An Exercise on Self-Humiliation

Pieces of Me 

Frustrated athlete. Once in my life, I thought I was good at volleyball, but boy was I wrong!  At a P.E. class in high school, I volunteered to be a part of the girls volleyball team for our section.  I've played several times, but never really competitively. The reality of competitive sports was revealed to me in such a cruel and unforgettable manner. Apparently, I was the weakest among my team. How awful was it for me to realize that when I'm already in the middle of a game and the whole school was watching! The girls of the opposing team had a blast punching every return at my direction. And, I, disoriented and shocked, couldn't do a thing about it. My teacher, who I must say is a really scary guy (actually, gay), didn't give a sh*t about how poor broken students feel. Instead of just calling for a replacement, he shouted to me, at the top of his lungs, "Tanga!", with his arms flailing on all directions.  I never played volleyball again.

Frustrated actress. My English teacher in high school believed in me so much, she convinced me that I should join a declamation contest. Would be good for the grades and good for my  "personal development." She said to me, "Cmon', come out of your shell; challenge yourself!" I, who've always loved to challenge myself (at least in non-life-threatening ways), gave in. I memorized my lines, got to the stage, and said my piece. Did I say I was supposed to do a monologue about a teenager who got addicted to drugs and is now losing her mind? And, oh, I was supposed to cry. I shed a tear. But not so much. I thought it doesn't really matter because I had to lay there, face down to the floor by the end of it. After the performance, while my classmates were giving me nods of appreciation for having gone through it, i cried. No, I bawled! I couldn't stop crying because I suddenly felt so ashamed, I literally lost my breath for a second or two. The crying went on for minutes. I was inconsolable. So much for trying to come out of my shell.

Frustrated singer and musician. I've always wanted to learn to play guitar. About three years ago, I went inside a guitar store and asked for something that would suit a beginner. The guy in charge asked me, "Is it for a boy or a girl?" It strucked me that I must have looked pretty clueless so he thought I was looking for a gift. I pretended I was, so I can ask stupid questions. It wasn't until I bought my third guitar (with me all the time pretending to be buying for someone else) that I realized i'm never going to have the discipline to teach myself and be proficient at it. And, no, the guitar color and type of strings don't have anything to do with it. The guitars had to go. One time, we had an office party, I decided to do a number just for the heck of it. I told my friends, this is so I can list out an item on my "things I have to do in my lifetime."  We practiced simple songs, favorite songs, and popular songs. I prepared three. In the end, I had to take a shot of tequila before I managed to sing a very simple song that anybody can sing in public. It was fun. But  I don't think I'll do it again. 

Frustrated artist. We had a project at school wherein we had to learn to do silk-screen printing on T-shirts. I had no idea what design I should do and no matter how hard I raked my brain, I couldn't come up with one. Well, I'm not the only one. So my teacher, who was too lazy to provide some inspiration, told us dimwits that we can just do letters. "Just print words -  your name, your dog's name, your favorite song, whatever!" I, too lazy to look for an inspiration, moved along.  My sisters got to wear that shirt when I became too big for it; but after all these years, it still gives me laughs (and not to mention jeers) whenever i read those words i printed on the back - Heaven Knows.