I gave my last college oral presentation ever and I’m going to greatly miss that sweet performance anxiety.
Last week, I spent countless hours late at night preparing for an eight-minute presentation on hazardous waste management in Philadelphia. How does this relate to my English degree? Who knows. But does it matter? She was my final rendezvous and she was special.
I worked my tired booty into a frenzy, scribbling notes on flashcards and practicing twenty times in front of my cat to perfect the speech.
The next day, the notecards flashed through my mind over and over and over and over and over again, because ruminating is always the best practice.
When it was time for my speech, my palms began to sweat and the nervous poops set in. Talk about hazardous waste.
I stood up in front of the class, totally aware that I did not give a shit about what I was talking about. Yet, a sweet melancholy fell over me as I delved into the regulations on toxic sludge. I saw the apathetic faces of my peers, heads in hands and eyes glazed towards me, and I felt myself about to weep.
This was the final blow, the last hurrah. The last stress dream was dreamt the previous night, the last nervous poop was coursing its way through my intestines. How sad! Eighth-grade history presentations and Tenth-grade Spanish exams flashed before my eyes. The performance anxiety was approaching its conclusion and I was going to miss it so.