Khoi's Sumptuous 5 Course Dinner with All the Trimmings

See, this is kinda how I felt when I stepped into the room. To begin my first rehersal for Cannibal! The Musical. My first foray into the dramatic field since that God-awful time when I did something hugely embarrasing I can't remember at my primary school production. When I swore to myself, never again.

Yet here I am. Almost laughing in the face of the gunshot that can so easily knock me back down again. And oh deary me, I can spot it in the hoirzon flooding back with its other buddies (bullets. I'm guessing a machine gun nearby)

Perhaps I should begin describing the epiphany I had during the summer holidays after my exams regarding drama. One day, in a certain SportsDirect store in Birmingham (*salutes* "Shine on, you crazy bastards! ¬_¬) there was I, joylessly working away on meaningless shift after shift for peanuts, happily ignoring the other co-workers. It was a grey life I tell you. Not like a 1920's silent movie, mind, with its jaunty music and happy shenanigans. No. The only shenanigans that could happen here was a hanger falling off its original position (LOLZ!!!) and the only music provided was the continued bashing of the head against a wall.

And then. There was a flash of colour for once, as I was picking up yet another t-shirt covered in dust and herpes. I don't want to do this. Ever. No. University is the time to escape from all this. But how? What can I do?

Skip forward to now, where I'm preparing for two roles in university productions. Finally, two chances to say "Bollocks to what happened in primary school" and two chances to do something so refreshingly different and new from my normal, boring life.


Yet, those feelings of huge embarassment will always be there somewhere in my head. In a way I'm almost always angry at myself whilst rehersing, yet I have no reason to be. For example, the Cannibal rehersal began yesterday, and there were times that I got things wrong, which is natural, right? For a beginner in anything. Yet I was beginning to get increasingly frustrated, not with my colleagues, but with myself. Why? Why am I doing this wrong?! "But whoa there, Khoi, calm down, you can't be spot-on in everything straight away! *smokes pipe*" said an inner part of my soul.

Heh.

And then there's Shakespeare. Love Labour's Lost. If I'm angry at myself for Cannibal, chances are I'll be suicidal for this one.

I feel like the nation has lost something dear now that we're not speaking like we did back in those days. Although, there are some upsides. As a nation, I like to think most of us are quite blunt and straight to the point. With Shakespeare, it'll take around 10 pages to say that the chip shop is down the road. Or something. Did they even have chips then? Even so, the language was pretty cool.

Now, I'm not too bothered about swearing; I'm all for calling people twats and pricks and all that craziness. But come on, would it not be cooler to stride up to someone, preferably your boss, and say, "You! You....simpering, iron-headed, whoreson!" As an additional plus, idiots with little grasp of the English language can't reply to this, except maybe with a frown, grunt, and hopefully a bit of crying. That wouldn't go amiss.

It's strange, isn't it. When most people said to me that university will change your life, I didn't believe them. But now, university is great to have fun and all that jazz, except for the work. (Work?! At university?! Who came up with this concept?!) but it's also about the opening of so many doors during your time there. Who knows what I'll be doing when I leave. Postgrad? Job? Or something even more exciting? Anything's possible at this point. University...life-changing...

I think they might have a point there.

Oh, and I'm using pictures now. Good, innit? Yeah, I know.