I had it pretty damn good as a kid: A roof over my head, two loving parents who supported me emotionally and financially, a college education. Not to brag, but I even had a pony! His name was Caught Red Handed and he smelled of summertime and innocence.
But let’s get one thing straight: there is simply no way to raise a child on planet Earth without it turning out a little damaged. Left untreated, the tiniest of incidences will snowball over the years into a huge crushing phobia. So although I had it pretty much made in the shade, there was this one time I got laughed at for singing along to the radio and it scarred me for life. I spent the next 20 years or so believing that I was tone deaf and making choices accordingly. You know, not singing, not taking music lessons, mouthing the words to “Happy Birthday”. And if you know anything about the principles of neuroplasticity, these self-selected behaviors allowed the music-processing portions of my cortex to atrophy. Well, atrophy is a strong word. But them music-processing cortical networks sure as hell didn’t get no stronger, I tell you what. Thusly, my singing voice and my hearing ear never improved.
Luckily, the Good Lord invented comedy, such that we may take these tiny lumps of emotional trauma and stir them into a delicious stew smothered in the delicious gravy of self-deprecation. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s why I got involved in improv and comedy- to soothe the constant inner awkwardness I felt in all situations. But I never expected that it would provide me with an opportunity to face my deepest fears.
In 2005 I joined ComedySportz Philadelphia without really knowing what it was. I knew it was a professional improv company (at the time, probably the only one in Philadelphia), but I had never seen a show or anything. As it turned out, ComedySportz Philly involves quite a lot of singing. We’re blessed with a couple of the kickest-ass musicians I know (Hi Alex Bechtel! Hi Joe Gribbin!) and so the company makes it a point to utilize them. At least 20% of our weekly show is devoted to singing games.
Internet, has this ever happened to you? You suddenly find yourself doing exactly that which you’ve spent your whole life carefully avoiding? Like, say you’re terrified of commitment and you go out on a couple of dates with someone, and on date three s/he suggests you walk around a fire seven times or so, and WHAMMO! Turns out s/he is a practicing Hindu and now your ass is MARRIED. It’s just like that.
But it can be a good thing to accidentally stumble directly into the path of your greatest fear. It is a rare breed of human that will dive headfirst into puddles of “No” and “FAIL”. Humans are a creature more apt to stick with the known quantity. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it; you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, etc. This tendency to stick to what we already know explains why it took scientists so damn long to discover the extent of our adaptability. It wasn’t until the late 90’s that scientists started to realize the capacity of the adult brain to rewire itself based on experience. So whether you’ve taken up Chinese in your 50’s, or you’re learning to walk again after a head injury, that is captial-G Good news.
For years and years, I just believed my internal story line that I couldn’t sing. Now I’m a few years into my “singing career” (and about 6 months into voice lessons) and it turns out I’m NOT tone deaf. All those years I just believed the hype. It reminds me of an anecdote I heard about improviser and teacher Mick Napier, who is legendary for remembering everyone’s name ever. Someone asked him about this remarkable skill, and apparently he said something like “Oh, I wasn’t good with names. And one day, I decided to be good with named. So I just started telling myself ‘I am good with names,’ and it came true.”
I think I called this post “Peein’ in the Wind” because … well, I don’t know. Peeing into the wind is something we all know is a bad idea, because we’ve all been told it is a bad idea. But I’ve never actually tried peeing in the wind. Maybe it isn’t so bad! Maybe you just get a little wet and then Mark Hamill shows up and shakes your hand. That would be pretty cool.
I guess I meant for the wind to symbolize the internal monologue of fear that prevents us from trying new shit out. It’s the voice in our head that tells us we can’t, and we believe it. It’s the voice in my head telling me not to publish this blog because it’s stupid, and it’s the one that keeps me from making and hearing offers when I’m improvising. So, shut up already, wind! Mama just drank 32 ounces of Wild Cherry Diet Cola and is looking in your direction!
Tags: art & science
