27 October 2011

Scaredy Cat

What scares you? By "scare," I don't mean scary movies, someone jumping out of the darkness to scare you, or even failure. Failure is an obvious “fear.” I'm afraid of failing in life. That's a given. The fear I'm referring to is the type of fear that stops you dead in your tracks, makes you burst into a cold sweat and cripples every organ in your body. That's true fear.  

My biggest fear is stage-fright.

When I was in middle school, not a month went by without me being the “Student of the Month” or “Principal's Honor Roll.” Thankfully, the universe liked me enough to coincidentally make me absent every time, except for once. The one time I was present for the awards assembly, I was sickeningly called THREE fucking times to go on stage to receive an award. Three? Why the hell was I such a damn over-achiever? Each time the principal called my name, my ears rang, my body trembled and the air in the auditorium suddenly left. As I walked up to the stage, time felt like it was stuck in quicksand. I hated just walking up there. Even at all of my graduations, I hated being called.

Photo Source: http://www.denniscummins.com/
At the time, I thought it was just me being shy. Fast forward to the present. A couple weeks ago, a couple friends and I went to a hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar. Hoping to overcome my fear of public speaking, I decided I was going to just embarrass myself on stage by singing. As it turns out, the bar was PACKED. It was a company party. Luckily, everyone in their party was drunk. The line for karaoke was at least an hour and some change. I had time to mentally prepare myself. Time was on crack that day. I had already had a margarita, but right when my name was called, I took a shot of tequila and was headed to the stage to sing my theme song, Beyonce's “Ego.” In route: so far, so good. Once I got on stage, fright kicked in. I began to get hot, my legs were gonna give out—the whole nine. However, a drunken white guy saved me. He wanted to be my backup dancer. Who was I to deny him that right? Lol. Needless to say, with all of the drunk festivities of the night, my stage-fright was never properly handled.

One of the things I would love to do before I turn 25 is to perform at least 3 of my poems at an amateur poetry night, or something of the sort. At this rate, I'm not sure it'll happen, but I'm staying hopeful.

What's your biggest fear?


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