Selling the Apocalypse: A College speech to remember!

One of the required classes I had to take in college was speech. 

I'd never given a speech, let alone taken an entire class on the subject. Now, when I'm online, in a chat room, or just writing in my blog, I can be pretty brazen. The anonymity of the internet tends to make me (like most people I'm sure) a bit more confident when interacting with others. I've been known to be a little out there at times, I speak my mind, and have a sort of no bullshit attitude when it comes to how I let people treat me. Because of this, most people think I'm pretty outspoken, if not a little rude at times. When I tell that in real life I am the exact opposite, they have a hard time believing me.

Well, it's true. I am, in fact, the epitome of shy. I do not like to speak in big groups of people (I don't like to BE in big groups of people).  I rarely make eye-contact with people that I am not comfortable with, and if I don't know someone, I am more apt to run away and hide than start up a conversation with them.
I'm as socially awkward offline as I am sarcastic and rude online. So, when I was told that I had to take this class, I signed up for it right away. Not because I was excited to take the class and maybe change my whole outlook on things, force myself to become more social, and break myself out of my self induced social cocoon. No, I signed up for the class so I get it done and over with it. One less thing to have to stress about and worry over.  I was not looking forward to this class at all.

The very first day, I walked in and took a long look at my peers and almost immediately a sense of dread had settled deep within my soul. The class was a mixture of young and old, ranging from eighteen and newly out of high school to a woman well into her 60's and probably looking for something to fill her lonely, childless days, as her kids have all moved out and went on to pursue their own lives.

I was majoring in human services but there were people from just about every walk of life in this class. A girl who wasn't sure yet what she wanted to do with her life. A man that was majoring in some machine trade. A hopeful, future kindergarten teacher. A media major, a nursing student, and various others.  Looking over them all I was reminded of the movie "The breakfast club". Mostly because all I was seeing in this crowd was the princess, the jock, the brain, not many criminals, but I was definitely the outcast or the basket case. When I entered the room and all eyes turned to me I became painfully aware that I did not fit in.

I probably resembled a bit of the criminal too. At least to some of the students, I'm sure. Though I have a background in nursing, have worked in various long term care facilities, and was now pursuing a job in human services (which would be social work, mental health counseling, case management etc...) I still maintained a somewhat, less than conservative, style of dress. To be more exact, this was during my goth phase.

While at work I greatly toned it down. Most facilities I'd worked in had a strict dress code and I dressed appropriately, though I did push the boundaries a bit to see what I could get away with. At school I was a bit freer to be myself though I still didn't go full on grim reaper. For me there were four levels of goth dress.

There was the "confined goth". This was reserved for work. It meant no make-up, clean, clear nails. No outrageous colors of hair (I mostly kept it black anyway) and no jewelry what so ever. This was a rule of the facility (wedding rings excluded) but also more of a safety rule for the workers. Earrings were allowed as long as they were tasteful and not long enough where they could be grabbed.

Long hair was fine (even for men) as long as it was neat and pulled back. We had to limit the

amount of hair spray or cologne that was worn due to patients with respiratory issues. We were required to wear hospital scrubs in every place that I worked. In some places each department had their own color such as white or teal for nursing, burgundy for laundry, and light blue for dietary.  Other places didn't care as long as they were scrubs. I rarely wore printed smocks but when I did they were more along the goth lines like "A nightmare Before Christmas" or any Halloween print that I wore all year round unless specifically told not to. For the most part though I wore black, white, or burgundy, or a mixture of the three. I wore tennis shoes as per our dress code. I pretty much followed the rules unless working 3rd shift when I was known to wear shorts which were not allowed on day shift.

The second style of dress was the  "Everyday goth". This usually consisted of my hair in a pony tail, black nails, light make-up usually on the eyes, white face, black jeans, a dark t-shirt with some type of goth like picture on the front (at times I went more classical vampire and wore blood red dress shirts. It was a more elegant form of goth and less rock and roll) and either black boots or sandals.  If it was hot out I might have worn shorts, and on really hot days I had a great loathing for anything with sleeves. My mom had one rule. Sleeveless tops were fine around her as long as they didn't show off any nipple, so I more or less adopted this rule when going to school as well.
Not that many people would have been opposed to seeing my nipples, especially back then, but I found it to be inappropriate and unprofessional. Jewelry was subtle, maybe a necklace and a few rings. A couple studs in my ears but nothing flashy.  This form of dress I saved for class, school events for my children, professional type appointments, and usually anything having to do with family.

The next category was "At home goth" this form of dress was reserved for days when I was sick, depressed, or just plain lazy. I wasn't often seen in public this way, unless I made a quick trip to the store for food or smokes. This form of dress gives people a full view of what a goth who doesn't give a shit what he is wearing looks like. My hair is either pulled back or left to hang in unwashed tangles around my face. The only make-up I'm wearing is what was not washed off from the previous night. Jewelry is optional at this point. Dress was basically what ever I could find to avoid being naked. It

could be a tank top and a pair of shorts with some flip flops, to full on Jack Skellington PJ's and slippers. When in this form of dress I often looked like a member of the undead whether it was my intention to do so or not.

The last Category is "Night Club goth". This look is strictly reserved for clubbing or going to any party where you want to look absolutely killer sexy. Hair is amazing, full make-up, lots of jewelry, tons of leather--that's a must. Shirts are optional but I used to like to go with an opened vest or netted shirt that showed a lot of skin. If I went with a more elegant dress shirt it was usually always open at the throat and often showed a good portion of my chest. I didn't want to wear something that said "Hey, I'm a slut" but I also didn't want to walk around with a sign that said "Closed for renovations" either. Depending on where you went, you didn't want your attire to give off the wrong message. For example: If I were to enter a vampire bar, I didn't want to walk in wearing something that advertised me as a tasty snack. That invitation could always be extended later to whom ever I wished and preferably in a more, intimate, setting.
When I walked into a club, I wanted my clothing as well as my attitude to read predator, rather than prey. I was on the hunt, and only one very lucky man would get the honor of becoming my next conquest. I wanted men to see me and desire me, lust after me, and beg me to choose them. If the stars were in their favor, I would.

