Most people are more afraid of public speaking than they are of death; and in the words of Jerry Seinfeld, ‘That means that people would rather be in the casket, than giving the eulogy.’
Really! Really? Seriously? Why?
Okay here’s a bit of history; I figured out in about grade 2 that during school, any oral presentations are perfect opportunities to make the other kids suffer really enjoy my speech, because they are a captive audience. They can’t go anywhere and nobody liked detentions, so they’d shut up and at least look like they were listening.
I can remember making over half the class come up and help me do my movie review of Return to OZ. We were allowed to do a ‘quick’ reenactment, which would have been fine but nobody else had ever seen the movie. (If YOU haven’t, why not?) Nothing like making Amanda and Joseph crawl around on all fours making a squeaky noise like the wheelers. HA!
Anyways what I am trying to get at is that the worst thing that happened was the teacher pulled the pin and suggested perhaps picking something a little less involved for my book review the following week. I wasn’t given a bad mark either, even though it really did suck as far as presentations go.
I got top marks in grade 11 by flinging old Girlfriend magazines around and playing a Little Pattie song, – He’s my blonde headed stompy wompy real gone surfer boy – (Yes, that’s the name of the song) The argument I made was the negative impact of the objectification of women in the media. I made the other kids sit up and take notice, right up until I played that song. *evil grin* then the suffering element came into play. I LOVED it.
Then we move into the cover band days when there was no teacher, there was no one there to smooth over any nerves I may have had before a gig. There was however alcohol, swearing, heckling and walk outs. But even when I was stepping out of the way from some drunken screwball slipping in the mud onto the stage I still remembered that I can make them all suffer… with the first line of the Offspring song, Pretty Fly For a White Guy. The collective moan was music to my ears. But they sang along.
I have taught craft classes with varying degrees of success, and I judge my success by the enjoyment of the participants… and their ability to laugh when I let them know I was about to make them suffer. (Trying to teach them how to make chain mail or a dream catcher)
So I guess by now you’ve worked out that my brand of making people suffer is to get them to smile, step outside what they would normally do, have no shame and to try something new, or just to be happy being a dag.
Sure I still get nervous, I shake like a leaf in the middle of a cyclone, and you know what though…? As long as I have the ability to make people suffer with a smile I’m happy. There is nothing to it.