Day 296

My class is over. We had our final performance last night and the whole thing came off famously. I wasn't sure how many people would show up but the room was packed. Easily fifty or more people. When we arrived for rehearsal, we each got a chance to stand up on the stage and practice adjusting the mic, read a few paragraphs, and get a good view from the elevated platform. That view was so key, but it can be disconcerting to look over a crowd for the first time. Seeing empty chairs and getting a sense of the space was useful.

I hadn't memorized any bits of my story. I knew that would make maintaining eye contact easier but I felt it was more important to get my words right. I'll look up when I got the chance. I had spent the previous night revising, making everything more colloquial, taking out all the alliteration that made my FOB-tongue stumble, and inserting a few more transitional phrases. I felt good about the piece, I felt good about my practice. The advice that Jon G and Heather gave me that afternoon was to "show more emotion." That could have been their advice to me for life, not just this performance.

Originally, I was slated to go second to last, right after intermission. In my head, I knew that my piece would probably work best first. It was short, it was frothy, and it was less serious than anybody else's. Chuck and Cathlin were the experienced performers of the group and maybe they should have bookended it, but both of their pieces were long. As we rehearsed, Sam changed the order and asked if Yasmine or I could go first. I volunteered myself. Not because I was dying to get on stage first, but because I just wanted it to be over.

Some people thrive on attention, spotlight, and audience feedback, I do not. It just makes me insanely nervous and self conscious. I had decided not to wear my typical thermal under my t-shirt for exactly this reason. Recently I've been breaking out in a mild sweat whenever something uncomfortable has been happening (speed dating, random social events). It's like Spidey sense, but useless and embarrassing.

I wanted to wear my hoodie up on stage, because it gave me more girth, but the whole space was so damn hot that I just ended up reading in my white tee. I sweated anyway, pausing a few times during my ten minute reading to wipe my head and then clear my palms. Goodness.

Overall, my reading went well. I'd like to think that I pull through better in the clutch. And I know I gave my best performance that night, with some good pauses, some better articulation, and better facial expressions. So it was a success. At the same time, it wasn't nearly as good as it could have been. I wish someone else had read it, then it would have been better. But that's not what this life challenge was about. I had to get up there and read. And I did.

Something to work on for next time: figuring out what to do with my hands. I tend to clasp and unclasp them. It makes me look intensely nervous and childish. Neither of which I was, of course.