The Deadly Duo

Tonight I found myself in a bit of a sticky situation. You see, I was eating a popsicle in a rather warm room...

Seriously though. I'm taking a public speaking class at school this semester. It is divine. However, please allow me to add a small disclaimer to that statement. >I hate talking in front of people!< (those are my disclaimer marks, just in case you were wondering) So, as you can imagine, I have a somewhat difficult time.

Here's why: I get stage fright. Now, this isn't your typical case of nerves. We're talking full on brain-numbing, sweat-inducing, hand-trembling, you-get-the-pointing terror. Yes, terror. Pure, unadulterated, paralyzing terror. Convinced? No? Try this: Forget butterflies! It's more like my stomach being infested by a swarm of African killer bees. (how's that sound for a parasite? painful.)

Yet, for all that, the real kicker isn't the physical ailments. It's the mental ones. As you are well aware, (or at least you should be. for if you're not, you clearly don't know how to read subtitles) I have a condition. BSOS. Now combine what you know of that with terror so intense your brain forgets how to function properly. With the control I have over my brain under normal circumstances wrenched so unceremoniously from my grasping, metaphorical fingertips, the BSOS takes over. Let me tell you, it is the epitome of merciless.

Allow me to attempt to describe to you the horrifying process. >those of you with weak stomachs should read no further< (HA HA! another disclaimer)

No amount of preparation on my part can stay the wrath of the dreadful BSOS. My brain starts going about a million miles a minute, and my mouth blindly follows. It has recently become known to me that I also forget how to read. (Et tu, Brute?) Thus, my possession of even the most detailed of outlines is to no avail. I may cling to my sanity long enough to get the first, slightly coherent statement past my lips, but then I'm gone. BSOS running rampant through my mind, making the most asinine of connections between thoughts, stories, experiences and statements. It's pure chaos! The more disgruntled I become, the stronger BSOS clutches to my mind. My mouth lags further and further behind. I'm making exponentially less sense as the seconds tick painfully by, lost in the dust haphazardly thrown about from corners in my mind that have been neglected or ignored for years.

Finally, in my half-crazed state, I see in the distace the hand of my teacher go up. The end has come. Those 5 minutes of hellish torture have concluded. I'm so relieved I haven't suffered a serious cardiac arrest that I somehow manage to gain the upper-hand and shut my mouth. As the silence settles in around the victims of my violent attack, I begin to comprehend the full extent of the damage I've done. I take my seat, my cheeks cherry red after my brain registers the confused, yet relieved look in my classmate's eyes. And that's just the looks from the conscious ones, clearly they've got the brains and wherewithal to withstand the words coming out of my mouth to a small extent. As for the rest of the class, their glazed eyes convey to me the message I dread. I've done it again. Lost the battle.

I'll gladly take the fail if I never have to suffer through such agony again.

Twice.

I suspect half the terror comes from knowing it WILL happen again. Why oh why am I taking this class? I must be some sort of psychological masochist...

Good heavens have mercy