TBT: Yellow Submarine

The Beatles tune came on the Muzak a few seconds ago and it took me back.  Way back to my 7th grade year, when I was dorky cool enough to be a part of the Kids Helping Kids Singers.

Yes. I was a part of the Kids Helping Kids Singers.

Let me explain a little bit what this was about. We were kids. We sang. And we raised money for kids with cancer.

See a theme in my life?

The first show I did with KHKS was a Beatles review. Yes. A Beatles review. We wore tie-dye vests with white shirts, shoes, GLOVES and pants.  I was a brace faced bleach blonde who was super awkward.  And I really wanted to sing "Let It Be."  I got to sing Ticket to Ride instead. He's got a ticket to ride. Not she. Cause I'm a girl.

We toured through the county, playing at church fairs, old folks homes and non-profits all over. We had props.  A yellow submarine. With portholes for our heads to fit through.  Fish made of wood that would swim around the submarine.  There were dancers...beautiful little girls who made me jealous cause I was uncoordinated and gawky.  We did one show where we were supposed to meet Joe Namath.  He bailed. I'm pretty sure that was the only KHKS show my dad came to see.  He was lucky.  My mom, not so much.

We were super dorks. I remember getting super excited about meeting my first celebs. The dude that played Peter Brady in the 90's film.  The chick that played the middle sister on Step by Step...the ditzy one.  You know the one.  I got their autographs. No one was impressed.

Our next big blockbuster was our rendition of The Lion King.  I should point out that the only color in our cast was a young Indian boy and girl. I sang Can You Feel The Love Tonight dressed like an angel while two young kids played Nala and Simba in front of me. It was lame, but it was at the Kravis, guys.  The mother fronting Kravis!

It was awful in hindsight, but when I was doing it I felt like I was making a difference through song.  We'd meet little kids with bald heads who were finishing treatments. We would perform and the older folks would tell us how cute we were and would give us standing ovations. It was the one place that this nerd felt comfortable and it has effected adult me in so many ways.

I then went on to do similar things with Up With People when I was 18, though that was on a much bigger and more professional level than anything I did in KHKS. It made me different.  It made me the butt of a lot of jokes, especially when I was already ostracized for having braces, pimples, and glasses. It also made me who I am today, and I would never change it for the world.

Improv hiatus...OVER!

I've been an improv recluse for the past couple of months year. It got so crazy for a second there, running my own improv troupe then deciding to no longer run my own improv troupe.  It was too much. Too much responsibility.  Too much stress.  Too much distress from trying to fund shows that were costing me more than they benefited me in terms of money and mental health.  Too much me being mean to people I should have been building up and supporting.  I tried it, and it failed.  I failed.

I distanced myself from improv in order to lick my wounds. Wounds that finally started to heal two weeks ago during a March Madness Improv show at Just the Funny when a director I had never worked with trusted me enough to do a two person scene with me. Wounds that continued to heal this past Sunday when I was invited to teach an improv workshop in Miami for Improv Rising. Someone I had never played with trusted me with his brand to teach an awesome group of up and coming improvisers.  Wounds that have fully closed and have left no scars after a rehearsal I was invited to last night with the Sick Puppies in Boca Raton.

Improv is hard to explain to people who have never done it before. It's a combination of terror and joy.  I've jumped out of planes, bungee jumped over a raging river, hang glided...and none of that even compares to the adrenaline that seeps into your body when you are about to head on stage with no lines, no blocking, and no idea what will be thrown at you by the audience.  There is nothing in this world that compares to the feeling you have after a great improv scene. It's like really great sex. You glow afterwards.  And you're pretty sore.

Last night was an orgy.  An intense, hysterical orgy of shared ideas, great characters, awesome jokes, and camaraderie.  I had met half of the people in the rehearsal before.  The rest were strangers. But it did not matter at all that we had just met and knew nothing about each other. What mattered was the art form. The banter. The back and forth. The emotional highs and lows created on the spot by people interpreting a word, color, sin, sensation into a scene for the amusement of others.

It was great. GREAT. I sobbed afterwards...you know, just like after really good sex. Happy tears. I didn't have a cigarette, cause cancer.   But I glowed.  And it's been a really long time since that happened.

Thank you, Just The Funny, Improv Rising and Sick Puppies. You are great.

Author's Edit: Negative Four Months hosted the March Madness event at JTF, so I should thank them as well.  I'm a jerk.

Throw Back Thursday

I'm hungry.

I reach into the large desk drawer that is dedicated solely to snacks.  Who needs places to file things anyway? I find a bag of Jolly Ranchers I bought when I was having vocal issues and decided that after a balanced breakfast and a small salad for lunch, I could splurge on a sour watermelon candy. Red dye #5 billion be damned.

My taste buds tingle. My senses flood with the fake aroma of watermelon.  My mind flits back to a simpler time, when my family lived in a brown and tan condo on Blue Ridge Rd. in West Palm Beach. My brother was 10, Brooke was 6 and I was 8. We walked to school every day, as Berkshire Elementary was a block from our house. We'd slip under the 6 foot wooden fence, backpacks sticking occasionally. There was a freedom to walking without an adult, though on the hottest days it felt like a chore.

One day, our parents decided to let us go ACROSS THE STREET to a convenience store.  BY OURSELVES.  It was heaven on earth. Mom gave me 5 dollars and we were allowed to not only cross the street, but to buy WHATEVER WE WANTED AT THE STORE.  This became a bit of a habit for us, as I'm sure Mom wanted us out of the house.  Brooke and I always got the same thing.  I grabbed the long, stick version of a Watermelon Jolly rancher. (See? I got to it eventually.) I usually got fancy and bought a Bluebird Pineapple juice, an odd pairing with the candy, but it tasted like freedom mixed with sunshine. Brooke would get a Sour Apple Jolly Rancher stick and apple juice.

I don't remember what Dan bought, as he was usually trying to distance himself from his stinky sisters as much as possible.  But he walked with us. He made sure we crossed the street safely.  He made sure the guy behind the counter gave us the right change. He was simultaneously protective and disdainful, a trait which lingers to this day.  Nothing tasted better on those summer days than that candy and that juice.  Never mind the home cooked dinners that always greeted us when we got home.   Ignoring the home made ice cream we had every Fourth of July. That candy and that juice taught us how to be independent. It taught me how to look out for my sister.  To bond with her. And any time I taste the overly sweet, somewhat sour taste of a Watermelon Jolly Rancher, it takes me back to those days of innocence that I will never, ever get back.

I hope that some day, when I have kids of my own, I'll be able to do the same for them.  I haven't give up hope for this world that we live in to get better.  There's overwhelming evidence that we are on a downward spiral, but there's also glimmers of light everywhere that make me think that someday, my kids will be able to play in their own yard with no fear.  That I'll be able to call them in from scraping their knees and enjoying the sunshine.

Eh, who am I kidding?  My kids will probably need to be called from their rooms where they will be reading.