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Showing posts with label The Dragon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Dragon. Show all posts

Two Eves in a Damn Sinful City

So we would go home after class and practice.
Yeah, we were lucky to have each other.


THE DRAGON's Bankolu Alo sat down with Bibian Anibueze and Serena Gordon, this year's Fashion Show directors. They direct by being themselves to the fullest extent, and dragging others along for the ride by encouraging them to do the same. The reciprocal energy needed to be fluid as dancers is exhibited as much in these two dynamos' movements under the bright lights as it is in their effervescent, self-announcing synergy on display whilst being co-directors of Sin CityThe Show runs this week, Thursday 24rd and Friday 25th November, doors at 7pm. Ticket proceeds go to Rays of Sunshine & the Florence Nightingale Hospice charities. They're available at the student shop, SU office, SU bar and online (https://www.sgsu.org.uk/societies/society/fashionshow/).

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To the uninitiated, their routines could look like the chaotic manifestation of too many daydreams fuelled by the booming, drooping tones of the latest trap artistes. However, what lies under the hood, and what was confirmed in conversation with these two impresarios, is their truth. The meticulous cultivation of exuberance into a physical, mutually enjoyable form. What goes into being able to take such pain (and joy) with the details? Serena is quick with her reflection of “Having no other life”, while Bibian is quicker with her development of the idea to “being organised”. Serena nods, adding “being really weirdly OCD about things helps.


Despite undoubted respectively long days full of the medical student ennui, they are full of energy and fizz with an enthusiasm that is impressive if not infectious. So, what does their role as directors involve that makes them so in love with life? “First of all coming up with an idea, telling everyone that idea, and hoping they go along with it.” Bibian offers. All the things no-one knows about. All the planning, all the designing. Well, the promotional things.” Serena buffers. “Organising the whole dancing aspect – which is the Show – and having enough people willing to do it. Then promoting it enough so enough freshers will come. Really all the boring things.”


It sounds like a raw deal. Where’s the silver lining? They’re pretty crystal on what exactly that is. “We still get to dance” Bibian beams. Serena confirms, “That’s all that matters.” The passion is not just for show. On what Fashion Show means to them, Bibian says that it is “Everything. We both love dancing. We wanted to do something to show that we are more.” Serena bookends “And here we are”. Bibian is effortlessly bold in crowning it “the most amazing experience you’ll have at George’s.” Serena's cosign runs deep “Yeah, I cried.” Does the feeling stack up to other shows, other competitions? Bibian is yang “They don’t allow you to get as merry as we do at Fashion Show. We get very merry. We’re very social.” Serena is yin “Maybe a bit too social”. We can judge for ourselves from an intimate distance “at the SU discos”.

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Sitting on the train, on the bus, travelling to placement, headphones in and a song comes on. My head starts bopping automatically and it’s like ‘Ok, this is happening’” Bibian traces. Serena says “Or you’re trying to stay awake during a clinic, so you sing a song to yourself. You keep singing the same song to yourself and then you start to visualise the moves you’d do to it. Then it just happens.” The decision of whether they’d like to dance to a song is a delicate mix of innate quality, patience, artistic foresight and a healthy dollop of “procrastination”.

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Their respective first recalled experiences of dance share a common thread of captivity-turned-freedom, albeit on tangential trajectories. First up, Bibian: “When I was about eight years old, my mum caught me brukking my back. After school, just brukking my back on the corner. Extensive lordosis and kyphosis. She never let me dance again. And so it was, until I became a free woman at university.” Serena thinks back. “I remember my mum dragging me to this classical Indian dance class called Bharatanatyam. I was three years old; at first there was excitement but after four weeks that had turned to torture. ‘I hate this. I want to do Bollywood. This isn’t Bollywood’. Seven years later, I’m still doing Bharatanatyam. I got banned from some classes because apparently I was too sexual.” Bibian offers some 20/20 hindsight to lend weight to Serena’s early tutors’ assertions. “If you’ve ever seen Serena on stage, you can understand that. Her neck moves in inhuman ways. Plus, she gets the Bollywood faces down. Bollywood faces equal sex.” She muses. Undeterred, and through stifled laughter, Serena maintains her innocence. “I was oblivious. I was just doing what the teacher had taught me” she says.

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Trips down memory lane provide a wealth of experiences, good and bad, that both Serena and Bibian will doubtlessly tap into to fuel the genius that goes into putting on the best show. The appraisals seem as dutiful – and warm – as the steps they take on those cold nights in November to enthuse their audiences. Serena recollects “Face-Off in our first year as freshers. George’s is so sick, we just slay so much. To top off the year before, which was awesome, they wanted to win again. They grabbed this guy to choreo who was/is a psycho –“ Bibian softens the assessment, “amazing, but mainly a psycho”. Serena continues “Yeah, I don’t know what happens in [his mind] but bad things. He had to teach us all the finale and you just couldn’t understand what it would look like when you were in the thick of it. All these really random movements where you felt like the most unattractive, awkward person ever. And no one picked it up. They had a week where they tried to teach it to us and we couldn’t pick it up. It was the most difficult thing but when you watch it back, oh my God, it was a sick routine.


