Hello everyone, my name is Hung, and welcome to the first ever Thursday Think Tank. Every Thursday starting from now until quite possibly the end of May this year, you are cordially invited to join me as I recap the major/ memorable events of the week that take place in/outside the Allen theater, during rehearsals, break-time, off-stage, in the Green Room, up in the Film Lab, and watch me throw them all into the gigantic tank of pure philosophical awesomeness, mix them all up, and paste the fine mixture up here on the official Berkshire theater blog.
Now, with the introduction out of the way, let’s jump right into our first topic, which is a not a rhetorical question, but a legit concern that has many times been mentioned by our dear theater director, Mr. Howard, at school meetings but never been documented in written verses:
What would I get out of the theater experience?
If you are as impatient as me, Googling the answer can become an utterly frustrating experience. So let’s start this off nice and slow with a little story.
Since spring is here, and the ice-cream machine has officially returned from hibernation, I decided yesterday afternoon to treat myself with a cone full of brain-freezing happiness. When I made it to the machine, something struck me. Keep in mind I didn’t come to Berkshire with the intention of earning a degree in Desserts and Bakery though. But at the same time, it didn’t really take a genius to notice how limited the flavors the machine has to offer are. Vanilla. Chocolate. Or both. Cool. But what about other flavors?
I’m not in any way questioning the time and effort the Sage Dining Service has put into their work (on the contrary, I know they are all awesome people. #Scottmakesmyday). But,
When will we get to have those industrial-size buckets of ice-cream again?
When will we have the privilege of topping our bowls of ice-cream with hot chocolate melt?
Cherries and gummy bears?
Reddi-whip cream? (Btw, spring theatergoers: You guys will get this whip cream joke soon.)
I pondered my way back to my advisor’s table (shout out to Dr. Davis) as the melting ice-cream started dripping down my fingers. Mr. Howard’s table situated diagonally from mine. I looked at him while licking my thumbs (Glory to Buddha Amitabha for he didn’t see me doing that) and wondered if the past two weeks spent working with him and nineteen other human beings for the first time ever, also the last, have turned me into a nagging son of a gun, or, as Heather puts it, annoying.
I hope they have.
I’m glad if they have, because that, I believe, is the side-effect that will slowly but surely be embedded into my system the moment I subconsciously start regarding Allen theater as my new home – A home where I get to work towards the same goal with Jeffrey, Kay, Christiena, Max, Kennedy, Liz, Alyssa, Merit, TJ, Michelle, Craig, Tom, Ethan, Rebecca, Pratima, Alex, Amy, Mr. Howard, Dom, Heather, Jake, and Carrie, a home where I am confident that all of us are carrying out our own respective responsibilities, where I can learn to be aggressive against no one but myself alone, where deciding the position a chair on stage has to be violent, and where making mistakes isn’t something to be embarrassed about, but rather encouraged and, later on, very rewarding (I’ll talk about that in the near future).
We have no tests, no pop quizzes, and no paper to write. What we do have is the chance to be normal, frustrated, confused, excited, enthralled, crazy, sexy, indifferent, arrogant, classy, down-to-earth, greedy, flamboyant, depressed, cool, jock, attention-seeking, fame-thirsty, and so much more. What we do have, is the chance to deliberately demand more from ourselves, from others, and to be more than one flavor in life. What we do have, is the chance to have fun, to go crazy with people of different origins, personalities, tastes in music and movies, socioeconomic backgrounds. In other words, Berkshire Theater is just like any other sport team on campus, only slightly more artsy. There’s more to life than Vanilla and Chocolate; that’s what the theater experience has shown me.
But hey, you don’t have to take it from a guy who got into a play for the first and last time in his entire high school career. Come and see us rehearse if you have free time. If not, Thursday Think Tank will happily provide a virtual tour for you. Also, feel free to comment down below if you have any suggestion on what the topic of next week should be.
Until then, stay awesome, global citizens. And have some mint chocolate chip scoops while you’re at it.
Hung’s out.
P/s: Arwen, squirrels are wickedly cute. Here’s a picture to validate my point.

P/p/s: Whoever has my pair of pilot sunglasses, return it now and that will be the end of it. But if you don’t, I will find you, and I will huff you.
Update: Guess who just telepathically heeded my outcry at lunch today? Sage, you guys rock.
by Hung Hoang, '13
Yesterday afternoon, the cast of The Spring One-Acts got ready to get down to work! We began by painting the cubes and bench for our set, making sure to “paint with the grain” as Dom, our Tech Director, had instructed us to do. We were really careful so that we would not get paint on ourselves, but that was inevitable. Meanwhile, the other half of the cast worked on making a platform for the stage managers. They began by creating a cage-like structure so that our stage managers can stand on it to give light cues during the show. Remember, the audience will experience the show by sitting onstage.
