A tragic event has taken place. By some miraculous oversight, I have been passed up for the role of Hedda! I am shocked and disappointed at this rejection, and now know how Dido felt when Aeneas left Carthage, or how Ant felt when he was replaced by Caroline Flack on I’m A Celebrity. This is a slight I fear I may never overcome.
In a bid to recover from this rejection, I have spent all day lying in bed listening to Kodaline, and reminding myself that great art is never truly appreciated in its day. After all, J.K. Rowling was rejected by many a publishing company before Harry Potter was accepted. Vincent van Gogh never sold a painting in his lifetime. Kim Kardashian was Paris Hilton’s maid before becoming a feminist role model in her own right. As the great bard, Will S himself would say – this is merely the winter of my discontent.
What was so wrong with my audition? Was it because I dressed entirely in black and covered my face with a bridal veil to add an air of mystery and elusiveness? Was it because my chosen monologue was Chris’s speech to Olivia in the penultimate episode of Love Island? I can’t think what I did wrong!
Anyway, there’s a welcome drinks event with the drama society happening on Tuesday. My friend who had a brother whose girlfriend went to Oxford in 2009 said that apparently the rule is you can only talk in quotes from famous plays at these events, and that if you don’t you’ll be completely socially ostracised.
I’ve been googling Oscar Wilde quotations, and I’m not really sure how this is going to work. How am I going to fit “A handbag?” into a discussion of Brechtian alienation technique? Or, more importantly, how can I possibly find a hot thespain boyfriend if all I can say is “Bigamy is having one wife too many, monogamy is the same”? Alas. Wish me luck, dear readers. Adieu.