Catching up

I like my friends; love them. They're great. They treat me nice, provide for me when I become needy, and put up with my shit when I act out of line, and aren't afraid to hold me accountable for myself throughout it all.

At times I feel like a little brother. Of my guy friends, I'm constantly the youngest. It isn't an issue that barges to the forefront of most situations, but rather it settles in a deep subconscious layer of my brain that alters all my actions by 0.05%.

Because they're typically chunks of months older than me, I expect my friends to generally be smarter than me, better at new things, more experienced, more organized and top of shit, and even exhibit leadership better. For example, on long drives, I would always defer driving duty. Not out of fear of killing us all, but out of a general submissiveness when it came to doing adult things. That and the year of driving experience they all had over me.

I should have clarified this earlier* — my birthday is September 9, 1992. A majority of my friends are '91ers, or at least have the decency to catch up before the beginning of the subsequent** school year. This is because I skipped Kindergarten, an accomplishment that I can not justly appreciate — that is, I'm either caring too much about it or being overly modest.

I used to be everyone's short, smart, young, wisecrackin' pal. That was I, hangin' out with the cool kids who were secretly a grade above me (basically).  My best friend in elementary school had the same birthday as me, though we were a year apart in age.

I know, I know. It doesn't seem like a lot. And I suppose in the end, there are greater socially distinguishing characteristics to be had. But every generational experience one gains through the process of getting older, I was deprived of, or rather, delayed in receiving.

Becoming a teenager was a sixth-grade thing to most, but not I. Being 16, getting a license, having a kickass birthday party and all that jazz were things I was pulling off in my junior year of high school as opposed to my sophomore year like everyone else. I remember sneaking past security at the theaters just to see The Hangover with all my 17-year-old friends. By the time I was old enough to buy porn and cigarettes, it was no longer cool to buy porn and cigarettes for the sake of buying porn and cigarettes in a celebration of age-earned American freedom. It was cool to drink though, because college.

The relevance of this issue is rearing its head once more for the second to last time. The difference between 19 and 20 is practically negligible, unless you're that*** person that still cares about being a teen versus being 20. Nerd. I will be damn tired of this routine by the time I'm waiting to turn 21, I'm sure. After that, however, I get to be younger than everyone. But being 19 is a big deal. Well, it's a big deal here.

My former editor's in town tonight. Alex Iniguez is someone whom I respect the crap out of and may just try to mooch a good word or two off one day, because it may hold value. May. He's out at bars and, while I'd love to go catch up with the guy, I can't because I'm not old enough. The bars are like a party for 19+-year-olds in Champaign that goes on every night that I'm never invited to. This changes in 8 days. By the way, it's now officially September.

To Alex, I'm sorry for being an infant. I'll grow up one day. To everyone else, I'm sorry for being an infant. I'll stop complaining now.

--Eliot Sill

*-I could have clarified it earlier. I still can go back and change that. But I won't. Fate ordered it that way.

**-I originally had "next" here. But I went back and changed it. Judge me however you will.

***-Use of the word "that" as opposed to "a" designed to make you feel alone if you are, in fact, a person who cares about being a teen versus being 20.

Conor - Improv

This is Conor O'Brien, and this will be on the first and last day I post on sundays. After this week I will be trading Robert Langellier for his Friday slot, which will make things work out smoother for both of us. Seeing as how this is my only sunday post, I thought it would be fitting to write about something that has been a part of my life every sunday for the past 5 years of my life: The Easily Amused Improv troupe. That blows my mind to just type, or say out loud. I've been in the troupe for 5 years. Longer than high school. Let me back up.

I'm the baby of my family, the youngest of four. I always idolized my older brother and sisters and their friends. My entire life I've been hanging out with the big kids, looking up to them and never really feeling like I belonged amongst them but trying my best to keep up. My sister Betsy was in the Easily Amused Improv troupe that her friend Matt Grant started, but I couldn't tell you anything about that entity, because my sister Betsy refused to let any member of the family come and see a show. Years after Betsy has left the group I'm in 8th grade, and I get invited by Janell Magnusson, who I'm working backstage on a Muni show with, to audition for the troupe. I audition, I make it.

When I joined the troupe, everybody else seemed like giants to me. These people were not the kind of people I could ever hope to be. They were witty, nice, cool, friendly, and hilarious. They were perfect. It took me a long time to feel like I was a part of the group. It didn't feel right, I couldn't comprehend being one of them. Everyone was extremely welcoming to me, and before I knew it I was being carted around after practice with the older members, taken to dinners, movies, and houses. I became friends with some, and good friends with others, and I loved it. I would look forward to every Sunday, just so I could go and have a good time with everyone.

Two years go by and my friends come and go. New members join, and old members leave. Watching new members go through what I went through is always interesting. It's always satisfying when you finally notice that the new kid isn't the new kid anymore. It takes weeks, months even, but eventually everyone gets absorbed into the family. That's what I've always felt about improv. It's a family. I may not know everything there is to know about Ben Shane, and I may not know next to anything about Kevin Tkach, but they're a part of us. It doesn't make a difference if I see you every day or if I only see you at improv. I have a certain understanding of who you are, thanks to the 2 hours we spend together weekly.

I've been the leader of the troupe for three years now. I don't know how I've done. I think we're funny still. Being leader has been much different than being a member. Sometimes I don't feel like I'm in control, and sometimes I don't feel like I'm one of the guys, but I've still had fun, even if I was handed some extra stress. I hope I haven't killed it. We've added new traditions, and we've lost old ones. We do skits now, and we have sleepovers. We have a bit of a problem finding young blood right now. We haven't had as many shows as I would have wanted us to have, and that's my fault. Pretty much all of that is my fault, but I think it can survive. In January we had a show that over 100 people came to. I had a hand in that, too. I'm not Dane Gaydos and I'm not Mike Watts and I'm not Matt Grant, but I think I love improv as much as any of those guys did. I really do. For 5 years now it's been the highlight of my week. It's going to be weird not having that in my life anymore. I'll miss it.

Sorry if that wasn't interesting to anyone not in improv. I'll make things better next week.

-Conor