Being watched and judged for everything that you do. They don’t know you, nor you them. But you try and explain a little of something. Be it a part of yourself, or a part of something you believe in or something that you were asked to show.
audience of one. cold war kids. that song felt like the soundtrack of my life for a while. i had always been an audience of one – a person looking out towards the world – watching others, waiting for something exciting to begin. they say the whole world is a stage. well, i’m here to provide an audience.
they are the reason to create, to tell jokes to be a performer! the people around you are your audience. the world is your audience! peace i’m out of here!!!!!!!!!!
the people who sit, idle. drinking in the wonderment before them. passive or active. whatever the capacity demands they should be, unless they exert their own free will. The surveyors, the criticizers, the sympathizers. Everyone.
I stood in the center of the stage and looked out. I couldn’t see anything past the bright lights. My legs began to shake and my lines were forgotten. My throat closed shut and I stood, paralyzed with fear.
Picturing the audience in its underwear didn’t really help. On the other hand, given that she’d seen the majority of them drunk and trying to dirty dance to T-pain’s “Get Low” or whatever it was called, picturing them behaving like inebriated fools really did help.
So when opposing counsel rose, buttoned his jacket, adjusted his tie and cuffs and tried to look intimidating, she was ready for him, because she knew what he looked like on the dance floor.
I looked out into the audience, trying to find the one I was searching for. His eyes never looked towards me, and I never saw him. A tear escaped, hopefully unnoticed by the full audience surrounding me.
I took a deep breath and brought the violin up to my shoulder, playing my heart out for the people.
Every one looking at me expecting me to mess up and make a complete fool of myself. I don’t like audience and i don’t like being in the middle of attention at all.
The audience was silent as the young musician came on stage. This was his first performance, and he was terrified. The young man raised the bow, pulled it across the violin, and filled the auditorium with the sweetest sound ever heard. THIS is someone who is going somewhere!
my audience is you. I can’t help but wonder how you will interpret my writing, I can only hope that at the very least, you, my audience will be able to come up with a coherent interpretation so that my writing will live on beyond itself.
Kara peeped out the curtain. Te audience was large. She leaned against the wall and eyes, breathing hard. This is what she had dreamed of. This is what she had lived for, practiced for, strived for. It was now or never.
When her cue came, she danced like no one was looking.
Sometimes I feel like you are acting for an audience. You aren’t ever doing anything for yourself. You do what others want to do, you do what is socially acceptable. But what about pleasing yourself? Do you really act to please others before you act to please yourself? At the end of the day the only judgement that matters is yourself not a onlooker 5 rows back. You are center stage and you are the critic of your own life. Act like it.
Cold and ark up on the stage, only you can see hte spotlight and only you cant see the people seeing you, blinded by the light its all on you, and you dont have the courage to dissapoint all those people. they came for entertainment, so give them a show
You can’t really see your whole audience when you’re on a lit stage. I don’t think you’re supposed to, because in my experience, even standing on the world’s tiniest stage in front of the world’s tiniest audience can be overwhelming if you care about what you’re saying. Audiences hold major power.
What audience? Audience as in watching, staring at us or appreciating us or despising us? We are alone after all, coming in this world alone and leaving alone too.
He always cared about his audience. He wanted to make sure they thought the best of him whenever they were watching. To him, the whole world was an audience and he always had to perform. But then he met her, and things changed. He knew he didn’t have to act because to him, she wasn’t a part of the audience, she was something more.
everyone is watching. they are the audience. but you are your own audience. watch yourself. watch your reactions. take the time to slow it down and realize that your view of life comes from your perspective which differs from eveyone else’s view of life. we are all our own audiences. we watch the world through whatever eyes we please. life is our audience. it is watching us as we perr through it during each and every day.
as i looked out on the people, the eager, excited people, all chanting and cheering, I felt a rush of joy, the thrill of being wanted. But then I walked offstage and the act walked on, receiving their applause.
