was it saturday?
i remember- yes it was.
now the toastmasters, a public speaking org, was invited to the crs for some sort of a visit/training/torturous and sweat-busting act for us students to [maybe] enjoy. but there were very few who came, which was only a little bit sad, and i'l tell later why it was turned out to be good [i can hear you guessing, so i guess i'll have to spill: few attendees = few audience].
primary purpose for their visit, half-guessing it was just a coincidence, was so the MMRS [mr and ms rehab sci] candidates would get some bit of baptism of fire on how to get their way on stage and put their ideas across a crowd, a seated row of people of approximately 12 then, and get the nerves out of their systems, along with us very fortunate to have been there, but unfortunate to have been self-diagnosed with stage-fright, especially myself.
speaking in public has always been a plague of unmerciful proportions for me, and the warpath isnt about to get conquered: i was sputtering with more awkward "ah"s than usual, and the silences are mile-long gaps apart, threatening to deduce my then-mumbo jumbo to some silent fizzing-pop, then i'd be called to go back to my seat. i had feared the worst- than no one within the 12 people plus the toastmaster people themselves would make sense of my weirder than morse code noise-making. it was the most disastrous that couldve happened. whew, good thing it didnt. but still, it was worse. joann counted at least 50 ah's from my two minute or so, albeit gap-filled, speech-like mumbling about what do i prefer between reading a book or watching its cinema version instead. of course i would always choose the book over the movie. or any movie for that matter. but i said that sometimes, or most times, i am pressed for time, and it'd be alright to watch the movie. example i put forward was the harry potter movie. the books not really good. but the movie was dark and satisfying. i cared nothing about the movie not following much of the book. if it were the crime and punishment, the dostoevsky book, movie that shows, i wouldnt see it. not yet, i have to finish the book first. or if it were inglourious basterds, i wouldnt watch it yet on [fake] dvd. tarantino's magic would be spoiled on a fake dvd.
anyway. back to sweating tub-fulls due to extemporaneous speaking, the recap.
well, the good thing of it all was the learning. of course, one cannot simply deny learning from something. its a form of protective reflex [and like the ones we take up in pediatrics, this reflex is key to surviving life].
corny but true [ass as myself, i like ruining reflective moments].
traumatic but enlightening it all was, and really funny. i had hearty laughs.
it opened up a long lost piece of angst in me that day, to the question,"albert, what would you be doing 10 years from now?"
well, i said what i'd always tell anyone wanting to hear it: i have yet to find out. after the graduation, and probably my masters degree, then the unfortunate job abroad, there's the void. it brought open the annals of 'what couldve been had i not chosen pt over some creative writing degree'. and it backfired to my father the next day on the phone. it mustve hurt. i was sorry, of course, but i couldnt help but being honest.
anyway. anyway. anyway.
there is too much heart in here.
anyway, weeds, the show is terribly interesting. 'terribly' because it is getting me more and more into the mari juana inside business, run by a soccer mom in the show. she's pretty though. but it is good. caution to the very liable to be swayed. i am not liable to swaying towards selling drugs.