Thursday, January 26, 2006

making a fool of oneself

If I were funny, it would be that self-effacing sort of humour - you know how it goes.

One of my favourite such sketches is that classic Dudley Moore and Peter Cook one, where Dud is auditioning for Tarzan. Poor Dud, as enthusiastic and gushing as can be, hopping on one foot, trying to convince the casting director that he would make a great one-legged Tarzan.

The acting class is getting serious, and I am beginning to realise that I'm not really the best student in the class.

This is fine, or it would be fine, if I didn't enjoy the classes so much. That's the tragedy, I mean, when I was twelve, I was a grand wee performer.

But now. Well, I try me best, and sometimes the lines I come up with are ok, but generally speaking, if I were to get a report card, it would say something along the lines of D+ 'She tries her best and is always on time to school'

The thing about being a grown-up, apart from the greying hair, the pleasure I derive from cuddles, the news (when did that happen) and the growing crumudgingliness, is that you can face home truths without collapsing in a fit of visible pain and anguish.

The tragic thing about this of course is that I were a bit less stoic, and a midge younger, I could collapse in a fit of visible pain and anguish, rather than act as though a pole might be thinking of placing itself in my dexterior.

Oh well, I guess I make the other folks look that bit better.

Aw - y'all mama didn't raise no fool! Acting classes are a fun way to get to know yourself, step out of the rat-race for a couple of hours. Leave the headshots to the pouting youngsters, and just be careful not to step on their broken hearts a little further down the path.

Also - having a pole inserted into one's dexterior probably isn't as bad as one's posterior...

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