Confessions of a Long-Form Snob

Level C's "Gone Blue" @ Second City Training Center - 2004

"Short-form ain't funny.  It's for people who can't improvise."
27 Year Old Nelson Velazquez

When I was in the beginning stages of my improv journey in the early 2000s, I was learning the proverbial ropes at the venerable Second City Training Center Chicago.  I learned how to play a bunch of cheeky short-form games but the longer scenic games were the ones I really enjoyed as I got to flex my burgeoning acting chops and my ever-growing 20-something male ego; I knew everything at that time including what was funny and what wasn't.  Somehow I got it into my thick and ever-balding skull that short-form improvisation was a kid's game while long-form improv was for the "real improvisers".  

Long-Form > Short-form (Or So I Thought)

I developed my strong opinion about what "kind of improv" was best early on.  I thought long-form was the "right" path in being a good improviser.  Part of cementing that opinion wasn't voluntary; I was institutionalized to think "long-form"!  I was in two expensive conservatory-level programs back-to-back, taking expensive classes at another prestigious long-form-based school (never finished the curriculum), and was in an active sketch comedy group where expensive long-form work was touted as the best way to generate sketch material.  The other factor that turned me onto long-form was that I had heard stories from fellow students who had taken slightly cheaper classes at another theater known for being all about short-form; stories of harrowing notes being given after performing scenes, students'  comedic voices being trounced upon in very dismissive ways by high-profile teachers, and where the mainstage show was at the time quite an expensive outing for 2 hours of weekend night.  None of that sounded appealing to me.  My thought was, "When am I ever going to really need short-form in my career?"  

Soon enough.

Short-Form > Long-Form (Or So I Thought) 

It turned out that very same short-form theater actually did other kinds of shows outside their normal programming; some of which were actual long-form shows.  I eventually started auditioning for teams at that very same short-form theater.   My thought process in doing so was "Do well enough to get on a team, do some good shows, and wait until long-form show auditions become available."

Since I was new to the theater, I had to audition for their incubator teams.  "Fine," I thought. "I'm better than these beginners, but whatevs.  I'll pay my dues."

The audition itself was pretty simple from what I remember.  We warmed-up together outside of the mainstage area, went in, handed out headshots & resumes to the auditors, went up on stage, told a little fact about ourselves unrelated to improv, and then formally began the audition.  I played a couple of games I had played before in classes and learned a new one on the spot (tag team monologue).  I walked out of the audition feeling pretty good about it.  Eventually, I was offered a spot on a new team and one step closer to doing long-form at another theater.

A Whole New World (Don't You Dare Close Your Eyes)

The rehearsal process for our team was very eye-opening.  As I watched other perform exercises or games, I realized, "Uhm....these people are, like, REALLY good."  My ego began to deflate and bouts of serious self-criticism creeped in.  I saw how people would get to the point of their scene really quickly where it would take me a couple of minutes to rev the engine to get to what the scene was about.  I saw a ton of characters come out of people right from the very beginning of the scene where I was more about planning one character for the whole class and using it multiple times.  I also saw just how nice people were being to each other - being really supportive of each other and giving laughs to scenes when they really didn't deserve them.  I was really humbled by those rehearsals.  I began to realize "I don't know 💩 about short-form.  Why didn't we do this stuff in class?"

It was at this point I started seeing the power of short-form improv.  You get maybe 5 minutes to play a game and entertain a paying discerning crowd.  You need the necessary skills to be creative quickly while still holding onto the fundamental facets of what makes improv so great: listening, reacting, and discovering.  There's no time for slow-moving, self-indulgent improvisation when you've got a drunk guy in the back of the theater looking to laugh his ass off every 15 seconds.  

After that experience (and many more), I began to regret ever thinking short-form was inferior.  I  had fallen in love with the format and saw just how powerful it could be especially in the realm that it excelled at: connecting the actors on stage with the audience watching it multiple times throughout the show.  That opinion kept me from delving deeper into the art of improv and probably cost me opportunities I could've taken advantage of at the time.   I see now that I needed to go through that experience to make me who I am today, but I'm not gonna lie: I sure was (and still am) full of 💩 back then.

So, What's The Difference Between Them?

What's the difference between short-form and long-form then?  The amount of time it takes to get "to it" to entertain a crowd?  One is more narrative than the other?  Sure.  Those are aspects to how the formats get consumed, but to me, the difference between short-form and long-form is:

In short-form, we tell the audience the game we're playing. 
In long-form, we don't.

