Just Me and a Mic

I love stand up comedy. 

For years, I've looked at the men and women who do it with awe. I wanted to try it myself, but I was afraid. I didn't think I could ever do what they did. When I discovered my local improv troupe, Bull Skit, I saw the classes as a way to build my confidence. Maybe after some training I could try getting on stage. Along the way, I ended up diving into Bull Skit full speed, and stand up had to take a back-seat to improv. Despite doing my first set over two years ago, I've only dabbled in it, with barely two dozen attempts under my belt.

This spring though, an event was announced that really had me excited. They were going to host a contest, with prize money and a big slot on an upcoming show. I saw it as a great chance to test myself, sure, against the other comedians, but mainly just to see how I would handle the pressure. So, within a week or two of Bull Skit Season 9 drawing to a close, I started writing jokes and doing open mics. Leading up to the competition, I put in about 5 or 6 sets, polishing my material, finding the rhythms of the laughs, and nailing my delivery. When the big night came, I felt good. There was some other locals I saw as a challenge, and a few from out of town that I had no idea about. I couldn't do anything about their sets though, just my own. 

My turn was coming, so I positioned myself in our unofficial staging area. The comic up there before me hadn't been up in years, and was really struggling. He lost his train of thought, and got shook up. When the crowd felt his discomfort, it quickly spread to them too. Suddenly, everyone in the room was not having a good time. For a second, I got worried about having to follow him and handle the cold, nervous crowd. Then I thought to myself:

 "I need to get these people back to a good place if I'm going to have a chance."

When the other guy finally finished, a table of older people right at the front just got up and left as he walked off stage. I couldn't blame them, but this was my opening. I was introduced, and stepped up there with a smile on.

"Hey everyone! Thanks for not leaving!"

...the crowd chuckled a bit

"It is like, 8 O'clock. They probably just needed to go to bed. It's fine."

...more chuckles

"Are you folks ready to have some fun? Let's have some fun, huh?"


The crowd gave a small cheer and you could almost feel everyone in the room (not least of which me) take a collective deep breath. It was OK to laugh again now. Now I could start my act. 

The set went great. It was possibly my best one ever, right when I needed it. I was calm and confident. The judges awarded me first place! I was so grateful and excited that I stepped up in the moment. I realized after what the secret was. I basically took control of the room that night. I've never felt like that before. Control is not a sensation I'm used to. My routine is that I try not to screw things up too badly as I careen through my day. Life just happens and I try to keep up. But for that 6 minutes, that lounge was my own little universe. I could almost feel the energy of the crowd, as I had them on the ride with me. I can see why guys like Judd Apatow get back into it after decades away. When it all clicks, there's no feeling like it. 

Of course, as the judges deliberated the winner, we were treated to the headliner, Tommy Mellor. He quickly reminded me that I still have a ton to learn, as he killed for 30 minutes. I don't have that in me. Not yet. But I know how far I've come already. I feel more relaxed on stage now, mostly thanks to the many hours of improv and sketch. When I started stand up, I was so afraid of having a bad set. Now, if things stall out a bit, I'll laugh about it in the moment and try to engage the crowd that way. When things aren't going well, I'll always learn a few things to change for next time, but I'm not afraid to fail. 

Will I ever be a famous, successful comedian? Most likely not, but it feels good trying to become one, and as long as that's true, I'll keep hustling.

Chasing dem laughs,

B

Being Bull Skit

Three years ago, I sat in the kitchen of Amy and Everett Wood. The Best of Bull Skit show, and with it their sixth season, had just ended. And the season always ends with a party at Chez Wood. My role that year was as a volunteer. I felt welcomed in as part of the Bull Skit family since Day One, but I wanted to do more. Auditions to join the cast were days away. I was so excited about the possibilities, but I was in awe of these people, and I was afraid that I may never be that good. But I loved improv, I loved sketch, and I wanted to be part of the action.

Three nights ago, I was back in that kitchen. Season nine is over. This time, as I looked around at the happy but exhausted faces in the room, I felt the exact same way. I made the cut in those auditions, and I’ve been riding the crazy-train with this crew ever since, but in that moment, I truly had a sense of what being a Bullskitter means.

