Research Monkey Therapy

Research Monkey“Hello, I am your Research Monkey PHD. Normally my task is to answer your questions about what is going on in my boss’s head. Today I am helping him understand what is happening in his own head. How meta.”

Ugh.

I would love to say I choked, but I didn’t.

I looked upon the audience and decided that I did not want to play anymore. So I took my toys and went home. That is the closet analogy I can come up with for my speech today. I was supposed to sell myself in one-minute. I short sold myself at 30 seconds.

I practiced what I wanted to say. I knew what to say. I just didn’t want to say it to them.

I don’t know why. I know that I do not like talking about myself. I enjoy the give and take of a conversation. I do not enjoy a zero-energy audience staring at me, hoping that I…I finish quick, there were only four minutes left of class. Honestly I have no idea what the audience was doing.

Give me presentation where I have to inform, perform, persuade, entertain, or whatever. Give me a presentation where the audience can be engaged. These are speaking strengths of mine. They don’t care who I am, what my skills are, or what I want to do with my life. Speaking about myself. No, selling myself is not.

The professor asked me why I didn’t want to talk to the class. He and I know I can do a lot better. The best I could come up with, and I have been thinking about this for a few hours now:

  • Apathy on the audience end. I was excited and eager to give my minute long-presentation when class started.
  • I do not like to sell myself. I really do not like to sell myself.
  • I like to sell things that I do. I am the cool accessory you get when you buy what I have made.
  • One asshat who gave commentary throughout the entire class really had me in a piss-poor mood. Not that it should have stopped me, but piss-poor mood me…well….
  • When I don’t want to do something, I don’t do.

I am sure there is a deeper reason, something akin to why I do not let people take my photo. No, not the steal my soul thing either. In the end, I did what I did or what I didn’t do. I accept, even if I don’t know why, the repercussions of my actions-not the best grade.

As this rambling thought in process post comes to an end, privacy is the word that keeps popping up. I am a private person. About myself, who I am, what I am doing. Way too many years of not talking about myself have ingrained in me a deep dislike for talking about myself. Hmm…I may have to work on that skill.

 

 

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