Public Speaking (ogre)

Once, I was pretty good at getting up in front of a crowd or audience, and talking/acting. I actually enjoyed it. These days, being out of practice and all, I'm not so hot. I get a bit shaky, and my tongue doesn't behave the way I want it to. Recently, I read out a piece I had written to only a few fellow writing enthusiasts, and I raced through it as if I had forgotten to punctuate it. I realised how daunting public speaking is for those of us without the courage or experience required, and it got me thinking about a time when I was about 11 years old.

I had been asked to read at a Christmas event with the local church group, because at eleven years old I was quite advanced in reading and showed maturity beyond my years. Inaccurate, of course. Regardless of my inner stupidity, my school teacher put her trust in me and gave me a passage about Mary and Joseph to read. The event was during a December evening, and I would be one of a few readers in front of the community's church-goers. Being of a young age, public speaking hadn't nested in my mind as the looming, laughing ogre it is today, ready to intimidate me and send me into a frenzied panic. I was good at pretty much everything I tried, and this was going to be a walk in the park.

I took the passage home to read, and did so in the comfort of my bedroom, amongst the dirty clothes strewn on the floor and the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles (Hero, not Ninja - didn't want to send the wrong message to kiddywinks) action figures lying awkwardly amongst other childhood debris. The passage was not a childish one, and it hit me that I had been selected because I appeared to be less childish than the other students in my year. In fact, I was often chosen to do readings, singing, acting, sports, pretty much anything. I lapped it up when I was young, too. Anyway, the passage was all about the birth of Jesus, and the emotions that Mary and Joseph felt that night. Everything was fine, until I reached a reasonably bland part of the passage, but one that an 11 year old boy could not cross without an alarm being triggered. In just two lines, I had to say 'bosom' and 'breast'. In front of church folk. Where people would know me.

Pleased to meet you said the public speaking ogre.

Never mind, it would be fine. It wasn't as if I was going to be describing some lurid pornographic scene. I could get through this, and show that I was a real grown up. It was all religious anyway, no problem. Just another passage to read, another crowd to wow. Piece of cake.

The evening came, and I found myself to be more nervous than I had ever known. Why had they given a young boy such an indecent passage to recite?! Some hymns were sung, some candles lit, then I took my place in front of the assembly. There were hundreds, and there was no way I was planning to think about them naked. That advice just doesn't work, especially when the average age is well over 60. I looked down at the paper I was holding and could barely focus on the writing, my hand was shaking so obviously. Relax, I told myself, noting to worry about. I began regurgitating the words, my voice so lacklustre and monotone that even I felt bored by it. As I was speaking, my mind had a meltdown and started an argument with itself, maybe warring sides of my conscience, bickering.

'The stars were bright, guiding the pair...'
Don't think about it. Don't think about it. You are going to have to say it anyway, best not to think about it.
But you should think about it, then you can be comfortable when you have to say it. Think about it now - BOSOM - not so bad, huh?
Shut up! What do you think you are doing?
'The road was long, Mary and Joseph had been walking...'
O no, it's coming up soon...
Leave it out! Just don't say it! It'll be fine, nobody will have a clue...
'The stable was warm, they were surrounded by...'

So my internal discussion continued, while my lips managed to mutter the written story. I kept my eyes down, and used all of my will to concentrate on what I was saying, and to control my entire body. I felt so aware of every minute detail, how I was holding my arms, the tingling in my scalp, that I was beginning to sway gently. I felt hot, absolutely roasting in my shirt and hoping that nobody had noticed that I was sweating. I thought I might look like somebody had installed an indoor water feature on my forehead. And still, I was reading.

'Travellers came to see the baby...'
He's going to say it! BOOBIES! Ha! BOOBS! At a church, of all places!
Come on, it's hardly a church. This is a hall, with some red cotton fabric draped over a few tables and some crosses dotted about. There isn't even any sort of decent arrangement, it's all willy-nilly.
Now you've started! Bosoms and willies? What next?!
You fool! You are just making things worse! He's going to pass out!
'Cradling the baby Jesus, Mary...'

My mouth was dry. My tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth, like I had just been eating a jar of peanut butter. My teeth were suddenly in my way, causing me to spit out words, to stutter. My lips were sticking to my gums, like my mouth was made of felt. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me, everyone politely listening to this young man tell the tale of Mary and Joseph. My voice started to waver, I began to croak some of the words.

'Mary held Jesus to her...'
It's now! Panic stations!
Just relax, you are losing it!

Time slowed. I was aware of everything in the room, I could feel every cell in my body charged with electricity. There was silence. I could see the candles flickering in the gentle breeze that came through the hall. Then I shouted.

'BOSOM'

It felt awful. Not only had I merely whispered the rest of the line, I looked up to see a hundred faces looking back at me. Somebody found it funny; a man in the front row, maybe around 30. Not even a teenager. I still had several paragraphs to get through, but I could feel myself turning a deep red, like the fabric on the tables. Hopefully I could blend in and disappear, once I had finished with the embarrassment of blurting out female anatomy to geriatrics.

'The warmth of Mary's...'
This time will be better, you've got it out of your system now. Just finish off and -
'BREAST'
I give up. 

I managed to finish the recital, and sit down without any more offense. Nobody made any comments that indicated they were shocked, amused, or otherwise. It had gone unnoticed, but throughout the ten minutes I had stood there I had felt terrible. It was my first meeting with the public speaking ogre, and since then we have kept in good contact. He is always there when I talk to more than a few people, when there are strangers listening to me, and he has a habit of sending bolts of electricity through me whenever I am contemplating an event that has me as the center of attention. You can't get rid of him, but you can learn to live with him, to control him - but every now and then he just won't be contained.