Back in 2010, we caught a bad case of the bed bugs. So in 2011, at my job’s annual staff retreat, I did a short presentation about the experience. This is that presentation.

I really enjoyed doing this, but I hate that I was carrying a bunch of extra weight and that I needed a script in hand. So it goes.

Scared

A couple of years ago, Americans, seemingly as a whole, were intimated by a few hundred Chinese people playing drums at the same time. Their ability to hit drums in unison intimidated us so much, we ignored the fact that our marching bands have been performing similar feats every Saturday and Sunday during halftime. With a mixed collection of instruments to boot.

Kids ransacked Wall Street today and they scared the police so much that a handful of them were maced and beaten.

The prevailing political discourse of the day centers around our money and scared we are of losing it. A whole bunch of people are afraid of having less money. A lot more people are afraid they’ll never get a chance to earn a decent wage again. Everybody’s scared about the money (especially money that isn’t theirs).

I’m scared I’m not going to get the change at work I’ve been working towards (with a lot of help from my boss). I’m also scared I’m never going to develop the willpower to become a healthy adult. I don’t ever want to be bald, so I’m scared of that.

I don’t like the idea of people having concealed firearms in churches, bars, schools, or movie theaters. Actually, concealed firearms in any location scares me.

Somewhere along the way, I became much more interesting in the real world than I was online.
Or maybe I’ve always been that way.
I wanted to be a writer for a long, long time. I wanted to make a living creating stories and adventures. This was my life’s dream for high school and a bunch of college.
In high school, I wrote a lot. I took every English class I could and even tried to get into honor’s English, even though my grades didn’t support it. I wrote a column for the school newspaper, and spent a lot of free time jotting down stories or writing in my journal.
One teacher in high school, however, noticed something about me and it took me many more years to fully realize it for myself. She told me that I was better at speaking my mind than writing my mind. She told me that I had a knack for grabbing the attention of people with my voice and language, more than my writing.
Anyway. This user’s very kind compliment made all that pop into my mind. 

Somewhere along the way, I became much more interesting in the real world than I was online.

Or maybe I’ve always been that way.

I wanted to be a writer for a long, long time. I wanted to make a living creating stories and adventures. This was my life’s dream for high school and a bunch of college.

In high school, I wrote a lot. I took every English class I could and even tried to get into honor’s English, even though my grades didn’t support it. I wrote a column for the school newspaper, and spent a lot of free time jotting down stories or writing in my journal.

One teacher in high school, however, noticed something about me and it took me many more years to fully realize it for myself. She told me that I was better at speaking my mind than writing my mind. She told me that I had a knack for grabbing the attention of people with my voice and language, more than my writing.

Anyway. This user’s very kind compliment made all that pop into my mind.