2002-04-17 | 5:20 p.m.

corduroy licorice didn't want to paper over his problems, but, try as he might, he couldn't get that darned linda evans poster off of his bedroom wall.

***

shhh...

did you hear that?

that being me?

i didn't think so.

why?

i'm shy.

and quiet.

i'm as quiet as a mouse.

i'm the quiet before the storm.

i've always been quiet. i prefer input to output. thinking to talking. listening to broadcasting.

in school, i'd almost always wait to be called on. i hated public speaking like i hated having to eat squash.

"you're so shy!" people would say.

"that's enough out of you!" they'd tease, tongues in cheeks.

"hold up a mirror and see if she's still breathing." (no really, one guy did!)

peeps? i hardly let one out...unless i was with my other quiet peeps.

a little too often my friends have to say "what?" off and on during our conversations. i just don't seem to know how to turn it up to eleven.

last weekend in my new improv class, the very first day, my teacher prompted me firmly, but nicely: "i need more volume from you, nictate! how can i get more volume from you?!"

my old improv teacher says to practice yelling in my car while driving down the freeway. good idea, there. and i can count on the other drivers to give me plenty of motivation.

i don't know why i hit the mute button so often. i guess i like to keep a low profile. be all tranquil and chilly chill. avoid invective, be reflective.

but i know i need to speak up. pipe up. pump it up.

because, you know, it's always the quiet ones.

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