Spit at the slam tonight. Probably a poem I shouldn't have performed, more because it was off-myTouch than anything else, though it felt fucking good to get it up in front of an audience.
It propelled me into the top-five, though I went over time in the second round and ended up settling for fifth, despite a performance that was probably one of my best til the final moments. Post-show, several cats came up to me afterword to drop love into our shared space (best comment: "You broke my heart with a poem.") That sequence quite possibly sums up my entire slam career.
Can't hate. I was writing before slam, and I continue to write outside of it. The ridiculous lack of time I'm left by work -- whutup 55-hour first week of training camp? -- has something to do with that. I wouldn't be at work so long if I didn't have standards. Even yesterday, when I mailed it in, earned a complimentary e-mail from a co-worker who hadn't ever indicated they noticed.
I'm finding time for life, but it's been an adventure. Luckily The Lady is sociable, and she can handle my people and the crazy situations I've subjected her to from what amounts to the jump (see: her attending a slam early on; see also: her meeting second cousins before the end of month No. 2.).
There's a point to this post. It's burrowing between layers. All told, it's been a good week. A great one even. I just have to remember to relax. Might even happen, one day.
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