-It means dedication, as you pour your time and energy into getting better, individually and as a cast.

-It means having to fit life in around our schedule, as we delivered a fresh show almost every week of the season.

-It means compromise, as you stay mindful that all of us have different agendas, tastes and styles to balance and blend together into our unique dynamic.

-It means understanding and support from your friends and family, as you walk out the door, sometimes for the fifth time that week, to head to the theatre. Or those moments where you ARE with them, but your head is stuck in the next show, or even worse, the last show.

But…

It also means that you get to look out off that stage, squinting through the lights, to see dozens of people there to enjoy YOU. To hear them laugh at what you and your friends have made. It means having a whole other family to go to every week. A place to go for escape, understanding, positivity, fulfillment and camaraderie. And when you’re with them, you get to create something unlike anything else in the world. Sure, there are thousands of comedy troupes, and many could be considered more “successful” depending on your metrics, but there’s only one Bull Skit.

Three years have brought a lot of change to this company. People have come and go, and because we feel like family, that is always hard. We’ve grown in every sense of the word. Veal Skit, once the junior crew, is now a full house team. That new level of responsibility was a bit scary, but we were ready for the challenge.

As we’ve grown and changed, I have done even more of that myself. I came in with no theatre background at all, and none of this felt natural to me at first. Even when I was “in”, I often felt like the outsider. The fraud who didn’t have as much to offer as the others. I didn’t have a lot of confidence. This group wasn’t having that though. They pulled me along with them, showing faith in me and giving me the tools I’d need to contribute. I’ve realized that the voice of doubt never fully leaves, but it’s much quieter now. I also know I still have so much to learn. There are a lot of little things a true pro does that I’m not doing yet, but I’m working on it. I don’t feel like I’m faking anything anymore. Now I’m a singing, dancing, screaming, shirtless, theatre-nerd comedian.

I’m a Bullskitter, and even after everything I just wrote, I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

Thank you,

B

Sketchfest Strikes Back!

Don't sit down with a diaper on.

That is one key lesson I learned recently during my favorite week of the year, the Alberta Sketchfest. If the name didn't hint towards it, Sketchfest is a three day festival featuring sketch comedy and "fringe"-style performances right in my hometown of Red Deer, Alberta. We had acts come in from as far away as Winnipeg and Los Angeles. My improv/sketch troupe Veal Skit also represented for the second year in a row.

Sketchfest 2.0!

Last year, for the debut of 'Fest, it was also a bit of a debut for Veal Skit. Three months prior, we had just produced our first sketch comedy show. We were able to use some of our best sketches in the festival, and we did just fine, but I think I speak for all of us in saying that we were "just happy to be there". The talent on display from the other groups was fantastic, and just being a part of such a show was it's own reward.

This year's version was going to be very different, not just for Veal Skit, but for me. If last year was our debut, this one would be our coming out party. Throughout the previous season, we had produced three sketch revues that we took a lot of pride in. We sort of knew what we were doing now, and we had the confidence to do it bigger and better than before. Our whole cast was able to show the packed house just how much we'd improved, and it felt awesome.

 I know for me personally, I had a ton of growth as a writer and performer, and have moved through at least some of my insecurities of being able to work on the level of the talent around me. For a large part of my first two seasons, I constantly had to keep convincing myself that I belonged. When promoting our shows, I'd often say "Come! There'll be tons of great, funny people there, and I'll be there too!". I didn't feel like I was pulling my weight with the others in my own group sometimes, let alone being at a festival with some of the best acts in Western Canada and beyond. I was always afraid that I was just being dragged along behind other, more talented people.

Throughout all that though, I never stopped working hard to improve myself. I wanted to be a more useful member of my company, and be relied upon to deliver whatever my group needs from me. With the help of some great workshops that Jenna (our director) organized, and the support of the troupe and my family, I'm feeling like I CAN be that now. At least more often. With one exciting new addition to Sketchfest, I was about to test exactly how much I'd improved!

