Nothing to choke about

There are far worse things than death. In my case, it’s speaking in public.

I didn’t really know what I was thinking when I said yes to the request of my school’s marketing organization, San Beda Junior Marketing Association, that I be a guest speaker at one of their seminars.

Well, actually, it was my dad who sealed the deal by simply saying, "He’s going."

I belong to that demographic of folks who are not fond of speaking in public. But I said to myself, "Anything for the love of school."

For more than a week I prepared for my speech, in which I would share my experiences of working in media. It seemed easy, and the thoughts of what to say kept racing inside my head for days. Everything was prepared, or so I thought.

Saturday, the day of the talk, was sunny, perfect to just stay home. The whiner in me was still telling me to skip it, but the better part of me said there was no turning back.

Minutes before the talk, I learned I was to be the second speaker. My chest was thumping rapidly, but I managed to keep myself composed and even smiled. I missed lunch but felt neither hunger nor thirst, which was good since I didn’t want a bursting bladder adding to my discomfort.

Then, upon hearing myself being introduced, I stepped up to the podium. I took in a deep breath and began. But after hearing my voice through the speakers, my brain started talking back: My voice sounds like this? I went blank, couldn’t utter a word. My notes looked blank, and what I uttered next is not exactly fit to print.

The marketing chair, bless her soul, handed me a glass of water, which helped calm my nerves. I was able to struggle to get my message across, but much of what I wanted to say was lost.

Then, like a knight on a white horse, my co-speaker, who runs the gym I go to, finally arrived. And he nailed it.

For me, thus, the moral of the experience is: stick to writing. The pain of a hard swim or a weight-training workout is heaven compared to the 200 pairs of eyes staring back at you. I still cringe every time I get nightmarish flashbacks of those moments. Eventually you have to face your demons; in my case, it’s speaking in public. We can’t always be running away from it forever.

Still, I felt it wasn’t all that bad. We Bedans don’t mind making goofballs out of ourselves so it was okay to make a total jackass out of myself in front of them.

   I still got a warm round of applause for my effort, plus, as a token of their appreciation, a lava lamp, which I’ve always wanted.

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   E-mail the author at ketsupluis@yahoo.com.