So many good things came from this weekend.
I’m starting to get it now.
Living the lifestyle and relishing in good decisions.
…not to mention the formation of a motherfucking jazz quartet. Yes.
P.S. I just want to dance. All. The. Time. Bring me Prom.
(Source: youwillbesad, via omnisvirtigris)
Sometimes really good talks happen with the most unlikely people.
What a strange, strange night.
—Tom Mcneal, To Be Sung Underwater (via watherinecatts)
Story of.
(Source: larmoyante, via margaretanneluthringer)
(Source: hadrianestou, via awkwardlavaturtle)
(Source: l0vevolution, via with-a-bang)
Needless to say, improv has changed my life. Saying “yes, and” to nearly every opportunity that has come my way has given me an incredible high school experience. The thing is, it doesn’t start off so easy.
“Oh Mrs. Johnson, is that a black widow on your shoulder?”
“No.”
(why the fuck would I want a black widow on my shoulder, right?)
Violation. Try again.
“Yes….and Tommy, if you don’t call in the exterminator, I might get bitten.”
We use “yes, and” to start ourselves off. We use it as the handrails. The training wheels. The knee pads. We use it because we feel comfortable with it.
So what happens when you don’t need that support anymore? What happens when you can be on your own and trust your own wit and intellect to make up for that safe place?
“No….Tommy, is your hallucinatory disorder acting up again?”
So much more interesting.
Breaking the rules adds another dimension to improv.
So to make this relevant: I said “yes, and” for so long. And I now understand that I have the ability to say “no.” I’m strong enough to do that now.
You were the only person I could never say “no” to. Because I needed you to be my handrails. Now I’m finally saying:
No.
The favorite.
(Source: daitro, via whatthecatsdraggedin)