That's it.

The skills required to perform in either format are the same.  You still have to listen, react, and discover in both.  You still have to emote in scenes.  You still have to develop characters and relationships just like any theatrical piece.  In short-form, you tell the audience how to watch the subsequent scene and what to look out for so they're "in on it".  In long-form, you don't telegraph what game is being played along the way; the audience has to figure it out.    

Edit That Thought

It took me a long time to figure out the difference.  I love both formats equally now and don't really differentiate between the two artistically.  The differences to me are more production-oriented topics.  If I'm playing at a bar or a small town that hasn't been exposed to a lot of improv, I might stick with a short-form show.  However, if I'm playing with another short-form team on the bill, I would want to give the audience something different to watch and thus may perform a long-form improvised musical instead.  

I do my best nowadays to expose my students to the relationship between short and long-form so that they can see that they are just different sides of the same theatrical coin.  I hope they don't make the same mistake I made in creating an unnecessary division between the two and are able to explore improv free from barriers and judgment.

Have you ever flipped your thinking on a form, format, or philosophy? What changed your mind? Drop it below — I’d love to hear your “I was full of 💩” moment.

Screw the Checklists. Trust the Movement.

I teach improv by starting with silent object work and movement — not scene goals, just doing. When you move first, the rest of the scene reveals itself.

Screw The Checklist

Last night I was teaching an improv class when we hit on the idea of establishing the Who/What/Where/Why (the "4 Ws") of the scene.  Now, personally, I hate the 4Ws framework because it makes beginners treat them like a checklist — forcing each one into the scene instead of discovering them through play.  I’d rather they use just enough brain power to move, interact with their space, and listen. React to their partner. Let those discoveries tell you who you are, where you are, and why any of it matters.

Hit The Reset Button By Trusting The Movement

One thing I preach to everyone is:

If you don't know who you are, what you are, what's going on, get in your head, or just need to survive the scene, go back to the object work.  It will save your ass!

I learned this lesson when I had to improvise by myself unexpectedly for a long time at a show a few years ago.  If it wasn't for my dedication to object work at the top of the show, it would've been a disaster.

However, last night, I put together my framework with this mantra for the first time.  I finally understood why object work saves you.  It's a reset button for your involvement in the scene.  It's a way for you to discover the who/what/where/why again and again without the pressure to entertain anyone while you figure it out.

I’ve been teaching this way for years — trusting object work, reacting honestly, discovering - not declaring.  But it wasn’t until last night that I realized: that instinct I kept preaching? It’s not just a technique.  It’s the reset button. And I finally found the reason why it works. The how? That’s coming soon in my book.

What’s your reset button on stage — the thing that saves your ass when your brain blanks? Drop it in the comments. I’m looking to shamelessly steal it.

The Geo Tracker: My First REAL Car

1986 Ford Mustang LX

She sputtered. She choked. She once lurched herself into a cement pole on her way out. But before that? She was mine. But I had to give her up...

Lifestyle Upgrade

I was a junior in college and had scored a scholarship that covered not only tuition, books, and room &board, but also paid me a monthly stipend on top of it.  I didn't have a job since I was taking 15-18 hours a semester so that stipend was a God-send to finance my lifestyle.  At the time, I was driving around my beloved 1986 Ford Mustang LX shared between me and my father.  The car was an ugly, 4 cylinder, gas guzzling death trap (my mom would not drive the car for fear it would get her into an accident or leave her stranded somewhere) BUT it was MINE.  When I got a steady stream of money coming in, I decided to use that stipend to help finance my car.  I hated having to give up the car because she was my first but at the same time...

Goodbye, Ya Crazy B****!!!

The 1986 Mustang LX throttle-bodied and had a knack of getting stuck open sometimes especially in the hot, Texas weather. So, when you would turn the ignition off, the car would stay on for about 10-30 seconds afterward sputtering and gurgling until it truly ran out of gas. Depending on where I'd park the car, there would be times I'd die of embarrassment in silence while I waited for the car to finish it's creative death scene while onlookers would judge how crappy my car was and feel sorry for that owner sitting in the driver's seat being jostled around violently.  I was ready to part with that monster.

Gyat Damn!

