This assignment was "Believe it or Not," the point of the speech was to take a normal story and exaggerate it to the point where the audience didn't know whether or not it was true. The story could either be 100% true, or 100% false, or anywhere in between. The story I chose was one that I thought could easily be interpreted as false. While writing it I didn't want to make it easy for the audience to think that it was false, and at the same time I wanted to keep it as true as possible, but instill a bit of doubt into the audience's minds. When I read the speech in front of the class it became much more difficult than I thought it would be. By the end of the speech my mouth was extremely dry and both my hands were shaking a lot. While writing it I did have to take some breaks due to stress, but when speaking it aloud it was much more difficult than expected.
Screaming his name she ran towards him, his now flailing body splashed into the water and was overtaken by the rolling log. She desperately clambered through the 4 foot deep water and watched as he was crushed. She continued screaming and saw the log bounce with an ineffable force on what was presumably his body. Falling into the water she screamed and desperately searched the floor for any trace of her husband. The heavy current pushed against her body, forcing her downward as if trying to drown both people at the same time. On the other side of the log she heard her husband screaming the words “I’m going to die! I’m going to die!”Realizing that he was not under the log she looked over the top to see her husband holding on for dear life to the very object that had just ensured his death. She reached over and grabbed his arms, now with the 3,000 pound log separating them. He could not see a thing; his only senses were devoted to the sound around him, and his unbearable pain that surged through his body. He screamed that he couldn’t see, and that he was going to die, while she maneuvered the twelve foot long log out from in between them. He lost consciousness, his limp body was only held onto the log by the woman’s firm grip. Finally the log was pushed out from in between them and his dead weight dragged the woman down into the water. She stood up, carrying them both through the current, and slipped on a rock sending both of them into the creek. Losing her grip when she fell, the man’s unconscious body floated with the current downstream. She dove and once again he was saved by his wife. Dragging his floating body behind her, she finally managed to get him to the shore. She pulled his shoulders onto the shore and ran to the other side of his body in an attempt to place his legs on dry land. While she ran, he slid down into the water and out of sight once again. She scrambled to find his submerged body, as it moved silently in an unknown direction. By taking hold of his shoulder, she pulled him once again onto the land, onto safety.
Breathless, she confronted her two youngest children, who had just watched their father be crushed by a 3,000 pound log. The two four year olds stared at their dying father, seeming as if they didn’t know the true amount of damage that had been inflicted, when really they knew exactly how bad it was, and knew exactly what was going to happen. The woman now had to make a choice, she had been married to this man for 24 years, would she stay with him in his last painful moments? Or would she find help, leaving her two four year old children to possibly watch their father die?
…
She told them to stay where they were, to not touch their father, and to wait until she got back. She climbed up a sheer cliff, covered with blackberries knowing that with every second she let pass, her husband slipped farther away from life. Slipping on mud, and landing in piles of blackberries, she carried on with the prayer that she would be able to call for help. And the man, he could not breathe, he could not see, pain surged through every pore in his body and he had no choice but to remain motionless. My mother, cut, bleeding and panicked praying that somehow, she would see her husband again. My siblings, watching in horror as his life slowly moved away from them. And my father, laying on frozen rocks with death breathing down his neck, waiting for the opportune moment to remove him from all of our lives.
The phone rang, and again. I tried to press the pause button, it didn’t work. “C’mon you… fine.” Leaving the movie running, I picked up the phone with an unmotivated “hello?” My mother yelled into the phone
“Dusty, there’s been an accident, the 911 is on its way, you have to meet them and take them here.”
“Wait, what? What’s going on? Where are you?”
“I can’t explain now, just you have to go, go up… past the tree of five. Just go up. It’s dad, he… Just walk up to us.”
“Ok, look I don’t understand, I am going to walk upstream until I find you right?”
