I was toying around with shutting this blog down because I hadn’t really been writing in it lately / because I’m a long time out of clown college / because every time I type up a blog post I delete it because it’s been written in an emotional frenzy that will bring along feelings of shame and regret.
Then I thought… hey isn’t that all part of this?
I mean, maybe it isn’t. But it has been for me, so I’m going to keep writing when I’m inspired. Or when I have time.
Time’s been a tricky thing lately. (see: always.) I’m back working a full-time job, which I had the pleasure of not having to do for a few years. Turns out that life’s only possible for a certain echelon of society not impacted by the increase of interest rates.
The weird thing about the job is that I really like it; I feel valued by my co-workers, I like the environment, I’m not someone’s assistant. I friggin’ got promoted within my first year of being there. (Temporarily – but that’s beside the point.)
Counterpoint. It’s not particularly creative, which means I still have to find time to perform, teach, learn and engage with the comedy (mainly improv) world’ my true joy and passion and love but that sadly doesn’t provide the same benefits as a Joe job. I’m both amazed and suspicious when I hear folks are able to make it work. I haven’t solved the puzzle (yet.)
This summer, the great city of Detroit helped me feel the at least some pieces were fitting. In May, the gals from Improv Niagara embarked on an awesome adventure down to the Detroit Women in Comedy Festival for a weekend of performance, learning, teamwork, Faygo and fun. Did you know weed is incredibly cheap in Michigan? You do now. If you seek pleasantly inexpensive edibles, look about you!
We stayed for a few nights in the neighbourhood of Hamtramck, which is incredibly fun to say. We arrived just barely on time to catch Susan Messing and Jamie Moyer serve up an education in hilarious duo improv. We took workshops, then got up on stage and did some hands-on learning of our own. I came home feeling refreshed, despite having stayed up very late.
In August, this time to Ferndale for a quicker visit, I made my debut performance in the Detroit Improv Festival with pals from Everything Improvised. We performed an improvised episode of the Bear, and I got to portray the performance stylings of local Niagara hero, Matty Matheson. The set was a joy, but the trip was brief. In future, I’d love to take in more of the fest.
I’m still doing the thing. I’m not sure why my mind keeps telling me I’m not doing the thing just because I have a day job again. Just because I’m doing the thing as a commuter. Just because I keep comparing myself to people who seem to be having a much easier time doing the thing. (what do I know?) Just because I’m friggin’ blogging about doing the thing instead of just doing the thing.
I was also toying around with changing the name of the blog, since we’re a long way away from clown college as it’s been abundantly clear more of this blog has been about navigating the comedy community as an anxious person. The anxious improviser? Too easy? anxiousimproviser69. There it is.
It was great to be back in Ottawa for a few days last week.
When I went to school there a hundred million years ago, I always got the sense that the city was steeped in history. It felt old. I mean, I know it’s old. But it really felt historic. It felt different this time.
I remember myself, back in my first year at Ottawa U, when I lived in residence, and would walk to the grocery store. I can now see on Google Maps that is a 1.1km walk that would take approximately 15 minutes. (It goes uphill a bit.) I’m pretty sure we were still reliant on MapQuest back then. And I don’t remember wanting to print out a map. I had experience as a cadet! I had a good internal compass. (shifty eyes.)
I remember that walk felt like an eternity.
I remember feeling weight of the city’s history and it feeling a little lonely. I wondered what would have come of the city if the Queen hadn’t been like… “Ok HERE, I guess.” (Direct quote, Queen Victoria.)
I wonder if that feeling would hold true today, when I would have distracted myself on my phone the entire walk home, or just Uber’d my way back from the grocery store. There was a shuttle, but I think I was always too anxious to wait around for it to come back. Or I would miss it.
The French language being spoken out in the open everywhere feels like a warm blanket of my heritage. But that bilingualism is celebrated, and not solely Francophonie reaffirms my identité.