1996 Geo Tracker

Meet the new girl: The 1996 Geo Tracker

I don't remember exactly why I picked this car to be mine; maybe because at the time, the Suzuki Samurai, it's Japanese cousin, was all the rage amongst the hip-hop community (I wanted a Mitsubishi Amigo too) and it was "close enough" to feeling like I'd be "down with the streetz"...or at least as close as a dorky college kid in South Texas could get with a Geo Tracker and a dream. Also, my Tracker was a convertible with a hard top on it; I was living in an apartment complex and had experienced a number of break-ins over the years so having hard top for me was a must.  I was stoked at the idea of having a brand new car with some cool-factor built into it.  

After finding it on the Chevrolet lot, my dad, girlfriend, and I walked into the office with the salesman and Dad began the dreaded "negotiation" process.  My dad could do many things — tell a joke, fry a mean chimichanga, teach you Algebra without breaking a sweat — but a great negotiator, he was not.  Since it was my first time buying a car, I kind of stayed out of it and let him do his thing.  All I cared about was the monthly payment.  I don't remember if that was asked of me but I'm sure he negotiated me paying something close to MSRP on it after all was said and done 😆.  As long as I could afford it and it would leave me with some change, I was cool.

Oh, The Chaos!

Dad had authorized them taking the Mustang as a trade-in.  Of course, the dealer wanted to drive it around  before making an offer on it.  "Oh no," I thought.  It had barely limped into the dealership — then sputtered for a solid 10 seconds after we parked, as if it was still deciding whether to give up or go out swinging.  I got a sick feeling in the pit my stomach as they kept talking. My dad handed over the keys to the service guy dressed in grease-stained blue coveralls and a faded trucker hat; let's call him "Billy Bob". He grabbed the keys and proceeded out the front doors to my red jalopy.  "Faaaaaawk," I thought praying the car would behave itself long enough for us to seal this deal in my favor.  

As we sat across the salesman desk, I watched Billy Bob get into the car and fire it up with a huge roar; I guess he pumped the gas pretty hard before hitting the ignition.  The salesman, whose back was to the calamity about happen behind him, was shuffling paperwork around and maybe trying to upsell us on other services they offered.  Billy Bob pulled out of the lot and roared off down the street.  "Good," I said to my girlfriend while simultaneously letting out a sigh of relief.  I thought, "OK, we're half way done."

About 5 minutes later, Billy Bob enters the lot.  I watch him quickly pull back into the same spot where it was parked. He turned the car off. Then the fireworks began.  The car convulsed like a chain-smoker at mile 3 of a marathon — coughing, wheezing, and throwing a tantrum like a toddler hopped up on Capri Suns and vengeance.  It then lurched forward from its parked position and smacked the yellow cement bollard hard.  Billy Bob, slack-jawed and befuddled, jumped out of the car with the quickness.  We couldn't hear him but he was saying something to the car looking shocked while motioning with Looney Toons-esque ferver towards others in the adjacent  garage. 

I busted out laughing hysterically.  The salesman and my dad watched me crack up not knowing what the heck was so funny about the contract they were discussing.  I excused myself and walked out of the room still laughing. My girlfriend walked out and asked me what was so funny.  I did my best to explain it to her (she didn't find it funny) and awaited Billy Bob's verdict on the car.

A Deal Sealed by a Crash

Billy Bob walked into the sales office and yells "500" and walked out just as quickly as he came in. "Deal!" I yelled. To me, that amount was worth more than the headache of having that car (I'm sure we could've gotten more in parts alone) but after that trade-in debacle, I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible with my new car.

I drove that car until it died in 2006.  It served me well until the transmission started slipping and I had replaced the starter 3 times in the span of 3 years.  The story of that trade-in? It involves heartbreak, a tow truck, and a tearful call to God — but we’ll save that for another chapter.

Changes

I've experienced a shift in my approach to my work lately and haven't been able to put my finger on what that is just yet. There have been a few of things happened recently to remind me of how awesome theater could be.

I attended a Conservatory 3 showcase recently and both teams were really good. It was fun to see them *just play*. No BS. Just fun. Go up there and get dumb with each other. Totally got inspired by them and wanted to run up on stage and play with them.

Last night's TMLMTBGB rehearsal was super strong with some of the plays really coming together with hive mind and strong emotional choices being made. I normally abhor tech weeks but this one I'm actually enjoying (probably cuz I don't have to memorize 30 two minute plays).

