The Evaluation, Part One

Last night I judged a poetry contest. I've done that before.  But this time, it was different.  I connected with those who recited pieces in a whole new way.  That's what being awakened sexually has done for me; even the most innocent of actions that I've performed in the past take on deeper meanings.

There were eleven students who recited as part of the Poetry Out Loud competition.  There were supposed to be twelve, but one girl didn't show.  The accuracy judge, a friendly woman I'd met before, confided to me that she was unsurprised that the girl had failed to appear.  She had been uncertain about participating, and her nerves had obviously gotten the better of her. 

I know a little bit about that.  There are several men I've met online whom I've wanted to meet in person, and in a few cases, the stars have aligned so that we could do so.  Each time, I was pretty darned nervous, and it was tempting to cancel.  In fact, the first time, I was horribly late because my brain failed to function and I wound up miles away from our meeting place.  I finally called the place in a total panic, confessing my Alzheimer's-like state, asking for directions so that I could find my way to a location I'd been a thousand times before.

Woody Allen is often quoted as saying that eighty percent of success is showing up.  The thing is, though, that's not a hundred percent.  I'm not a glass half empty kind of girl, but even I have to admit concern that there's a twenty percent chance of failure after one shows up.  And by failure, I'm not just talking about the possibility of being stood up or having a lousy time.  I mean real disaster.

The host of the Poetry Out Loud competition was a pretty, vivacious woman in her forties, a teacher who had cajoled and encouraged each of the students to enter the competition.  She is my very good friend.  As she welcomed the audience, she acknowledged the bravery of those who were competing.  "I know it's scary to get in front of people and recite from memory," she said, "but I assured them that in the years we've been doing this, no one has ever fallen down, passed out, cried, or thrown up during their time."

I leaned over to the accuracy judge and whispered "there's always a first time."  She giggled softly.

The contestants laughed a bit at the teacher's remarks, and one of them, the sole male in the group, quipped "there's always a first time," prompting more laughter.

"Hey!" I said softly to my companion.  "He stole my line."  She giggled again.

The disaster I'm worried about is not passing out, crying, or throwing up.  It's being chopped into a million little pieces by some serial murderer I've unwittingly met for a romantic liaison.  Or - and I can admit this to you - maybe the worse thing is not being brutally killed.  It just might be having to endure a version of that infamous crack from The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean.  You know the one I mean?  

Lillie Langtry is a pig-faced *****, *****, dog. And I wouldn't waste my bullet on her, let alone my seed.
While personally I think I'm awesome, I do fear being told I rank too low in some category to warrant a kiss.  I thought about that as I looked at the evaluation form for the poetry reciters.  For them, the equivalent of the kiss I hope to receive from gentlemen is a score of "Good," I think.  No one wants to see "Very weak," "Weak," or "Average."   I hoped that no one choked so much that I couldn't give them at least a "Good" on all counts.
milkynips milkynips
46-50, F
1 Response Jan 18, 2013

Nice story. I would have liked to have heard a little more about the poems, how old these kids were, and the winning poem.

I know its hard not to worry about ones looks when meeting someone for the first time, but I'm sure that you are a million miles from the vile descriptor in that quote. Rather, the shoe shall be on the other foot. It will be he who should worry about living up to your expectation.

You are very dear to say so. And remember, this is only part one. More shall be revealed about the competition. :-D

Thanks. :)