The people who are reading this or listening to me. The people who are receiving any message I am sending out. I need to write to them, to reach them, to appeal to them. If I know who they are, what their background is, I can do a better job of it.
I don’t like having an audience. There are some days that even the smallest looks from a complete stranger make me cringe. Why are you looking at me? The feeling would be tenfold if there were 100 strangers all staring at me.
Greek mythology red pencils and pupies. People. A guy with a red shirt, faceless, clapping, nameless people around him. lots people auditorium, saxophone, uh uh,, black, stand music jazz,
when i lay down in front of the stereo, i love the way the sound waves vibrate in my ears. I love the way sometimes my ears will still ring. And I love to think about those musicians, from some long time ago, playing instruments, singing out into a empty microphone, counting on me to lay down and listen.
everyone enjoys having an audience and sometimes in life we feel as though we are always on a stage. it seems to be a spotlight effect; we act as though someone is always watching. does anyone really care what we do?
I was nervous when I got on stage. I could feel the sweat pouring down my face and my hands trembling from the fear. I looked at all the unfamiliar faces as I clutched my speech. Then, I saw my mother, and my fears began to roll off me like water on skin. Then, I began to speak.
The dim light of the auditorium fades, the audience files out, and all that remains is the solitary hanging notes of a forgotten performance, forever lost and drifting and filling the cavernous auditorium.
The couch that i’m sitting on is too cushy, but it doesn’t stop me from camping here. i keep the lights low, sometimes i’ll be too lazy to even turn them on. i reach for the remote, press play, and all that’s there is the glow of the television as the opening credits warm up in front of me on the screen.
An audience is a big groupe of people who watch something. An audience can be hard to please, you have to do alot of stuff to please an audience. The people sitting in an audience hate having nothing to watch, they are always on the lookout for something to happen.
Audience. What do we write for? Mean, y’write for yourself, sure, to breathe and everything and whatever, but the thing is you pick up a pen, you sit down at a keyboard, reason to talk to somebody, to say all the words you ever wanted to say. To scream out loud all you ever wanted. Honestly, isn’t that it? I dunno. Facebook, go figure, y’know how it rolls.
hello ladies and gentlemen today you are my audience, the audience to my show. This show however is invisible, a figment of yours and my imagination, but you are my audience non the less. So sit back and enjoy the show.
They look at me. They hate me. What can I do to get them to like me? No, it’s not me. It’s them. I reassure myself. They all need help, because they are the problem not me. The audience. Yes, they are the problem. Can you hear them? Are they talking about me? I need out.
When I am in the audience I am a part of something. The performance is for all of us, we get to enjoy the experience together. We laugh, we cry, we clap, we cheer, we do all of this as a group. We become one body. One single thing made up of many.
Every time there was an audience, he would always play up. For it was an audience that he lived for, it was for the audience that he came alive. They made him what he was and he was happy to do nothing but please them, the audience laughed and this made him feel like a star, even if the audience consisted of solely his montehr p
the audience appears puzzeled..apparently what went wrong
had to do with the painstaking process of filtering out the atomic
particles from the room air,fillling in through a ventillation shaft
coming from the Masonic buildings 13th floor. He hadn’t seen
the technology that was to be unveiled at the strange meeting,yet
he felt that this artifact w
the audience is the people we all strive to please. but why? does it really matter if we please them? can we please them? why are we so worried about them and lose sight of ourselves? none the less the pressure of their presence pushes us to be better.
We all like having an audience, to some degree. Even the most shy folks among us still want to be appreciated for who we are, and what we can bring to the table; whether it be at work or at play. Of course, we’d like that audience to be sympathetic and receptive.