The city does still feel the same, but faster. The condos are popping up and changing the landscape of the Centretown of my memories. I walked, but I also drove around.
I reconnected with friends in general, and to do an improv workshop. I made new ones too. We worked on listening to each other, on being patient and taking our time.
When I left Ottawa I’d just received my anxiety diagnosis.
Coming back I felt like I decided to intentionally take my time. Be patient, and listen to the beat of the city. It felt good to be back. And still I wonder…
I think the best e-invention of modern time has to be the “Schedule Send” function in an inbox. I’m fairly certain Boomerang spearheaded its implementation, and gmail now has it built into its every day functionality, but seriously. It saves my butt so many times when I write an email at an ungodly hour and want to:
a) send it in a timely fashion but;
b) not wake up anyone who might still have email notifications on their phone while they’re trying to sleep.
I guess at that point, it’s on them for not having turned off their notifications, but BOY does it make me feel like a more functional adult human.
“Oh! Brie’s up bright and early and sending me this e-mail. Way to go!”
WRONG. I sent it at 2am and I am happily still asleep even if you’re practically on your lunch hour.
Either way, the job gets done and I don’t have to worry about feeling like a weird administrative vampire. Hmm, I think I just found another job title for my LinkedIn account.
In other news…
Today, I’m happily (see: frustratingly) working away at figuring out better functionality for woocommerce and WordPress. I’m starting to think Humber should have had a class in web design for us comedy students who didn’t realize the importance of SEO when we were we babies practicing our craft.
I went to the gym for the first time in a while. I’d only been once since things opened back up in Ontario. I wish I could tell you I went because I was so incredibly motivated to work out, but I actually just updated my bank account, and I really want to cancel the old account, and they’re the only company still regularly taking money out of my old account, so yeah. Got that taken care of and managed a sweet push day while I was at it. Also helpful because my elbow has been twitching unexpectedly lately.
I know it’s late-ish to be blogging, and I’m choosing not to send later, but I feel really good knowing the option is there for me when I need it.
OK get ready to have a comedian talk about sports and athleticism.
I’ve never been a good runner. I was diagnosed with exercise-induced asthma when I was a teen, which never stopped me from physical activity per se, but more often than not the condition would surface when I was running. Not so much when I was playing sports like volleyball or tennis, it wasn’t even that bad when I played soccer, which it turns out, is a very runny sport.
History of Bad Runs
I was an army cadet for six years when I was a teen, and running was always the greatest challenge there too. Shooting rifles, I could handle. I wish we could have done more of that and less PT, but it turns out people in the army LOVE running!
In every circumstance, running was something that had to be done either in competition with others, or in unison as a group. There was always a very high expectation to run at a certain speed, which can be incredibly difficult when your bronchial tubes close up and leave you gasping for your life source.
Sometimes I’d fall behind, no longer being able to take in enough oxygen. The feelings of shame and inadequacy mounted. I’d never get this badge, or make this rank, or join this team because I couldn’t run for damn shit.
Surprisingly, I developed a negative association with running!
Running Anxiety
Digging deeper, it’s become so obvious anxiety has a big role to play when it comes to my running history. The more I felt the expectation to run a certain speed or pace, the more I wasn’t able to do that, I would inevitably psych myself out throughout a run and talk myself out of future runs. Even within a run, if I started running out of breath, the voice of anxiety would have me thinking all kinds of anxious thoughts (what if you faint right here in the park and wake us in a crackhouse?) and instead of slowing down, I’d just stop the run and go back home with my anxiety-ridden tail between my legs.
Why would anyone run when the whole time you’re thinking “I suck at this, I can’t do this”?
That being said, there were a few times in my life when I have tried to get back on the running train because I know it has so many benefits for physical and mental wellbeing. I also love the idea of going out and running on my own, knowing it’s an easy way to take care of my own fitness inexpensively, and without depending on anyone else to get it done.
