V. Have You Ever Seen A Naked Spider?
It took a bottle of white wine to get in the door. Well, it took drinking a bottle of white wine to get myself past the threshold; performance anxiety was at an all-time high.
Even then, adrenaline was keeping me from feeling terribly drunk. Actually, I didn't feel drunk at all; but I wasn't terrified.
I have been on stage before: plays, musicals back in school, and I've performed a couple of instruments in front of a crowd, but it's been a while. I have suffered from stage fright as long as I can remember, but I have the knack of finding clarity in the centre of panic. Once my foot sets foot on the platform and I'm out in the open, it's the eye of the storm, and my peripheral emotions switch off. I focus.
At least, I have in the past. As I said, it'd been a while. I feared that the coping mechanism may have atrophied through lack of use. Use it or lose it.
But I love to dance, and even though I am by no means trained, I am practiced. I have danced nights away and mornings to bed. I have danced long, and I have danced hard.
Not this hard, mind. Not this alone.
Fuck this. I can either do it or I can't....
I hate not being able to do something.
So, I did it.
On the one hand, I'm quite shy. I don't like putting myself out there right away; I have been burned too frequently to be truly comfortable taking social risks. New people are a hurdle; new situations, a fit of anxiety waiting to happen....
On the other, there is a cheerful, bombastic exhibitionist somewhere inside me that just needs to be comfortable in his environment to feel free to come out and play. I just need to give him license.
I had the physical license already: it's laminated and has my photo on it. All I needed was to take the last step. I said to myself:
"I've done worse for free."
Which is true. Now, I have a new profession. A crazy, absurd profession.
My inner exhibitionist is having a ball.
...
Life is an adventure. I've done my job, my duty to myself; and it's definitely not boring.
Even then, adrenaline was keeping me from feeling terribly drunk. Actually, I didn't feel drunk at all; but I wasn't terrified.
I have been on stage before: plays, musicals back in school, and I've performed a couple of instruments in front of a crowd, but it's been a while. I have suffered from stage fright as long as I can remember, but I have the knack of finding clarity in the centre of panic. Once my foot sets foot on the platform and I'm out in the open, it's the eye of the storm, and my peripheral emotions switch off. I focus.
At least, I have in the past. As I said, it'd been a while. I feared that the coping mechanism may have atrophied through lack of use. Use it or lose it.
But I love to dance, and even though I am by no means trained, I am practiced. I have danced nights away and mornings to bed. I have danced long, and I have danced hard.
Not this hard, mind. Not this alone.
Fuck this. I can either do it or I can't....
I hate not being able to do something.
So, I did it.
On the one hand, I'm quite shy. I don't like putting myself out there right away; I have been burned too frequently to be truly comfortable taking social risks. New people are a hurdle; new situations, a fit of anxiety waiting to happen....
On the other, there is a cheerful, bombastic exhibitionist somewhere inside me that just needs to be comfortable in his environment to feel free to come out and play. I just need to give him license.
I had the physical license already: it's laminated and has my photo on it. All I needed was to take the last step. I said to myself:
"I've done worse for free."
Which is true. Now, I have a new profession. A crazy, absurd profession.
My inner exhibitionist is having a ball.
...
Life is an adventure. I've done my job, my duty to myself; and it's definitely not boring.
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