. I'm going to try and stop myself from over thinking and allow myself to just react.
8.20.2008
Santa, the Easter Bunny, and a bag of chips
I was listening to Internet radio today at work and heard a song that I don't really remember if I liked or not, from a band I'd never heard of--I know, good story, right? But I did happen to notice the name of the album, and that's stuck with me all day: "I believe in you. Your magic is real."
I love that.
I can't decide whether to place the emphasis on your, magic, or real? Actually, the emphasis needs to be on YOU (and in my case, ME). Note to self: We are magic. Really. Take that Tooth Fairy.
I love that.
I can't decide whether to place the emphasis on your, magic, or real? Actually, the emphasis needs to be on YOU (and in my case, ME). Note to self: We are magic. Really. Take that Tooth Fairy.
8.19.2008
Land of the free
I'm still addicted to the Olympics. I imagine that anyone who grew up playing a sport has at some point thought about what it would feel like to play for your country, stand on a podium, lower your head and feel the weight of a medal hanging around your neck.
My Olympic addiction is keeping me up way too late, even despite the fact that I already know the results posted hours before their televised coverage. I'm postponing sleep not because I want to see the outcome, but because I want to see the athletes. I love seeing how they respond to pressure, to success, to failure. I have sacrificed for sport. By no means am I saying that I can empathize with the sacrifice an Olympic athlete make, but I did have to give up a lot in my youth. While I didn't get a gold, I did get a college scholarship out of it and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
My favorite part of competition--almost more than competing itself--was always the playing of the National Anthem prior to each match. I would not consider myself extremely patriotic, at least not in the ethnocentric, entitled, ugly American sort of way, but I am proud to be American. And every time I hear the Anthem it induces thoughts about just how fortunate I am, thankful for the opportunities that have been afforded me. Thankful for a loving family, a sense of safety, and a very fortunate life that had helped to get me there. Chills and choked up. Every time.
And watching the Olympics and hearing the Anthem opens the flood gates of emotion. To see the athletes, a majority of them everyday people with special athletic talent and fantastic work ethic (I played against a few of some of the big guns from these games in high school, they are normal people, incredibly talented, but normal, I swear), to see families up in the stands, imagining the sacrifices, the pent up emotions, and then to think about what I imagine competing for your country feels like, overwhelms me every time. No matter what you may think about the state of our country it has to be an unbelievable feeling of pride.
So when I sit here and hear the Anthem playing, it immediately takes me back to my pre-match routines and reminds me that even though I never made it to the biggest court in the world, the sacrifices I made helped get me to where I am today; the love and support of my family are my foundation; and that living here has most definitely made that possible.
My Olympic addiction is keeping me up way too late, even despite the fact that I already know the results posted hours before their televised coverage. I'm postponing sleep not because I want to see the outcome, but because I want to see the athletes. I love seeing how they respond to pressure, to success, to failure. I have sacrificed for sport. By no means am I saying that I can empathize with the sacrifice an Olympic athlete make, but I did have to give up a lot in my youth. While I didn't get a gold, I did get a college scholarship out of it and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
My favorite part of competition--almost more than competing itself--was always the playing of the National Anthem prior to each match. I would not consider myself extremely patriotic, at least not in the ethnocentric, entitled, ugly American sort of way, but I am proud to be American. And every time I hear the Anthem it induces thoughts about just how fortunate I am, thankful for the opportunities that have been afforded me. Thankful for a loving family, a sense of safety, and a very fortunate life that had helped to get me there. Chills and choked up. Every time.
And watching the Olympics and hearing the Anthem opens the flood gates of emotion. To see the athletes, a majority of them everyday people with special athletic talent and fantastic work ethic (I played against a few of some of the big guns from these games in high school, they are normal people, incredibly talented, but normal, I swear), to see families up in the stands, imagining the sacrifices, the pent up emotions, and then to think about what I imagine competing for your country feels like, overwhelms me every time. No matter what you may think about the state of our country it has to be an unbelievable feeling of pride.
So when I sit here and hear the Anthem playing, it immediately takes me back to my pre-match routines and reminds me that even though I never made it to the biggest court in the world, the sacrifices I made helped get me to where I am today; the love and support of my family are my foundation; and that living here has most definitely made that possible.
8.18.2008
Shameless
In case you thought that I didn't take your comments to heart. Well, I do (and I'm not going to lie, comments make me smile), and I followed Shawn's advice and posted my kitchen on "Rate My Space" on HGTV. And I'm making hundreds of friends by the hour. Seriously.
Within the first 15 minutes I had my space posted, I had over 50 hits. Wow. How do all these people know about this? I'm telling you, people, I think this Internets thing is really catching on.
Instead of writing you a fabulous post about Hot Sauce or wiener dogs (wait for it... wait for it...) tonight,I've been stalking my space following the kind comments of virtual strangers--actually, they are actual strangers and virtual friends. But I can't keep up with all of the comments. Oh, and I can't stop going back and back and back to my space. I may have to take a restraining order out on myself.
But I'm not going to stop you from going there. In fact, you should go there now. Yeah, go there now and rate my space. Yeah, go there now and rate my space, and give me fives. I am not above begging for it. Validate me. Pretty please?
Within the first 15 minutes I had my space posted, I had over 50 hits. Wow. How do all these people know about this? I'm telling you, people, I think this Internets thing is really catching on.
Instead of writing you a fabulous post about Hot Sauce or wiener dogs (wait for it... wait for it...) tonight,I've been stalking my space following the kind comments of virtual strangers--actually, they are actual strangers and virtual friends. But I can't keep up with all of the comments. Oh, and I can't stop going back and back and back to my space. I may have to take a restraining order out on myself.
But I'm not going to stop you from going there. In fact, you should go there now. Yeah, go there now and rate my space. Yeah, go there now and rate my space, and give me fives. I am not above begging for it. Validate me. Pretty please?
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