''So - deal with it...''

Me:

''Mr Q, the rhythm doesn't right – I sound like I am singing a different beat.''

Jeremy Quickfall:

''Yes Germandt, it's the way this song has been written. The rhythm that I am playing IS different to the rhythm you are singing. So, deal with it.''

Life can be arrhythmical. It tends to be, in fact. And as much as we try to keep up with it – we never do, because ultimately it's not the way it's supposed to be. It's not the way our life's music was written.
Sometimes life is playing an upbeat pop song and all you are capable of, or know how to sing is the blues. And sometimes it's the other way around. But altogether, I am a firm believer in the age-old saying that says: ''things happen for a reason.''

And life has a way of knowing exactly what we need and what could be potentially great for us.

So perhaps, Life, in all its infinite wisdom, knew that the best thing to throw at over-confident, arrogant and self-centred Germandt in his first year at this college, was a musical director who saw right through that and decided to break me down, piece by piece by piece.
Jeremy Quickfall (www.jeremyquickfall.blogspot.com) and I did NOT blend well from day 1, and a lot of this was of my own making. I refused to listen to advice, I refused to surrender to the process and I refused to be told that what I am doing is wrong.
I suppose this is the result of many years of praise and adoration combined with a family line of stubborn people.
Thinking back tonight on what I must've been in 1st year as a musical theatre student and what I am today as a 3rd year musical theatre student, I realise that I must've been a pain in the ass.
A BIG, FAT pain in the ass. (Perhaps I still am)

One day, in his office, Jeremy told me:
''Compared to what you have the potential to be, you are quite average.''
I never told him this, but I actually cried in my room after he had told me that.
And you would think that a hefty comment like that would make someone sit up and listen?
No.
In fact, if anything, it made me more resistant. I started disliking him altogether, disliking his classes, disliking the process, the college, basically: everything that had anything to do with singing or musical theatre, I started resenting.

But, those of you who know Jeremy, will know that: when you start fighting, Jeremy fights back even harder. When you resist, he pushes harder.
And he did.
He fought back and refused to let me rest on my laurels.
And, looking back on it today, I am so grateful that he didn't stop.

The great thing about Jeremy is that he believes in students, and this is evident in the progress my entire class has made from our first singing class to today's lunch-time concert for the Musical Theatre Department.
Once a year, every student entering a Trinity Musical Theatre Exam gets to ''show-off'' one of their songs to the rest of the college in a lunchtime concert format. It is probably the most prestigious concert for any musical theatre student in the year and therefore we all dress up, look our best, put our best foot forward and, accompanied by Jeremy on the piano, we show them what we've got.
This year was no different.
We showed them what we had.
I physically cried for almost every song in this concert, because they were all tearjerkers and all sung extremely beautifully.
''Don't cry for me, Argentina...'' sung by Kelly, gave me goosebumps, Shelani's ''I'd give my life for you...'' sent tears to my eyes.
Then there was Tarryn with ''Who wants to live forever?'' and Chloe with ''See, I'm smiling'', Robyn with ''There are no mistakes...'', Grace with ''Mama, who bore me...'', Emma with ''A fine, fine line...'' – all extremely emotional moments for me, not only as a performer and a member of the class, but also as a friend.
Listening to other people interpret songs so beautifully makes you forget about yourself and your own song, your own voice and your own perfromance.
Suddenly, you see the bigger picture – and you start seeing that first glimmer of the final product that we have been working so hard towards.

When my song came up, I was, unexpectedly, quite nervous.
''Along the way'' from Edges, is one of the most beautiful songs in musical theatre – and for once I felt incapable of singing this song and doing justice to it.
I walked onto the stage with very little confidence and this showed when I started singing an octave too low. A mistake I would usually never make.

And then, as if time had stood still, I suddenly started getting flashbacks of how Jeremy made me sing songs over and over in my tutorials – made me do less and less, made me sound less and less ''interesting'' – and, when the flashbacks were done, I knew what I had to do.
I finished the song – they applauded – and I walked off the stage, feeling strange. I felt as if I had been let in on a secret for the first time that everyone else had known for such a long time.

Just trust what Jeremy has taught you.

The result of this, was a performance that people really enjoyed. I even had a couple of people come up to me and tell me that they didn't know that I could act like that.
To be honest, neither did I.

For fear of sounding like a sycophant, I would like to dedicate this blog to Jeremy Quickfall tonight.
A man who has never given up on me, always pushed me to be better than I am and always saw through me when I faked it or tried to pretend that I was feeling anything.
You truly are a great man, an extraordinary teacher (albeit unconventional) and, it seems, an inspiring mentor.
I am sorry for not trusting you earlier in my journey. Watching the other people in my class today, I realised that I had missed out on so much.

And, by no means do I think I have reached my destination. I know there is still a long way to go – but thank you for how far we have come.