Bibian echoes her partner-in-rhythm’s sentiments. “It was a very stressful experience because in his mind he already had the vision of – ok these people do this, these people do that – but he didn’t communicate that to us. So literally, we’d be learning different things and be thinking ‘what is happening?’. Until the last moment – I think it was literally the day before the competition – none of us knew what it looked like. Eventually we saw it and thought, ‘oh, we get it now’. But the stress was still not worth it – until we won. Then it was worth it.” She stresses the lesson in it all in terms of choreography. “You definitely have to look at the bigger picture first; at the same time, we still need to make sure every single person is happy. So I guess we just… We’ve tried to communicate with people as and when ideas happen, so that they all know and all kind of understand our vision for the show. That way, we’re all on the same page and nobody will give us a dance that we’ll think ‘oh no, what’s happened?’. So that’s what we’ve tried to do this year. We don’t have to work that hard in terms of inspiring people; most of our choreographers love dancing, they want to dance and are all amazing at it.

*  *  *


Though we sit currently in some grey nondescript corner of St. George’s, the potency with which these two bounce off of each other has been unabashedly etched in the air. It’s a mixture that promises to be in full bloom come the first night of their show, and beyond. Against the tireless lights of the sets behind them and the tireless efforts of those pushing them forward, the excitement will be palpable and, if you dare to allow it, contagious.

"the excitement will be palpable and, if you dare to allow it, contagious"

The excitement comes from an honest, amiable place. Bibian and Serena are gushing, yet discernibly frank, in their offer of advice to anyone unsure of getting involved with Fashion Show or Dance Society in the near future:


it’s incredible. When I first started dancing I wasn’t that amazing. I still wouldn’t say that I’m that amazing, but back then, I definitely wasn’t good. Going in every week and instructors whipping me into shape made me the kind of person that people would vote in to be director. Keep going. Initially you might start out and think ‘oh I’m not very good’ or not be very confident but you just need to keep doing it. It’s like every skill really, the more you practice the quicker you become... Perfect.” Bibian reflects.


Serena adds “The Dance Soc committee is really dedicated to making it social. They have tried a lot of things already, have a good following and I hope that continues. They deserve it. They have enough ideas that it could last a whole year and stay really interesting. It’s one of the great societies where people even in their final year will continue to do it. With some societies you reach a peak and then you drop out. With Dance people won’t let it go, they keep going to the end. People come back when they’re working. We have F3 doctors coming back, just to do it. That’s how dedicated they are. You meet such a great range of personalities and it’s something to look forward to. The monotony of placement and lectures is so easily broken up by just a Wednesday dance class.


For the more cynically pragmatic among you, they have one parting sales pitch. Not that they need it. “As well as that, meeting seniors in that kind of environment helps you with your studies. First year medics, biomeds and healthcare scientists you know where to come. We’ll help you win OSCEs


Serena, philosophically, gives the notion some easily palatable millennial packaging. “#wegotnotes”.





A debt of gratitude to JB for their invaluable contribution to the creation of this piece. 

The Dragon Unofficial Fresher's Guide 2016

What Your Lanyard Says About You

What Your Lanyard Says About You1

Lanyards, eh? They’re everywhere now. When I was a boy it was good enough to just staple your ID badge to your nipple (my family demanded identification at all times), but nowadays we wear all manner of frippery. And I bet you thought that the piece of cloth that connects your ID, watch, pens, keys and depleted uranium to your neck was just for infection control- but far from it! Whilst you’ve been letting your valuables smack into OSCE patient’s faces and doing “medicine”, I’ve been carefully analysing the different types of lanyards according to a complex psychometric algorithm that I developed in my serial-killer-esque bedroom. Needless to say my girlfriend has left me. Anyway, here are the fruits of my labour.

The St. George’s Student Union

The all in black classy number? No. Let’s face it, this is the vanilla option. It says either “I got tangled up in one of these during fresher’s fair and forgot” or “I’m a bland personality-less humanoid who is terrible in bed”. You are the background actor in someone else’s ITV drama. If you’re directly employed by the university then I’ll give you a free pass but otherwise please take this opportunity to choose another lanyard2.

The NHS NHS NHS…

Yes! Wear your passport to the people’s Republic of the NHS proudly! This means that whether you believe that the NHS is the Titanic heading towards the iceberg of global capitalism or vice versa, you’ll keep playing your violin till the end. And in honour of this I salute you. And apart from socialist pride, this lanyard is by far the most finely made. The cross-stitched Egyptian cotton prevent friction burns from even the heaviest lanyard.

