Sonja the Wresting Chipmunk

Yay! Speech 10 is over and I've got a shiny certificate and commemorative pin from Toastmasters declaring that I'm a Competent Communicator. Whew. It's so nice to be competent at something. The guest event I dreaded so much went well. We had 10 guests and free lunch. I was presented not only with my Competent Communicator pin but also a fancy certificate for winning our club speech contest back in February.

As for the speech, I ended up with three or four half-hearted drafts. Of the ten speeches I've done, this was the hardest to write. The previous drafts followed the typical commencement/motivational speech format that I gleaned from watching a bunch of commencement speeches on Youtube from famous people like Oprah Winfrey, Steve Jobs, J.K. Rowling and Obama. As I tried to fill out the format, picking the concepts I wanted to talk about it and fleshing them out, I realized I was bored. I still liked the concepts I picked out, but for some reason I wasn't compelled to deliver the speech I had written. And if I'm not interested in what I'm saying, then I can't possibly expect anyone else to be interested in listening.

In such a time of distress, I turned to whimsy. Once I aimed for whimsy, the words flew out of my pen faster than I could legibly write. I wrote a story with the same title as this blog post. I learned that having to deliver a story within 10 minutes forces me into a very spare economy of words. It's always a useful writing skill to practice and one that I don't always do so rigorously. I found out that memorizing a story is far easier my regular three point speech. Because the plot naturally leads from one event to the next, it only took me two tries to fully deliver the speech without having to refer to notes. Strangely enough, I had more trouble memorizing the song lyrics I used than the entirety of the rest of the speech. It's also much easier to endure dramatic pauses during the delivery when they're built into the narrative. At any rate, I'm glad to be on the other side of that speech. I'm looking forward to taking a break from speechifying for a little while. Oh yeah, read more to get the speech as prepared.



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The first thing that came to mind when I thought about writing an inspirational speech was to take stock of speeches that could be inspirational: sermons, commencement speeches, motivational speeches, halftime locker room talks. I don’t know the first thing about giving those kinds of speeches. But I do know a tiny bit about stories. I write fiction primarily for my own amusement. This is a story I wrote this past weekend hopefully for your amusement, if not inspiration.

Once upon a time, there was a chipmunk named Sonja. Sonja was on the verge of fulfilling her life's dream of becoming the youngest champion in the Worldwide Treetop Wrestling Federation's most elite competition, the Pinnacle Cup Challenge. She had been training for the last six years since the Pinnacle Cup Challenge was last held. Her every waking moment was either thinking, eating, drinking, or moving to conquer the rigors of the sport. She hadn’t lost a single match or competition since that fateful day six years ago when her older sister tragically won the Pinnacle Cup Challenge only to be struck by lighting in her moment of triumph. She was determined to give her parents and the memory of her sister, the champion she felt they deserved.

As her final match started, she threw the entirety of her skills, strategy and ability against her formidable opponent. The battle up the tree was fierce as they clashed and collided, trying to drag the other down. She was blind to anything else but the task at hand until she saw the prize acorn at the top of the tree. In one final lunge, she reached out her paw to claim her victory. But to her horror, it was another paw, not her own, that snagged it. The unthinkable had happened. She had lost.

Sonja didn't know how she got through the next few days, the endless parade of awkward reassurances and sheepish smiles meant to assuage her pain. She retreated from the world, from her family and friends and sought solace at a fermented fruit bar on the seedy side of the forest where no one recognized her.

After months of seething solitude, she was annoyed to find one day that some old chipmunk was claiming the seat beside her.
“Go away, old ‘munk,” she croaked irritably, barely glancing up. “Can't you see there's plenty of seats not near me?”
He chuckled and claimed the seat anyway, “I can't see anything at all, young one. But since I'm already seated, I think I'll just stay here.” He made a great show of settling himself in the chair, during which Sonja had decided scoot one more chair over, when he interrupted her, “Seems you’ve got a burr in your tail you need to get out before it festers.”

“That’s none of your business old ‘munk,” she snapped and defiantly sat back down. “You wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“And that's because I'm old and blind and never been young like you?”

“No, that's because you were never destined to be a champion only to commit the biggest failure ever on the biggest stage of your life. All my hard work wasted! I failed my parents, I failed my sister, I failed all those people who expected me to win! Now I'm nothing! That was all I ever knew and all I ever could be and it's all gone!” She became acutely aware of the silence in the bar after her outburst as every chipmunk in the room held their collective breaths.

“So?” He shrugged. “You’re still alive aren't you?”

His deliberate indifference to her plight infuriated her. She lunged towards him. “Maybe I should be dead! I wouldn't have to deal with you or anyone else expecting anything from me anymore.” She took a deep breath to continue but he interrupted her.

