Category Archives: Wassup USA?

Open Letter to the Guy Who Asked Me If I Was The One Laughing So Loud at the Second City Show

imageI did it. I went to the mecca of improv and sketch comedy. I saw a show at The Second City and it was awesome. At times, my inner comedy and improv geek threatened to burst out and start screaming. But mostly I just laughed a lot. In fact, I laughed so much and so heartily that after the show some dude asked me if I was “the one who was laughing so loud.” I told him that it was probably me, because I love comedy and laughing is my favorite. Below is a more complete response.

Dear Man Sitting a Couple of Rows Ahead of Me,

I hope you enjoyed the show last night. I certainly did. You might have guessed from the volume of my laughter, which was prodigious. That means I was loud. In fact, I laughed so much and so vigorously that I sweated through my cardigan.

I’m not sure if you were trying to be a prick or if you were just accidentally a little bit of a dick. While for the most part it seemed like you took my outbursts in stride, you must have been at least a little pissed off to even speak up. And I would like to not apologize but illuminate the context of the situation and perhaps even inspire you.

Something you should know about me, sir, is that I love comedy. I love it with a dangerous love, a love that has had negative repercussions for my career and for my health. I love it with a love that rivals how you feel about the woman that was with you at the show, with a love greater than the love that Sam had for Frodo. Comedy is my reason for living, my fuel for life, my happy place, my heaven and my favorite dish.

Why do I love comedy so much? Comedy makes me laugh, and laughter brings hope to dark places, opens the doors to new opportunities, brings people together, causes rainbows, and cures cancer. Laughter is saving the world, and I love it. So guess what, friend-o. When I see something funny, I’m going to laugh, and it’s not going to be meek. It’s not going to be restrained and it’s not going to be buckled in or contained in any way. It is going to erupt out of my mouth like an alien from the abdomen, like a herd of bats from a cave or bees from the hive. It’s going to be raw and meaty and real, and you might not be able to handle it.

There is nothing more magical on this earth than sharing a good laugh until you cry with your friends. Laughter is answer and question all in one. It’s a stack of pancakes with the bacon right inside, and it’s a hug from someone you’ve wanted to hug for a long time but weren’t sure if it was appropriate or not. That’s what it is for me.

I’m not sorry for laughing so loud, but I am sorry you couldn’t see what I saw, which was both the show and a woman who scratched her 17-year-old son’s back for two and a half hours straight. Maybe if you’d seen the “Mother, scratcher,” you would have understood.

All best,
Emily

What you don’t know about this Chicago suburb will in no way surprise you.

You might be familiar with the saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” A lesser known version of that phrase is, “When life throws you a Chicago hurricane that strands you in Evanston, IL for an evening, you might as well stay there the next day and judge / be jealous of everyone.” This is the version that happened to me.

Evanston is a Chicago suburb exclusively populated by people without any problems, beautiful churches made from white stone, homes that look like English cottages, and a creepy amount of trees. With a population of 74,000 (as of 2010), and a leaf count of just over 3 billion, Evanston is the home of Northwestern University (also the city’s largest employer), and the Grosse Point Lighthouse (on the National Register of Historic Places.)

I had the whole day to prowl around and figure out this wild suburb. You will not be surprised by what I found.

Here’s the low down on Evanston and its people:

dog-walking

People walk their dogs.

People leave their stuff outside when they go inside Brothers K Coffee to get something to drink.

They leave their stuff unattended.

They trust strangers. Even me.

They trust strangers.

They play badminton with their kids on the front lawn. (See lower left corner. Disregard my face. It's hard to take pictures behind you with an iPad.)

They play badminton with their kids on the front lawn. (See lower left corner. Disregard my face. It’s hard to take pictures behind you with an iPad while you’re trying to not look like a creep.)

They still use the word ethnic. I didn't know that was allowed.

They still use the word ethnic.

They have breakfast with their high school aged son and some of his engineering friends who are in a summer camp at Northwestern while a woman (me) sitting alone behind them eavesdrops on their entire conversation.

They have breakfast with their high school aged son and some of his engineering friends who are in a summer camp at Northwestern while a woman (me) sitting alone behind them eavesdrops on their entire conversation.

They enjoy a good font, especially this one that is popular with Northwestern University and Ye Olde English Pubs.

They enjoy a good font, especially this one that is popular with Northwestern University and Ye Olde English Pubs.

Even the street rodents are adorable and picturesque.

Even the street rodents are adorable and picturesque. (Those are rabbits.)

They have housing to spare.

They have housing to spare.

Which is shocking considering the world-famous board game night at the wine shoppe just around the corner.

Which is shocking considering the free board game night at the wine shoppe just around the corner.

All in all, Evanston seems like a pretty swell place to be. Especially if you like ethnic festivals, trusting strangers, and rabbit meat.

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I quit my job to take my hobbies full time. Here’s what happens now.

Future daytime improv star

Future daytime improv star

On June 27th, 2014 I quit a (relatively) cushy corporate job to pursue my hobbies as a career, these hobbies being writing, improv, comedy, acting and amateur clowning. Many people congratulated me on this decision and told me I was brave (read: foolish). Maybe they’re right because the truth is I don’t really know how make this happen. I just needed to do something.

Two days later, I left the Bay Area bubble for a 7 week journey that will take me across the Eastern third of the United States, starting in Chicago and continuing through Nashville, Atlanta, North Carolina (Asheville area), Washington DC, Boston, NY and then Oklahoma City (Edmond area) on a miniature “Wassup USA” tour. I fully expect to get scurvy and lose a couple of teeth on this journey which can only be described as low-budget.

I’m doing this, the quitting and the traveling and the clowning, to test the hypothesis that there are no rules in life and no limit to what I can dream up and do, that nothing is in my way except for my own fear, and it is a formidable opponent that has some great arguments for why my dreams are a bunch of hogwash.

“Why should you be so lucky that you get the chance to quit a pretty good job and pursue comedy for a career? Not everyone has the chance to go after jobs they find meaningful – why should you? You shouldn’t look for meaning in your work, so why don’t you just do something that will get you a good income so you can be secure and figure out a way to work in your passions at nights and on weekends? Improv, really? Can’t you be passionate about something else? What if you fail?”

There’s some truth in these doubts, but at the end of the day they are just fear disguised as practicality, and I can’t convince myself to listen to them anymore. Not yet. But they are interesting questions.

In the next phase of my life and as I’m doing my hobbies full-time-ish, I want to explore these questions of meaning and career, who gets to follow their dreams and why, and who cares about this and does it even matter.

And for the next 50 days, I want to see what’s up with the USA. I want to do an Alexis de Toqueville “Democracy in America” except more along the lines of “Drevets in America.” It’ll just be me, in America, with my vision and dreams along with everyone else’s. Nothing much has changed except my morning commute and my inbox count.

So….what’s up USA?

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