“Yeah, that’s right”
“Ok, I will see you in a little bit”
I heard the phone click, and put on my shoes in complete confusion. With every step I took out to the driveway, my disbelief amplified. Five minutes of fear, and confusion seemed like 3 hours, I waited for the ambulance, giving me time to think about what was just said to me. The words “There’s been an accident, It’s dad he…” rang over and over in my ears. I contemplated what she truly meant when she-the siren blew in my ear. And what was going on really dawned on me at that point that something was very wrong. The paramedics questioned me as we walked to my parents and I repeatedly had to tell them “I know as much as you do.” After ¾ of a mile walking, we finally reached the place where my family waited. My two siblings were standing, alone, and my father’s head was resting in my mother’s lap. Both of my parents’ faces were whiter than I have ever seen any person. One was white from fear, and the other was white from lack of life. The paramedics took a pair of scissors and quickly sliced his clothes of. The jeans now like paper fell limply to the ground. Everything from this point on becomes blurry in my memory. People debating over whether or not to use a helicopter, people interrogating my father about his pain, interrogating my mother about what happened, watching my father in unbearable pain, seeing his face cringe, hearing him vocalize his agony. It was too much for me to handle, and I picked up my 4 year old sister, held the hand of my brother, and began to walk back to our house. I tried to contemplate what had happened within the last half hour, and could not even begin to contemplate what was going to happen within the next six weeks. I opened the door to our house, I heard a noise coming from one of the rooms, as I walked in I noticed that the movie was still playing. I tried once again to stop it, and after futile attempts, I threw the remote down and watched the credits roll up the screen. I watched the end, what seemed like the end of everything.
Saturday, 6 September 2008
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Dude, this bugs me so much!
This assignment was to find a pet peeve of yours and describe it using a story or skit. I chose the story, because I didn't feel like writing a skit would really portray my hate for this particular subject. During the writing process, I will admit it, I had some people in my mind that I used as models, so this story is not as fictional as I would like. In the assignment, we were told to use some sort of phrase to describe our discomfort. For example, "What really burns my cookies" was used. And after that, "Grinds my gears" was a popular one. I chose to use a little more originality in mine...
"Dude, dude! Oh dude, I totally owned last night in football!" He flicked his hair out of his face with every other word.
"Yeah? What happened?" I responded trying to conceal the amount of exhaustion that overwhelmed my body, and any other desire I had to listen to him.
"Oh dude! it was so righteous, dude. I was sprinting down the field, and dude, Nicholson was right behind me, so dude, I thought to myself...."
As he spoke, my fingers began to twitch and my neck flung to my left side, I heard several random pops and cracks occur along my upper spine. What was it about this guy that made me despise his form of speaking so much? Could it be his voice?... No, could it be his hand gestures?... No, maybe it was just cause I didn't like him in general. But this seemed deeper than that, buried beneath layers of emotional discontent. I searched for the true source of my dislike, while he rambled on about his various football triumphs. I listened closely, and continued emotionally twitching and I noticed a pattern.
"So dude-" twitch. "Then dude I-" twitch. "Dude it was totally-" twitch. "You know dude-" twitch. Could it really be that simple? How could one word set my down a path of utter loathing? He repeated it once or twice, and I realized that it wasn't the word itself. The word "Dude" doesn't bug me. But using it as a vocalized pause because the majority of your brain cells have been tackled repeatedly, creating a mental block, slowing any normal, flowing thoughts, kinda twists my titties. But really, gain some vocabulary. I mean, c'mon... Dude.
"Dude, dude! Oh dude, I totally owned last night in football!" He flicked his hair out of his face with every other word.
"Yeah? What happened?" I responded trying to conceal the amount of exhaustion that overwhelmed my body, and any other desire I had to listen to him.
"Oh dude! it was so righteous, dude. I was sprinting down the field, and dude, Nicholson was right behind me, so dude, I thought to myself...."
As he spoke, my fingers began to twitch and my neck flung to my left side, I heard several random pops and cracks occur along my upper spine. What was it about this guy that made me despise his form of speaking so much? Could it be his voice?... No, could it be his hand gestures?... No, maybe it was just cause I didn't like him in general. But this seemed deeper than that, buried beneath layers of emotional discontent. I searched for the true source of my dislike, while he rambled on about his various football triumphs. I listened closely, and continued emotionally twitching and I noticed a pattern.