I also ran a workshop recently where I married my IT consulting and improv worlds together to show each other how similar they truly are. Got rave reviews on it.

I don't know if it's old age or just maturity kicking in but something has changed for me in the this Covid-endemic world. I hope that I keep the courage to continue working and determining what it is while enjoying myself a bit more.

#grateful  

Rawk It To The Top!

I recently subbed a class on their last day.  Their super-talented teacher had something come up last minute, and fortunately I was already nearby doing working with a class to put together their musical direction for their show; so, I volunteered to take it.  Once I was confirmed I got it, I checked out their syllabus; there was nothing on it too hard to take them through.  I figured we would play the games the teacher requested and I'd tweak things here and there to get them ready for the next term of classes.

Things went way differently than what I expected.

The class was very large but friendly.  We met informally outside of the classroom while we waited for it to be vacated by a previous class.  Everyone seemed psyched to enjoy their last day and I recognized a few students from the improv jams I have been leading previously.  We all got along great.  They even laughed at my corny jokes so I felt pretty comfortable with them already.

Once we got  in the room, we immediately got to work.  I did my usual thing of tying the warm-ups to what we would be exploring later in class.  Their energy picked up from the beginning and soon they were buzzing.  Eventually, we go to the point of playing the games.  With me stressing them utilizing object work to discover the play within the games, they took to the instruction like fish to water.

We took a break and I left the room to go retrieve something from another theater.  Once I returned, I saw a large group of them bunched up talking.  One of the students asked, "Are you teaching the next class in the next term?"  I told them "Yes."  A roar of cheering erupted and a student asked if she could hug me.  I was caught off-guard by the reaction but I'm not going to lie - I loved the attention and the appreciation and most importantly the confirmation that I provide value to folks in their improv journeys.  We played some more afterwards with some new games and finally ended the class.

One of the students approached me telling me that they were at first thinking of giving up on the improv program but after that class and knowing they would have me as a teacher, they decided to give it another shot.  Again, it felt good to be wanted and not just tolerated.

I got this from that same student via email:
"I wanted to thank you again for the incredible class on Sunday, the entire crew's energy at the bar afterwards was electric and we're all super excited to take part in [class] with you."

I can't wait to get in a room with these cats and share what I have to offer.

Some Recent Improv Workshop Testimonials

When I started learning and performing improv, I had one goal - gain the respect of my peers.  When I started teaching improv, I started out with one goal - give each of my students the tools they need so that they can be excellent actors somewhere down the line.  Recently, I've been leading workshops where I believe I'm able to knock out both goals at the same time :)  

Yes, it's a bragging post.  Don't like it, scroll through.

 

Movement Workshop:

 

 

Musical Improv Workshop:

 

Indiana Thespian Workshops 2023

I got the chance to work with high/middle school students today with a couple of workshops for the Indiana Thespian State Conference at St. Mary's College in South Bend, IN.  

Morning

The day started with waking up at 5 AM and driving to South Bend.  I was all set to use a Starbucks gift card but found at that Starbucks wasn't open that early in the morning; however, Dunkin Donuts was open so I got my donuts and coffee from there.  C'mon Starbucks, really? Homie woke up every morning because it was "Time to make the donuts"!  You're too sophisticated to wake up that early to do the same?  #LostBusiness.  The drive was pretty uneventful as I listened to YouTube and YouTube Music along the way to keep me company.  

Navigating a college campus in the dark is difficult.  Hardly anything resembling signs are lit well and of course the names of the buildings are always on the side you're never on.  So, I ended up by accident parking in the right place using a PDF map and stumbling my way over to where my first workshop was - at 8:15 AM ET.  

To be honest I wasn't too optimistic that I would get a good attendance for my Intro to Improv workshop as it was really early.   As I showed up to my room, I saw three students sitting outside eating and talking.  I greeted them and opened the door to my room.  I was immediately disappointed.  The room was a boxy, traditional college classroom complete with desks and chairs. All of that equipment would severely limit how much room we would have to move around.  I immediately sprung into action and rearranged the room by pushing desks against wall and chairs underneath.  I was pretty proud of myself as I opened the room pretty well - until the students walked in.