Being watched and judged for everything that you do. They don’t know you, nor you them. But you try and explain a little of something. Be it a part of yourself, or a part of something you believe in or something that you were asked to show.
audience of one. cold war kids. that song felt like the soundtrack of my life for a while. i had always been an audience of one – a person looking out towards the world – watching others, waiting for something exciting to begin. they say the whole world is a stage. well, i’m here to provide an audience.
they are the reason to create, to tell jokes to be a performer! the people around you are your audience. the world is your audience! peace i’m out of here!!!!!!!!!!
the people who sit, idle. drinking in the wonderment before them. passive or active. whatever the capacity demands they should be, unless they exert their own free will. The surveyors, the criticizers, the sympathizers. Everyone.
I stood in the center of the stage and looked out. I couldn’t see anything past the bright lights. My legs began to shake and my lines were forgotten. My throat closed shut and I stood, paralyzed with fear.
Picturing the audience in its underwear didn’t really help. On the other hand, given that she’d seen the majority of them drunk and trying to dirty dance to T-pain’s “Get Low” or whatever it was called, picturing them behaving like inebriated fools really did help.
So when opposing counsel rose, buttoned his jacket, adjusted his tie and cuffs and tried to look intimidating, she was ready for him, because she knew what he looked like on the dance floor.
I looked out into the audience, trying to find the one I was searching for. His eyes never looked towards me, and I never saw him. A tear escaped, hopefully unnoticed by the full audience surrounding me.
I took a deep breath and brought the violin up to my shoulder, playing my heart out for the people.
Every one looking at me expecting me to mess up and make a complete fool of myself. I don’t like audience and i don’t like being in the middle of attention at all.
The audience was silent as the young musician came on stage. This was his first performance, and he was terrified. The young man raised the bow, pulled it across the violin, and filled the auditorium with the sweetest sound ever heard. THIS is someone who is going somewhere!
my audience is you. I can’t help but wonder how you will interpret my writing, I can only hope that at the very least, you, my audience will be able to come up with a coherent interpretation so that my writing will live on beyond itself.
Kara peeped out the curtain. Te audience was large. She leaned against the wall and eyes, breathing hard. This is what she had dreamed of. This is what she had lived for, practiced for, strived for. It was now or never.
When her cue came, she danced like no one was looking.
Sometimes I feel like you are acting for an audience. You aren’t ever doing anything for yourself. You do what others want to do, you do what is socially acceptable. But what about pleasing yourself? Do you really act to please others before you act to please yourself? At the end of the day the only judgement that matters is yourself not a onlooker 5 rows back. You are center stage and you are the critic of your own life. Act like it.
The performer took his last bow, to a standing ovation, sobbing, crying, shouting “Ashes”.
Cold and ark up on the stage, only you can see hte spotlight and only you cant see the people seeing you, blinded by the light its all on you, and you dont have the courage to dissapoint all those people. they came for entertainment, so give them a show
You can’t really see your whole audience when you’re on a lit stage. I don’t think you’re supposed to, because in my experience, even standing on the world’s tiniest stage in front of the world’s tiniest audience can be overwhelming if you care about what you’re saying. Audiences hold major power.
What audience? Audience as in watching, staring at us or appreciating us or despising us? We are alone after all, coming in this world alone and leaving alone too.
participate and laugh. forbidding, lousy if british. spirit of a whole, ience. aud. audence. clap, ovate in a standing position. enjoy, get rowdy.
He always cared about his audience. He wanted to make sure they thought the best of him whenever they were watching. To him, the whole world was an audience and he always had to perform. But then he met her, and things changed. He knew he didn’t have to act because to him, she wasn’t a part of the audience, she was something more.
everyone is watching. they are the audience. but you are your own audience. watch yourself. watch your reactions. take the time to slow it down and realize that your view of life comes from your perspective which differs from eveyone else’s view of life. we are all our own audiences. we watch the world through whatever eyes we please. life is our audience. it is watching us as we perr through it during each and every day.
It’s just so much better when you don’t have an audience, isn’t it? When they start watching, it isn’t special anymore.
as i looked out on the people, the eager, excited people, all chanting and cheering, I felt a rush of joy, the thrill of being wanted. But then I walked offstage and the act walked on, receiving their applause.