"So dude-" twitch. "Then dude I-" twitch. "Dude it was totally-" twitch. "You know dude-" twitch. Could it really be that simple? How could one word set my down a path of utter loathing? He repeated it once or twice, and I realized that it wasn't the word itself. The word "Dude" doesn't bug me. But using it as a vocalized pause because the majority of your brain cells have been tackled repeatedly, creating a mental block, slowing any normal, flowing thoughts, kinda twists my titties. But really, gain some vocabulary. I mean, c'mon... Dude.
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Paradise
This speech also turned out to be a challenge to write. The assignment was to write about a tropical paradise with certain criteria. The objects that were assigned to be in the speech were: 1 man, 1 woman, 1 animal, 1 book, 1 object that you needed, and an artful way of getting to and from the island.
Screaming, I stared into the headlights thinking that these were my final moments. The horn trumpeted in my ears, and the rain overpowered and flooded the street. The driver slammed on his brakes and the truck began to twist sideways over the thin layer of liquid below, while I stood there and screamed in utter disbelief and fear of the incoming, unstoppable, five ton piece of metal on wheels. I could see that the underside of the truck was headed directly for my chest. I could not move. I begged my body to do something, anything; even collapsing would be satisfactory. But any command registered by my mind was quickly drowned by fear. I breathed, continued screaming and my voice cracked into falsetto and then back down. The truck finally made contact with my body, slamming me dead on; my now limp body flew towards the ground. The intense whiplash flung me with my head leading. My head made contact with the ground first, bouncing off the ground, my body then landed after and I could feel the ground scraping my back as I moved backward with the truck. Finally my body came to a stop. I couldn’t see anything; all I could feel was the cold concrete on my back, the rain tapping on my body, and the throbbing explosion of pain in my head. I tried to move, I tried to breath and neither succeeded. With every palpitation of pain that flooded into my head, I slipped farther and farther away from reality.
I was submerged under water, I opened my eyes and they burned from the salt as they tried to focus. I pushed myself up from the water, inhaled, coughed for a bit and inhaled again. I waited on my hands and knees while I watched small drops fall from my nose and chin into the blue water below me. After a moment, I looked up to see a golden beach, followed by a border of thick, green forest. I stood up and walked towards the beach, and inhaled once again the fresh tropical air. Once on the sand I turned around to look at the water that had transported me here. The bright blue ocean seemed to go on forever, without any trace of life anywhere. Enjoying the silence, I stared at the liquid perfection for a moment, when behind me the trees began to move and rustle. I flipped my body around as fast as I could. Hoping that my time here would not be ended by some wild beast, I prepared myself to run. The giant green leaves parted at exactly the same time and a tall, slender woman emerged holding a rather large carpet bag, and an umbrella.
“Ah, so you’ve arrived,” She said “Well it’s about time. Dear me, we didn’t expect you to come all wet. Ah well, we’ll have to get you cleaned up once we get back”
“Get back where? I mean, where are we? And, are you…?”
“Please don’t ask so many questions. Follow me.”
“But I mean, you’re… you’re… you’re”
“Please don’t mumble, yes I am to answer you.”
For some reason I felt that this woman deserved my trust, maybe because she claimed to be Mary Poppins, or maybe because she was just another human here. I decided to follow her, silently because everything that I ended up saying was shot down for being rude in some way. After a good five minutes of fighting through dense jungle, we emerged into an opening, and inside there was huge tree with a tree house built about thirty feet up. It carried a vague resemblance to the tree house in “George of the Jungle”. Mary Poppins took the bamboo elevator while I was forced to climb up the rope ladder. Once in the tree house she began to speak with a man.
“Well he finally came, took much longer than I expected, I was just leaving when I heard him coughing up a storm.”
“Well all that matters is that he’s here now, and he’s here to relax. I mean who knows how long he’s got before he goes back? It’s our job to give him a good time, just be nice to him.”
“He’s all wet, they sent him by water, Frank. I’ll have to get him into the bath before we do anything else.”
