I should probably friends-lock this, except that my speech professor has specifically stated that he doesn’t check his email, much less do anything else online. The school says he has to have an email address, so he does—but apparently, it’s just a bitbucket for all intents and purposes.
I gave my first speech today. It was supposed to be “a story that makes a point.” I thought about it this morning, did a run-through with shadowkatt timing me, decided it needed more trimming, and left for school.
In my first class, Religion & Psychology, we were talking about “Heaven & Hell.” The professors showed the film What Dreams May Come with no warning—and with no tissues available. I didn’t happen to have any with me, either, as I’d elected not to take the Big School Bag with me today. That was Not Fair. I could not stop crying. I left class, went to the ladies’ room, got a soda, went back to the door—and had to go back to the ladies’ room. For some reason I associate that film with both losing shadowkatt’s father, and with fears of losing sambear to some senseless accident.
(I HATE having anyone know that I am crying or have cried. I will do damn near anything to keep from crying, and I’m good at it. I cannot remember ever crying at any school before, even as a little kid. So I don’t know why I just couldn’t control myself today.)
I was really looking lovely by the time I’m supposed to give the speech—nose and eyes red, face puffy, makeup washed away or blurry. I am NOT one of those people who can look all pretty and feminine while crying. My voice was a bit wavery and I was congested, too. So I stood up, said, “Please excuse my voice and appearance—we watched a very moving film in my last class” and plunged ahead.
I got an “A” and the professor specifically mentioned my composure, and that it came from a lot of practice. I’m just very glad he didn’t ask me how much I’d practiced. Maybe the practice of having done a fair number of press interviews and the like counts.