In an hour I will be putting my emotion box on stage in front of a man I exchanged conversation with for only 5 minutes. He will then decide if I am worthy enough to join his team. In his eyes a team that consists of some of the best. I consider myself one of the best, but then what credit do I have to even think that. Like Show and Tell from my elementary school days, I will have to whip out all the tricks I encase in order to woo him, the crowd, and the studio. Although my mouth will do all the talking, my eyes will be on the sidelines, alluring him into my web. Stumbling words will have to transition smoothly into convincing improv. Eye twitching and leg trembling will have to be at a minimum level so as not to distract. As a matter of fact there will be no nervous movement from my end at all. When he waves his hand for me to proceed, I will become someone else. And then silence. I’ll smile shyly, say thank you, turn around and walk off stage… No bowing, that would mark a sign of cockiness I had yet to earn.
Skinny Specs
