It's not that I don't have things to change or improve upon. Um, have you met me? Duh. But I'm not usually a well-it's-January-first-so-I-guess-I-better-make-some-changes kind of girl. If I'ma do something like use an arbitrary date to signal the start of a New Me, I usually use my birthday. Or, you know, the third Sunday after the first full moon in the last month of the year that starts with a letter of the alphabet. In other words, a date that has meaning.
But I've been thinking about this New Year's Resolution thing, and I feel like I'm copping out if I don't make some. The thing is, I don't know what I want to commit to.
And there it is, the magic word and the bane of my existence, improv and otherwise: commit. You'd think after all this time studying and teaching improv, I would be able to commit. But no. As soon as I think of a resolution, let's just say "stop eating sugar," 800 bazillion objections to that resolution pop up in my head. Like, what if there's a zombie apocalypse (what? You can't count on the friggin' Mayans), and all there is left in the world to eat is cookies? And I've committed to not eating sugar. Well, then, I'm screwed.
You see my problem?
I am good at committing in improv (although it took years off of both Darren's and my life to get me there), so I guess it's time to bite the bullet and take that skill into the real world. So here's my New Year's Resolution: I resolve to commit to stuff*.
*"stuff" to be determined later.
By Sonnjea Blackwell
