I just ate half a pint of S’mores flavored BJ’s cream (I know what you’re think about, you dirty man).
Then I dipped TJ’s veggie chips in hummus. (That’s not code for anything. You’re still dirty, dirty man)
Then I washed that down with three gulps of Schewepps ginger ale. (That’s my jam)
It’s 11:05 pm…I don’t know if that was a good idea … :-/ It seemed like a good idea at the time…BUT NOW I HATE MYSELF.
Not really. I love myself. I love myself so much that I decided to take care of myself and nourish myself by signing up for improv classes again. BITCH IS BACK. No, she’s not. She never really tried to begin with. She’s just finishing god’s work at a snail’s pace. HAHAHAHA.
Ok, seriously. But yeah guys, I signed up for improv classes at iO late last year and am a little more than halfway done with my first term. I like iO a lot and I’m realizing how much these improv skills atrophy when you don’t use them. I’m fighting all the time in my scenes, saying no a lot…I know seasoned improvisers go through this all the time but it’s still frustrating. Colleen Doyle, my teacher, ended class last Sunday by saying, “Be gentle on yourselves.”
WHERE’S THAT PREACH GIF FROM GLEE?? INSERT HERE PLS.
I also signed up for a solo performance workshop. Five weeks every Saturday. Try to find my voice, work on my writing, all that - yes. Although, I signed up more for “personal self help goals” reasons. It’s hard for me to be honest - really honest. And vulnerable? I don’t know if you believe that cos I’m pretty much now spilling all my guts now in this blog, which is like, slitting my wrists xXbAriNgMySoUlxX, but it really is. On a Tumblr like this it’s easy to hide behind gifs and all caps and dumb Internet reference jokes but real life is a whole other level. (Even though a lot of those Internet things express how I feel exactly.) Especially performing what you’ve written. To say out lout and hear what you’ve written. Mainly, confront a lot of those fears of being vulnerable and putting up appearances and, perhaps, even try and figure out for myself why I do that. When did it became so much a part of me, engrained, second nature that I can’t even explain the origins of why I have a hard time sharing parts of myself? Telling people how I feel about them? Can it just be inherent to me? As a person? I tried figuring all this out when I was going to therapy. It helped and I think I made some breakthroughs but my time with my therapist came to an end and by then I felt I didn’t need to continue with therapy anymore. Baby deer’s got to stand on her legs without her mom, you know.
Yeah, so that’s what’s going on. I’m not sure who still reads this thing. If you did, thanks for reading all the way down here! Whew! I’m going to bed now.