lessons in giving advice where you're not wanted

My mother has always had a strong sense of justice and disdain for incompetent or morally ambiguous authority figures, and she bestowed these on me to the point where I was an extremely argumentative 5-year-old with a precociously high level of self-righteousness. Recently, my mom told me of two experiences where her desire to help people/correct wrongs compelled her to speak up. In both instances, she felt that she observed something that went against what she believed to be morally and ethically correct and she said something.

We are told by the MTA/NYC/Bloomberg: "If you see something, say something." I know they're not talking about little trifling annoyances, but still, no matter what, more often than not, nobody says anything. When you see something wrong, from the mundane (someone cutting a line for the ATM) to the more serious (a mother hitting her kids on the sidewalk), most people's sense of societal decency and desire to keep the peace keeps them from expressing their feelings. Or maybe they were just taught differently-- that no matter what your parents taught you, we live in a free country and it's better to let some stupid people break the rules you were taught than to cause a big commotion. Or maybe they're just afraid of getting hit/yelled at/murdered by the crazy people doing stuff they disagree with. They might go home and blog about it or mumble to themselves, but rarely will they speak up. Even if there's a strong chance you're going to be helping some people (e.g. an old lady gets on the bus and a group of kids are taking up 12 seats in the front with their backpacks), most of the time, we still don't say anything. The problem for me is that my mom and I both always believe we're right, when sometimes wrong/right isn't so black and white. Who are we to be the societal justice and morality crusaders of New York City?

For example, and this is the dumbest example ever, now that I'm working in Times Square, I'm accosted by those people who want me to go to comedy shows all the time. And when I see tourists being tricked into them, I want to go up to the tourists and say, "Don't listen to these people. This is the worst comedy New York City has to offer. Come with me. I will take you to a land of amazingly talented young people who will do comedy for you FOR FREE and you can drink CHEAP BEER, fewer than two beers if you want, and you won't be teased by 50-year-old Staten Island MCs who make fun of your haircut and accent." And then I would lead them away like the Pied Piper of NY comedy that I believe myself to be. But instead, i just let them go to the crappy comedy shows. Not because I am scared of getting accosted or compelled by my desire for everyone to live their lives, but rather because I am just trying to get to work and it is hard enough to carry 3 bags and my iced coffee and get through the crowd with a book in my hand, so I can read while walking. And also, they probably wouldn't be very good audience members anyway. I mean, look at their haircuts and accents.

"Here’s to reveling in uncomfortableness until it becomes a tool to expose inanity. Here’s to forcing visceral meaning into the monotony of the everyday. Here’s to the painful disruption of complacency. Here’s to awkward endings."
-Matthew Wollin, The Awl

Comedy is a community. Other comics are your resource. Comics who are on your level -- that's important. A lot of comics are restless -- they want to network with the pros who they perceive as 'one level up' from them. Those guys can't help you much. It's your peers that will help you. Forget the dog-eat-dog stuff; like it's just you and your jokes against the world. That used to work, but not anymore. Make friends with people who make you laugh, produce shows together, build an audience together. Don't worry about trying to climb your way up the comedy scene, just hold hands with your friends and you'll all rise up like a balloon, laughing along the way.

-Tom Shillue, on what advice he'd give to aspiring comedians
http://www.thecomicscomic.com/2011/04/meet-me-in-new-york-tom-shillue.html

thoughts on Facebook

I guess a spoiler alert is needed here in case you have not seen Catfish or The Social Network...

As a sociology major (and one who wrote 3 different college papers on Facebook), I was fascinated by the ways in which The Social Network and Catfish defined our generation: We are the entitled, the anti-authoritarian, the reckless, the overconfident, the pompous. We are hedonistic, chasing down every temporary high (to borrow a phrase from Stacey Orrico). We are overly trusting and yet with a lack of regard for our fellow humans. We are self-centered and believe ourselves suffering, despite our relative luxury and privilege.

I think the major lesson from both movies is that we haven't really thought through all the potential consequences of our lives on the Internet. We all kind of just leapt onto Facebook without considering how it could affect us ten, twenty years down the line, let alone tomorrow. I worry about what our nation will be like with everything documented and archived, with no such thing as privacy. With all of our diaries and embarrassing childhood secrets open to the public eye. When 20 years from now, our presidential candidates all have pictures doing body shots at Spring Break '08. And when our generation finally settles down with wives and children and yet continues to have unlimited access to know exactly what everyone they've ever slept with is doing with their lives.

Both stories make it pretty clear (often heavy-handedly) that what drives the plot forward is the desire for human connection. Despite the technology, the walls that we build up to define ourselves and to present ourselves in exactly the way we want to be seen, we are desperately and callously reaching out for romance, sex, love, a relationship, someone to get us. And yet, real connections don't come from our presence on the Internet. Whatever is on the Internet is not "real." We have created a disconnect for ourselves where we can behave in ways we otherwise would not. The Internet creates a layer of protection, a detachment from reality which allows us to play out dramas, sexual or Machiavellian, in which we can be heroes or villains or something in between.