DK Reinemer was our guest from LA, and he wanted to try something crazy. Called "Collabojamma", it was a group comprised of some of the participants of the festival, working together for the first time. I didn't want to miss the chance to be a part of it, so I signed up. Basically, on the Friday of the festival, DK explained his company's creative process, and we utilized it to come up with some sketch premises. The following morning we wrote them. Eight hours later, we put on twenty minutes of hilarious sketches that didn't even exist the day before. Mind. Blown.

The Collabojamma Set List

The best part of this whole thing was that with the compressed timeline, you didn't have time to question yourself, or change your mind about something last minute, because it was ALL last minute. You had to dive in, give every step of the process your best work, and trust that it would be enough. There was no other option. I realize looking back that a year ago, I would never have survived this. Well, I wouldn't have DIED, but I wouldn't have brought much to the table, and the others would have had to pick up my slack. But I really felt like I delivered, and added to this amazing thing we created together. I'm so grateful for the chance to tackle something so challenging with such a great, supportive group! 

Team Collabojamma. I'm the weirdo in the back. DK is Mr. Solo Cup.

Yeah, I learned a lot about adult diapers, but I learned more than just that. Bring on Bull Skit Season Nine. I'm ready.

-Cupid Cop

Reckless enthusiasm > Judgement

Ok.

It's time to drop some confessions here. 

For most of this year, hell, most of my LIFE, I've been letting anxiety, fear and worry paralyze me. Those thoughts and feelings have just always been there, lurking over my shoulder. Inhibiting my creativity. My relationships. My motivation. My ability to enjoy any moment. My self worth and trust in my abilities. 

I'm really tired of this happening. There's so much I want to do, and say, and be. But I shut myself down before I even start. The gap between what I want to produce and achieve, and my perception of what I can actually do is sometimes pretty large. And that gives me an easy excuse to not really try. 

It impacts so many parts of my life. My writing is a big one. I'll second-guess myself before I even put a word on a page and nothing gets done. It affects my family, when I get deep into my head about all the things I'm failing at, or the bills, or next week's schedule, I'm robbing them of our time together. I'm never fully present. It also really limits me as an improvisor, because being completely committed and present on stage is so important. And if you're stressed out about failing, you're going to fulfill that prophecy. 

So what changed?

I met Jorin Garguilo.

Jorin is an improvisor with over 20 years of experience. He performs and teaches out of Chicago, the Mecca of improv. He's a very smart, positive and enthusiastic teacher. Over the past weekend, he worked with Bullskit for over 16 hours, culminating in a show where we got to share our stage with him. 

Coming out of the previous Bullskit season, I was struggling with my improv. I wasn't enjoying myself that much. I was worried about not pulling my weight on the team, and it even got to a point where I questioned if I belonged with them sometimes. I over-analyzed everything I was doing. 

When Jorin started speaking to us though, it was like he knew exactly what I needed to hear. I can't even count how many brilliant things I soaked in over the weekend, but one particular line resonated the most.

"Have a party onstage that the audience desperately wants to be invited to "

Now, what that line meant for me was "if you're not having a blast up there, you're doing it wrong." I was too stuck in my head to enjoy what we do up there. 

Kind of a revelation...

Later in the workshop, he asked each cast member what we look for and enjoy most in our scenes. I told the group that I usually worry too much about technique and "doing it right", and that I most enjoy scenes that have no judgement. Scenes where we are having a ridiculously fun time. Scenes that, even if they aren't solid on a technical level, everyone in the room is laughing at and causing a lot of joy to happen. I think that, if I focus on doing that every time I go on stage, the technical stuff will work it's way in there eventually. But fun comes first for me now. It has to. 

When we got to play with Jorin that night, it was exactly what I was hoping for. I was outright gleeful the whole time up there. I couldn't stop smiling at what we were creating, and by the end of the set, I was just laughing uncontrollably. It was joyful and free of judgement and anxiety. Through dropping my perfectionism, I had a perfect moment.

The weekend was kind of a whirlwind, but now that I have time to reflect, I realize that once again, an improv lesson is actually a life lesson. Less thinking. More feeling. Less brain. More heart. Less judgement. More enthusiasm. Less fear. More passion. 

The fact that I'm writing this right now means it working. So far anyway...

