True. Nervous. Very, very dreadfully nervous.

With apologies to Poe for stealing his line. Or do you need to apologize for stealing borrowing material from a dead guy?

We’re leaving for the theatre in two minutes. It’s my first night on stage with Comedy Sportz. I’ve been performing in some fashion or another since I was FIVE YEARS OLD. I’ve won awards, even – I mean, local ones, but still….

So why am I more terrified of this than of anything else?

I wonder if it relates to the same reason I’m afraid to really push to get published in something other than lit zines and websites.

Most people have fear of failure.

My stepfather, whose advice is generally dead-on (much as I often hate to admit it), says I have fear of success.

Something to examine at another time, I guess.

Meanwhile, I bought new sweats today, and a t-shirt to wear to dinner that sports a butterfly on the front. My theory is that if I make the butterfly my totem for the evening by wearing it on my chest, the butterflies in my stomach will disperse gracefully.

Well, it was worth a thought.
And the shirt’s damned cute. Kinda flirty. Has shiny bits. And much cleavage.
(I also bought a new sports bra for tonight, cuz bouncing around in underwire is so NOT fun.)

TMI, non?

May you all have a fun and festive Saturday evening.
Further bulletins apres-show.

2 thoughts on “True. Nervous. Very, very dreadfully nervous.

  1. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I wouldn’t have heckled. Promise.

    I completely understood the spirit of this entry. Everyone who looks at me things I’m a natural in front of crowds, on the air or on camera. But the truth is I hate being the center of attention. I’ve evolved all sorts of coping mechanisms, and I think I fake it well. But nothing makes me feel better than to know I’m all done, and can now go back to my anonymous life with my laptop and my words.

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