The Department of Theatre put the icing on the Homecoming cake with their production of “Les Misérables,” which concluded this weekend.

The performance of this classic musical was deeply moving. Through their voices, the cast shared the despair, hope, sorrow and love with the audience.

Being an avid lover of musicals, I was anxious to see this year’s Homecoming musical, especially since I had the privilege of seeing “Les Mis” performed at Queens’ Theatre in London last spring.

It’s one thing to tell a story with words; using music takes it to a whole new dimension. The notes convey a message that words alone cannot. The sound takes the emotions and feelings of the characters onstage and drives them into the hearts of the audience.

I feel sorry for people who tell me they don’t enjoy musicals. They’re missing out on an incredible experience.

Some of my favorite productions include “Phantom of the Opera,” “Seussical,” “The Lion King,” “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” and, of course, “Les Mis.”

More than once, I have wished life could be more like a musical, with a song for every occasion. How I wish I could burst into song and dance at random moments throughout the day without receiving looks of astonishment and judgement.

However, one major factor is holding me back: I can’t dance to save my life.

If life were a musical, I would wake up every morning like Tracy Turnblad in “Hairspray.” I’d be full of energy and smiles, singing “Good Morning Abilene” on my way to class. On special occasions, I would wake up belting “The Circle of Life” in fluent Zulu.

After receiving a mountain of homework in class, I could dramatically run out of the room singing “Don’t Rain on My Parade” from “Funny Girl” at the top of my lungs. Or my classmates and I would stumble out of the room groaning, “Look down, look down… you’re here until you die.”

After completing said homework, the entire campus would gather in the mall area for a rousing chorus of “Go, Go, Go Joseph” from “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.”

The day would conclude with the immortal song “One Day More.”

At the end of the day, the music is only in my head with my bathroom mirror as my only audience. I guess that’s enough for now.

After all, you can’t stop the beat.