The Art thing never really worked out for me, my timetable couldn’t accommodate all my creative pursuits and so Art got the chop. However that early setback hasn’t stopped me from purchasing $10.00 canvases from the local ‘Reject Shop’ and creating abstract (read: crappy) paintings that adorn my bedroom. My favourite is the brilliantly titled ‘Number 2’, which is a white number two painted on a black background- pure genius.
Media studies did make the cut; I enjoyed two years of dissecting the most trivial of details from some of the most overanalysed movies of all time. Let me say for the record that I didn’t need to watch Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho’ eleven times to figure out that Norman Bates had serious mother issues. Completing media studies has placed me well for adult life; I can now have pretentious conversations about ‘cinema’ with beret wearing experts everywhere. Nowadays I like to sip red wine and talk about ‘mise en scene’ and ‘disjointed narrative sequence’ as much as possible.
My real passion was of course, Drama. Being serious for a second here I must admit that I only grew a personality because of drama class and my fantastic teacher, before that point I was basically void of any creative thought- not the best conversationalist. Out of all the great experiences I had while studying drama and all the things I learned there is one thing that plagues me to this day. While pretending that I was a serious actor I came across a technique that I used to teach myself how to cry on cue. After only one week of practice I could sob, weep, slobber, and completely loose it on command. It was a fantastic party trick, but with a nasty side effect that I never expected, I now cry at the thought of anything that is even remotely emotional. I have long since lost the ability to cry on cue however the connection between my brain and my tear ducts seems to have suffered irreparable damage, and its making daily life a little bit embarrassing.
Most people have had the occasional TV cry when one of their favourite characters dies, I don’t know anyone who didn’t shed a tear when Molly died on ‘A Country Practice,’ that was some seriously sad shit. I, on the other hand, am moved to tears far too frequently, recent examples include:
- Felicia dying on ‘The Bold and the Beautiful.’ (But she’s not really dead.)
- Bree finding out she was adopted on ‘Neighbours’.
- Dino being evicted from ‘Big Brother.’
…the list goes on.
Even emotional commercials set me off, the other day I wept at the sight of a mother holding her baby, I don’t even know what the ad was for- I couldn’t see through my tears. In an effort to avoid anymore unnecessary crying I will always remain in control of the remote when watching television. As soon as any music featuring string instruments begins to play I will immediately change the station. Music is much harder to avoid, but I have made changes where possible. I have had my moments on the tram while playing the iPod on random, a sad song will begin and before you know it I’m welling up on public transport. To be safe I have removed all music by Toni Braxton and Babyface from my iPod- lets just say there was a nasty incident involving their duet ‘How Could An Angel Break My Heart’, I don’t want to talk about it.
I only hope that my story can act as a stern warning to all hyper-sensitive pretentious 17- year-old gay male drama students trying to teach themselves to cry. It’s a dangerous game.
Deleted: Toni Braxton
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