“That’s cool, just tell me when I’m good to go.”
I ended up taking about an hour long bath while I read a book by C.S. Lewis called “The Screw tape Letters”. Once I had finished I was escorted by Mary to a huge chair on the edge of the tree house overlooking the entire jungle. The moment I sat down Jazz music began to play, and a voice rang out singing “Fly me to the moon”. I then realized who the man was, I was being sung to by Frank Sinatra while I was sitting on the edge of a bamboo tree house. I relaxed and let the music flow through my ears, and a small monkey swung down holding a glass of Mimosa. I thanked him, took the glass, and watched him bounce away into the tree house. I closed my eyes and relaxed, then suddenly I found it hard to breath. Choked almost, my head began to pulsate waves of pain, I wrinkled my forehead in an attempt to veil my distress. I bent forward and the music began to fade away, ‘The hell kind of paradise is this?’ I thought. I dropped the glass of Mimosa and began coughing up blood. I squinted my eyes and heard Mary say “We hope you have enjoyed your time here.”
When I opened them again the pain had amplified by an innumerable amount, there were doctors and nurses running around the room. I tried to scream, tried to find a way back, but every form of communication was lost. A long tube protruded from my mouth and I could feel the air running through it every couple seconds. The pain was overwhelming, I wanted to clench my teeth, but the tube prevented me from such an action. My fingernails were digging into my palms, blood dribbled out of my mouth and a nurse wiped it up and yelled at someone behind her, my head hurt more than anything I can possibly describe. And suddenly, all was black.
Screaming, I stared into the headlights thinking that these were my final moments. The horn trumpeted in my ears, and the rain overpowered and flooded the street. The driver slammed on his brakes and the truck began to twist sideways over the thin layer of liquid below, while I stood there and screamed in utter disbelief and fear of the incoming, unstoppable, five ton piece of metal on wheels. I could see that the underside of the truck was headed directly for my chest. I could not move. I begged my body to do something, anything; even collapsing would be satisfactory. But any command registered by my mind was quickly drowned by fear. I breathed, continued screaming and my voice cracked into falsetto and then back down. The truck finally made contact with my body, slamming me dead on; my now limp body flew towards the ground. The intense whiplash flung me with my head leading. My head made contact with the ground first, bouncing off the ground, my body then landed after and I could feel the ground scraping my back as I moved backward with the truck. Finally my body came to a stop. I couldn’t see anything; all I could feel was the cold concrete on my back, the rain tapping on my body, and the throbbing explosion of pain in my head. I tried to move, I tried to breath and neither succeeded. With every palpitation of pain that flooded into my head, I slipped farther and farther away from reality.
I was submerged under water, I opened my eyes and they burned from the salt as they tried to focus. I pushed myself up from the water, inhaled, coughed for a bit and inhaled again. I waited on my hands and knees while I watched small drops fall from my nose and chin into the blue water below me. After a moment, I looked up to see a golden beach, followed by a border of thick, green forest. I stood up and walked towards the beach, and inhaled once again the fresh tropical air. Once on the sand I turned around to look at the water that had transported me here. The bright blue ocean seemed to go on forever, without any trace of life anywhere. Enjoying the silence, I stared at the liquid perfection for a moment, when behind me the trees began to move and rustle. I flipped my body around as fast as I could. Hoping that my time here would not be ended by some wild beast, I prepared myself to run. The giant green leaves parted at exactly the same time and a tall, slender woman emerged holding a rather large carpet bag, and an umbrella.
“Ah, so you’ve arrived,” She said “Well it’s about time. Dear me, we didn’t expect you to come all wet. Ah well, we’ll have to get you cleaned up once we get back”
“Get back where? I mean, where are we? And, are you…?”
“Please don’t ask so many questions. Follow me.”
“But I mean, you’re… you’re… you’re”
“Please don’t mumble, yes I am to answer you.”