Mindful Running
It wasn’t until just recently, I discovered on my Headspace meditation app, a collaboration between Headspace and the Nike Run Club, where they offer guided runs – similar to the guided meditations I practice for mindfulness. Only this time, you add in the running element of it and badda-bing, badda boom, you get mindful running.
I don’t mean for this to feel like an ad, but hot diggity dog is it a game-changer!
OMG Maybe I should make an app like this for someone’s first improv class. OK I digress…
Suddenly I have permission to run at my own pace, I give myself some grace for having difficult thoughts, and I’m encouraged to keep going instead of being shamed – as a result, I’m running further distances, challenging myself and more importantly, actually enjoying the activity and wanting to do it more.
It feels good not to feel bad going for a run!
In the Niagara Region, we have this gorgeous path all along the Welland canal, providing excellent views, friendly passers-by, and an overall quiet and peaceful setting for a great run. And now that gyms are open again, when the weather is too wet or chills down in these parts, it’ll be that much easier to get on a treadmill without fearing it – you know, kind of like Kevin and the furnace in his basement when he realizes it won’t hurt him.
It feels so stupid to write an entire post about one of the most common forms of exercise in humanity, but like anything in life, if we develop unhealthy relationships to things, even beneficial ones, it takes some work to get to a place where we can be present with it and accept it in a light that works for us.
So I’m happy to say I started running again. Not well, and not often, but I started nevertheless. And I am actually really, really enjoying it.
I went on vacation this week. I almost asked to reschedule because I Think You Should Leave – Season 2 came out in the middle of my time off. Seriously. I thought about staying home when I found out the release date.
Not a surprise to anyone who met me in the hotmail days of tv_addict1@hotmail.com – (honestly, that email address might still work, I should really check it out and see if I’ve missed anything over the past decade.)
I did go. I was fully prepared to activate my delayed gratification function for the absurd sketch show until we got home. There wasn’t supposed to be any wifi at the cottage. It was supposed to be a tech-less paradise. That’s why I didn’t bring a laptop. I would have used it. For Netflix. And work. Not vacation stuff.
Given the past year and a half, I honestly think my Netflix needs a vacation more than I do.
That’s not true. I need one. Needed one. Took one, regardless of making Tim Robinson wait til I got home, like the cat — and stupidly like the cat, I checked in on Tim. We tried to stream episodes of ITYSL on a tiny iPhone screen. I think 75% of that show’s comedy is in Tim Robinson’s face and teeth, so we missed a lot of it being on a teeny tiny screen. Why couldn’t I just have let it go? Because most everyone went to bed and those of us still up were drunk and high, that’s why.
The weather was less than ideal for vacationing. Except that one day where the outside was nice but Lake Ontario is always fucking freezing. Luckily laughter is a good substitute for sunshine and we had it in abundance.
Every cottage needs a cheese grater. FACT.
It’s a weird thing being on vacation with people a generation younger than you. Why is the music so uggggh jeeez?
The extravert that had been suppressed during lockdown reemerged AT THE COTTAGE. It’s so nice to feel the buzz of being around people once again.
It’s also nice to be home now. There’s still no place like it.
A little shameless self-promotion, which will only really be accessible to you if you speak or understand French. Unless there are subtitles available somewhere. I haven’t checked for that yet. I can’t do everything, people.
Anyway, one of the wonderful projects I was lucky enough to be cast in (over Covid!) has been released, and it’s a really lovely coming-of-age / take-down-the-man webseries about renovictions in Toronto. It’s beautifully shot, the cast is terrific. I’m proud to be a part of it. It’s called Ainsi va Manu.
I was a little reluctant to even audition for the role of Mme Gisèle because even though I’ve written “fluently bilingual” on every resume I’ve ever written, every time a new opportunity arises in my mother tongue (yes, I learned French first, actually though I now consider it my second language. There’s a whole section for folks like me in the census!)
In high school, I always got good grades in French. I felt I spoke it more often than most people in school (an all French-language school I should mention – Not French immersion) Grammar and spelling didn’t seem to be too big an issue.
