Presenting Problems

I've done a lot of terrible presentations in my time.  If you ask my mother, they were all genius.  

Well, I'm not delusional.  I know what horrors I have committed, and I've decided to share some of them (the ones I remember) with you.

Sometimes, I'm fairly certain, I actually based some presentations on whatever I had around me.  

For example, I had these ridiculous slippers that looked like fuzzy muppet bird... horrible... things.  

I decided they looked a little like the guys from the Labyrinth.  

You know, the David Bowie/Jim Henson movie.  

They looked like the red bird horrible things that take their heads off and sing "Our Gang" right?  

So I did that. 

I stood up there, in front of a class, and danced in those slippers to that song.  

Yep. 

Moving on. 

The next one was also a musical, stupid ass thing.  

Simon and Garfunkel began to play with, "I am a rock, I am an island" as I moved cards which each sported a drawing of a personified rock and island respectively, illustrating the song as I went.  

It gets worse. 

You see, I loved Happy Days.  

LOVED Happy Days.  

I used to watch it right before bed as a way to tell myself what my bed time would be.  

Somehow, I managed to rope a few of my friends in... what?  

Fifth grade?  

I managed to convince them to don poodle skirts, use hula hoops, and lip sync to "Rock Around The Clock"... Which, by the way, is sung by a man.  

Some tiny little girls, lip syncing to a man voice.  

I remember being incredibly nervous.  

I don't even know why I wanted to do it at all.  

I hate going on stage for anything.  

Perhaps, part of it was that I didn't have to speak.  

A lot of my stage fright does have to do with my voice, after all.  

Along those lines... 

A mandatory stage play in the third grade meant that I got two parts.  

You know, since I didn't want any at all.   

My teacher decided I was going to be two different birds, because, and I quote, she thought I was very, "bird like"...

Having low self esteem meant that I took this to mean something about me having a beak of a nose and squawking a lot.  

I will say, my mother was brilliant here.  

She made one costume work for two by simply having a removable red chest piece. 

 During a poetry week, I recited a poem I had memorized... 

Poe's The Raven.  

I was always that kid.  

I did presentations on serial killers about a bazillion times... 

Of course, I did presentations on Alice's Adventures in Wonderland...

 The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, as well as presentations on Robert Louis Stevenson himself...

Actually, that one kept getting interrupted by two rude girls right in the front of the class.  

They weren't scolded for it, but I was for stopping in order to try and get them to shut up.  

It led to a very early Deddrie strip, in fact.  

Of course, there were presentations I didn't do... 

I didn't have a Bat Mitzvah, even though I went through all the schooling for it... 

I also took ballet, jazz, and tap all at the same time. 

 

I was best at tap dancing and I liked jazz the most.  

I was terrible at ballet and I hated doing it.  

I chickened out of the recital, unfortunately after my parents had already paid for the very expensive (and very itchy) costumes.  

...I'll have to do an edit eventually once I figure out how to illustrate the Little Mermaid thing.  It was a dance with a sheer green fabric.  I was told the dance was very pretty.  

At some point, I was roped into this fish based play that I only vaguely remember at all.  

We were to make our paper costumes and then kind of hold them in front of us... somehow. 

Mine was a clown fish.  I was super happy about it.  

That isn't sarcasm.  I really wanted to be the clown fish.  

Sadly, I was seated by an idiot.  He sloppily splashed blue paint on a bit of my fish.  

I sighed, realized that once it was dry, I could just paint over it.  

The teacher's assistant saw this and decided I was in crisis.  

...

THEN I was in crisis.  

She said I shouldn't be sad and that I should just splash more blue all over the fish.  "SEE???"  

I'm still angry.  

*breathes*  

I was also in choir for a few thousand years.  

My family is known for singing, so even though I had some issues with my speech, it was assumed I would also go in front of people and sing.  

They'd give me solos without even asking me to audition, and I'd hand them over to my friends who had talent or at least a want to do this thing that everyone but me seemed to want me to do.  

Mind you, these days, it would be nice to be able to sing, play piano, play guitar and all those things.  The only thing stopping me is my own blind fear based on shit (mostly just in my head) from when I was a kid. 

I remember Cats more than anything.  

Anyone without solos couldn't wear tails.  

I wore one anyway because I had been handed a solo and my giving it up did not mean I was giving up my right to a tail.  

By my fourth and final undergraduate college, I was presenting crap like this: 

I swear this was for a fashion course.  

Chaos, Muppets, and Utter Insanity

For those who haven't noticed, lately, I have been very stressed.

I, generally, like plans.  They make me feel like I have some sense of control.  Plans keep me calm. 

Lately, most of my "plans" don't work out.  People are wishy washy, other things come up, or I'm just plain forgotten.

This has gotten to me, but I stick by my friends who I can depend on, like a certain someone I wind up texting at least ten thousand times a day. 

*ahem*

So, I had gotten to the point where I was okay with not going across the country to visit anyone or meet my boyfriend's family.  I was disappointed, but fine.

Then, suddenly I had tickets and I was going.  We just figured out TODAY how we will be getting to the plane TOMORROW.

As it turns out, I handle disappointment a heck of a lot better than I handle miraculously getting my way like I wanted to begin with... after accepting said disappointment.   I don't know if it's that going through that mourning process for nothing bothers me, or if I have this underlying assumption that the good thing will just go away again... or what.  Either way, it is devastating and I don't know what to do with myself when it happens.  Especially lately.

Everything about this is making my heart try to escape my body.

After the accident, I sort of bottled everything.  ...apparently.  I didn't notice I was doing it.  I'd say "Hey, lets talk about it."  He'd say, "Of course."  ...And then I'd, like, forget... or something. ... I don't know.

Either way, finally, with the trip coming up and me totally unprepared and over thinking things and everything at the boiling point... I had a bad dream, and it set me over the edge. 
It got to the point where I was no longer able to make coherent thoughts that were anything other than hateful or depressing.

I went from screaming at him (probably not really, but it felt like I was screaming to both of us),

to sitting in a horrible bubble of pathetic depression, hysterical sobbing, and worthlessness,

to finally just wrapping myself in blankets and losing my mind.

...My boyfriend is amazingly patient.  While I certainly find him frustrating from time to time, I have to give him credit for sitting this whole thing out.

Also, rarely will one find someone who is willing to pretend the whole thing never happened, just because you say, "Hey, lets pretend I didn't just act like a crazy person."

So, then we went on part of a planned date! 
I say part, because the original intent was to see Sherlock and the Muppets movie.  I was very excited to see the Muppets. 

We went glow-golfing instead, which is also something I've been wanting to do since moving here. 

It was awesome.

Black light glow golf.

Yeah.

And I rocked.

But, we didn't have time to see the movie.  Either movie. 

Every time I fail to see the Muppet movie, I feel like I'm breaking Kermit's heart.

 This is especially disheartening because "Muppeteer" was on my list of dream careers, even as a kid.  It was right up there with "rock star" and "Xena".

My text-buddy promises that she and I will see it, especially since she conveniently lives in the area I'm now flying to see. 
...So... Chaos is finding order in itself.  She understands my need for a plan, and her boyfriend understands where my boyfriend is coming from, so it has helped to talk to them both. 

...I just heard breaking noises followed by giggling men.  ...Wat?

And that is the life I currently live.

EDIT:  The "breaking" was apparently more of a "pop".  Is that better?

...Housemate says, "I could have died."


SECOND EDIT:  It's okay guys!  I have seen the Muppets!  The rightful order has been restored!  ...And my favorite muppet, Crazy Harry, was actually in a significant number of scenes!!!