I swear I should have been born Jewish. Or Asian. Or a Red Sox first baseman. Because man--my guilt-motivation runs deep.
I've come to terms with it, though, and I've actually begun to fill my sails with the winds of compunction. Leave me to myself and I'll get a lot of sleep. Maybe a little TiVo on a good day. Give me the possibility of letting down others, though, and all of a sudden I'm Alex Keaton on speed (and yes, someone transcribed that by hand). That's why I committed to a marathon, and it's why, this afternoon, I signed on for an improv class over at ACME.
Every year around tax-time, I send tens of thousands of dollars (not many tens, but still plural) to The Man™ (the benefits of self-employment tax), and I generally indulge in a token retail therapy session to make that dark time a little brighter. I came very close to picking up a new iPod, but I realized that an iPod is just a thing, and things don't generally make you happy. I also realized that an iPod is a $300 Walkman, which seems effing silly in its own right, but for the sake of the story, let's ignore that.
So anyway, I was having a Buddhist moment when I realized I wanted an experience rather than an object. The Phoebe Cates experience has been closed since March 5, 1989 and I don't have the vacation time for Prague, so improv class it is. And anyway, a class might actually get me back into the creative swing of things in a way that Prague or Phoebe (well, at least Prague) might not. This will be my first long-form improv experience, so it will be a nice change from the Theatresports format. More as it comes. If this takes off as it should, I'll have my assistant update you.
I believe that if you're gonna do something, you should do your best to be good at it. Put in a little effort. Do your homework. Whatever it is--golf, cooking, or, in this case, door-to-door missionary work. 2 Jehovah's Witnesses showed up at my door this morning, inviting me to "a party to celebrate the miracle of Jesus' death." A few things jumped out at me: