I’m still recouping from last week's night out, which is the main reason why this Thersday’s post is coming at you a week late. I’m not as young as I used to be.
I think I’m addicted. Some people go sky diving for the adrenaline rush and I tell stories. Standing in front of an audience and sharing my life experiences is a major high for me. It takes skill. Crafting the perfect, attention grabbing, emotive story and delivering it in 5 minutes or less is a true art. Engaging and connecting with a group of strangers takes it to a whole ‘nother level.
I didn’t realize, until last Thursday night, that the story telling community is real and they go hard. I arrived an hour and a half before show time, thinking I’d walk right in. Wrong. I was #32 on the waitlist. As I stood with my fellow wait-listers, I prayed that I’d get in. You see, I'd already gotten my permission slip signed by the girls, so they were mentally prepared for my absence. I didn’t want my time spent away to be in vain.
So as I waited, I practiced my story for the millionth time. Nervously stumbling over my words, disappointed in myself for not practicing a million and one.
Finally. I'm granted entry after spending an hour and a half in the cold… Made it throughHurdle #1.
Submitted my form to tell a story. Having the guts to fill out the paperwork…Made it through hurdle #2.
They announced that there are over 30 entries. SHIT!!! Only 10 people will be selected.
“Our 3rd story teller, coming to the stage, is Gabrielle Shea!”…Made it through hurdle #3
I placed my bag in a corner and hand my phone some random dude and ask him to record. My heart is beating fast, palms sweating, eyes squinting as the lights shine on me.
I step on stage and smoothly deliver my first line…Made it through hurdle #4.
They’re laughing in the spots that are funny and “ahhing” in the spots that are sweet.
I get through 5 minutes and 10 seconds and finish strong…Made it through hurdle #5.
I'm done. I can breathe easy. I’ve successfully completed my 2nd story slam. I’ve got this. My shit was the bomb. They clapped loudly. They ran up on me, told me that I did a great job, congratulated me and said that I deserved to win. My random videographer dude even gave me a hug.
9.4 8.7 9.1
Highest scores of the night…so far. I’m winning this shit and going straight to the grand slam.
Storytellers #4, 5, 6 and 7 have nothing on me.
Damn you #8.
Nah, this shit is fixed. Dede Ramone, drugs, overdose. Yes, I was engaged but how’d you beat me by .4 points? It wasn’t that great.
Damn, #9 was even better. Uugggh!!! He beat me by 1.
“And the grand prize goes to” …not Gabby Shea.
My last experience made me a little over confident but I guess you can’t win ‘em all. This wasn’t my time. The next one though…
"I’m at ease knowing that what is meant for me will never miss me and what misses me was never meant for me."