I had 40+ students and chaperons stuffed into this room.  Our first warm up with to do a circle warm up but with so many people, someone suggested a second circle in the middle.  At first I was against it but then figured "Why not?"  So, we got a second circle in the middle set up.  As I was going to start my first exrcise, the door opens up and an adult peeks in.  She asks, "Do you have room for more?"  I say, "We'll make room.  Bring 'em in!"  "We have 11", she says.  I think about it and say "Yep.  We'll make room."  I turned to the room and said, "Make room for a third circle!".  

I scrapped all of my plans and said, "We're doing a three layer Zip Zap Zop".  I explained how I wanted them to play it; they would pass energy by making eye contact with another player and pass it along.  The goal was to try to get through all three layers each time.  It worked like a charm.  I debriefed the exercise and discovered a new way to do a tired exercise and make it exciting.  Plus, I got to demonstrate the idea that listening important; had I not listened to the suggestion, I would have never found this version of  the game.  The rest of the workshop got us to the point of improvising some games and was well received.

Mid-Day

I took lunch in the student center by paying for a morning brunch buffet.  It was pretty good.  The area has a very open atmosphere and every seemed nice.  I did notice that there were a lot of women in the dining area but I didn't pay any mind to it.  I ate my food quietly at a table and by myself while watching politically charged YouTube clips.   As I walked out, I noticed a big sign pointing to a lunch for the conference.  I was like, "Cot damn it.  They provided food and I didn't know!"  Luckily it was a boxed lunch so I took it and decided it would be my dinner later on.

I then decided to check out the vendors and recruiters at the events and struck up conversations with a bunch of them.  I'll spare the details here but I got three interested parties into bringing me and/or a group of mine out to expand their curriculum with improv workshops.  I also got a chance to reconnect with a former artistic associate from Salsation who had worked their butts off to become a professor and leader of a program at one of the universities.  We exchanged pleasantries and talked a lot of shop around our journeys from the point we played in Salsation together to getting to our current positions.  As a teacher, it was nice to feel that I was a bit on par with his academic roadmap.  I have super respect for "real" teachers especially in the public school system as they have such a hard job taming the craziness of youth while trying to embed some knowledge into the hard heads of these kids. 

Afternoon

I also took the time to beg for a new room as I knew I'd have a lot of people for my second, more advanced workshop.  I connected with the right folks and my wish was granted (I owe them a beer or two since we had to swap out another class for mine to get the room).  The second workshop was just as killer as the first one and held a couple of surprises.  The first being that when I went around the room getting names, pronouns, and reasons for being there, I had a few students come back to the workshop due to how much the really enjoyed the first one.  That warmed my heart and boosted my ego to end.  The second was I was able to stuff a lot of games and participation into a 1.25 hour workshop and walk out there with most kids really enjoying themselves.  An hour fifteen isn't much time to go into more advanced concepts bu tI feel I pulled it off in a cohesive manner.  It also helped that I had one of the aforementioned teachers wanting to collaborate take the class so I got to show my value to him and give him a taste of what I could do with his students.

Before I went home, I decided to hit the student center again just in case they decided to serve dinner.  I once again saw a huge queue right outside the dining room area so I went inside and saw a full Italian spread waiting to be served by the staff.  I ended up striking up a  conversation with the manager in charge along with many of the servers and was able to get a to-go box filled with goodies for the ride home.  

Summary

Overall, this was a pretty fruitful day.  I've got some gigs out of it while getting paid to share what I already know.  I reconnected with an old friend and made some new ones.  All in all, it was a success.

Dodging Bullets:A Retrospective

Growing up I felt that I was lucky to have people love me.  I thought that I would never have a girlfriend, ever get married, and have someone other than my mother who loved me unconditionally.  So, I took it upon myself to jump at the first opportunities that came along figuring that it wouldn't last long; thus, I'd need to get the most out of the experiences as I'll end up lonely and alone eventually.

I was pretty nihilistic at that time in my life.  And it was middle school through high school. Sue me.

One of the clearest memories I have was of a girl that I fawned over for my entire junior year of high school.  She was really pretty, really nice, and we would talk forever in my American history class whenever we were allowed to.  The fact she paid any attention to me was a blessing.  The fact that I could make laugh was a sign of things to come in my adult life - I might have a chance to be with her even if it were for only a brief period. There was only one snag in my plan.

