Rusty Improv

There is a possibility that I'm going to be improvising in front of a crowd tonight.

This hasn't happened for quite some time.

There is a very real possibility that I'm going to be overwhelmed with a nostalgic attack and find myself huddled in a corner, sobbing. If the show is in "the round," that will make it weird for one or two people. If it happens, I'm totally going with it.

There's also the very real possibility that I'm going to end up playing the easy jokes and flirting with the scandalous, two no-nos of improv. But that's what happens when you haven't done it.

If i don't get a chance to perform... well, that will be a shame. For me, at least. I'd hate to think what the current students at NGU would think of a large anachronism bumbling around on stage pretending to be funny.

But ultimately it boils down to a "hit it hard" moment.


I've been playing a lot of disc golf recently. So naturally I've tried to find all the help that I can get from youtube videos, pro interviews, and the rare bits of anecdotal stuff that you might run across in a Play It Again Sports or on the course. One particular piece of advice seems appropriate for the improv situation:

Always try to sink the putt.

Ok... you might be only slightly whelmed at that quote. But when you are trying to decide whether or not to lay-up in front of a basket for safety, it's better to try for the basket and deal with whatever happens when you get there.

It's better to just go for it and fail than it is to play for safety.

Game on.

Blogger Intentionality

"If you aim at nothing, you'll hit it everytime."

I don't know who originally said that. But it doesn't matter.

I've been thinking about the intentionality of this blog site. Why am I blogging? Why should you read it? Why would I want you to read it? Should I want to want you to read it?

Some days I read a lot of blogs. Other days I don't read any at all. I'm hardly a faithful follower of any in particular. So I'm not sure of all the ins and outs of an intentional blog, outside of a professional attempting to bite-size-ify their vast knowledge of something specific.

I think what I do is a little different.

Well, I hope that it is.

I tend to synthesize everything that is going on in my life, both outside and in, and present it in a way that might be interesting to read or remember. Or confirm suspicions of my lunacy. It's cool either way.

Or maybe that's all in hindsight.

I think that philosophy is mostly in hindsight.

Perhaps theology, too.

Maybe intentionality is something to be handled loosely. Like most creative things, to put too much emphasis on the overt "Message" often kills the delicate nature of any beauty it might yield.

And beauty, as we all have experienced at some point or another, often serves to magnify any "Message" tenfold.

Jesus preached outright for a while, then turned to parables.

Did his intentionality change? Hardly.

But in parables everything gets swirled around a bit, and the interplay of culture and story and character and situation reveal different and exciting parts of each other.

May that swirling be my intentionality, too.

Having locked my keys in my car again...

I'm writing this while sitting alone on the concrete steps at Baxter. I have, for the second time in two weeks, locked my keys in the car. Whenever life events precipitate inaction, I've learned to take the opportunity to mine (as in "gold mine") the situation for applicable lessons. So I'm hashing things out on my phone.

In this particular situation, I have found two truths.

The first deals with the medium used for exploring the truth. One, A: proficiency determines the extent to which the truth is explored. I type slower on this cell phone. I make many mistakes, which force me to go back and change things. I can only elaborate so much. Certain detailing is simply counterproductive. One, B. The application. Pretty obvious. I'm limited by my own inability to pursue my train of thought and document it while it is still happening.

A random note... The passing breeze is carrying the thick, heady scent of honeysuckle. it's a rather good night.

Anyway, in such a way, the method by which you limit yourself (which anything structured inherently will)informs your content.

Chris is here to help me break into my car. I need to go.

The only other thing I had to say dealt with one action limiting your ability to do anything else.

But maybe that's too obvious.

Deli Etiquette

This is just a general list of basics for engaging a grocery store deli. While you can rest assured that one out of ten people have no regard for any etiquette at all, and therefore clumsily bulldoze their way around annoying everyone, here are just a few ideas to help the process go smoothly. You might think these are obvious... believe me, not everyone shares your view.

1. The scales all read in decimal, so please don't use ounces as a unit of measurement.

2. Please know what you are ordering before engaging a deli worker. It's fine to take two hours to figure it out... just don't have the gall to keep us waiting around for you to make the decision. (This happens a LOT)

3. Stay off your cell phone.

4. Ask questions. Questions are good. We have spent a long time with the product. It's much faster.

5. If you are nice, we will be nice, too. And vice versa.

6. Specific orders are good. It's more frustrating to have someone say, “Somewhere from half to three quarters.” We know darn well you are going to follow it with, “Just a few slices more.” Maybe a couple of times. Be specific, then ask for more.