The St George’s Hospital Foundation Trust

Pretty in pink? Hardly! That pink is the blood of the proletariat. You might as well go full Virgin red. Besides, who do you think you are? An actual doctor!? You have to earn the right to wear a symbol of the inexorable slide towards privatisation. It’s almost as if they don’t understand basic human social cues… I’m not saying that everyone who wears this lanyard is in fact a conglomeration of intelligent and well coordinated hagfish inside a human skin suit, but I’m not saying they aren’t either. That’s for the courts/history to decide.


The Lanyard-Less

You zig when the world zags, and by doing so embody the spirit of the noble otter- independent, stylish and possessing a pheromone virtually toxic to the human nose. In this metaphor that fishy miasma represents the little windup wire thingy that you attach the badge to your belt with. You know this is repellent, the uni equivalent of a hands-free bluetooth headset, yet you do it because it is in some way better than a lanyard. In a world of insanity, maybe the only sane choice is to act insane3.


The Royal Society of Medicine

This is a smart choice. Just the right whiff of the royal college lanyard favoured by consultants but not enough to come across as arrogant. This is the lanyard of the career climber. Be careful around this one though, their glowing CV hides a dark history of doing anything to get what they want. They have killed, and they will kill again. If someone wearing this lanyard asks you to accompany them on a trip to a secluded mountain lodge, abandoned fairground, derelict lighthouse or disused meat factory then politely refuse. This should buy you an hour. You must then burn your phone and identity documents (to be safe just burn down your entire house), withdraw all your money and pick a random flight. Do not contact your friends or family, they will already be dead. Never look back. This is your life now.


The Medical Student

This is available from Amazon at the low low price of £3.49! But be quick, because they’re only six left! This is perfect for the student with early onset dementia, or with a self esteem so low that they need almost constant validation that they are in fact supposed to be here.


The Conferencer

Look, I get it. You went to that conference one time because he/she was going, and you thought it might make your FPAS look less depressing. I know how it goes. It’s super boring but they look into it, so you overdo it a bit on the enthusiastic tweets. Things get a bit weird that night after a few bottles of free conference wine and hotel schnapps, he/she comes back to your room and you kiss. But he/she says it was just a mistake, and he/she just wants to be friends, so you guys watch Spider-Man 3 and awkwardly fall asleep side by side on the single bed. Now they’re with someone else and all you have is the lanyard to remember them by. Like I said, I get it4.


The I Have a Life Outside of George’s

It’s nice to do other things. For example, I compete in beetle fighting tournaments at a professional level. But doesn’t it come off a bit braggy to wear the lanyard? Sure, I could wear one of the many glorious lanyards that I have accrued from my beetle fighting career (if I could only wash the beetle juice off them) but that’s not why I got into the beetle fighting game. I do it for the beetles, many of whom have no other route out of beetle poverty. You especially shouldn’t wear the lanyard if what you’ve done is nothing to be proud of- say a show at the Edinburgh Fringe. And so there’s no confusion, I’m directing this at you Jon Kirk5. Here’s my review for your autobiographical one man show: Jon Kirk: A Life of Satire and Shame, has no satire, and the only shame is on the part of the audience. It is essentially an incoherent romp through his formative years, but this is no ordinary bildungsroman. There are several quite distressing scenes, including a fifteen minute erotic dream sequence in which he silently acts out Finding Nemo. I assumed the piece was a post-structuralist criticism of pre-communist Czechoslovakia, before realising it was just bad. See this if you want to see a grown man on the edge of tears. Three stars.


The Other Uni

DTF or GTFO.
Please address all complaints to Roop Gill6.




Footnotes


  1. This is exactly the kind of click-bait title that appeals to the narcissistic core of ‘Generation Me’. And this is exactly the kind of faux-intellectual comment that might get this article picked up by The Medical Student.
  2. Of course a majority of non-medical student Georgians will wear this option, but as part of the unilateral “Out of Sight, Out of Mind” anti-non-medical student policy here at the Dragon I can’t mention them, and must in fact actively try to alienate them.
  3. This seems profound but is actually nonsense.
  4. Here I’ve constructed this narrative, which looks like a depressing anecdote from my own life, to draw attention away from the fact that people ywho go to conferences are in fact actually quite hard working and successful, and therefore better than me. This mutual muck-slinging is a technique I also use in my personal life, and I highly recommend it.
  5. This appears to be a self-indulgent in joke. However the man in question does not in fact exist, therefore it was just a waste of the reader’s time.
  6. Don’t worry they’ll still reach me! Roop personally reads each criticism to me as I fall asleep, interspersed with deeply personal insults and crotch punches.
Written by: Benji Fricker-Muller
 
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