I spent a lot of time trying to quietly convince her to break up with her boyfriend.  She would spend time in each class we had together telling me the problems they were having and since I had this strong belief that I could transcend being in the Friend Zone just by showing her that I was so unlike her boyfriend at the time because I was nice, a great listener, and really smart (I was actually pretty cute too but I couldn't see it at the time).  I never had the courage to ask her out (she had a boyfriend, right?) or to tell her how I felt but I carried that unrequited crush through the end of the year into the next. We graduated and moved onto creating our own lives.

I always held a sweet spot for that time in my life and stayed in touch with her off and on through the years.  We became friends on social media and noticed she didn't really keep up with it.  I'd occasionally see a picture of family or of animals or of skylines.  I didn't gain any real insight into her life - just figured she'd reach out eventually as my social media was always active (granted, it only shows my "improv life"). We (I assume) were friendly from a very far away distance.

Then Trump gets elected.

Radicalization of an Old Friend

During the last few years I started noticing occasional pro-Trump posts from her pop up in my feed.  I was caught off-guard a bit.  As background, I'm obviously anti-Trump but don't actively proselytize it, but if you engage me in talk, I'll let you know my stance. However, my vision of this person I knew over 20 years ago began a change to a negative portrait.  My cognitive dissonance was in full effect.

I started checking in on her social media a bit more.  She started posting a lot more and many of her posts were either sharing pro-Trump memes or links to unsourced right-wing websites that supported her political leanings.  Gradually she graduated to posting up her "own thoughts" on the current political landscape; most of these musings were more like ultimatums that, like everybody else, she never really knowingly followed through with:

"If you support XYZ, I will unfriend you now!"
"IF you think I'm racist because I support freedom and liberty, unfriend me."
"The patriots of this country will rise up on those who believe in infringing my rights as an American.  Don't tread on me.  I will tread back.  Der der der. 'M'r'ca!" (I added the last couple of sentences)

With every post, I ask myself, "How did an educated, beautiful, sweet person change into an ugly, misguided, uninformed conspiracy theorist hellbent on putting her hopes into a narcissistic, ineffective,  twice impeached numbskull like Trump?"  

I still have no answer. 

What Now?

We still don't talk on the regular so I naively hold out hope that she'll come to her senses eventually.  I am sure she's thinking the same for me - not me per se - but rather people who don't agree with her politics.  I struggle to not taint my memory of her versus what I've seen her become.  I do welcome a day she and I get to reconnect in person and see just how different we really are in a conversation.  I won't hold my breath that day'll come though with our collective track records.

#IKnowMyWorth (The Origin Story)

If you've ever followed any of my social media, you would have seen by now the hashtag #IKnowMyWorth trailing some recent announcement, rant, (not so) humblebrag, or "astute" observation.  Recently, an article was published where I got a subtle nod about its usage and I it inspired me to write about why I use it so ubiquitously.

#IWILLBEGREATERTHAN

TJ & Me

A few years ago I was in a long-form musical team with a fantastic group of actors.  I would say I was a novice to intermediary player at the time and was still getting used to the idea that I could maybe have some success doing the whole improv things.  The more senior players on the team played multiple shows a week for the theatre we were playing at and forced me to have to buckle down to answer "What kind of player am I?"  We were so full of talent; we had the zany guy, the super smart and wickedly funny girl, the power duo that could anchor the entire show by themselves if they wanted, and the stupidly skilled musical genius who can stop a show with a rousing number.  I needed to figure out where I fit in.  Through the rehearsal process, I met TJ Medel.

TJ was new to this level of improv gawdliness too.  He was (and still is) super talented in his ability to not only act but to hold the attention of a crowd.  I felt like I could learn a lot from watching and playing with him and we could rise together in the ranks of the improv malaise known as "Making It in Chicago".

One night we were driving back to his place after rehearsal and I had noticed through social media that he had been using the hashtag #IWillBeGreaterThan on a pretty frequent basis so I asked him about it.  The short story was that he had a falling out with someone who told him he wouldn't amount to anything by pursuing his artistic passions; it hurt him so much to feel so disrespected and unsupported, he used that pain to fuel his artistic endeavors to become successes and show her that he will "be greater than" anything she could've expected or even dream of him doing.  I completely resonated with that story because I operate along the same lines in taking adversity and turning it into something positive as a big FU to those who doubted me.  Little did I know how that story would manifest a new hashtag later down the line.

