Yes, it's official I'm still a huge chicken. My hilarious friend Trish uberkindly described the experience I'm referring to here.
I thought for sure by this time in life I would be just a touch more brave about getting up in front of a crowd, but apparently I'm still just as insecure as ever. The strange thing about it is that I like singing, and I like performing on stage as well-but not as myself. Without some sort of disguise or costume, my body betrays me and tries to go into shut down mode at the mere thought of being seen! The liquid once kept in my mouth instantly moves to my armpits, forcing my lips to move dramatically around my teeth like a horse with peanut butter. The blood that when in my head helps me remember lyrics and practiced cues, just as suddenly migrates to my extremities, leaving my head vacuously circling while my legs get ready to run or buckle beneath me.
It's the familiar scene of the classic performance anxiety from which I suffer. But, the real problem is that this anxiety is not restricted to the stage. I can get performance anxiety just knowing I have a really busy day or week ahead of me. I don't have that little buck -up gene that huddles together with the others and says "Look gang, I've got just the go juice this project needs! Sit back and enjoy the gun show while I fire this baby up!" And then of course, he would make engine revving sounds with his tiny little plasma mouth and kick me into high gear.
Nope, I don't have one of those. Or maybe I'm just missing one because genes prefer to work in pairs and my little tough guy gene is missing his Harley counterpart.
In any case............. CURSE YOU JR. HIGH!!
(I don't know if this is the real culprit or not but I like to yell that sometimes when I'm feeling particularly scarred about something. It's nice to have a scapegoat at the ready- after all.)
I just wish I could figure out how to get past this self induced handicap. I mean, come on! Can't I just learn to tap into Big Shan when I need her instead of having her pop up whenever the diva so chooses? If only. You can't control a diva's schedule you know. Don't waste your time trying.
She's busy accosting young mothers and imposing her baby holding services on them. Or, she might even surface upon meeting a new church member at the store and on each and every aisle, quiz the woman wildly about her family life, while in turn sharing equally about her own. OY VEY! At one point in the middle of my chattiness on that particular day, I recall even telling this nice
victim lady how shy I was. Then, because B.Shan is always on her toes, I realized suddenly how absurd that must have seemed to my new friend, so we shared a little laugh over that one. (titter titter titter)
Oh well. We all have our own hang ups don't we? Why do mine seem to be more like hang outs? Some day it would really be nice to board the bus to sanity and actually not get off until I get there. Until then, I suppose it's back to my Relacore study and being an inappropriate freakazoid when I least expect it. Such is life-cluck, cluck- such is life.