For my BlissDom talk, I practiced in my kitchen using my microwave timer because the BlissDom gals were adamant that we could speak no more than six minutes. I practiced, because I wanted to be within the timeline and because this is what my trainer taught me. The people who make it look easy, make it look easy because they have worked their asses off.
My new kitten watched as I stood by my counter speaking to an audience of empty chairs. Occasionally he would climb up my leg until he reached my chest, snuggling his head into my shoulder, purring. I would gently unpluck his claws from my shirt, place him on the floor and restart the timer.
At first it was too long, I was talking too much, so I took out points and adjusted. There are so many ways to succeed by being a quitter—you have no idea.
Over and over again until finally I got it down to 5 minutes 50 seconds, give or take.
I felt ready. I was prepared. I would be within my time frame. I knew I would be freaking out about speaking in front of an audience, but what I was speaking about? That I knew.
Only I missed one thing.
In my empty kitchen the only sounds to be heard were my own voice and the microwave counting down the seconds. What I didn't factor in was the time that would be taken up by the audience laughing. It was a rookie mistake. I never even realized it would or could happen.
A room full of people laughing. At my jokes.
I think I may be addicted to it.
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