Until I got to university and it turns out grammar was a huge problem. The majority of my courses were in french in first and second year. When I got to second year, I wrote an assignment in French and got a 60%. I wrote a second, similar type of assignment in English and got a 90%. When I approached the teacher, he basically told me my French was shit, and corrected my anglicisms WHILE I WAS SPEAKING TO HIM.
This wouldn’t be the first time I had someone actively criticize my French mid-conversation.
I tried to maintain my French – working in Ottawa for almost a decade, working in France for a year.
A here’s a fun thing that happens in the workplace you might not know about – when people know you speak French in a predominantly anglophone environment, you become the go-to person to translate things between French and English – even though you are not, in fact, a translator and you have the skills to complete work more that isn’t translation-based. You often get assigned translations anyway. Hey! How about that.
I left Ottawa – our officially bilingual capital eleven years ago. Francophones are in the minority in Toronto and Southern Ontario. But we still speak the language. Our accents are a bit different. What do you expect? We live a hop skip and a jump away from the US. We don’t speak it as often because it isn’t as readily available. We have to work harder to keep it up.
People wonder why the French language is dying in Ontario – in Canada. I think a huge part of it has to do with the fact that the people who DO speak the language are afraid to do so in public less their coworkers or university professors chastise them.
So yeah. I was a little reluctant to audition for the role.
But I was reluctant when I auditioned for Les improbables (now, the LIF) a few years back – Toronto’s french language improv group. There, there was no judgement (other than my own perceived one) – just an open welcome and desire to play on stage in our mother tongue.
I felt that support in Ainsi va Manu, as well. I’m very grateful about that.
En français maintenant !
J’ai eu la bonne chance d’être engagé (pendant Covide, même!) dans un merveilleux project qui viens tout juste de sortir. C’est une très belle webérie au sujet des rénovictions au Toronto, qui comprends des thêmes de passage à l’age adulte et de démolir “the man.” Le tournage est magnifique et les acteurs sont formidables. Je suis fière d’avoir être capable de participer.
Vous verrez la bande-annonce ci-haut ainsi que le lien aux autres épisodes.
Linguistic insecurity
J’avais honte d’avancer mon nom pour le rôle de Mme. Gisèle parce que, même si j’ai indiqué que je suis “complètement bilingue” dans chacun de mes CVs depuis toujours, ça me rend nerveuse chaque fois qu’une nouvelle opportunité m’est offerte dans ma langue natale (oui, j’ai appris le français en premier – même que maintenant je la considère comme ma deuxième langue. Il y a une section dévouée aux personnes comme moi dans recensement canadien. C’est super cool!)
J’ai bien réussi dans mes cours de français au secondaire. Je parlais la langue probablement plus souvent que la majorité de mes collègues (dans une école francophone, je dois mentionner – pas une école d’immersion. C’était tout en français sauf, bien sûr, les cours d’anglais.) La grammaire et l’orthographe ne semblaient pas être un grand problème.
J’arrive à l’université et soudainement la grammaire – c’est un grand problème. La majorité de mes cours étaient en français dans ma première et seconde année. En deuxième année à l’université, j’ai écrit un devoir en français et j’ai obtenu un résultat de 60%. J’ai écris un autre devoir semblable, mais en anglais, et j’ai reçu un 90%. J’ai voulu en discuter avec mon prof qui m’a dit essentiellement que mon français était horrible et ensuite m’a corrigé les anglicismes au fur et à mesure que je les faisais EN LUI PARLANT.
Ce ne serait pas la première fois que quelqu’un me critique mon français-parlé mi-conversation.
De même, j’ai voulu maintenir mon francais. Je suis resté à Ottawa pendant près de dix ans, et je suis parti travailler en France pendant un an.
