What about it? Well, I abhor it. I also don't really like talking to people with a higher social position than me. There's just something about it that makes me feel all tense and uneasy, which is weird considering all the other shizz I do in public (like dancing in the middle of shopping malls. haha).
Case in point: yesterday. We had an oral exam and it involved having to present a painting to your professor and analyzing it while she listened and watched right behind or beside you. I practiced at home and everything went smoothly but when my turn came, I began to wonder if I practiced enough.
I started out by explaining the history of the painter and describing the painting literally (so far so good). Then I explained it's contextual meaning (my professor nodded in agreement as I spoke). I began feeling a bit relaxed when suddenly, she began asking me about the Principles of Organization, which I hadn't planned on discussing until the end and since she asked, I now had to deviate from my perfectly constructed (scripted) plan. Everything I had thought of saying began to fall apart and I half-blanked out, remembering only a few pieces of information that I had researched. I began freaking out. I broke into a cold sweat and it plastered loose tendrils of hair onto my face. My hands began to shake and I nervously began tapping my feet on the floor. She was looking at me with that well-what-are-you-waiting-for look and I just had to continue.
Everything that followed was horrible. My voice broke a couple of times and I didn't know if my heart was really skipping a couple of beats or if it was my imagination. Our professor began grilling me, bombarding me with questions and I got all confused and started spewing out mostly nonsense. I talked about the colors of the painting and how they blended together, but then she said that was wrong, and a few more half-stammered out sentences later, I began to talk about the colors and how they blended again and then my prof said:
"Okay, here you go again, talking about the colors. They weren't right the first time and they aren't right now. Repeating it doesn't make it right. You are now. . .double wrong."
"OH GAWD. Did you hear that?" I asked myself. "You're not just wrong, you're DOUBLE WRONG!". Luckily, I managed to catch myself and went on to explain the painting in a better way. After 30 minutes of torture, my professor let me go and she told me my grade: 1.5
That wasn't bad actually, considering all my stammering and shaking and double wrong-ness. 1.5 is 90-something percent or a B+ or an A- for all you guys keeping score at home, by the way.
Looking back at that now, I can't help but laugh. You have to admit, that double wrong thing was pretty funny. Oh well, I hope I can actually get over this crappy fear of talking in public. It's really sort of holding me back. By the way, here is the painting I analyzed:
Femme en Barque (By the River)
by John Singer Sargent
Over and Out,