it seems that, apparently, every Thursday of summer will be devoted to making sure that we make progress on the prepared speech.
now, I know that some people seem to actually like this stuff, but I find it horrid. impromptu really is my strong suite, and nothing gets me quite as nervous as having to recite something that I’ve written before an audience. for an impromptu, at least you know that you cannot be faulted for rambling a bit and sounding more or less conversational— that’s the point, because you thought the whole thing up in less that five minutes. when you’ve actually prepared something, you worry that you don’t have it quite memorized or that you don’t have an interesting enough topic, especially considering you’d picked on completely independently. then you go through the worry that it isn’t perfect; sure, when you write it for six months, it really ought to be, and you’ve convinced yourself that it truly was, yet the second you’re to say it, you realize that it really isn’t perfect. you find everything that could possibly be wrong, and you hate youself because you had months to fix it; why didn’t you fix it?!
I might be a tad hateful, but I can’t be bothered.
on another hand, I was to talk about my speech topic before I forget again.
when the year started, I had originally planned to write about materialism. yes, the money, the fame, material things that to some have value; to others, are pointless. I liked the topic, because to be honest, I am an incredibly material person, and I do not see it as bad, despite what society says. this is only furthered by the fact that while society says that materialism is not proper, it pushes one to be so. it sounded good and I sounded confident as I read the introduction, but… I couldn’t get past the lack of passion I had.
Passion— that’s key. Why bother talking when one has no passion to at all? that’s what I always tell myself. there is no point. speech, as in the act of speaking, is meant to get personal opinions across and meant to make you ponder your own thoughts. it is meant to show you, but without passion, you are not you, you are robotic. you speak because you have to. perhaps you may want to, but it is more superficial than complete lust to speak. you are going through the motions and saying what you mean, but I don’t care what you’re saying if you don’t care enough tp mean it. I want passion, always, and I wouldn’t expect anything less from myself as I would anyone else.
So I abandoned that, claimed that i’d forgotten it.
last week was the first established Thursday to do this, and I sat with janine to figure out what to talk about. while I love her, it is hard to be inspired while talking to janine, because her tastes are childish and “mainstream” and simply unstimulating, academically, for me. it is fine for normal conversation, and I love that she is all of these things. she is fun to talk to, and her youthfulness is a wonderful trait, but she isn’t much help to bounce ideas off of because of it. she’ll twist the idea to be cheesy and humorous and light, which isn’t me. I’m humorous, but I’m dark, and I delve deep into emotions whereas janine skims them.
I got into the idea of princesses. I was inspired by royals, by lorde, which was my favorite song at the time. that isn’t the point though. princesses are fascinating, if you really delve into it. there are many types, definitions, and cliches of princesses, yet there is a truthful ugliness that comes with being royalty as well, and many people fail to see this. I wanted to highlight it, to show that it was fine that we’re all, for lack of a better word, commoners. that, as lorde put it, “that kind of lux(ury) just ain’t for us.” it was a good topic, and I had lots of opinions about it.
however, today, when I sat down to write about it, I found nothing to say.
I liked the topic, and I knew what to say, and I knew what I wanted to include, but I could never see myself saying it all with passion.
So, from there, I scraped princesses too.
I think, however, that I have my topic.
Poetry; the lost art.
I know. Its a little cliche and a lot boring. I do not know what even possessed me to think about it. however, I like it. where has poetry gone? when poetry began, poets were revered. poets were the kanye’s of their time. their work was loved, their feet praised. now, poetry is boring. it is dull and dreadful english class material. It seems that nobody enjoys it anymore— or so they say. because there is poetry in everything. Poetry in rap, in the words I am saying now. poetry can be whatever it chooses, free of form and the restrictions of proper grammar. poems are beautiful in their eloquence and their emotions. they are stocked with the later. Romances, lonliness, happiness, psychotic. there is a poem for anything. so why are poems lame?
I want to explore this. Truly, I believe that it can work.
In all honesty, I can always just use my potential speech. I never used it last year, so there is no saying that I cannot. But I don’t think I will.