So - - -when it seems like you are out of rhythm with life, when things feel unnatural, strange and unusual, take Jeremy's advice: ''deal with it''.
Because, inevitably, it's in the moments when we feel like things are crashing down around us that we learn the most. That we grow the most.
Life knows exactly what we need and at what time we need it. So: ''deal with it.''
And who knows, perhaps this rhythm can yield something extraordinary.

Well, in my case, I certainly hope so.

A great day for failure...

I have fulfilled many roles in my life – I believe that life is essentially about fulfilling roles. And no, when I say this I am definitely not referring to roles in plays. I literally mean I have been son, brother, friend, sales person, student, babysitter, helper, manager and so many more. But this week I added a new one to my repertoire.

A couple of days ago I just had one of the worst days of my life – I felt emotional, moody, teary, angry and frustrated for the entire day. I had to give a performance in one of our classes – one I didn’t feel I was prepared for. It was an extract from the play “Decadence” by Stephen Berkoff and one that I felt was quite a challenge for me to do. A challenge that I wasn’t really ready to face.
It had just so happened that Paul Griffiths (my drama lecturer) had put my name down the previous week to do a performance - and this whole notion of going onto stage again after a very long time was scary.
I had not physically acted on stage again after the whole “Hello & Goodbye” debacle and going back to that “scary” place was like sending me to the stocks.
Anyway, earlier that morning, after I had literally broken down and felt like giving up everything, Natasha, friend extraordinaire, comforted me and told me to “stop fearing failure”. According to her I was “so scared of failing that I was resisting trying”, and I must say that in retrospect one does have to see the merit in her argument.
I had stopped performing for quite a long time because I was scared that it wouldn’t meet certain expectations and that it would be seen as mediocre.
This to me was quite a revelation within myself.

According to another (gypsy) friend of mine, my Indian Medicine Card Animal was the fearful Rabbit. When I read up on it, I found out that the Indians called Rabbit “the fear-caller”. This meant that Rabbit was so scared of what ‘might’ happen that it ended up “calling” that to him.
In a way, I understood what that meant. It meant ‘what you fear most you will become’ or ‘what you fear most will eventually happen’ – because I have given this fear so much power by thinking about it over and over.

But – before we sidetrack – back to the story. So I did the performance and miraculously it was a success. I had some great feedback: some calling it effortless, others saying it was so nice to see me putting my own spin on a piece.
The nicest comment, however, was that of a first year boy at my college, who said: “Germandt I look up to you as a performer and an actor.” And afterwards told me that he “aspires to be like me”.
This was enough to make me teary-eyed in class all over again.

Later that day I went to lunch with Natasha and we chatted about what had happened that day in class. I told her how happy I was that it went well and how touched I was that this first-year boy had said this about me.
Natasha kept quiet for a while and then turned to me and said: “Germ, can I tell you something as a friend.?”
“Sure.” I replied.
“You have got a huge responsibility on your shoulders now.” she said.
“I know…” I interrupted. “I have to make sure that I stay working hard so that I can keep on being a performer to look up to…”
“No.” she stopped me. “You have to make sure that you show this guy that it’s alright to try and fail sometimes. You have to show him that it’s needed as a performer and as a human being – to sometimes fail.”

And I stayed quiet.

Afterwards, I realized how true her words had actually been.
This made me realize that being a rolemodel, someone that others look up to, meant that it was my responsibility to show others that it’s alright to not get it right sometimes…
that it’s alright to sometimes fail.

I started to think about all the people I looked up to in my life and started realizing more and more that I had learnt so much from all these people about life – not by how much they had gotten right, but by how much they had gotten wrong and how they came out on the other side.

And suddenly the responsibility on my shoulders became a lot heavier.

I had to make sure that those who looked up to me saw me as “a human”.
And yes, sometimes it’s hard – sometimes, you want to only show the good, clean side of who you are – but it doesn’t work that way.
“Hou die blink kant bo” – perhaps this saying accounts for a whole lot of the problems Afrikaners face today.
A sermon that I heard once said the following and it really impacted my life: “The thing with going through the valley of the shadow of death is this – it’s a valley – which means you have to go through it at some point. And it’s this that counts – whether you come out a stronger human being than you went in.”

So, my message to you today is this: if there is someone looking up to you, (a little brother or sister, a friend, a child) make sure that you show them that one does not always have to be perfect – that we learn more from the mistakes we make. That it is alright to sometimes make mistakes and learn from them.
We live in a world where our rolemodels are actors, pop stars, musicians and socialites – all of which lead perfect lives – lots of money, successful careers, fame and admiration.
I personally think it’s time for some “real” rolemodels in this world.
“Real” people. People who fail. People who fall and get up again. Humans.

I’d like to dedicate this blog to my rolemodel: Natasha.
You haven’t disappointed me yet.