The Set-Up

Meme captured and designed by Angela Heid

Fast-forward to a couple of years ago.  I hooked up with a new crew of actors doing long-form improvisation over at a major theatre in Chicago on a regular basis (yes, I'm keeping it vague on purpose!).  Artistically I was now at a different personal space having worked hard to establish a number of indie teams and toured a bit around the nation performing and teaching workshops; thus, I've had time to hone in on what my "voice" was, i.e. be able to succinctly articulate and perform the kind of improv I enjoyed doing.  The group I was playing with had a varying degree of talent ranging from experienced to beginner, and due to how the operation was being run, coaches were swapped in and out roughly ever 6-8 weeks.  My hope was that by showing that I could handle myself on stage, being supportive and attentive during rehearsals, and being social off-stage, I would be given an opportunity to show what I could do as a coach. And guess what - the opportunity DID present itself!

Sort of.

I had spoken with the powers-that-be about me helming workshops on musical improv for the team.  I knew it'd be a good fit since I had already been teaching it on a regular basis and had experience performing it for the last 10 years.  I was given a date and was ecstatic about doing it.

The date was a few weeks away from the initial planning and I had begun formulating an approach for the workshop.  As we got closer to the date, my Spidey Sense was going off and told me to go check out the team calendar they had set up with all of our show dates, rehearsals, and workshops reflected.  I went to the date of my workshop and saw an entry there - but with someone else leading it.

#DaFuq?

The person leading the musical workshop was totally capable of doing so but they had pulled them in from outside of the rank-and-file team members to help; this person lacked the personal history with the actors to assess individual skills and cater the workshop to take advantage people's strengths  while helping their weaknesses.  In time, yes, they would get to know these pesky details but why not go with someone who was already up to speed?  I had sacrificed a lot of personal time, money, and effort to be a contributing member to the team and felt like I got slapped in the face.  They didn't even bother to notify me about the change.

So, after allowing some time to pass, I put together a simple message asking the producer, "For the musical workshop, I see that X is leading it.  Is that correct?"  I got back something to the effect of, "Yes.  They'll be leading that workshop."   I waited roughly half an hour for some kind of elaboration or reasoning behind the decision.  It never came.  So, I wrote back, "Thank you", closed the window, and decided immediately that it would be the last time I would be working with the team.

I forgot to mention that were doing a ton of regular rehearsal to play in shows in large teams for roughly 15 minutes every other week on an off-night.  Over time the quality of instruction was inconsistent and rehearsals felt sluggish due to early morning start times and actors being actors the night before performing, rehearsing, or just plain actually having a social life outside of improv.  I was spending roughly 8 hours a month rehearsing to play a maximum of 30 minutes (with up to 10 other people).  To add insult, even though though we were supposed to be headlining all of our shows, we would have openers that would either have more stage time than us or would actually play after we got off stage (way to headline, y'all!).  All of these small inconveniences and personal grumbles compounded over time, and I was ready to allow some other transgression to make me throw in the towel on the whole endeavor.  That workshop substitution move satisfied the requirement.

The Punchline (#IKNOWMYWORTH)

I KNOW MY WORTH!!!

If there is one thing I've learned is that success is the best revenge.  When I was younger I would obsess about getting even with people I felt wronged me; I would put together elaborate plots of intricate payback in my head and play scenarios over and over in my head in great detail.  Vast amounts of energy were spent plotting the demise of others - most of which never came to fruition.  With the passage of time and gaining life experience (along with some much needed therapy), I've learned to manage my anger more and channel it into more productive ways.  Now I admit that this isn't necessarily the best approach for my mental health overall but I get turned on by the idea of getting a fire lit under my arse to overcome adversity and imagining my haters talking schnizz behind my back despite their bets efforts to block me.  They may not actually be foaming at the mouth to wish ill will on me, but I use the semi-fictitious narrative to propel me forward (I really need to go back to therapy).

I decided at this point to commit myself even more to reaching milestones that automatically garnered respect from my peers; that included teaching/coaching in major institutions, performing and leading lucrative workshops across the nation, producing new shows, and picking up hard-to-find skills in the community such as musical directing.  In conversations with my close friends about my feelings, I kept repeating, "I know my worth. I don't need this."  After what felt like the billionth time saying it, I suddenly remembered TJ's story and thought, "We've got similar MOs [methods of operation].  I'm going to pay homage to my homie."  Thus, #IKnowMyWorth has become branded on a majority of my social media posts so that sucka producers are aware that I've got the ambition to overcome them when they decide to become gatekeepers to my future.