HONK!

“Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.”

Sorry, Feathers, didn’t mean to make you… JUMP

The audience laughed as I hopped about the stage. Bullfrog, though not the most dignified character, was the one everyone liked the most.

You know, sometimes I think to myself, I’m just a bee-you-tee-ful princess in a frog’s clothing, and one day, a handsome prince will come along, and kiss me, and release my inner beauty… and then I think, hey, get real, who wants to French a frog?

The ba-dum-chiss from the drummer, accompanied by my mock outraged glare had a few in stitches as I started my song.

Out there (BA DUM DUM) someone’s gonna love ya (BA DUM DUM) warts and all! (Jazz hands, quick hop)

Being the Bullfrog, the ugly duckling’s only friend in the musical HONK!, was a pretty important moment for me. It marked the twentieth time I had gotten on stage to sing, dance and act my way to the curtain call; the twentieth time I would throw on my costume and run from dressing room to dressing room, teaching people to apply false eyelashes and coaxing the boys to stop scrunching their eyes when I apply their eyeliner. It was the twentieth time I would frantically change costumes in the wings and the twentieth time my cast mates and I would get a standing ovation at the end of the show. HONK! was, however, the first musical in which I would get a scene and song all to myself that would showcase my self-deprecating and dry sense of humor. And it was the first musical that would get me recognized outside the theater.

Though I’m tyrannosaurus rex-y (stomp stomp) some will find me sexy (mini shimmy) in my way!

Being in theatre has taught me an important lesson: I have learned to not be embarrassed. In theatre, embarrassment is the biggest obstacle to performing well. If actors are embarrassed because they think their characters are silly or their roles are insignificant or even the whole premise of breaking out into song is ridiculous, they will not perform as well as an actor who embraces all of these things. I have always prided myself on being willing to play a fool and doing whatever I can to make a show a success. If I’m a showstopper in the process, that is an added benefit, not an expected result. A cast is a team, not a body of actors who all want their own standing ovation.

My song ended and the ugly duckling, with a smile on his face, thanked me for the valuable life lesson; that, as long as you love yourself, someone else is bound to love you eventually. This, of course, is absolutely true.

See ya, feathers. Remember; stay warm, stay cheerful. Ribbit ribbit (Quick hop, jaunty walk offstage: the band plays fanfare).