I knew taking a drama class would be the equivalent to a Catholic Nun taking in a rave on a Saturday night. Sure you heard about them. Thought about them. Never imagined yourself going to one. Thought they were for "those people" and generally disapproved of speaking in public at all, and then one day your Mother Superior, or University Administration, tell you that you cannot become a full fledged nun, or a graduate in Art History without taking part in one.
You enter drama class white gloved and nervous. There are people, loud people, good looking people, and all of them seem to be on something. Besides the fact that they all seem to know something you don't, when you stand next to these firmed and youthful looking people, you seem old beyond your years, and rigid to boot.
But you decide that since this is that path that god choose to put you on, and who are you to question him, you might as well test the waters. Maybe you make small talk before class to some of the other "kids" because that is what they are. Mere buds on the tree of life, and while you are flowering, you are jealous of their potential. And there secular attitudes. Next, maybe just to try it, you act out a scene. Then another. Then another. Maybe you pick different partners, and try stuff with them. Maybe you loosen your collar, and live a little.
And then poof, you wake up, time has passed without you remembering what you did. Your Habit is torn, and you are looking for an imaginary pickle with a bunch of seventeen year olds. The sun shines and you wonder where the old you went, and how you are going to get a ride home, and maybe you are a little excited for later in the week when everyone reassembles in big room and rolls on the floor. Maybe, but you'd never let anyone know.