Recklessly yours, 

B

Improv: Tales from a Sophomore Chump

I sit here basking in glee and rum. I just returned home from my improv troupe's student showcase, where our public workshop students get to show off what they've learned in front of family and friends. My sub-group Veal Skit gets to headline these shows. Some of my friends were in the classes this time, and I got as much joy watching them as I did performing myself. 

Like an improv junkie, I flashed back to that feeling of first getting to do this. The feeling of getting up in front of random people and doing random things. Almost exactly two years ago, I was up there doing my first student show. I felt that first jolt of adrenaline.  That rush I can't stop chasing. 

I've been wanting to write here about improv, but I keep dancing around it. I think I've found the subject a bit daunting. There is so much I want to say about it, that I haven't known where to start. Looking back on what keeps me coming back seems like a good choice, so here goes...

Why I love improv

-THE PEOPLE 

I'm sure that every subculture has some sense of camaraderie, and people of similar interests form bonds, but improv takes that to another level. It's all hugs, high-fives and support. All the time. Any negativity or judgement is so rare. The stressful situations that happen on stage and the vulnerability we display creates deep friendships. It's hard not to love that environment. 

-LOSING FEAR

I don't always show it, but I'm an anxious guy. New things and a change of routine freak me out. Improv has pushed me to look past those issues.  Attempting new things has gone from terrifying to exciting.  This week I joined in my daughter's silks dance class for parent's night.  The old me still would have attended, but would have been too self-consious to have any fun. I would have been looking around the room, afraid to look foolish in front of the teacher and parents. Now I look foolish all the time, and have learned that those times are the most fun.  

-THE MENTAL RE-WIRING

From the very first class, improv showed me a new way of looking at, well, everything. Every exercise, no matter how odd and silly, pushes my boundaries and perspective. Group mind, presence, positivity, acceptance and quick-thinking are the foundations of improv, and I find I apply them to so many situations daily. Everything from handling a difficult work conversation, to how I react to stress or talk to my children has completely changed. It's like mental yoga (although also similar to yoga, I've noticed that people who don't do it don't really want to hear about it). I'm more mentally flexible when life throws me curveballs now, and yes, I really do think I'm funnier (or at least quicker in getting to the bad zinger now). It's not automatic though, and I still struggle with aspects sometimes, especially being present in the moment. I really suck at that one. But I'm getting better all the time. 

-UNBRIDLED CREATIVITY

I haven't seen any other art form or performance that has the pure creative spirit of improv. Maybe jazz I guess, but even those guys need a pile of fancy instruments to make the magic happen. An improv troupe can perform anywhere at anytime with nothing to work with. I've really enjoyed performing sketch comedy as well, but they are such different experiences. Yes, in sketch, the laughs tend to be more consistent and you can expect a certain polish and quality to a sketch routine. In improv though, the laughs can be bigger and the highs much higher, as everyone in the room, on both sides of the stage, can share a moment so spontaneous and singular that it hits you somewhere deeper. Everyone in that moment knows how special and fleeting it was. The sad part of that magic is that you really did "have to be there". Telling the story the next day never has the same effect as telling someone a joke you saw on TV. It's also why improv doesn't normally succeed televised. The energy in the room is a huge part of the experience. It's just the best. 

That's just a sample of why this stuff is so great. Why I can't shut up about it, and why I keep coming back for more. 

Making it up as I go along

B 

Knocking the dust off my blog and myself

Hello faithful reader! Thanks for sticking around! I hope you weren't just sitting in front of your screen this whole time, waiting for your next serving of Wunderbrad.... You did? Oh. Awkward....

No, it's not pathetic. Really. I'm flattered! Thank you. And...sorry. I shouldn't have made you wait three months. Fortunately, I have so many handy excuses for you!

1. Christmas happened. I work in retail, and am a typical Western consumer. That tends to result in a derailment of the ol' routine for December. I also played Santa in a sketch show. And a staff party.

2. Once I let said routine derail, it kinda stayed that way. I'm starting to understand the power of habits, both good and bad. I seem to have more of the latter...

3. On the subject of bad habits, I now own a Playstation 4. If you feel you have too much motivation and find you're just too productive, then you should pick up a PS4. You won't have those problems anymore.


