GRAF #20

      I recently took the time to sit back and look at the work I had done over this semester.  When the course first started my mind was full of creativity and stories of myself that I intended to share, but it had been years since I had even attempted to put one sentence down on paper.  My nerves were getting the best of me.  I was over thinking, and under writing.  As the course went on I grew faith in myself.  The scattered mess that had been in my brain for the past six years was finally bursting out of my fingertips.   Though I think I still need some work on my English skills, I’ve noticed an improvement in myself over the past three months.  I’ve noticed a better flow in my writing.  I know it isn’t perfect, but I feel more like a vinyl record with a few static spots, rather than a CD that skips in every song. I’ve succeeded the standards I held for myself.  The comments you (John Goldfine) provided on each paper gave me the strength to know my work is worthy of sharing.  I will continue to take the techniques I’ve learned and use them throughout the rest of my schooling.  I will let my hands blabber about until my mind catches something they drop.  I’ve truly enjoyed this course, I’ve truly enjoyed your feedback, and I truly wish this was the only class I had to take for the next 4 years.

Essay #10 [Make up timed essay:Effect]

     The fear that comes with public speaking is unlike any other fear to be experienced.  My nerves bundle into one giant ball and I wait for it to explode.  I can imagine myself bursting into a heap of blood and guts all forming the words I am supposed to say.  With that in mind, the effect that public speaking has on me is equal to the effect a bomb would have on any cartoon character.  My body language is fidgety, my speech is slurred or stuttered, and the overall discomfort I feel is a lasting effect, even when I have finished.

     Some people have a natural knack for speaking to the public.  Unlike them, the first effect it has on me is the uncontrollable urge to fidget.  I want to constantly move.  It may be a rock back and forth, as if I should be in a strait jacket conversing with my invisible friend.  The one that never fails me is playing with my hands.  When I was younger I used to keep them in my mouth. As time passed I learned it’s easier to speak if they aren’t blocking my words.  I play with my jewelry, hoping if I keep turning my ring I may lose a finger and attempt this humiliation another day.  I try holding my hands hostage with each other.  Somehow it turns into a battle, and I have to separate them to my sides.  No matter how I try, holding still while speaking to the public is not easily achieved.

     Another effect that speaking in public has on me is my speaking itself.  If I were to have a regular conversation, I would say I’m well-articulated.  Sure, I have a slight Maine accent, but I can speak without sounding like a complete redneck.  That all changes when I’m placed in front of a crowd. At first I stutter and skip my words.  My minds trying to control my body, so the concentration on what I should be saying is minimal. Then I just start talking really fast.  One sentence becomes part of another and before you know it I’m halfway through my speech. So now slow it down.  My Maine accent becomes so thick, you couldn’t cut it with a knife.  Its not until I reach my last sentence that my speech is clear and it’s the best-spoken sentence of the entire thing.

       The last effect I have is just overall discomfort.  I’m sweaty, I’m nervous, I’m fighting with myself.  My clothes are all of a sudden too tight or clinging in the wrong places.  I’m worrying about the crowd. Should I picture them naked?  Ew.  Maybe I don’t want to do that.  Even after I’ve spit out that last sentence of my torturing experience, the discomfort is still there.  I know what my downfalls are, I can be sure everyone else saw them too. It’s a feeling that can’t be fixed until I’ve left the vicinity, and am only left with my own judgment.

     I have to admit, it’s been a while since I’ve had to speak publically.  I would have thought that after working in the public for 8 years the effect would have subsided.  I also figured being a bartender would help.  Speaking with strangers on a daily basis should be considered good practice for public speaking, especially when the majority of them are asshole.  However, I still find myself playing with my hands, or tossing a rag around.  The only sentence that I can speak well is “Can I get you a drink?” Let me not forget the discomfort of building up the courage for the initial “Hello.”  The effects are relentless, but I’m hoping by the time I have achieved my future career of teaching, I will have the skills to speak with grace.