Oh, et voici une chose très amusante qui se passe aux lieux de travail que vous ne connaissez peut-être pas – quand les anglophones savent que vous parlez français, vous devenez la personne pointe pour faire les traductions entre le français en anglais – même si vous n’êtes pas, en fait, une traductrice et que vous avez les habiletés de faire beaucoup de tâches qui n’ont rien à faire avec la traduction. Too bad. Vous allez avoir besoin de traduire quoi qu’il en soit. Eh! C’est le fun!
J’ai quitté Ottawa, notre capitale officiellement bilingue, il y a onze ans. Les francophones sont dans une position minoritaire à Toronto et dans le sud de l’Ontario. Mais, on parle toujours la langue. Nos accents sont un peu différents, mais à quoi attendez-vous? On habite un saut de puce et un bond des Etats-Unis. On ne le parle pas aussi souvent parce que ce n’est pas aussi accessible ou disponible. Nous devons travailler plus fort pour le maintenir.
Les gens se demandent pourquoi la langue française est en train de disparaître en Ontario – au Canada. J’imagine qu’une grande partie de la raison est parce que ceux qui parlent la langue ne veulent pas le parler de peur que leurs collègues de travail ou leurs professeurs d’université ne les réprimandent.
Alors voilà. J’étais un peu nerveuse pour aller à l’audition (virtuelle) pour le rôle.
J’étais aussi nerveuse pour l’audition avec les Improbables il y a une couple d’années – la troupe d’impro française de Toronto. (maintenant la LIF.) L’a, il n’y avait pas de jugement (sauf le mien envers moi-même) – c’était ouvert et accueillant avec un désir de jouer en scène dans notre langue maternelle
J’ai aussi retrouvé ce soutien avec Ainsi va Manu. Et pour cela, je suis très reconnaissante.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve been able to establish some relatively healthy boundaries and habits over the past few lockdowns. It’s one of the good things to come out of this overall really bad thing.
But I’m worried all these boundaries I’ve set and improved upon might just come crashing down after society opens up again and we’re allowed to go back out to “normal.”
Will these habits stick? Am I a changed person now? Or was all the work just a result of imposed boundaries from an outside source? Like how when you’re in school, it’s easy to meet deadlines because there are consequences if you don’t finish the work on time. But when you’re self-employed… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
When you have nothing else to work on, you can stay home and work on yourself.
I can one hundred percent turn down a Zoom show. No problem. Easy. There’s just too much Zoom!
But a one-off improv show at SoCap on a Wednesday night when I know I have a lot of stuff to do the next day, but maybe I’ll stay late and have a drink and catch up because what the hell, it’s “networking” and comedian friends are so friggin’ funny and hey, I haven’t seen them in two friggin’ years so OK maybe I’ll just have one…
What do you want? I’m an extrovert. This has been really hard for us.
CUT TO: It’s 3AM on the QEW and maybe I should just crash at my brother’s because I’ve got to be back in the City tomorrow… But no, I can’t wake him up now because he has to be up in three hours to go to work…I’ll just go home. I’ll grab a Coke to keep me awake for the rest of the drive, and heck, why not some nuggets too?
Good thing there’s no traffic at 3AM!
Pretty typical of the way things used to be.
Over the past little while, I’ve formed way better habits around:
Accounting & financial knowhow
Eating at home regularly
Getting the right amount of sleep (more than enough, in fact)
Exercising more regularly and getting more fresh air
More quality time with my husband (not like that pervs. I’m talking marathoning It’s Always Sunny because it counts as R&D in my line of work.)
I’m having a hard time not worrying about what comes after all of this. I’m getting my 1st dose of vaccine on Thursday, bringing me one step closer to “back to life, back to reality.”
So, when this is all done, will all this hard work fly out the window? Or am doomed to fall back into old habits?
Have I really changed that much?
When it comes time to go back to normal, will YOU want it to?
For me, the problem doesn’t seem to be judging based on what we would like other people to be, but rather judging people based on past encounters or experience we’ve had with them or witnessing them.
