05 January 2007


There is a pecha kucha happy hour at work today. We had the first one in December, but fortunately my name was not drawn for the first round of people (I had a HugeAssTM deadline, and would surely have dropped dead of exhaustion and obligation).

However, I am one of the lucky people who gets to present today. 20 slides. 20 seconds per slide. I'm about THISCLOSE to throwing up in the bathroom right now. I despise public speaking -- and yes, my coworkers count as "public." Even though half of them were at the infamous office party, and so we're way beyond the point of my embarrassing myself -- I still don't want to do this. Did I mention that I loathe public speaking? Almost as much as, nay, more than people who don't use the GD Spellcheck.

You know, last night I was actually so nervous that I was physically shaking. Physically...shaking. Uncontrollably. And leaving people (namely Laura) voicemails about my underwear. And all I could think was, "how can my heart be beating so fast and me, still be standing here. Alive?"

I know you can't die of embarrassment. Or panic. And this is no reason to be embarrassed. Or panicked.

Wait. You CAN'T die from embarrassment. RIGHT???

1 comment:

Matt said...

Well no matter what happens, a box of kittens will surely cure it.