My Presentation

Life is an improvisation. We make it up as we go along. There's no script. You can't rehearse. Don't try.

I believe the above statement, I do, yet time and time again, I try to do exactly what I caution others to avoid. I rehearse for life. I try to anticipate every confrontation, prepare for every eventuality, picture every roll of the dice. Every time something of perceived importance peaks its head above the horizon, I write a script for presentation; then I rehearse what I've written. 

It's all rather pointless, I know, but I do it anyway. I stand in front of the mirror reciting my text, going over it word by word, syllable by syllable, until I'm confident of my delivery. It's like I'm preparing for a forensics competition, but there is no competition. The scenario I've envisioned almost always fails to materialize. And if it does, it does so in a form so radically different than the one I've prepared myself for that my preparations are next to useless. 

The actors in my little play refuse to use the dialog I've provided them. No one will stick to the script. They step on my lines. They enter and exit off cue. It's maddening. You never really know how people are going to react to anything you say or do. If you stick to the script you just end up looking foolish. Control is an illusion.

The one thing I would like to be -- more than anything else -- is more spontaneous. I need to work on my spontaneity. I need to practice my spontaneity, I guess. Is that a paradox or just an oxymoron?