Both movies are extremely male in their viewpoint. The women and girls fit into the most basic of prototypes: angels and sluts, manipulative shrews, possessive jealous girlfriends, innocent wide-eyed young girls and power-hungry groupies. The men are nuanced- even when we disagree with their decisions, we understand where they come from. Whereas the girls are flat, faceless, as personality-filled as Facebook profiles can be, there to look pretty or scared or use their siren-like good looks to manipulate our loyal heroes. Mark and Nev seem more interested in the pretense of love than anything close to a real relationship. Neither of them seems to really listen to the girls they both claim to love. Mark, driven by power and popularity, and Nev, unaware that he is being manipulated, ignore the parts of their so-called loved ones that they don't want to understand. I don't mean to say that all men are like this, but Nev and Mark both seem indicative of a certain kind of guy within our generation who look at women as beautiful but crazy and are completely befuddled by why we behave the way we do. After all, who would want a real woman with all her complications and flaws when one can have a nameless groupie, an airbrushed model, a trophy girlfriend to bring to punch events or a one-night stand in a bathroom stall?



All of the above is an oversimplification of course. Like our heroes, I simplify things until they are the way I want them to be. If we can't fit our lives into little boxes (of html or otherwise), how are we supposed to understand it? I am, after all, a product of my generation.

at the end of the day yesterday, i was really regretting signing up for a dcm workshop. i'd had 3 not good shows in a row and i was growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that all my improv friends seem to have all the time in the world to see shows; to block off an entire weekend for the dcm marathon; to do practice groups, dcm workshops, class, see shows and be in shows all in the course of a week. i don't have time for this. i continue to make time for improv in my life and i'm not sure why. why am i continuing to make sacrifices for something that's not "paying off"? for improv, i have missed work, cancelled doctor's appointments, blown off my friends, and sunk way more money than i want to think about.

whether this has been a good choice or not is besides the point. people can argue that improv has its flaws, that the majority of it is not very good, and that it's a money trap. i'm not going to argue against any of that. i'm not sure whether it's been a good choice in my life to continue with it. i know that i have had a hard time committing to any pursuit that takes time, effort and money, that i have wanted desperately to be good at japanese or guitar or screen-writing, but that i have always given these things up because i couldn't deal with the idea of being bad, at failing. so i wrote them off as a waste of time. or something i could do later when free time and a pile of money just happened to come along in my life. how long did i have to suck before it just clicked? where was the movie-style montage where i started out shitty and ended up great at the end of one song?

mid-class yesterday, i asked the teacher (curtis gwinn, a hero of mine and a performer in the first improv show i ever saw... commedia dell high school, which changed my life) a question. he apologized that his response wasn't as cut-and-dry as i'd wanted it to be. but in his answer, he reminded me that improv is not paint-by-numbers, that no amount of following the rules could make up for a lack of innovation or inspiration. i want to approach improv like a science, the same way i approach a lot of things in my life. if i do everything perfectly, if i make no mistakes, if i follow the same system every time, things will have to turn out okay. i go into scenes scientifically, following rules, annoyed at people when they break them.

but improv, like life, is unpredictable. the unpredictable is what makes it funny and fun and an art, as opposed to some kind of machine. there are no steadfast rules. there are no right answers. we make choices and we live with them and sometimes our scene partner makes choices that we don't agree with, but they've been made and the whole audience has seen them and we have to choose how to react accordingly. none of my friends or teachers or parents or bosses can tell me what the exact right thing to do is because there is no right thing. this is incredibly frustrating to me, but i guess you just keep going, right?

On The Daily Show and Women

Last week, Jezebel published a scathing post on the lack of women on the writing staff of The Daily Show, after which the women of The Daily Show responded with their own online message. Jezebel's been getting a lot of flak (See Emily Gould's piece at Slate) and so has The Daily Show (see Tiger Beatdown's parody of TDS ladies' open letter). And it's one of those issues where I feel very torn between the two sides.

I think it's very nice that TDS is responding to Jezebel... they certainly don't have to. And it's lovely to see all those women who are contributing to the show (especially Jill, yay Jill). 40% of the staff is more than I would have guessed. And I want to believe that Jon Stewart is the demigod I make him out to be in my mind, so it's nice to hear people stick up for him. Besides, I love Olivia Munn and am all about a hilarious outspoken half-Asian lady on the show (whether she eats a banana seductively or not).

The problem is that the letter seems more like defensive PR strategy than any sign of empowerment from the women of the show. And having all of these women sign this letter doesn't make the complaints of women who used to work on the show any less valid. I can imagine (and I may be totally wrong on this) that there are people who signed it with a tinge of hesitation- who love their jobs and love Jon Stewart and love the show, but still feel disrespected or unwelcome occasionally. Because that's the way the world works, and because not everyone is politically correct or sensitive to the underdog 100% of the time. It takes a lot more courage to say something that goes against what people in power want to hear than to go with the flow. And to just shove those people away and say "No, we are all of one collective mind who likes how things are. We do not differ in opinion from one another" seems like a glossing over of the problem.

Regardless of how many women are on staff in total or what glowing reviews of Jon and working there they can drum up, it still might have been nice to hear that someone high up at TDS does value the idea of increasing gender and racial diversity on its writing staff and among talent. Instead of just saying "We're all happy," I would have liked to hear someone acknowledge that "Yes, there are a lot of white dudes on our staff. There are a lot more of them in the comedy world in general. But we're trying. We want talented women to come out and write for us. We're dying to have a diverse staff, so keep trying and don't be intimidated by how our correspondents and writing room look right now. We're waiting for you to come along and change things!" Because I get that it's hard. I get that people don't want to compromise the quality of their show to fill some kind of quota. But to pretend that there is no problem, that everything is fine, is a problem in and of itself.

And that's my moment of Zen.

the classiest Tonys party ever

or how I learned to stop hating the Tonys and start loving baked brie...