Author: Brie

Comedian, Writer & Popcorn Wizard.

Well now, my trip on the Bipolar Express has finally come to an end and with it comes the end of my experience with the Conservatory and the beginning of a deep, dark valley of despair and the unknown.

Wow, that got dark quick.

I am, actually, a bit down about being finished with the Conservatory.  In the same way I was sortof down when I was finished Humber.  Because now I don’t have any pre-determined path to follow on a regular basis to achieve a certain goal, or conclusion.  It’s like I’m back at the beginning again.

Chris Martin gets it.

If you’re reading this, maybe you can comment on some tips and tricks you give yourself to stay motivated and to keep creative?  I know, in the Winter months especially, it can be particularly difficult to come home from your day job and feel like working on creative endeavours.  Most of the time lately, I’ve just felt like curling up in my blanket and watching a Sherlock marathon.  (How has it taken me this long to watch that show, seriously?)

On the plus side, I have gone out and done a couple stand-up sets now, so that’s starting up again.  I participated in a show this weekend, an open-mic strictly for ladies at Free Times Café (try their brisket poutine, you’ll plotz.)  Put on by none other than than the fabulous Chicka Boom hosts; Jess Beaulieu & Laura Bailey, the night proved performer after performer of solid, fierce material in one of the most supportive evenings I’ve seen.  Maybe you see a trend here? Catherine McCormick runs an LGBTQ/Women only room = super supportive.  Chicka Booms runs a ladies-only room = super supportive.  All other rooms = hurry the fuck up and finish what you’re saying so I can get on and do my 5 minutes because they’re better than yours, and I’m more important than you, AAAAAAAH ANGER, HATRED AND RAGE!!!

Ok, not true.  Not all other rooms, but these ones do tend to be incredibly supportive and positive.  Not the material; the material ranged from dark and tragic, to adorable cat-related tales and all throughout, making a few dirrrrty stops at one-night standsville and period-town along the way.  From relatable to extraordinary, it was just a damn good night of comic entertainment and I’m glad I spent the evening there instead of streaming the Grammys.

***

On a different note, I got my first call-back EVER the other day.  So clearly my commercial acting career is taking off at incredibly fast speeds!  (SOC auditions are the BEST, amirite?)

Other than that, I intend to  keep plugging away.  I wish we could open this up as a discussion for other comics/performers making their way in the biz, so please share the posts & your own experiences.  Let’s get the conversation going!

In the meantime, I’m off to Netflix to watch my distant relative keep Cumberbatch in line.   I mean, I’m off to clean the dishes, Mom. 

Ok, so if ever a casting director comes to somewhere to speak to you for free, and you’re really interested in getting into commercials or TV, and maybe her son runs one of the biggest casting houses in the city, and maybe you have some questions you want to ask her, but you also want her to maybe consider you for future projects, or maybe pass your name onto her son for future casting opportunities, maybe, oh I don’t know, maybe… TELL HER YOUR NAME!  

A tidbit of advice brought to you by someone who has only gone to very few auditions. Take it or or leave it.

2nd Audition of the year, folks.  Not too bad considering we’re not even into January’s double-digits.  I wonder at what point this process will begin to get easier, or at least, less nerve-wracking?  I thought this would be a good role for me, it asked for a bit of tom-boy-ish-ness, and I mean, come on, I was an army cadet for 7 years, I’ve got a bit of that in me, no doubt, but why is it so difficult to bring it up on command?  Especially when there’s someone else in the room sucking out everyone’s energy asking the world to pay attention to “them”?  You know, those people?

The kind of person who, like, your friend would say “I just got engaged!” and immediately afterwards they would chime in with an: “OH MY GOD, I HAVE A HANG NAIL AND MY LIFE IS GOING TO END!  EVERYBODY PAY ATTENTION TO ME!”

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You know that kindof person?  What are they called again?  Oh right.  Actors.

Anyway, despite the attention-hog, I think the audition went well.  I’m beginning, slightly, to feel more comfortable, and like I have a right to be there.  I don’t know why, maybe because I didn’t go to acting school, but I always sortof feel like I’m imposing on some world or universe I’m not supposed to be a part of; seeeeeecrets.  I think the audition room should be a more welcoming environment, acknowledging and encouraging optimal talent and possibility, rather than petty competitiveness and oneupmanship.  But what do I know?  I’m just a silly comedian.

Speaking of welcoming, I attended the 5th Anniversary of Natasha Boomer’s community-building weekly Wheel of Improv tonight at Comedy Bar.  (And it took me less than 5 minutes to get there.  OMG Love my new apartment!)  I’ll admit I haven’t gone to that show as much as I would have liked.  The last time I went, it was still in the JCB and I had only begun to crush on my now 3 years & counting man-beau (because that’s what improv is all about, amirite ladies???) …and then there was that one time a few weeks ago at BGS’ Holiday party, and there were treats, and treats are fun. (because that’s what improv is all about, amirite ladies???)

“Wheel” is such a positive space; there’s a variety of different levels of experience, and the more people play together, the better we all get, collectively.  So, cheers to 5 years of that sexy sexy Wheel and I hope, especially now that I’m so close, I will motivate my own ass to attend more frequently.

If I lived in Mississauga, I would still be driving home right now.   (What?)

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Nothing says “let’s start fresh this year,” like moving every single piece of your shit.