Akasha from "Queen Of the Damned"

Very few people were ever fortunate enough to see this side of me. Unfortunately for anyone who took me home, I was gone by morning, before they saw the after math of what a night of partying could do to me. I was careful never to break the illusion, and I didn't go to clubs looking for long term commitments. It was rare that I even gave them my real name, or even my phone number. I didn't want them to insert themselves into my day time life. I kept the two separate which made me more mysterious, more alluring. People had seen me before, knew of me, but didn't know who I was and I didn't volunteer any information. My night life wasn't about making friends or even finding my one true love. It was about sex, plain and simple. Feeding my desires and then slipping out as quickly as possible. In some way, I think that was how I kept myself from being hurt, but that's an entirely different post. Suffice to say, the people at school, (and at work) never saw this side of me.

So, getting back to my class. This has given you a good insight into what I looked like back then, how I held myself, and my insecurities about public speaking. When standing in front of the class I was naked, stripped of all my mystery and totally exposed. I didn't like that feeling. I didn't like their eyes on me. I didn't like the quiet of the room, the bright lights that illuminated me for all to see. I didn't like the clear headedness of my peers, or the lack of drunken fog and hazy cloud of smoke that

normally shielded me from those I interacted with. I didn't like that they could see the real me, standing there, unsure of himself, and scared for the first time. My self-assured, predatory, guise was gone and I was just...me. One shy, self-conscious, young man standing before a crowd of people who I was sure were going to judge me, maybe even mock me. I was certain that they were looking for me to mess up, and I was terrified that I would.

Our very first assignment though was a kind of ice breaker. The instructor wanted to see what each of us were capable of when put on the spot so she came up with an activity that I'm sure was meant to be fun.  When she called our names, we were to walk to the front of the class, reach into a bag that she was holding, and pull out a small object. The object was to be the subject of our impromptu speech, and each speech was to last exactly two minutes. The objects she had brought with her from home and were anything from small toys, to a tube of lip stick. It didn't matter what the speech was about as long as it somehow incorporated the object we'd chosen.

I sat in the back of the class, waiting my turn, and terrified that she would call on me next. I just couldn't do this. With no time to prepare, no time to think, how was I going to stand in front of a class of strangers and give a speech on something that I knew nothing about? In hindsight I guess that I was making too big a deal out of the whole thing but at the time it seemed like the end of the world as I knew it. I was going to be laughed right out of the room and would probably would never be able to show my face in that class again.

Finally the moment I had dreaded for so long had come. She called my name and so I walked the long and painful walk of certain death to the podium, reached into the bag, and choose my object.
I opened my hand and looked down at the small green, military like toy car that I was holding in my hand.

It was dark green, armored, and completely closed in, like a tank but it was more of an SUV. It had guns on the top, and large tires for off the road traveling. Looking it over, and processing what the thing was, the first thought that popped into my head was urban assault vehicle. That's when I suddenly had a great, if not a bit off-the-wall idea.

The night before I had been watching "Planet Terror". For anyone that doesn't know this film, it's about a group of survivors, led by a stripper, who try and outsmart a hoard of flesh-eating zombies. Probably not the best idea for a college speech but I was fresh out of ideas and so I decided to go with it. I looked at the class, set the toy on the podium so they could all see it, and then opened with the line, "Have you ever worried about the zombie apocalypse?"

The dead like silence of the room was broken by a loud chorus of roaring laughter. Normally this would have freaked me out and I would have run from the room, in tears, never to return. Something was different about this moment though. I didn't feel self-conscious anymore. I didn't feel like the butt end of someones joke. These people were not laughing at me, they were laughing with me, just as they would have, had a comedian just stepped up on the stage. They found my opening line hilarious. Maybe it was made more humorous by the fact that I looked like one of the living dead myself, or maybe it was just in the way that I delivered the speech. Either way, they loved it.

I went on to describe the object in front of me as a prototype for a new urban assault vehicle that was sure that plow it's way through anything, living or dead. I talked as if I were giving a sales pitch, trying to sell the thing to a group of doomsday fanatics. I spoke with such honesty, such enthusiasm, as though I truly believed in the product and the need for it, that even the instructor was in stitches. I ended the speech with, "So, the next time you find yourself mobbed by a hoard of the undead, remember the doomsday urban assault vehicle. It could save your life!"

As I left the front of the room and returned to my seat, the class was still in tears. It took a solid five minutes to calm everyone down enough that the next student could get up and deliver their speech, though no one could top the gem I'd just given. After class, as we all prepared to empty the room, I had people I didn't know coming up me just to congratulate me on my great speech. A few of them said that I should go into stand up comedy. They were impressed and it made me feel good to be so accepted.  My future speeches didn't have the same impact that that first one did, but it did cement my standing in the class. No one soon forgot about the zombie apocalypse speech, and I was told by new students over the years that the instructor actually used my speech as an example when explaining the assignment to future classes.

I remember being so scared to walk into that class. More scared to stand up in front of all those other people and speak aloud, but I was more scared of going in there, being myself, and being ridiculed for it.  I've always been a firm believer in being who you are, but I've also always managed to be the freak in the back of the room that no one understands or cared to get to know. All that ended when I got up and just decided to be myself. And honestly, all of my love and obsession with dark things and horror films paid off because I really knew what I was talking about. I like to think that if the zombie apocalypse ever did happen, the people in  that class would be a little better equipped to deal with it because of me.