Ideally, I wouldn’t judge anyone at all, really. But as a social creature, and an anxious one, I tend to build up walls to protect myself in different scenarios and judgement becomes a defence mechanism used to avoid getting hurt.
Recently, I feel like this defence has been bumming me out more than protecting me, so I’m trying to work on it.
I don’t condone this is in my improv, so why should I live by it?
In an effort to practice mindfulness, I’m trying to distance myself from thoughts about past interactions, observations and assumptions about people and working double-time on just being present with everyone I encounter, so that each new moment is a better opportunity for meaningful connection.
So far, I haven’t been great at it. In my mind, I already ruined brunch with two wonderful colleagues by complaining about situations over which I have no control. I should have just been present, enjoyed their company, and made new moments and memories (rather than obsessing over old, shitty ego wounds.)
But I will continue trying. And failing. And hopefully get better and better at just being with the multiple wonderful humans I have the pleasure of encountering in this incredible comedy community of which I am lucky to be a part.
I’ve been reading Mick Napier’s “Improvise. Scenes from the Inside Out” (a book I feel I should have read a long time ago, and feel even more shame about having waited so long to pick it up.) In a Harold show, playing with people with whom I don’t regularly play, I pulled a rookie “This is my first time…” move to initiate a scene.
According to Napier, first day/time scenes are justifications allowing the improviser to be incompetent or uninformed in the scene. Basically, by admitting to not knowing anything, you put the onus on your partner to do all the heavy lifting.
Reading the book, I honestly didn’t think I had a problem with “first days” or too much justification. But as I entered the scene on Tuesday and those words came out of my mouth, I wanted to hit the Rewind button and swallow them back in.
I imagined Napier walking into the theatre, hearing me utter those words, roll his eyes and walk right back out.
Luckily, I had a good partner. And heavy-lifting, he did.
A nice thing about a long form set is that there’s often chances to redeem yourself.
Hit it Harder
Later in the set, I rolled around on the floor for what felt like hours (it was maybe max 15 seconds.) This is a pretty big physical offer, even for someone who doesn’t mind the occasionally large physical offer. In these moments, I felt a strong sense of “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU LOOK LIKE A FOOL” — not only in my own head, but I imagined it coming from the other characters in the scene and every other improviser in the audience.
It had also been a while since I’ve felt those feelings on stage. It’s often my job to be foolish. By now, I’m pretty used to it. But it is interesting to notice that sense of the anxiety to conform still exists in my trained-to-be-silly brain.
Conversely, I also felt a sense of ridiculous joy rolling around on the floor, in the act itself, and the reaction it was garnering from my scene partners. This helped me double down on my commitment to it.
“If you feel like bailing in an improv scene hit it even harder, instead” – Mick Napier
That I did. And I even brought the rolling around back in a later beat.
All this to say that the shame I felt at the beginning of the scene did not stop me from committing. The inner judgement didn’t close me off and make me comment on the scene instead of fully engage in it. It may have even helped me play harder.
So don’t let shame, embarrassment or self-judgement shut you down. Improv needs you to be open, and it’s hard to do that if you’re worried about pleasing everybody, including a director from Chicago you’ve never even met.
I’m in the process of moving again. Completely expected and according to plan, but it’s still hard.
The physical act of moving is hard, but so is the psychological and emotional one. I’ve gotten used to this place and even though I’m really just moving down the street, the idea that I’m already packing up all my things again and relocating is just friggin’ hard.
I just need home base. From there I can jump around, create, and grow. But moving around all the time is like cutting the foundation out from underneath and consequently any growth that had already occurred. Gotta plan more seeds somewhere new.
I know that’s not entirely the case. There are some projects that persist and I’m certainly not starting over from zero, but there’s something of the disturbance of the balance of that foundation – the notion of home, the illusion of a permanent, secure place, cracks the foundation of me; my motivation. I self-sabotage certain elements of my work and myself because I’m just so tired of moving the couches and displacing the space where I have come to do my real good dreaming.
Brie Watson 