7. Waffling is always annoying and time-consuming. [Questions don't count as waffling. Ask, then let someone else go.]

8. DON'T be upset when a deli worker doesn't hit your target weight on the nose. Every product is different. Always expect a .05-.1 variance. Over that, it's fine to ask for more/less.

9. Seriously... Stay off your cell phone.

10. Saying “Perfect!” even when it isn't, is comforting. Saying “That will do,” when we skillfully hit your off-kilter order perfectly... well... we don't really like you very much.

11. There's a fine line between being a punk and letting us know you are there, but please don't just stand there expecting that we'll see you. We probably won't. Or, honestly, we may ignore you until you express your readiness. We have a lot of things to do outside of slicing.

12. Phone orders are fine, as long as you don't act like a jerk when it doesn't come out exactly as you thought. You weren't there to make sure, were you? English is a second language for most of these guys. Be patient.

13. Multiple orders are great, as long as you let us know at the start, so that we can get help. This is probably my biggest pet peeve. We can be efficient if you are.

14. STAY OFF YOUR CELL PHONE.

15. Don't walk away unless you ask if it's ok to go. You started a transaction. See it through. It's only three minutes of your day.

16. Regulars are always treated better than strangers. Always.

Now, I realize that not all delis are as busy as the one where I work, but come on... these are not revolutionary tips, people.

Just be human.

My Life as a Poe Hoe

Nil sapientiae odiosius acumine nimio. - Seneca

"Nothing is more hateful to wisdom than excessive cleverness." Just in case you were wondering about that quote. It's my only apology for the horrific title of this post. It's also the epigraph to Poe's "The Purloined Letter." And, according to Wikipedia, Seneca probably didn't even say it. Which might be funny, in an "Edgar, you rogue," sort of way.

As you probably know, in "The Purloined Letter," *spoiler alert* Poe's Dupin solves the mystery of a hidden letter by realizing that it's sitting in the open. *end spoiler alert*

It's a perspective thing.

As usual.

"If it is any point requiring reflection," observed Dupin, as he forbore to enkindle the wick, "we shall examine it to better purpose in the dark."

"That is another of your odd notions," said the Prefect, who had a fashion of calling every thing "odd" that was beyond his comprehension, and thus lived amid an absolute legion of "oddities."

I'm hardly breaking new ground by realizing that I live too far away from where I actually am. Resting on un-gotten laurels. Searching the forgotten corners of life for a meaning. Making simplicity incredibly complicated.

"And what is the difficulty now?" I asked. "Nothing more in the assassination way, I hope?"

"Oh no; nothing of that nature. The fact is, the business is very simple indeed, and I make no doubt that we can manage it sufficiently well ourselves; but then I thought Dupin would like to hear the details of it, because it is so excessively odd."

"Simple and odd," said Dupin.

"Why, yes; and not exactly that, either. The fact is, we have all been a good deal puzzled because the affair is so simple, and yet baffles us altogether."

"Perhaps it is the very simplicity of the thing which puts you at fault," said my friend.

"What nonsense you do talk!" replied the Prefect, laughing heartily.

"Perhaps the mystery is a little too plain," said Dupin.

"Oh, good heavens! who ever heard of such an idea?"

"A little too self-evident."

"Ha! ha! ha! --ha! ha! ha! --ho! ho! ho!" --roared our visitor, profoundly amused, "oh, Dupin, you will be the death of me yet!"

I forget that effort is not necessarily the engine for satisfaction. That trying so hard to "find the answer" often makes seeing it impossible.

Sometimes you need to relax.

Sometimes you need to have fun.

One thing is for sure: if you get too far ahead of yourself, you will end up falling two steps backwards for every forward step.

It's ok to be a farmer. Farmers have no choice but to do things in order.

Farmers deal with growing things. Growing things take time. They take work.

Farmers don't reap before it's time to harvest. They don't plow through seedlings. They don't plant one seed over another. There's an order to their work cycles.

That's not to say that the process is flat or uni-dimensional.

Farming is not boring. Good farming is diverse. While easier and potentially more lucrative, monocultures end up, ahem, putting all the eggs in one basket. But it's unwise.

I won't get too deep into it. Even though I'm sure you've figured out the obvious comparisons, I'll probably blog on monocultures more later. But for now...

1. Don't look too hard for something that may be in front of you the whole time.
1b. Don't use "exploration" when "realization" is needed.
2. Don't reorganize the cycles. They are in that order for a reason.
3. Give the plants some time to grow. Some things grow slower than others.
3b. Make sure everything is still growing. Dead things don't grow. If need be, prune that sucker.

Arcade Fire beachballs

These may be taken down in the next few days (jealous festival and all)... but watch these in order... Arcade Fire is doing some cool stuff.









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