The Agony and the ... agony.

Last night was my first chance to perform on the Second City stage. Jim and I were invited up to do a set with the mainstage cast, and Rachel Dratch (from SNL) also surprised us and played, too. It was a 40 minute set, based on the suggestions of community college courses selected from an admissions guide. It was a fun show, but nothing spectacular - as to be expected from a pick-up improv jam. This isn't the first time Jim has been on that stage, but for me it was an almost spiritual honor. After, we all got drinks at a bar across the street, and I did my best to not freak out at the cramped table. This one evening was the oasis in an otherwise unremarkable post-Boom desert. I really need to hear back from Second City about Our Show before I lose my mind with nebulous anxiety.

Now, this weekend is the Improv Olympic 25th anniversary. I try to joke about how no one there knows who I am, despite my decade of being in the community, but sometimes the anonymity makes me uneasy. Tonight, I popped in to watch a few minutes of the celebrity Armando show (and saw Ike on stage) before I ducked out from the claustrophobic confines of I.O.'s weekend fire hazard. On my way in, I had to negotiate past three interns, providing them with the stuttering examples of "Yeah, I ... used to work ... here," and "I swear there are people up there who know who I am ..." before Maggie finally reprimanded one of them, saying that I was on a lot of teams at IO, and just got back from Amsterdam. The whole scene made me feel unsettled, and I when I started sweating, I left. Tomorrow, the gala 25th anniversary party happens at the Chicago Theater, and I've got tickets to watch. I hope that for 30, I can manage to be "important" enough to get in without a hassle.