Monday, May 5, 2014

You Can All Thank My Therapist...

A wise friend of mine that I greatly respect recently suggested that I get back to blogging/writing.  Back in the good 'ole days of college, I blogged daily; it was therapeutic and my way of escaping sorority drama.  I was also frequently called into sorority standards for something I had mentioned in a post that was either deemed "controversial" or that had just pissed off some shy, fun-sucking sorority sister that never had the balls to say anything.  I was a pre-law, political science major, wannabe-feminist that had just escaped a small East Texas town; of course I had things to rant about.

Needless to say, expressing words online has always been and continues to be an outlet for me that I am going to re-commit to.  I was a little more sane and focused back in college so I think that this will be a good thing, even if my jack russell terrier/child, Phoebe, is the only one that reads it.  It's time that I meet up with my old carpal tunnel club buddies again anyway.  After all, I am a millennial, so I have to post my thoughts publicly on the world wide web for them to be valid, you guys.

I mentioned above the "good 'ole days of college" as if it were thirty years ago or something.  I graduated in 2012.  And I don't think I've wrote (or is it written? Jesus, I need to go back to college, evidently) a damn thing online or on paper since 2012.  Perhaps that's why it's mid-2014 and I can say with one-hundred percent certainty that I've reached that quarter-life crisis phase.  Yeah, yeah, it sounds like a typical "white girl problem."  I get it.  I'm not asking for a pity party here.  That's not my style.  I thank God daily for my bed, Nutella (even though I'm currently trying round two of the Paleo diet), kickass family, Netflix/Amazon accounts, the air in my lungs, and so forth.  However, the past two years have been the most overwhelming and emotional years of my life; I feel around fifty-four years old, both physically and mentally.  Whether that's good or bad, I don't know.  I'm not going to spend a lot of time analyzing it.  I can add some positivity to this post, though, when I mention the one constant in my life right now that is the Dallas Comedy House...

My best friends live in Houston/Austin, TX, Greenville, SC, and New York City, and as hard as it has been for all of us (mostly me because my friends have it together for the most part), I think that after the past five months of me talking non-stop about DCH (that's short for Dallas Comedy House, it's gonna be mentioned a lot so get acquainted with the acronym now) they're probably glad that we live miles away; otherwise they know I'd be dragging 'em to classes or a show every night of the week if they were back in Dallas.

Anyway, I started improv classes with DCH this past January as a random thing, not thinking much would come from it.  All I was doing was working 20852 hours a week and needed some sort of outlet/social life.  I did film work and fell in love with theatre back at SMU, amidst all of the ridiculous frat parties, Bush-stalking, fashion week interning, etc., so I figured I'd give DCH a whirl to see if I could find some new friends that would appreciate my dark and cynical humor again. (**Note the previous sentence: I am very cynical/sarcastic and my writing will reflect that. If you have a sense of humor, you'll appreciate this/please continue reading; if you're an uptight human, you've been warned/can voluntarily leave at any time.**)

Now I could go on for hours about how great DCH has been, how my improv buddies are my family now, how it was the best decision of my life, blah blah blah, but I won't do that to you guys.  I'll just instead post some pictures of the new (and funny) humans in my life that I now thank God daily for.  I'm also more comfortable around them than my own family.  That's not a joke.  To be fair, though, the majority of my relatives are GOP-ers so that really doesn't say much.  But, if I were held at gunpoint and told to strip down in front of my improv troupe, that'd be no problemo for me.  If you do improv, then you'll get me when I say that.  If not, I'm sorry for making this post creepy.  

Don't get me wrong, I'm still trying to figure out what in the world I'm going to do with my life.  I really just like to play with puppies and kittens and tweet from my iPhone while instagramming from my iPad and googling from my Macbook, all while sitting in yoga pants next to a pitcher of espresso or champagne (depending on the time of day), just like every other 24-year-old in America. However, I laugh more now in one week than I ever did in 2013, and the first thing that comes out of my mouth when I'm networking/at events/shopping/meeting new humans anywhere, really, is, "have you ever been to the Dallas Comedy House?" because that's how much I love the place.  DCH keeps me fully committed to something each day/week, which is a huge accomplishment considering the past two years of life if you know me, and I am beyond grateful that I drunkenly googled "funny people clubs in Dallas" last Thanksgiving.

In conclusion, my semi-diagnosed ADD is coming on and I'm going to leave you all with this: take an improv class.  Or three levels worth, like me.  It's worth every dime.  Just like therapy.


PS- I try to be filtered, somewhat, but I do apologize in advance for any "unprofessional cursing."