The people who are reading this or listening to me. The people who are receiving any message I am sending out. I need to write to them, to reach them, to appeal to them. If I know who they are, what their background is, I can do a better job of it.
I don’t like having an audience. There are some days that even the smallest looks from a complete stranger make me cringe. Why are you looking at me? The feeling would be tenfold if there were 100 strangers all staring at me.
Greek mythology red pencils and pupies. People. A guy with a red shirt, faceless, clapping, nameless people around him. lots people auditorium, saxophone, uh uh,, black, stand music jazz,
A sample of perfect pedestrians gather, gape, and grope at skill and artistry exhibited and beyond their grasp. No great man was ever understood.
when i lay down in front of the stereo, i love the way the sound waves vibrate in my ears. I love the way sometimes my ears will still ring. And I love to think about those musicians, from some long time ago, playing instruments, singing out into a empty microphone, counting on me to lay down and listen.
i have no idea what to write. so just to make this work. im going to say audience
everyone enjoys having an audience and sometimes in life we feel as though we are always on a stage. it seems to be a spotlight effect; we act as though someone is always watching. does anyone really care what we do?
I was nervous when I got on stage. I could feel the sweat pouring down my face and my hands trembling from the fear. I looked at all the unfamiliar faces as I clutched my speech. Then, I saw my mother, and my fears began to roll off me like water on skin. Then, I began to speak.
The dim light of the auditorium fades, the audience files out, and all that remains is the solitary hanging notes of a forgotten performance, forever lost and drifting and filling the cavernous auditorium.
The couch that i’m sitting on is too cushy, but it doesn’t stop me from camping here. i keep the lights low, sometimes i’ll be too lazy to even turn them on. i reach for the remote, press play, and all that’s there is the glow of the television as the opening credits warm up in front of me on the screen.
An audience is a big groupe of people who watch something. An audience can be hard to please, you have to do alot of stuff to please an audience. The people sitting in an audience hate having nothing to watch, they are always on the lookout for something to happen.
Audience. What do we write for? Mean, y’write for yourself, sure, to breathe and everything and whatever, but the thing is you pick up a pen, you sit down at a keyboard, reason to talk to somebody, to say all the words you ever wanted to say. To scream out loud all you ever wanted. Honestly, isn’t that it? I dunno. Facebook, go figure, y’know how it rolls.
hello ladies and gentlemen today you are my audience, the audience to my show. This show however is invisible, a figment of yours and my imagination, but you are my audience non the less. So sit back and enjoy the show.
They look at me. They hate me. What can I do to get them to like me? No, it’s not me. It’s them. I reassure myself. They all need help, because they are the problem not me. The audience. Yes, they are the problem. Can you hear them? Are they talking about me? I need out.
When I am in the audience I am a part of something. The performance is for all of us, we get to enjoy the experience together. We laugh, we cry, we clap, we cheer, we do all of this as a group. We become one body. One single thing made up of many.
Every time there was an audience, he would always play up. For it was an audience that he lived for, it was for the audience that he came alive. They made him what he was and he was happy to do nothing but please them, the audience laughed and this made him feel like a star, even if the audience consisted of solely his montehr p
the audience appears puzzeled..apparently what went wrong
had to do with the painstaking process of filtering out the atomic
particles from the room air,fillling in through a ventillation shaft
coming from the Masonic buildings 13th floor. He hadn’t seen
the technology that was to be unveiled at the strange meeting,yet
he felt that this artifact w
the audience is the people we all strive to please. but why? does it really matter if we please them? can we please them? why are we so worried about them and lose sight of ourselves? none the less the pressure of their presence pushes us to be better.
We all like having an audience, to some degree. Even the most shy folks among us still want to be appreciated for who we are, and what we can bring to the table; whether it be at work or at play. Of course, we’d like that audience to be sympathetic and receptive.