Commitment

It's all about commitment. In life. In love. In comedy.

Nothing great is achieved without commitment.

When most of us think about commitment, we think of a binding contract that for many in my generation, is scary. Commitment to a job can be dangerous because as your responsibilities increase, so too does your worth. Suddenly you have an inseparable relationship with your job, which is okay but makes balancing life tough. Romantic commitment to another person is scary because it means we are giving up the chance at seeing other people. As soon as we make the decision to commit to just one other, sure it is great to have that companionship, but think about all the others for whom you will, by default, limit your companionship.

So when is commitment really good? Commitment is fantastic when you're building toward something. In improv, the level of commitment to a scenario, a relationship and/or a character is what separates the good improvisers from the great improvisers. And it's the thing you notice when you watch the really seasoned improvisers. It is more than just sticking to your shit, it is an over-arching awareness of the larger picture - the knowledge of who your character is, what your character wants, what your character wants from the other character, what that other character wants from you, how your character feels about the other character's want and playing the shit out of the game that comes to fruition as a result of all this.

But then the scene is over... now what? Oh, we recommit ourselves to a fresh set of characters... what is the purpose of all this? Just being fun to watch?

What my time surrounded by a community of improvisers at a comedy theater has taught me is that commitment to the craft spurs the desire to consistently push the boundaries of what is possible. You have a conglomerate of people that are bound to eachother as a result of a mutual commitment to a craft. And that commitment, is perfect. Why? Because people can come and go. Play with whomsoever they chose. Have fun while doing it. Not feel obligated and entitled to play with a particular set of people forever. They are just brought together by their love for a philosphy - a way of life. A simple "yes, and" mentality. And this community blossoms, grows and cannot be stopped as a result of this.

Commitment to your craft - it is noble.
Commitment to your characters - it is vital.
Commitment to the integrity of the reality created - priceless

Commit to your craft and a community will find you.

Puppy Luv

On my daily morning run, I passed two of the cutest goddamn puppies I've ever seen. You know, the ones where fur just exudes out of them and envelopes them at the same time. You know, the kind that have big glistening eyes (far too large for the size of their lil head) and an ever-dripping saliva spout?

Well, hopefully you know what I'm talking about.

Anyways, I've developed a bad habit of exclaiming sweet nothings when I run past cute dogs. The older lady walking them flashed a smile and I gushed "Hey lil guys!" as I zipped past. But before I ran past them, I was able to catch a fleeting glimpse of the doggies' reactions - both looked up and smiled (literally smiled) and gave a look that undoubtedly meant "yeah, that's me. I'm this little guy hi!".

Why the hell am i telling you about my conversations with dogs? Well here's the thing, when I called those dogs "lil' guys", they owned it. I mean they embraced it FULLY. They knew exactly what they were and loved everything about who they were and the choices they made. It didn't matter if I called them "lil guys" "ugly mothballs" or "broken faucets". They love it and they own it. Sure you could say, "a dog is a dog no matter what the hell you call them". But here's the thing - do we still beam our true identity when we are addressed in different ways? Are we comfortable showing the same face to everyone? Do I emit the same energy when I am with my mom as I do when I am with my girlfriend or when I am staring at the doctor before a colonoscopy?

So what does this mean for improv and the characters we make onstage? Well we need to put on different faces to be different characters, but anyone can do that. What is hard is being able to embrace fully whatever your scene partner decides to "call" you. In improv, if I walk onstage and someone calls me "doctor", guess what? I'm the doctor the rest of the scene! Yay! But how willing are we to abandon our own ideas onstage and move forward down the trail our scene partner has blazed before us? Will I hold my scene partner's hand and walk side by side or will I remain stubborn and walk in the same direction but down a path of my own devising?

The core of what I am getting at is that the magic happens onstage when every improviser views the offer or naming bestowed upon them as a gift. As soon as I am called "doctor", instead of just becoming a typical, run of the mill doctor, how can I accept the gift from my scene partner but then also build upon it with my own special choice? I can become the medically-inclined fiance who is actually just a construction worker but whose significant other calls him doctor during times of physical stress. Or I can be an eccentric yet good-intentioned doctor set to eradicate smallpox from his hometown before hist relatives fly in. Or I can become Julius Erving.

Dogs just do. They don't give a fuck if the choice they make is the "right" one. They don't always hyperanalyze who they are, what they are doing, and who they are in relation to one another. We do. We are analytical, reflective and aware creatures. What we must pull is the best of both worlds - the ability to fully embrace who we are,committing 100% while also making the choice to move with our scene partner, use our insight to build upon their suggestion and work together in fruitful collaboration.

alive.

I love humor. I love laughing. I can't picture myself living in a world without humor. I couldn't live in a world devoid of laughter. 

Thankfully we live in a world surrounded with it - if we are keen to see it. In the same way the Christian feels the presence of God throughout life (manifest in objects, people, occurrences) the comic beholds the world through the lens of humor. A bit of a quirky perspective is all it takes. The ability to realize a discrepancy in something. An overwhelming desire to see the world in a new way all the time while shouldering the burden of picturing the world as it should be.

But with all the tragedies in our world - the bombings, the countless murders, kidnappings, rapes, suicides (you get the idea) at what expense do we lead our lives with humor? Is humor in its essence irresponsible? Is it an individual failing to shoulder the tremendous weight of life (whether purposefully or not)? Is it a person who has given up on real things and embarked on a quest to create and observe the subtle nuances of the imagined in order to escape their real problems?

No. No it is not.

It has taken me several years to realize this but I now feel confident in my response. Well, as confident as a philosopher can feel holding onto a fleeting thought nugget. 

Humor is not irresponsible or negligent, humor is a choice. Humor is the desire to explore. Humor is the juicy alternate perspective. Humor is mankind's ability to see the world beyond a giant system and break down and dissect simple components of the universe. And what do we get when we do this? Well, we can realize how absurd it all is. And no doubt many comics have taken this route (Carlin??). But we also realize that this life is a gift and to choose the humorous perspective is not only difficult and courageous - it is vital. For those who gaze upon the world as a giant system, standing naked and powerless before it, will be hopelessly climbing the ladder laid before them for the rest of their days. 

But the comic, the humor buff, the improviser - they play. They are the tireless explorers who find hope not in seeing the world as it is but as it could be. They put their stock in understanding not what things are but why they are that way and the justifications behind that construction. It is the comedian's job to uplift the spirit. To invite others in to wrap their minds, albeit temporarily, around the world as they see it. 

The comedian dares the comatosed masses to dream. The comedian is the kid at the slumber party who stays awake after all the other kids, his mind reeling with boundless thoughts that keep him awake, energetic and alive. The comedian is the most alive of all of us, because not only has he placed the burdens of this world squarely upon his shoulders but he has realized his purpose in reshaping that world in a digestible way so that it may breathe life and hope into others. He has embarked on a quest to reshape this world and share his work with others in hopes that they will also see the world as he does: a place of possibility. 

Humor is not an escape. Humor is an opportunity.