When I was in third grade, pink was my favorite color, I could climb any tree in our yard and do 113 cartwheels in a row. (I have a certificate to attest to this last fact. *smile*) Oh, and I wanted to be a singer.

Around that time, I remember drawing a picture for some class about what I’d be doing in the year 2000. I drew myself wearing a pink (of course) sequin gown in front of a microphone. (I wish I could find the actual picture, but the mental picture is very clear.)

But somehow, I let myself forget ignore how important singing was to me. I got into junior high and Orchestra seemed like a better more practical choice. I didn’t pursue vocal study until I was in college (the first time). There, I spent four years singing and making music and helped form my first a cappella group.

I loved my musical experience at Cornell. I loved the music house — an entire 3-story house with a piano and music stand in every room. I loved the friends I made in my singing group and the easy, effortless way we came together and collaborated. The excitement, the enthusiasm. Happily, I sang those years away.

Upon graduating, I once again felt compelled to make practical choices. I was new to the Twin Cities and I needed a job. So I took a job that had nothing to do with music or singing (or anything I’d studied in college for that matter *wink*). One job led to the next and, in between, I squeezed in time (never enough) for singing.

…

About five years ago, my family went through some STUFF. Those experiences caused me to re-examine my priorities. They made me think about what made me happy and what I wanted to spend my time doing. How I wanted to interact with people and what kind of relationships I wanted to have.

They made me think about increasing the joy in my life.

Then while visiting McNally Smith during an open house, I stood in one of the studio performance rooms and felt something inside me ease and expand.

I’d found my way back to a long forgotten road.

…

So here I am, working to be a singer. And it’s hard.

And engaging and challenging and exciting. And joyful.

In other words, well worth the trip.

#13: Never compare your inside with somebody else’s outside.
— Hugh Macleod

I’m always astonished to discover how different I am from everyone else. (Hey, no snickering, I’m being earnest.) How things that are true for me, just aren’t true for somebody else.

Here’s an example.

You know those alt tags for pictures on web sites?

(You know — for those of us who can see — when you mouse over a pic, and that little text descriptor pops up? It usually says something like “picture,” or “logo,” or it might just show the file name?)

Well, that text is there to tell people who can’t see it about that graphic. When I was in school, my web design instructor stressed the importance of filling in alt tag info on every image to make your web site accessible.

Okay, fine. Did I fill them in? Yes.

Was I phoning in the text? Absolutely.

…

Perhaps you’ve already guessed this, but I can see the pictures on web sites (*smile*). But I have a friend who can’t. Having her in my life changed my understanding.

Changing my understanding changed my approach.**

**Have you ever noticed how this is just true, true, true no matter what you’re talking about? Vocal improv, number theory, puggles?

…

Now when I work on my web sites, I imagine my friend asking me to describe the picture.

Do I say “filename = DSC009.jpg?”

Of course not (she has a cane!), I say “it’s a sepia-tone pic — so it looks like an old photo — of 4 kids sitting on the curb eating eating ice cream treats.”

…

So … what’s this got to do with improv? A lot.

Mostly it’s that whopper above about how we have to change our viewpoint or understanding before anything else can change. It’s one of my constant lessons from improv (and why it’s so good for us me.)

Considering the experiences and realities of people unlike me is just like introducing different inspirational tools to become a better improviser. Remembering to stay open and available to new directions, new perspectives and different viewpoints makes me a better improviser.

Doing it in my everyday life makes me a better person.

(Okay … I’m packing up my soapbox now. But, hey, I want to change the world. Don’t you?)