“That's not what I meant. You’re still alive. You have survived the biggest mistake of your life. You have a chance to do something now. You can choose to stay here, wallow in what's already happened and never move on. Or you could pick yourself up, learn from it and do something that moves you forward again.”

With a frustrated cry, Sonja hurled herself out of the door, not caring who got in her way and ran.

She raged as she ran, seeking to outrun his words and her own despair. She scrabbled and dodged through the tree trunks and branches but still those thoughts were there, images of her sister’s face in triumph, her parents’ disappointed looks. It was only in exhaustion that she stopped, her lungs fighting for air. Many long moments later, when her sobbing had subsided, she took one long clean breath, her chest unconstricted, unrestrained. It felt like relief. It felt like freedom. It was then that she realized that the old chipmunk was right. Her entire world had blown up in one huge, irretrievable mistake and she lived to tell the tale. She took another deep breath and imagined a brighter cast to her future. In her mind's eye, she saw what she imagined as pain and disappointment in her parents’ eyes and transformed it into love and concern. A song came to her mind then, written by her friend Jonathan Coulton:

“Enjoy yourself, do the things that matter
Cause there isn’t time and space to do it all
Love the things you try, drink a cocktail wear a tie
Show a little grace if you should fall

Don’t live another day unless you make it count
There’s someone else that you’re supposed to be
There’s something deep inside of you that still wants out
And shame on you if you don’t set it free. “

For the first time in months, a genuine smile crept onto her face as she looked to find her way home. She was looking forward to meeting that other person she was supposed to be.

The moral of the story is, whether you’ve just lost the treetop wrestling championship or you’ve lost something bigger, don't be afraid of mistakes. You can learn so much more about your own strengths and capabilities with failure than with any success.

The End.

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My Very First Toast Contest

Technically, I participated in a speech contest in 3rd grade for the 4H Club. It consisted of my reading aloud a report I had written about visiting Fort McHenry in Maryland where the Star Spangled Banner was written. Yes, I still remember that. I got a blue ribbon for it and everything.

Despite that illustrious beginning, I have not tried my hand at a speech contest again until recently when my Toastmasters club held one in preparation for the area contest and on up. I won our club level contest and came in dead last in the area contest. Whee!

The competitor in me is quite bummed at my standing in the area contest. In my estimation, I totally should have won 2nd place (there were only 3 speakers in the area contest). On the other hand, I'm relieved since I don't advance to the next level contest. Some other feel-good rationalizations include:
- It's good for me that I didn't win anything because it only gives me an incentive to improve for the next time.
- It was a great learning experience to get out and deliver a speech to an audience largely unfamiliar to me rather than the more comfortable and familiar audience at my home club.
- Because it was an unfamiliar setting, I was more nervous and didn't give the best speech performance I could.

Done with whining now. Here's the text of the speech I used for the contests. It was a Project 4 speech in the manual which is meant to train the speaker to communicate ideas clearly, accurately and vividly.

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My earliest memory of water was in the Philippines. I was about 5. I had gone with my grandparents to a northern island where my grandfather grew up to get some beach time. The waves weren't particularly vigorous where we were and the tide was out, leaving a vast stretch of shallow water I could skip through to my hearts content. I skipped to make the biggest splashes possible. I chased some fish through the water until I found myself standing on a small bump in the sand. I stared at the horizon, trying to guess how far away it was when a larger undulation of water took away my sand stool. I remember flailing my hands and feet to keep my head above water. I remember watching my feet and thinking that they looked both very close to me and far away from the yellow sand beneath me. I remember the wind that brought the scent of watery salt to my nose. Most of all I remember not being at all worried that I didn’t know how to swim. I don't know how many moments later when I found solid purchase beneath my feet again in the form of my uncle who had come to bring me in for lunch.

Looking back, I have to marvel at a situation where I had no idea what I was doing and I was completely calm and serene. These days, the very prospect of putting myself into an environment of cluelessness sets my pulse soaring. How do I go back there? How do I regain that state of being? I think I may have found a clue to that.

