I couldn’t sit still, crossing and uncrossing my legs, moving my hands around. I kept repeating to myself over and over what I was going to say, as if I would suddenly get amnesia and not know who I was.
‘My name is J., I live in Uptown, and I work at an internet business and I am a dancer.’
If the leader had stopped the exercise before I had had my turn and asked me to name the last five people who had introduced themselves I wouldn’t have been able to.
‘My name is J., I live in Uptown, and I work at an internet business and I am a dancer.’
The whole room was nervous, I could see it on everyone’s faces. No one wanted to be the one to stand up in front of everyone else and get it wrong. No one wanted to be the one the leader stopped and dissected. No one wanted to be the one to have to repeat themselves. We all knew it was going to happen.
‘My name is J…’
My nervousness grew when my row was told to get in line on the side of the stage. Inching closer and closer to the stage as one by one the people in my row went, my heart was fluttering. I felt crazy, it wasn’t like I could forget, and they even had a chalk board in the back with prompts on it. I know who I am.
‘My name is…’
And then it was my turn. I stood in the center of the stage and gave my introduction. I looked at everyone; I spoke loud enough and stated who I was. And that was it. I was done, I left the stage and sat back down in my chair. I was done. Nothing happened, I didn’t forget who I was or make up some crazy story, or forget to look at the group of people I was introducing myself to. I had stood there and told them those few simple details of my life and then easily went back to my seat.
Afterward I was able to concentrate on who was introducing themselves and really hear names and look at faces, take in who I was going to be spending the next few days with. I heard what people did for their job or for life and where they chose to live. It was a completely different room for me. The atmosphere was light and easy. I could enjoy everyone else and what they were telling me.
‘My name is Mr. Not Hideous. I’m a massage therapist, I rub people for a living. I live in my friends’ basement in Brooklyn Park and I rent a five year old.’ He was funny. The room laughed, he was funny. And he was the one who got spanked by the leader. She dissected him, made him see how he was using humor as a way to distance himself from others. She wasn’t going to let him get away with that kind of crap, she made him do it again.
I thought thank god that wasn’t me. Poor guy, but I’m glad it wasn’t me.
this post was inspired by prompt #1 of this weeks writers workshop.
