performing arts

greyscale image of a stop sign with the sky and phone lines in the background.

Stop Doing the Thing

Well hot damn, this took a turn. I’m always using my busy schedule as an excuse not to blog. Well, that’s not so much an issue now, is it? With Covid-19 spreading like wildfire (another very serious problem we’re also still facing globally), there seems to be nothing to do BUT write.

Or so I thought. But you’d be amazed all the stuff you can do instead of writing. I’ve managed to get all my physical receipts ready for tax time. Not enough, so I organized my husband’s too. I’m learning to teach improv online. (Yes, and… it’s gonna take some adjusting!) I’m sorting through junk drawers (and bags, anybody else got junk bags from moving so often?) I’m cleaning this and sanitizing that. I’m taking naps. I’m meditating. I’m watching way too much Netflix.

So here. Gah. Here I am, keyboard. Let’s type.

2020 was gearing up to be great and fun and BUSY:

  • I was about to teach more improv than ever before.
  • Improv Niagara had just secured a second monthly show, which was to take place in downtown Niagara Falls.
  • IN was about to make a huge deal about our 2nd Birthday Fallout show.
  • I was starting to get corporate gigs.
  • I was getting better at Pilates (ie farting less)
  • I’d received a newfound confidence from performing The Vagina Monologues in knowing a) I can, indeed, memorize big chunks of text b) I can, indeed, rock full-faux leather performance attire.

The last month of February was BUZZING. I’m telling you, BUZZING. A huge Improv Niagara event in Niagara Falls, followed immediately by two sold-out, explosive performances of The Vagina Monologues at Camp Cataract.

And now it comes crashing to a halt. No more shows. No more events of 250 people or more. Wait, now it’s 50. OK I get it. No more events. Gatherings = virus spreading. Non-essential services must cease.

Yes, of course, for the best. We must do our part to flatten the curve and keep as many people safe as possible. And yet, it is an adjustment. I guess at least with improv, we’re good with making those.

C’est la vie

I suppose a great way to stick to my New Years resolution of writing more/all the time, is to write more in this blog.  I know it’s supposed to be behind-the-scenes confessions about my time at Humber (Clown) College, but well, it’s the Holidays still, we don’t go back to school until Monday, so in the meantime, please excuse my non-school-based rambles.

My cat’s in heat.

(Why do I always talk about my cat?  I don’t mean to.  I don’t think any cat-owner means to talk about their cat(s) as much as they do.  They’re just so adorably distracting.)

Last night we cuddled and spent the evening catching up on hours upon hours worth of Glee.  Hey! I don’t care what you have to say!  That TV show, love it or hate it, is bringing more and more children into the performing arts.  I wish Con had a glee club when I attended school there.  We had an improv team that couldn’t afford to go to the only improv competition for French schools in Ontario.  It was all the way in Timmins.  That’s pretty damn far from the Niagara Region.

We couldn’t even put on plays.  We tried to once, but interest and enthusiasm among the cast was so low we had to cancel it (AND I’d nabbed the lead! #unfair)  Trying to compare my high school education with high schools on TV is impossible.  They don’t write shows for 300 or so French Canadian public school children, most of whom’s ambition remains “staying a live to deal pot to the next generation of Wellanders.”

I think small-town Franco-Ontarian culture does have a place within pop-culture.  Somebody get me on the phone with TFO!

I should probably have written that last bit of rantiness in French.

Eh bien.  Peut-être la prochaine fois.