I remember the day vividly. Okay, maybe not the whole day,
but the actual event I can recall pretty clearly. I can see the blue carpeted
stairs that are oddly shaped and feel like they can at any minute fling you
back down, returning you from the direction whence you came, as I walked up
them to meet with our coach. Our fearless leader who was the expert, that
guided us through rehearsals, gave us loving and direct notes when that ever
elusive Harold we were chasing derailed in front of our eyes, under our feet
and in front of an audience, but still loved us anyway, had called us to a
meeting. Bounding up the stairs excited at the prospect of new information, a
change, who knows what, I entered the loft at iO to find her sitting there
waiting. Oh, this is a meeting between just her and I. Oh.
The rest of it is part blur and part emblazoned in my
memory. “We’re making some changes to the team” and “You’re really the heart
and soul of the team . . . but . . . we’re kicking you off of it” are the
sentences that live in my head still, to this day. I left, devastated, shocked
and so, so mad. I was so mad that I left iO West for almost 10 years. I really
almost left comedy forever, because I felt like my improv family had kicked me
out, abandoned me and declared me not good enough. I know that this sounds
dramatic, but when I first moved to Los Angeles I was only 21 years old. I had
recently graduated from college and packed up my Ford Explorer 2 with all of my
belongings; except for my dance costumes, that my Mom keeps threatening to
throw out, and I just keep saying, “I’m saving those for my daughter or
transgender son!”; and I began a life here in La La Land.
Moving to Los Angeles was a lot harder than I ever thought
it was going to be. I remember sleeping on a couch of a potential new roommate
who had insisted that his current roommate WAS moving out and that I could live
there very soon, he promised, and in the mean time if I wanted to share his
bed, he was A-OK with that. I left the
next day and moved in with a much less threatening, small Asian girl in Sherman
Oaks, who actually had a room open. The first month I spent a lot of time on
the phone with my best friends, crying, wondering if I had made a huge mistake.
Shortly after that I got a job at Kate Mantilini and found my first family in
LA amongst my co-workers there. Interning at ACME Talent & Literary in 2002
led me to iO West, Improv Olympic West, at that time. My buddy Jason was taking
classes there and after hanging out with me at ACME for a bit declared, you
should try improv! You’d be really good at it. So, I did. And I was. I found my second family here in La La Land.
My first year at iO was so much fun! I was blessed with a
class full of talented improvisers that went through the entire yearlong
program together. I had amazing teachers like Paul Vallaincourt, Pete Gardner,
Jeris Donovan, James Grace, Craig Cackowski and Bob Dassie, in that order.
There were only 6 levels when I graduated. I learned how to be my best self in
improv. As Paul once said, “To improvise
is to become more than human, and yet ultimately utmost human.” I interned at
the theatre, I took classes, I was a part of multiple student groups and I was
on a Harold team! I had done it! I auditioned! I made it! I was placed on a
team we christened “Assisted Living”. It was full of talented players like
Irene White, Mike Coen, David Iserson, and others. We weren’t a perfect team,
we had our troubles, growing pains, we evolved into an almost completely new
group with Chris Garnant, Amy Procacci, Woody Drennan, Maurissa Afanador, Paul
Cross, Jake & Mike. We took pictures dressed like hospital staff, mimicking
the cast of Grey’s Anatomy, in the alley, on film. What I know now is that a
team that undergoes a lot of changes in its players most likely won’t survive,
and its no ones fault.
Assisted Living
I remember going home after hearing that 4 of us had been
kicked off the team and that 4 others would remain a team, getting 4 new
players and a new name, and just laying on my bed in tears. How can you be the
heart and soul of a team and then be asked to leave it? How does that happen?
I’m not recalling this so that you’ll feel sorry for me, or
I can continue to hold the grudge against my coach, or so that I can re-ignite
my fury. I’m writing it because what I know now, I wish that I would have known
then. I KNOW that Harold teams are fleeting, very rarely do they result in the
magic of King Ten and exist for 10 years. It’s never personal when you get
asked to leave a team. It’s just not working. Its not clicking and something
about the way you play, your personality or maybe even your availability no
longer lines up with the rest of the team.
The lesson that I learned, that you, young improviser don’t
have to, is that improv life goes on and there WILL be another team. I wish
that I wouldn’t have let my emotions and my feelers get hurt so badly that I
just left iO West. I wish that I would have just taken a small break and
returned home to try again. I firmly believe that everything happens for a
reason and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, blah, blah, blah, but what I
don’t KNOW now, is what would have happened if I could have picked myself back
up and tried again. Most of the people on that first team are teaching improv
now, still perform on a regular basis and some even have their own shows. I’m
not saying that I would have become a teacher, or sold a TV show, had I stayed,
but I’ll never know.
Luckily, the love for improv wasn’t an easy one to shake. I
continued my studies at Second City’s Conservatory and later performed on a
house Grad Group there as well. I returned to iO West in 2013 and auditioned
for another Harold Team. Walking into iO West again to rejoin the community was
a strange one. I felt like the adult at the kids’ party. Who were all of these
shockingly good looking funny people? When I started improv it was still a
relatively unknown art form that mostly nerds and pretty fat girls did. Now, it’s
huge! Thanks to the success of UCB, Amy Poehler, Tina Fey and every agent in
town insisting that you need improv on your resume, improv is hip now. It’s so
trendy, there’s even an INDIE Improv scene. I laughed out loud the first time
someone told me they were on an Indie Improv group, until I realized that they
were serious. I walked through the bar
at iO, grateful that Crowley was still behind the bar and that James Grace gave
me a polite wave, and even with all of that awkwardness, I still knew that I
was home.
To my joy, I was placed on a DCT house team, that named
ourselves DCT (I voted against it, just FYI) and again stumbled into the
awkward, hello, who are you, how do we make our minds meld together to form an
exciting and entertaining 25 minute show, joy that is a new Harold team. I
LOVED this new team and though we were all very different we resolved to be the
best! We were broken up 4 months later. A small blow, but with my maturity and
hindsight in my corner, I saw it coming and was able to shake it off. Next
round of Harold auditions, I was placed on The Dilemma, an existing Harold team
in need of some more people. Another improv milestone, joining a team of
already tight players and trying to find your place, completed. I enjoyed being
on The Dilemma and 8 months later when we were broken up, I left iO West again.
This time I didn’t leave because my feelers were hurt, or I was upset that
James had given us the axe. I left in pursuit of the next thing and I know that
that decision was right at the time.
Being on a Harold team can be exhausting. But when it works,
that magic, when it just so happens that every member of your team pretending
to be a marionette controlled by the same puppeteer on stage all drop at the
same time without looking at one another . . . that . . . ohhhh that, is the
heroine of improv. It’s what keeps us coming back for more, chasing that group
mind high. There’s nothing like it.
When is the next round of Harold Team auditions? I’ve got a heart
and a soul looking for a home.
P.S. (I do know that I was blessed with many new comedy
faces at Second City and will be forever grateful that our paths crossed, and
that this alone may be the reason I left iO West. To meet Paul Lirette, Stacy
Adamski, Dustin Sterling, Tomas Urbano, Bridget McManus and Jill of Nothing
Consenual. Or Mike Ciriaco, Allison Summers, Jason Kelley, Dwana White, Tyler
Pratt, Paul Broccolo, Todd Bosley and Nicole Neumann of American Standard. )