For some reason I felt that this woman deserved my trust, maybe because she claimed to be Mary Poppins, or maybe because she was just another human here. I decided to follow her, silently because everything that I ended up saying was shot down for being rude in some way. After a good five minutes of fighting through dense jungle, we emerged into an opening, and inside there was huge tree with a tree house built about thirty feet up. It carried a vague resemblance to the tree house in “George of the Jungle”. Mary Poppins took the bamboo elevator while I was forced to climb up the rope ladder. Once in the tree house she began to speak with a man.
“Well he finally came, took much longer than I expected, I was just leaving when I heard him coughing up a storm.”
“Well all that matters is that he’s here now, and he’s here to relax. I mean who knows how long he’s got before he goes back? It’s our job to give him a good time, just be nice to him.”
“He’s all wet, they sent him by water, Frank. I’ll have to get him into the bath before we do anything else.”
“That’s cool, just tell me when I’m good to go.”
I ended up taking about an hour long bath while I read a book by C.S. Lewis called “The Screw tape Letters”. Once I had finished I was escorted by Mary to a huge chair on the edge of the tree house overlooking the entire jungle. The moment I sat down Jazz music began to play, and a voice rang out singing “Fly me to the moon”. I then realized who the man was, I was being sung to by Frank Sinatra while I was sitting on the edge of a bamboo tree house. I relaxed and let the music flow through my ears, and a small monkey swung down holding a glass of Mimosa. I thanked him, took the glass, and watched him bounce away into the tree house. I closed my eyes and relaxed, then suddenly I found it hard to breath. Choked almost, my head began to pulsate waves of pain, I wrinkled my forehead in an attempt to veil my distress. I bent forward and the music began to fade away, ‘The hell kind of paradise is this?’ I thought. I dropped the glass of Mimosa and began coughing up blood. I squinted my eyes and heard Mary say “We hope you have enjoyed your time here.”
When I opened them again the pain had amplified by an innumerable amount, there were doctors and nurses running around the room. I tried to scream, tried to find a way back, but every form of communication was lost. A long tube protruded from my mouth and I could feel the air running through it every couple seconds. The pain was overwhelming, I wanted to clench my teeth, but the tube prevented me from such an action. My fingernails were digging into my palms, blood dribbled out of my mouth and a nurse wiped it up and yelled at someone behind her, my head hurt more than anything I can possibly describe. And suddenly, all was black.
Schizophrenic Speech
This assignment turned out to be a little complicated. I was transferred into the class a day late, and the first day they had already begun working on an assignment. The assignment required that two people interviewed each other, asking 15 questions and creating a story answering these 15 questions. However, since I was late all the people had been taken so I was forced to present myself. Seeing as I had no way to have anyone read my own speech, I had to read all the parts, and all the characters. Thus the title, writing this started out to be fun, but by the end became very difficult to portray all the different sides of myself, and present them in an artful manor. Over all I consider the speech to be a success. Enjoy, please comment me with any and all criticisms or questions, or anything at all.
“Ok, um… hi. My name is Dustin Douros and I am a junior.” He stood there in front of the whole class while his insides shook with fear, stumbling over what he thought was every word. “15 interesting things about me, when I heard the assignment I was a little intimidated” he still was “after a lot of thought I think I might be able to pull it off.” Deep down he really had no confidence; he subconsciously prayed that the judgmental class would not see through his façade. “Well I suppose I should start with the most interesting things and work down from there.” He then realized that doing this would put the audience thinking of his life’s most boring details by the end of his presentation, “no, actually I think I will do it the other way around” then he heard how stupid he sounded changing his original statement. Making yet another social mistake, he said “actually, maybe I will just improvise…” He could feel his face begin to burn, his palms became moist with sweat, and his toes scrunched in an unrhythmic crazed fashion. He looked down at his feet and thought about how uncomfortable talking about himself made him feel. Why couldn’t he talk about another person, ‘I always feel so conceited talking about myself’ he thought. Within a split second, all the times that he had been forced to talk about himself flashed through his mind, and it added to his discomfort. With all of the distractions in his mind, he barely managed to speak “Well I might as well start off with my family; I have four siblings, three of which are adopted. My older brother and I are biological. My three younger siblings are adopted from Asia and Placer County.” After hearing himself speak he realized how robotic he sounded. Then he let his mind travel down a path that was completely unnecessary at the time.
