Performing and performing

 

A bit of self-promotion to start with: on Saturday March 15th I'm performing at Transtock, an all-trans music and poetry festival at The Globe pub in Newcastle. I'm really excited about this one, not just because it's my first proper gig since December but also because I'll get to see Gaydar, which I've been wanting to do for ages. Of course it also means I have to work out and rehearse a set list, which has got me thinking about performing. 

Well, that and the fact that, as I've mentioned before on here, I'm in the process of getting an official diagnosis of autism and ADHD. This has led to me thinking a lot about the ways in which I've found certain workplaces so difficult to cope with over the years. And what I've realised is that one of the reasons I found them so difficult was that, as well as getting stressed-out from all the normally anxiety-inducing aspects of those jobs, I was also in a state of perpetual nerves from the aspects of those jobs most of the people around me found relaxing. 

Because I can't manage small talk. I can't just chat with people. I can't 'banter' (and indeed, as you'll recall if you're a longtime reader of this blog, I frankly have some issues with the existence of banter itself as a concept). If something which interests me comes up, then I can talk to people about it but I know that, even then, I can come off as weird to a lot of people. It's hard for me to just stay at the surface level on things, to not see connections or go off on tangents. And if a conversation strays into the area of something I feel strongly about, it's hard for me to stay civil or just laugh shit off, because, like a lot of autistic people, I have an intense sensitivity to injustice. 

(And not to go off on a tangent here, but why is that pathological and not the fact that neurotypical people seem so much more relaxed about things being unjust? Why is being able to not give a shit about people considered the healthy behaviour? I mean do you ever stop to think about whether or not that might be why the planet is irreparably fucked up? Seriously, if the rule we followed brought us to this, of what use was the fucking rule?) 

...and the possibility of not being able to rein in an outburst like the above is why I find myself trying as hard as possible to stay on guard at all times in even the most minor social interaction. Smile politely. Don't be weird. Say the right words. Don't be weird. Oh they said something back. Don't be weird. What do normal people say at times like this? Don't be weird! Why are they looking at me like that don't be weird don't be weird. Wait are they looking as well oh God no don't be weird don't be weird don't be wait what did they just say? Don't react don't react don't, oh God don't don't be weird don't be weird don't be weird oh SHIT oh FUCK NOW THEY ALL THINK I'M FUCKING WEIRD. 

People always used to compliment me, at work, on what a professional sounding telephone greeting I had. And this always used to bother me because as far as I could tell I was just basically saying exactly the same thing as them. I was doing what we were supposed to do - create a sentence we could repeat in our voices with the correct rhythm and intonation a hundred times a day if necessary, and rehearse it until we could say it in our sleep, if necessary (guess what I say most of the time whenever I answer a phone in my dreams, regardless of the context?). 

It has taken years for me to realise that most of them had just noted that it said 'polite, friendly greeting' and some bullet points on the call script and would just work on that, instead of devising and refining their own personal antiphon. It's like the time I realised some people weren't lying when they say they had a happy childhood all over again. 

And I'm beginning to see now that the reason these people still had energy left over after work while I was completely drained was because they were actually able to relax by spending time in each others' company on breaks and over lunches, whereas I, from the moment I left the house until the moment I got home, was engaging in a work of supreme method acting to play the character of Normal Person. 

But hang on, AJ, why should that be a problem for you? I mean, you opened this entry by talking about a gig you have coming up. Why should you have trouble performing, when you're a performer? 

Well, indeed I am, but performing on stage and performing in everyday life are different things. For one thing, there's a clear demarcation between being on stage and off. Or rather there's a demarcation between the type of performing I do on stage and the kind I do when I'm hanging out with people afterwards because, yeah, I'm still worrying about Not Looking Weird when I'm at the bar or whatever. In fact, it sometimes feels as if being on stage is the only place where I get to be as weird as I want to be without having to make any excuses (and if you've seen me perform, you know it can get pretty weird). 

A stage is somewhere I have full control and total freedom. It's my time. I know exactly what I'm going to say, how I'm going to say it, what movements I'll make with my body, what topics will be addressed. If there is something I feel is unjust I am going to talk about it, and in words I have prepared and refined to have maximum impact. I do not have to worry about taking turns because the audience knows how long I am meant to be on stage for, and I needn't worry that I'm rambling because I have edited down everything I am going to say, even the bits between poems, and I have rehearsed with a stopwatch to make sure I bring things home on time. It is, quite simply, so much easier than LARPing as a Normal Fucking Person.