Peach! Peach! Peach!

A couple nights ago, I gave a keynote speech at a Toastmasters conference. I referenced this yesterday, when I wrote about frantically traveling across town in a cab to get there. The two events are tightly linked. The moment I leapt out of the cab, I ran over to the front desk of the venue, which directed me to the right room. I then spent a minute pointlessly talking to the person manning the registration table. It really didn't matter whether I was comped or not, since I was too late for dinner (or at least I was told that).

I then located the person I really needed to talk to, and was sent over to my table where I put on my necktie and received a wireless mike. This terrified me. I have always feared technology in speaking and in other performances, since they have such an alarming propensity for failing at critical moments. In any case, with microphone and tie on my person, I sat and waited for the time to give my speech. It's good that I had some time, since I had to shake off the panic that had me in its grips for the three hours preceding.

The encouraging words of friends present at the event helped, and I was basically settled down in time to hear the two keynote speakers who went before me. I don't know if it's weird to have three keynote speakers, but I never heard of it before. Anyway, the two people before me gave good speeches. One was a little funnier than the other, but both were far more straight than I'm capable of being. I guess I was there to balance things out.

Leading up to my speech, everything in my head and my heart had been telling me that the opposite would likely be true. I had only written the speech on Tuesday (practicing it a few times that night) and tried it on a live audience Thursday. It had been my hope to make some tweaks and practice it some more, but the time just was not there. Being freaked out by the real possibility that I would be unable to arrive in time (and, with my phone dead, not be able to apprise the conference organizers of the fact), as I said, was no help at all.

I was cognizant of the audience responding reasonably well to me, but I was even more aware that I was executing my speech as well as I had any time I'd tried to do it. This was very gratifying, and all I really hoped for under the circumstances. Given my fears of failing to live up to my obligation at all or of exposing myself as a terrible speaker who'd somehow fooled everyone for years, even completing the speech felt like a victory.

After finishing my speech, I got a good round of applause, which seemed a bit better than mere politeness. What convinced me that I'd really done was was my inability to make my way back to my seat without being slowed by the reception of congratulations from virtually every table I passed. I had taken the station from audience right and exited to audience left, so as a consequence it took me a long time to make the circuit.

I think that I'm getting better at taking compliments. I still have the impulse, upon receiving one, to correct the giver- to tell them that they're wrong, and to give them the list of reasons why I was actually not good. Instead of voicing that, I just say "Thank you very much. I appreciate it." I can't say much more than that without sinking into repulsive self-deprecation, but that I can do even that much shows my progress.

The kind words of the many friends and strangers who complimented me throughout the night meant the world to me. I was only free to give the keynote speech because I had been defeated in the previous round of one of the speaking contests which were the heart of the conference, and the loss really hurt (deserved thought it might have been). The praise for this speech was quite a salve for that wound, and nicely capped off the day.