Playful. Silly. Totally Unscripted.

I know in the past I’ve mentioned how much I love improv. The more classes and shows I have, the more I come to find improv as a life philosophy. Don’t worry, I’ll explain my reasoning.

Yes and…

Improv’s biggest rule is to yes and whatever your scene partner has created. Not only do you acknowledge the reality established, but you then add information and context (hence the AND).

In life, I think people should do more yes and-ing. Let’s say your boyfriend is all like hey I want to run a marathon. You would respond with something like baby that’s awesome. Let’s get you a pair of running shoes and a training schedule. I think yes and-ing is a great thing for parents as well. It shows complete support and enthusiasm for their children's ideas.

Playfulness

Improv at its best is essentially adults playing. Letting your repressed imagination have fun and act out all it can. It’s one of the most therapeutic ways to release tension and elevate your mood to pure joy.

As adults, we have to follow the professional code of conduct set by our jobs and common day society. How boring is it to not be able to have a little fun and crack a joke in the workplace? Being playful is a refreshing moment in an otherwise straight-laced work environment. Being playful let’s your mind relax and have fun. This can only lead to creative and innovated ideas, strategies and tactics.

Being playful is our way of never letting go of who we were when we were five. It’s as easy as being like “hey we’re waffles swimming in chocolate.” Yup. You betcha we are and it’s going to be deliciously entertaining.

Trust

The best improv is when your teammates have a solid sense of trust with each other. Never will you have to worry again on stage. No one gets hung out to dry. No one gets humiliated. No one fails. It’s a beautiful thing.

Imagine the sense of security unwavering trust brings. If you had this kind of trust in your daily life, you would be more confident and take more risks knowing someone has your back. Knowing you’re not alone is the first step to enormous success.

Letting go of Control

Trying to control the outcome of an improv scene is the dumbest thing you can do. You can’t have a plot already worked out in your head because improv scenes never go as planned. Wanting to control a scene is just a high five of disaster waiting to happen.

In reality, trying to control the outcome of any situation or event will only lead to unmet expectations and disappointment. Life is more fun when the outcome is up in the air. Don’t expect anything and you get endless possible outcomes. Don’t limit yourself just to one result. 

And the best thing about improv? Creating masterpieces out of nothing. It's the magic of knowing everything beautiful and worthwhile is already in your mind, it's just waiting for you to acknowledge it.

Change is a comin’

Starting anything new is always an anxious transition for me. I’m a slow warmer, a late bloomer. Any new event or schedule throws me a bit until I get down a routine and get into the flow. There are so many great things going on and happening, yet I still find myself with that familiar tight chest run-away-Lex-run-away anxiety. Transitioning into something new has always been somewhat of a challenge. The comforting fact is that once I’m comfortable, I’m totally 100% in.

I’m actually really enjoying my new job as a front desk person at a doctor’s office. It’s nothing too demanding; simple computer work and being personable. I’m getting used to talking to people on the phone¾ a skill that makes me sweat profusely. I’m smiling a lot and making eye contact. I’m confident with our clients and speak up when I need to.

My work ethic has come back full force. I’m committed to doing the best job I can because my efforts are praised and rewarded. It’s an added bonus to have my nights free so I can train for the half marathon, edit my novel and do a ton of improv.

When I got let go from my last job, I was relieved. My health was deteriorating from being completely miserable there. Like most people say, “being fired was the best thing to happen to me.” It really was.

I felt incompetent every day. I was ignored, shut out, put down and consistently degraded. It made me build the walls around me higher. I retreated into myself and licked my emotional wounds. It was bittersweet to leave in all honesty. I had grown to love (some of) the people I worked with, becoming friends with many during my two year stint.

Even now, three months after the fact, I find my gut constricting at the reminder of where I was a few months ago. I feel sick knowing the truth of the whole incident: I was unwanted. I was unneeded. I was not welcomed.

It’s a major blow to one’s self-confidence and worth. Every day that has passed since being let go, I gain a little bit back.

I learned an important lesson after I got let go. Your job does not have to be your identity. You get to choose who the world knows you as. I’m a writer and comedian. It’s the best identity I have because it’s the truest me. I wasn’t born to be anything but in my professional life.

On a side note, at my old job, my position got eliminated because “the restructuring of the department finds no need for your job.” Weird. Because there’s currently a posting for my job right now on Indeed. Fucking jackasses. 

Ma. Mum. Mom. Mommy

First off, to all the mom’s out there, sorry about your vaginas but thanks for the sacrifice ¾ unless you copped out and had a C-section.

My mom’s been my mom for what feels like my entire life. I just got confirmation that it actually has been the whole time.

To honor my mom I got her the best gift my comedian (see: crazy) mind could think of:

Reflections in a blog

I’ve been writing this blog for a little over a year now. I’d say I’m pretty proud of myself for sticking to it. When I began I wanted this blog to be an easy way to for to practice writing (almost) every day. Like most things in life, you learn more along the way than you can ever imagine.

My entries are super random; mainly coming from something that happened to me that day or from inspiration from an all consuming thought or emotion. I’m pretty certain I still should go to therapy¾ I’ll add it to my birthday list.

I started this blog to remember my semi (albeit almost full-fledged) quarter life crisis. It’ll be fun to look back in a few years on the woes and dilemmas I figured would conclude in a full-blown nervous breakdown. Again, therapy?

It’s also great to have an outlet to speak without interruption or half-assed, distracted attention. It’s almost like talking to my dog; I’m not really looking for too much response except a tilt of the head. Then again, maybe my dog only listens to me in case I say the T-word. I mean T-R-E-A-T. Can’t be too careful, he might be reading this.

I also joined Instagram in hopes of becoming a Level 3 Hipster. Check me out like a library book here. 

Motion censored lights

Like clockwork, I seem to find my poop schedule and lunch break coinciding. I’m living the dream folks.

The eco-friendly building I work in has a bathroom with motion censored lights. I’m talking what must have been an extremely long poop, when the lights go out.

My initial reaction was I’VE GONE BLIND! After laughing at my sheer stupidity (did I really graduate college with this common sense?) I started waving my hands around like I saw a plane as I was stranded on a desert island. The only S.O.S that came was for the poor toilet I currently was destroying with my digested insides. On a side note, when will I learn Hot Chocolate is going to leave my system looking the same way it went in?

I kind of pulled my pants up, unlocked the door and miraculously the lights came on. Just in time for me to realize there was no toilet paper in any of the stalls. 

Back to being an adult

Today is my first day of work as a front desker for a Spine Center. Back to the real world of responsibilities. It’s been nice having a mini summer vacation but like it was back in school, I am ready to get working. Best part about the new job is I get to wear scrubs and gym shoes to work. And my hair has to be back in a ponytail. It’s like the dream job for me, clothes and appearance wise. 

Long live the car-crashed hearts