…Uhh… into a new apartment, not like, just reorganizing it, or moving everything you own one centimetre to the left, just to see if it messes with your chi.

This is how I’ve chosen to begin 2014.  Well, like, the 4th.  At midnight on January 1st itself, I was celebrating at a posh restaurant in Niagara-on-the-Lake with my sibs and that was fun.  But I don’t have the bread to do that all the time, so as of now, I am situated in a tiny apartment on Bloor Street, down the street from things that matter to me, like one of the city’s best comedy venues, a subway station, and a Popeye’s Louisiana Chicken.

My hope for the year is that the proximity to downtown will motivate me to go out and perform more.  Or to stay in and write more. Or to go out and write more.  Or to just do more.

I’m hoping the long Mississauga and before that Etobicoke commute times are over, and with it will come more time to spend working on things I moved to Toronto for in the first place.

So here I am 2014, and I’m right inside Toronto’s bosom.  Inspire me, you crackhead-run whore of a town. And please send over someone with big muscles to help me unpack.

(***Huge shout out for my bf, pops, bro & soon-to-be bro-in-law  for getting me into this tiny little paradise.)

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On Saturday, December 14th, my Second City Conservatory class completed our year-long training program at the Second City Training Centre teaching us how to improvise and develop premises for scenes used to create a Second City-style production.  We performed it on the Main Stage at 3pm.  I arrived home in Streetsville at 3am.  It was one of the most rewarding experiences of my comedy career to date.

Because I feel this blog post won’t truly be able to describe the sheer joy, thrill, pride (the good kind), love and fun that resulted from that day’s performance, I thought maybe instead, I’d offer up a few things I’ve written down over the course of the last year that I thought were worth remembering, and if anyone else happens to stumble upon this page, maybe you’ll find it helpful in your own pursuit of improvisational nirvana:

  • When you get lost, Stop & Explore;
  • Really Listen – like, the way you have to when someone with a heavy accent is speaking to you and you want to make sure you don’t give them the wrong advice, or send them in the wrong direction, unless you do it on purpose for hilarious consequences, but seriously, listen up!
  • Stuck asking questions in a scene all the time?  How about using a little thing called your emotions.  Be affected by the offers you’re receiving.  If someone says something mean, be angry, DAMNIT!  Don’t just try to think up some clever comeback.  Stop trying to be so damn clever, will you?
  • Learn the Dinosaur Game, because it’s fun.
  • Be present in your scene.
  • Like a fine wine, let those special moments breathe in your scene;
  • Shut the fuck up backstage!
  • If and when possible, use pyrotechnics.
  • Play real life characters, give people something with which they can identify.
  • Read Lord of the Flies;
  • Don’t be afraid to kill your babies, (even if they are great songs you worked your ass off re-writing)
  • Forgive yourself; the 2nd time you run a scene will probably be the worst.  Know that, and run it until it works;
  • Push your limits, and don’t rein it in until you’ve gotten as far as you can go – and then some.

It also helps to work with an amazing group of people who are all hilarious and wonderful; all from different stages in the game;  all dealing with their own crap outside the classroom,  but all of whom have had a remarkable impact on my comedic education thus far.  I was really lucky to get to work with such a great group of individuals and at the risk of sounding corny, I’m ridiculously sad that we only get to play together once more.

Oh that’s right, I didn’t mention the REMOUNT?  Well, for those of you who didn’t make it out on the 14th on account of the absolutely awful weather conditions, book off Friday morning from work because we’re boarding The Bipolar Express one last time on Thursday, January 23rd at 11pm at the Second City Main Stage and trust, you do not want to miss this party.

What a year, CCC readers. I can’t wait to see what’s next!

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Weezer @ Rama 2013

Ever seen a rock concert at Casino Rama?

Either that place is really tame or I’m getting old to the point where the bands I like are only performing venues where the fans can’t/don’t move anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, Weezer totally killed it last night. They were really tight and the hits kept on coming and coming, I didn’t want it to end.  What I did want to do, was stand-up and rock out.  But, given the nature of the venue, apparently the only people who stand up are the few people on the ground level that charge to the stage within the first few seconds of play.  The rest of the audience sit back, bob, and that’s about it.  A few people sing.  A few drunk people try to impress their significant others by dancing terribly, but everybody else is all about the bob.

It reminded me of Bluesfest in Ottawa.  No offence, Ottawa.  But when people get pissed off at you because you’re standing in front of their lawn chair, 15 rows into the crowd of a fargin’ rock concert, it’s time to take the earplugs out and listen up.

Rock isn’t supposed to be comfortable.  It’s supposed to make you stand up, dance, punch the sky and air-drum until your arms go numb.  I don’t want to sit down at a rock concert.  I want to charge the stage and shout my head off along with drunken fools and people who’ve kept cocaine in necklaces to avoid being caught by security on the way in.  I want to flank the crowd and sneak my way to the front, like I’ve been doing for years.  I want that slight, tiny, minuscule chance that the people performing on stage will reach out and give me a high five, or at least, make eye contact and, if only for a second, acknowledge my existence.

Or, if I get tickets in the stands, I at LEAST want to stand up and sing along to the hits, without worrying the people behind me sitting down’a experience will be compromised due to my, God forbid, desire to have some fun.  For Pete’s sake world,  get off your asses!  It’s a rock show.

You sit on your ass all day long at work (well I do, anyway.) How does something like this not make you want to stand up and just have the time of your fucking life?