Firsts

On Monday, I had a dream that I got a 68 on the essay that I stayed up for thirty hours straight to finish. I've been jokingly telling everyone that this is how comas are born, that I would gladly have never seen my family again to live in a world where I get 68s on essays. And then this happened:

Seventy. Motherfucking. Eight. That is a motherfucking first, motherfuckers. I can't believe this. I genuinely expected the grade to have polymorphed into a 46 as I was writing this post. Even in Australia, where my academic achievement skyrocketed (I mean, I actually managed to pass syntax), I never got a grade this high. And, unlike my Australian grades, this one actually counts toward my final mark for my degree- yes, you understand correctly, for this brief period at least, I am averaging a first on my degree.
HELL YEAH!

On top of this, my dissertation is gaining momentum quickly, and it looks like the online survey that I shall be deploying in order to gather data may be going live this week, and then, I do believe the shit has officially hit the fan on this whole degree malarkey.

In other extremely exciting news, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is being remounted- this time in none other than Bedlam theatre herself.
This is brilliant because a) I absolutely adore this story, this show and this script and b) I haven't even been able to pass production merit (i.e. the decider of whether or not the show is even good enough to be voted upon) on a show on Bedlam since October in my first year. It's no secret that there was a major stigma attached to my name, and I like to think that, through hard work and perseverance, as well as just waiting for most people to leave, I've managed to eliminate that stigma. It's like I said a while ago: 'I got what I wanted because I tried'- in that post, I tried to make myself remember this during 2013, and, since it's November, this is definitely my longest-lasting New Year's Resolution ever.
I am very excited to execute this script again, but with a bit more money and no bloody pillar in the centre of the stage this time. Some members of the original cast have said they might audition again, but pretty much everyone involved has gone onto bigger and busier things since the show, so it'll be an entirely different experience this time around, I should imagine.

Panto has also begun and it's a lot more fun this time around. I really had almost nothing to do in Harry Panto, and, were it not for the fact that I got to play tonsil tennis with Chris Craig Harvey, I would wish that my part had just been a cameo so I could've gone home and not had to sit through all of act two in the freezing backstage of Bedlam Theatre. But now I see Joseph, playing the same role (although his Santa definitely has more to do than mine did- for one thing, Santa's apparently immortal now and so can't die in the first ten minutes), and having an awful lot more fun with it than I did- ad libbing lines, adding in jokes and giving himself awesome new minor parts as propmty the line-learning elf- and I wonder if this is one of the few times I can't shirk the blame onto someone else and should actually take responsibility for myself.
And then I think that's stupid.

And finally, I have a face like a wombat.