Day XXXIV: Reading (speech) for Filth

I needed this:

Water isn't always water

Well, it's over. The NFL march to the national tournament has ended. I couldn't bring myself to stay for awards. First, I was wiped. Totally, unbearably finished. And I wasn't even speaking or coaching! I imagine each competitor--especially if they broke to finals--and coach will be sleeping soundly tonight. If not out of peace and joy that they've qualified, then exhaustion will surely knock them out.

Second, and perhaps more meaningful, I can't bare the heartbreak of Nat Quals! There is so much talent in the Northern Lights district that only qualifying two kids per category--except for Dramatic Interp--just seems so unfair. For many, this is their last chance. And when you've just spent three days busting your ass just to be told you were close? That's tough.

But enough sentimentality. You didn't come here to listen to me gush about the talent I had the privilege of enjoying. You came here to see me read some high schoolers to filth. And that's not sad, right? Let's go with no.

Before I share some insights from the journal I chronicled all my thoughts in, I want to explain something. There's this thing in speech called a critique sheet. In a normal round of competition, a judge writes one for every student. The student receives them after the tournament and is able to see their judges' thoughts and comments on their performance. At this particular event, however, the judges only write notes as they see fit, and primarily use them to help rank the participants. This means the small children don't ever get to see the thoughts of the judges in the round. 

Do you get it? That means everything I wrote was for my eyes only. And, bitch, this isn't Natalie Sintek's School for Girls. This is a cutthroat little diary that allowed me to express how each performance really made me feel. 

And I would like to share some insights. To protect anonymity, I am going to write the direct quotes, with no reference to the speaker and category. Enjoy.

The Diary of a Mad Black Woman Who is actually a White Male

"WTF is this camera analogy? 'When you zoom in you can't zoom back out?' You're a liar, sir, all it takes is one adjustment of one button. Get your shit together."

"Really, girl? Your reference is zoobooks.com?"

"Ooo, that walk! Girl is on the prowl. I thought this was oratory? Do you always stalk your prey in oratory? Damn, I was in the wrong categories.

"Aww, pretty hair!"

"How charming and terrible!"

"Dat headbob."

"I wonder what it's like to be the bad one in the duo. Poor blondey."

"This cardiologist would make a great extra in a Gain commercial."

"Good lord! Those arms? Oh to be a 14 year old girl again."

"Ah, yes, the lesbian-combat-boots-with-a-suit-that-shows-your-midriff look. I'd almost forgotten!"

"Okay, how long is this gun you're holding? It's literally the entire length of the room."

"Holy shit. What is actually happening? Did I black out?"

"'One second, I forgot something from earlier.' Oh, you poor little munchkin."

"Is the 'wfffttt!' sound the only way to make people understand that there's a change going on in the scene? I know I would never have figured it out that you were different characters if you didn't make silent fart noises with your mouth so thanks. Jesus."

"Protifilerate count: IIII. (That's not a word, hun.)"

"How high up is this table your drink is on?"

"#HalfMullet"

"Aw, it's nice when they're both pretty."

Some Statistics

Number of zippers down: 6

Laugh count: 27

Laugh count in Humorous Interp: 5

Times I didn't write anything down: 1, I was too captivated!

Perfectly matching outfits: 3

Times I wrote "ooo, girl.": 11

Times I wrote "ooo, girl" when a girl was speaking: 0