‘Why do I sound so robotic?’ He thought ‘Is it because I know that nobody really cares about any of this?’
How can you say that they don’t actually care? If they actually didn’t care then they wouldn’t be here listening. I mean, you care about their presentations right?’
'Yes I do, but I’m sure their presentations are a lot more interesting than mine, so far they have been.'
He gave his mind a little time to think, just enough time to snap back into reality, “I grew up in Grass Valley my entire life, however being raised as a hick, I have come to appreciate travel a lot, and recently returned from a year in Italy” He started to feel a little better about his speech. Partly because his experience in Italy was his pride and joy, and partly because the quick conversation in his mind boosted his confidence in some small way. “After living in Italy for ten months, I am now fluent in the Italian language.” He hoped that the class found this somewhat entertaining, but was too nervous to listen or look for any reaction. After mentioning the Italian language, his mind switched against his will, into Italian mode. Sometimes if he dwelled on the Italian language too long, he would begin to think in Italian, thus hindering his ability to speak in English. ‘Oh merda, questa e’ la corpa tua. Dovevi pensare in italiano. Ma sei un stupido scimmia.’ He tried to change back into English, he tried to continue his presentation normally without looking like a total goof. It didn’t work, “Um, the uh, food in Italy, is uh… well, it’s definitely my favorite out of uh, all the world food I know” He knew how horrible he looked in front of the class, he could see in their faces the confusion that they all had. He squinted his eyes and concentrated, ‘Inglese, inglese, Inglish, english, english.’ It was back, he could once again correspond his thoughts, with his mouth. “I am hoping that my ability to speak Italian will assist me in some way throughout life” he was being very careful to continue thinking in English, “It is definitely one of my passions to travel and with that usually comes a passion to be able to communicate” He laughed at himself on the inside because he knew that his modes of communication were being presented as somewhat lacking. He decided to drop the Italian subject and move on to something else, “On the sheet I read that I was assigned to give three words that my enemies would call me. First, if I have enemies, I don’t plan on giving them enough time to call me names”. He didn’t mean this in a violent sense, but he was afraid that he sounded like a jock trying to impress girls, which was certainly not his goal. He stumbled over his words as he tried to steer the class’ thoughts in a different direction. “In the sense that I keep my distance, not like, that I punch them or something, that would be, unnecessary.” Once again, he found himself looking like a total goof. In an attempt to make him look a little more “interesting” or “eclectic” he decided to describe what he wanted to do for a living. “For a career, I have always been interested in Acting or Theater, but at the same time I realize that I would be poorer than dirt, so at the same time I’m interested in psychology. It’s a strange mix, but I’m a strange person.” After he heard himself say something so utterly awkward, he felt like banging his head multiple times on the podium that stood in front of him. He could see his peers shifting in their seats after such an awkward statement, followed by an awkward silence. He decided to finish this presentation that he was so unprepared for with an awkward “thank you”.
As he walked back to his seat he heard the class clapping for him and felt a slight vibration on his shoe. He glanced down and saw a brown string whipping around by his feet. He had untied his shoe on the way back to his seat. He wondered if there was anything else that could have gone wrong with his presentation…. And he remembered that he had forgotten one of the statements, but then realized that his entire presentation had answered it for him. The statement that he forgot was “I’m at my worst when…”
“Ok, um… hi. My name is Dustin Douros and I am a junior.” He stood there in front of the whole class while his insides shook with fear, stumbling over what he thought was every word. “15 interesting things about me, when I heard the assignment I was a little intimidated” he still was “after a lot of thought I think I might be able to pull it off.” Deep down he really had no confidence; he subconsciously prayed that the judgmental class would not see through his façade. “Well I suppose I should start with the most interesting things and work down from there.” He then realized that doing this would put the audience thinking of his life’s most boring details by the end of his presentation, “no, actually I think I will do it the other way around” then he heard how stupid he sounded changing his original statement. Making yet another social mistake, he said “actually, maybe I will just improvise…” He could feel his face begin to burn, his palms became moist with sweat, and his toes scrunched in an unrhythmic crazed fashion. He looked down at his feet and thought about how uncomfortable talking about himself made him feel. Why couldn’t he talk about another person, ‘I always feel so conceited talking about myself’ he thought. Within a split second, all the times that he had been forced to talk about himself flashed through his mind, and it added to his discomfort. With all of the distractions in his mind, he barely managed to speak “Well I might as well start off with my family; I have four siblings, three of which are adopted. My older brother and I are biological. My three younger siblings are adopted from Asia and Placer County.” After hearing himself speak he realized how robotic he sounded. Then he let his mind travel down a path that was completely unnecessary at the time.