 On a more serious note, I think I got a little bit depressed for a bit there as well. Not sure what caused it, if anything. Could be the cold dreary weather, or the hectic schedule I was running, or the fact that my semi-regular yoga stopped in October. Maybe a little bit of all those things and more, if I wanted to keep looking. The point is, I wasn't feeling right for quite some time. I wasn't a complete mess or anything like that, but everything just seemed a little more difficult than usual, and nothing felt balanced. I let a lot of negative thoughts take up way too much room in my head. I started feeling hesitant and less committed to my improv. I wasn't giving my family the love and support they needed from me, especially Wifey. Any type of writing, be it this blog, comedy sketches, or comic scripts, seemed impossible to focus on.

Things have been getting better recently, mostly thanks to Wifey. We've been together for over a decade now, and she's gotten pretty good at figuring me out. I used to hit these low points a lot more often in our early days, and neither of us handled them very well back then. This time around, she has been amazing. I've been distant, moody and not very useful, while she's been patient, understanding and has kept me moving forward, even if I couldn't go full-speed.

I also came across a great new career opportunity that I HAD to take a shot at. My retail gig has been good to me, but I yearn for a 9 to 5 situation. It would make the family/improv juggling act much easier. So I got a resume together for the first time in 15 years and took a shot at it. I found out yesterday that I didn't get the position, but I'm not upset about it. I'm proud of myself for going for it. The next time something that sweet comes along, I'll be even more prepared for it.

The last thing that snapped me out of my funk was The Kinkonauts. They are a talented improv theatre company in Calgary that Bullskit has worked with on a few occasions. They were hosting a 26 hour improv marathon and I was able to join in the fun for the closing hours of the show. One of my big goals this year was to improvise with more people and stretch my horizons as a performer. This event was a great chance to do that, and I wanted to have the best experience possible. On the trip down with my partner-in-crime Scott, we got ourselves into a headspace where we could do our best. When I hit the stage, I was ready to play. I got to share the stage with folks I admire, and met several more that I can't wait to work with again. It all went even better than I hoped. The show reminded me why and how much I love performing improv, and now I'm chomping at the bit to get back to rehearsal.

Here's supposed to be the part where I boil down all that rambling into something coherent and inspirational right? Well it should be obvious by now that I don't have everything figured out yet. Sorry. Wrong blog. I am hoping that one of you readers finds a needle of wisdom in this massive haystack of a post. All I know is, I'm a better man now than I was ten years ago. I'm doing things that the old me would be terrified to try. I'm surrounded with awesome people at home, at work and on stage. Most of all, I'm starting to trust myself. Whether it's a resume, a blog post, or a parody song, I'm trying not to listen to the critic in my head that wants to convince me that everything I'm about to try is going to be terrible. 

I'll let you guys tell me that instead ;)

 It's OK to fall sometimes. Keep getting up. Knock that dust off.

B

Hope, Fear and Refugees

Sorry this post was so long in coming, but there's been so much rattling around in my head over the last couple of weeks. I really wanted to talk about how good I've been feeling about my improv this month. That would have been a pleasure to write about. But eleven days ago, the world changed. Several tragedies struck the world that day, but none rattled the West more than a terrorist attack in the heart of Paris. Over 130 people were killed by what appears to be ISIS agents. Like millions of others, this event shook me deeply. My assumptions of safety were cast into doubt. I was afraid. Throughout the conflicts that have occurred post-9/11, I have always tried to separate the actions of a few extreme zealots from the rest of the world's Muslims. But with the Paris attack coinciding with the flood of Syrian refugees looking for solace in the West, I've had to reconsider what I believed.

Have I been too naive? Am I a fool for trusting basic human decency? Is the "religion of peace" actually just teaching hatred and violence? Should I be painting all Muslims with the same brush just as so many others have been quick to do?

For a couple of days these questions these questions haunted me. As a husband, a father, and a Canadian citizen, can I be comfortable welcoming foreigners from the most volatile region in the world into my community without reservation? Can I push my fears aside?