A few years ago, my husband and I were vacationing in Curacao and decided to get scuba certified. I had only been snorkeling before and even then I stuck pretty closely to the surface where I had easy access to breathing. But the water was warm, the hotel we were staying had beach access to a coral reef. I didn’t have anything more specific planned than lying around the beach anyway, so it seemed like a good idea. After filling out paperwork and watching a few videos, we met our instructor, Shani who outfitted us with the gear necessary to go underwater. Between the four-armed hoses, the weight belt, the buoyancy control device jacket and the air tank, the short trek to the water was a trudge in sand. Once we were submerged, the water took most of the weight. And then we dove.
In water, I fall more slowly. I remember looking up as the surface retreated from my reach and having a moment of anxiety. It was too far away - I would never be able to reach it without air. But I concentrated on breathing steadily, clenching my teeth around the mouthpiece. The steady stream of bubbles going past my head was very loud in the muffled quiet of underwater. As we sank, color washed into shades of blue. It grew colder too. I looked down at the sand below me, at the flounder that matches the sand except for its little beady dome eyes that look slightly cross-eyed. We practiced skills at depth before we could go exploring. Each skill was a variation of what to do if something went wrong - I lose my mouthpiece, I lose my mask, I run out of air. Let’s just say it's not the most relaxing exercise of the vacation.
As Shani was testing my husband on some skill, I watched a large school of deep blue angelfish flow past me heading towards the deeps. Then I caught sight of them. Their sleek, curved forms were clustered near the surface and about forty feet from me. Their clicks and squeaks echoed through the blue as they bantered with each other. “Dolphins!” I wanted to squeal my excitement at my scuba crew but I would only swallow salt water if I tried. Instead I flailed at them and pointed towards the school. All three of us were motionless. I forgot to worry about breathing. I forgot to worry about how far away the surface was. I forgot to worry about whether or not I was learning the skills properly. I merely hovered above the ocean floor, marveling at the real live nature show happening before my very senses unfiltered by the television screen.

And that, I think is the secret. In that moment of wonder, that joy I stopped caring about the things that could go wrong. I was still as clueless about the environment I found myself in. The difference was the wonder. If I can find that with any unfamiliar situation, whether it's scuba diving or public speaking, I can return to that serenity. And that's how I learned how to embrace my inner fish.

Thank you.

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Mastering Toast

I decided long ago that the best toast was on the light side, with a minimal browning and warm enough to melt the peanut butter on top of it smooth. I've even branched out to english muffins. I think I've mastered that kind of toast.

The other kind of toast - the public speaking kind - is beyond me. When a Toastmasters group started up at work, I was intrigued. It was scheduled to meet during lunch once a week and very conveniently accessible. I posted a Facebook status indicating that I was interested but intimidated and every single post in response was in favor. I rarely see that kind of unanimity especially on the internet. In honor of such an anomaly, I signed up as a charter member.

Thus begins a tale of heart-pounding anxiety, near death experiences and a lot of words. Spoken out loud. In front of people. People with laser-death-gazes. Why does anyone do this sort of thing?

Actually, I joined back in October and in light of the fact that I haven't actually perished from publicly speaking, I can report that it's okay.

For those unfamiliar with the format of a Toastmasters meeting, here's a brief runthrough. Most meeting roles are filled by the members of the club from the toastmaster, the table topics master, speech evaluators, timer, 'ah' counter, jokemaster, etc. The toastmaster plays emcee for the meeting, introducing the agenda and the various speakers throughout. The timer, armed with a stopwatch and red, yellow and green cards, times each speech and table topic speaker and lets the speaker know when they've spoken long enough. The 'ah' counter keeps track of how many verbal fillers such as 'um', 'ah', 'er' the speakers utter. There are two prepared speeches and two evaluators to give them public feedback. The aforementioned table topics are open-ended questions or topics that members or guests can speak about for 1-2 minutes. Table topic questions are meant to train extemporaneous speaking. The entire meeting is meant to give as many people as possible the opportunity to practice getting in front of a supportive group and speaking.

To motivate people to volunteer for the roles and speeches, members are provided a speech curriculum and a leadership curriculum. The speech curriculum provides assignment speeches that each focus on a particular speech-making skill. The leadership curriculum provides assignments to take on various Toastmaster meeting and club roles. I assume completing each set of assignments earns you accolades, parades, a feast and maybe a certificate. I'll let you know when I get one.

As of this writing, I have given three speeches in the Competent Communicator curriculum. I've completed a number of the meeting roles and I try to volunteer for a table topic talk whenever I show up to the meeting and don't have a role. I've signed up for a speech contest next week and I've committed to completing my 10 speeches by the end of June.

There are a couple of interesting things I've learned:
-I learned that I speak pretty quietly. Actually I lied. I know that already. People tell me that all the time. I still don't believe them because I can hear myself just fine.
-I learned that I can memorize the gist of a 5-7 minute speech just fine. It's the individual words that I sometimes draw a blank on.
-It's very difficult to get rid of all the verbal fillers. Replacing the fillers with silence makes for a randomly dramatic sentence.
-In order to perform a speech, I have to write it. Which is nice for making me write about a random selection of topics.
-The more nervous I am, the faster the speech goes. For instance, telling the speech to my car as I drive might take 10 minutes. Practicing it in front of Lee may take 7 minutes. The actual speech? 5 minutes.
-Talking for longer than a minute on an impromptu topic seems like an eternity. Talking for less than 7 minutes on a prepared topic seems really short.

I'm sure there'll be more things to learn as I go on. Stay tuned for the next episode of death defying speechifying.

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