‘Why do I sound so robotic?’ He thought ‘Is it because I know that nobody really cares about any of this?’
How can you say that they don’t actually care? If they actually didn’t care then they wouldn’t be here listening. I mean, you care about their presentations right?’
'Yes I do, but I’m sure their presentations are a lot more interesting than mine, so far they have been.'
He gave his mind a little time to think, just enough time to snap back into reality, “I grew up in Grass Valley my entire life, however being raised as a hick, I have come to appreciate travel a lot, and recently returned from a year in Italy” He started to feel a little better about his speech. Partly because his experience in Italy was his pride and joy, and partly because the quick conversation in his mind boosted his confidence in some small way. “After living in Italy for ten months, I am now fluent in the Italian language.” He hoped that the class found this somewhat entertaining, but was too nervous to listen or look for any reaction. After mentioning the Italian language, his mind switched against his will, into Italian mode. Sometimes if he dwelled on the Italian language too long, he would begin to think in Italian, thus hindering his ability to speak in English. ‘Oh merda, questa e’ la corpa tua. Dovevi pensare in italiano. Ma sei un stupido scimmia.’ He tried to change back into English, he tried to continue his presentation normally without looking like a total goof. It didn’t work, “Um, the uh, food in Italy, is uh… well, it’s definitely my favorite out of uh, all the world food I know” He knew how horrible he looked in front of the class, he could see in their faces the confusion that they all had. He squinted his eyes and concentrated, ‘Inglese, inglese, Inglish, english, english.’ It was back, he could once again correspond his thoughts, with his mouth. “I am hoping that my ability to speak Italian will assist me in some way throughout life” he was being very careful to continue thinking in English, “It is definitely one of my passions to travel and with that usually comes a passion to be able to communicate” He laughed at himself on the inside because he knew that his modes of communication were being presented as somewhat lacking. He decided to drop the Italian subject and move on to something else, “On the sheet I read that I was assigned to give three words that my enemies would call me. First, if I have enemies, I don’t plan on giving them enough time to call me names”. He didn’t mean this in a violent sense, but he was afraid that he sounded like a jock trying to impress girls, which was certainly not his goal. He stumbled over his words as he tried to steer the class’ thoughts in a different direction. “In the sense that I keep my distance, not like, that I punch them or something, that would be, unnecessary.” Once again, he found himself looking like a total goof. In an attempt to make him look a little more “interesting” or “eclectic” he decided to describe what he wanted to do for a living. “For a career, I have always been interested in Acting or Theater, but at the same time I realize that I would be poorer than dirt, so at the same time I’m interested in psychology. It’s a strange mix, but I’m a strange person.” After he heard himself say something so utterly awkward, he felt like banging his head multiple times on the podium that stood in front of him. He could see his peers shifting in their seats after such an awkward statement, followed by an awkward silence. He decided to finish this presentation that he was so unprepared for with an awkward “thank you”.
As he walked back to his seat he heard the class clapping for him and felt a slight vibration on his shoe. He glanced down and saw a brown string whipping around by his feet. He had untied his shoe on the way back to his seat. He wondered if there was anything else that could have gone wrong with his presentation…. And he remembered that he had forgotten one of the statements, but then realized that his entire presentation had answered it for him. The statement that he forgot was “I’m at my worst when…”
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