Yes. Absolutely. Because of the above reasons, I have to. Because I am a father and husband, and because I'm blessed to live in a place that can easily provide a privileged life for so many. Because I can put myself in the shoes of a Syrian man, who's left his entire world behind. Sacrificed everything to keep his family safe. Someone who has nothing to rely on but the support of strangers. I can only imagine how terrible it would be to give a smuggler the last of your money, just in the hopes of surviving the trip across the sea to Greece. And if you're lucky to make it, you must find a country that won't turn you down at the border without hesitation. A place that won't send you back home, not caring that certain death awaits back there. And if your luck continues, you get the chance to beg for support. "Please, save us. Please, feed us. Please, allow me to support my family. Please."

How can I not feel for that man?

Yes, I get it. We're all afraid. We're afraid that there are ISIS terrorists hiding amongst the refugees. We're afraid that if we let too many Muslims in our borders, that they will only drain our resources and burden our infrastructure. We are afraid that their culture and strange beliefs will infect us. I'll admit that those risks are possible. I understand those fears.

But that Syrian man is afraid for his LIFE. For his children's lives. For his wife. For that man, the Paris attack was something he had to fear daily. In Syria, you were always a moment away from the side of your house exploding away, or a man threatening you at gunpoint to join one of the four different armies fighting over the corpse of your country. Those are his fears. I can't hold my fears up to his and justify inaction.

 I've learned this month that fear is a tool. The reason they call them "terrorists" is that their tactics are entirely based around sowing fear in their enemies. They wield terror more effectively than any bomb or rifle. But they aren't the only ones. Fear is a powerful motivator for Western groups as well. "Journalists" use it to sell newspapers or bait more clicks. Right-Wingers use it to justify xenophobia and to take away your freedoms in the name of safety. Fear lets racists justify ignorance and nationalism.

All this fear from all these different places has become a vicious cycle. Extremists attack somewhere that the West actually cares about. The West reacts by bombing the hell out of the extremists region of origin. The terrorists are really good at hiding, leaving innocent civilians as the main victims of the air strikes. The extremists exploit the victims' grief, rallying them to fight the Western infidels. The newly minted terrorists jihad all over a carefully selected Western target. Rinse. Repeat.

If we truly want to stop ISIS, and actually want to make the world a better, more peaceful place, than we have to break that cycle. More hate, fear, division and violence will only keep the wheel turning. As cheesy as it sounds, what the world needs now is love, sweet love. Seriously. We, as Canadians, Americans, Europeans, everyone who can help, need to commit to a better way. We can't expect the refugees to make the first move towards openness. They are shell-shocked, starving and broken. They need us to open our hearts and communities fully to them. We need to show them how good things can be. If we treat these desperate refugees with distrust or outright hatred, if we tell them we don't want them, than they will be driven towards the groups WHO DO. We create more terrorists by giving them something to fight. Yes, obviously, the key figures of ISIS need to be eliminated, but we need to change the way we fight them. As hard as it will be, ground troops will be necessary. Sloppy, untargeted bombing isn't efficient.

More importantly though, we need to be the enlightened nations that we pretend we are, and stop thinking that every brown guy is here to either kill us or ruin our society. In every religion, there are people who interpret the words of their holy texts in ways that make them better, and there are people who twist those same words into justifying horrible thoughts and acts. Don't let fear dictate your actions. Be better, and others will follow.

Please.



Whew. That felt good to get out of my system. Thank you for reading this if you're still here. I know there are plenty of people who would fiercely disagree with what I've said here, and for the first few days after Paris, I was happy to argue with them. What I've found though, is that there's no good way out of that rabbit hole. "Experts" on both sides will cherry-pick facts to back up their opinions, and in many cases, refuse to listen to the other side at all. So I'm pulling myself out of that game. I plan on living the words I wrote above, but I'm not going to constantly shout them at others. I truly DO thank those who feel the same way, but I'm done trying to convert the rest. The world has enough conflict and division already. In fact, I plan on taking a break from the heavy stuff for awhile and to focus on the good and positive things I have in my life. Less political posts, more comedy sketches and stand-up jokes. More fun with my kids. The world has some issues, but life is still wonderful. I'm not going to let fear and anger blind me from that. 

Peace (hopefully)

B