BSA-Adjacent: Michelle vs. The Moth

Thursday, March 17, 2022

10:00 PM

It was a sign from the Universe. It had to be a sign from the Universe.

Because I could point to several different steps along the way where I could have chosen the other path.

If I had deleted the email -- but I didn't.

If I hadn't scrolled all the way to the bottom -- but I did.

If I hadn't clicked on multiple links -- but I did.

If I hadn't, I would not be staring at this word.

But I did. And I am. And I know, right down to the marrow: I. Must. Say. Yes. To. This.

~~~

Preface

Have you ever heard of The Moth StorySLAM? It's a live open-mic storytelling event with a theme. People put their names in the hat. One by one, a name is picked, and that person has five minutes to tell a true story that happened to them related to the evening's theme. Ten people will tell stories, and be judged by three three-person teams picked from the audience, and a winner emerges. I've attended StorySLAMs at Swallow Hill in the past. It's a lot of fun.

~~~

Thursday, March 17, 2022

10:00 PM, continued

I am gobsmacked because I have navigated to the event page for the next StorySLAM and seen the evening's theme.

Awards.

AWARDS.

As in, the things I have been giving out for the last year-plus.

I show Mike the website. He agrees it was meant to be, and buys two tickets for us.

~~~

Friday, March 18, 2022

10:00 AM

Oh, did I mention that the event is tonight?

Yeah. 

I sit at my laptop and try to write a cohesive narrative. 

Stopping, starting, typing, deleting.

~~~

Friday, March 18, 2022

12:48 PM

What I have so far is a whole lot of blah-blah-blah. I am starting to get anxious. 

On one hand, there's the Taking Risks school of thought. Do the thing before you feel ready, because you're never really ready. 

On the other hand, The Moth's website is very clear: They want participants to be prepared, to have a story with stakes, a story that has a beginning, middle, and end. To know the story by heart but not by rote. To already know their last line. 

I can barely come up with a first line! 

Are they going to roll their eyes at me? Am I going to be that person, the rule-breaking time-waster who decides winging it is artistic and spontaneous, and bores everyone to tears with a pointless jumble of words? Will they yank me off the stage with a giant hook?

I text my friend Jana who says, "Do it!" She gives me a great pep talk with some questions to ask myself that might help guide the story. "Plus I imagine it will be very original." That's true. The odds of there being another participant who has been giving awards to strangers are very slim.

~~~

Friday, March 18, 2022

6:48 PM

We are at Swallow Hill. I sign the waiver form. I put the form in the hat, which is actually a tote bag. I sit back down with Mike.

~~~

Friday, March 18, 2022

6:58 PM

I have made a terrible mistake. I'm going to take my form back -- wait, where is the bag? WHERE IS THE TOTE BAG? Nooooooooooooooooooo!

~~~

Friday, March 18, 2022

7:00 PM - 7:45 PM

[drawing for storyteller #1]

"Please don't pick me please don't pick me in the name of sweet baby Jesus please don't pick me...oh, thank God, they picked someone else."

[drawing for storytellers #2-#5]

In the immortal words of Herman's Hermits: Second verse, same as the first.

[intermission]

[drawing for storytellers #6-#9]

I keep praying that they pick someone else, and they do.

After the ninth person I start to wonder if I will regret not having even tried. The theme is flippin' AWARDS, for heaven's sake. When will I ever have this opportunity again?

*sigh*

"OK, fine. I will do it. Pick me."

~~~

Friday, March 18, 2022

7:46 PM

"Our next storyteller is...Michelle Witt!"

And just like that, as if I had put in a fast food order at the drive-thru, my chance is served up in thirty seconds. 

I take the stage and let the french fries fall where they may.

Friday, April 29, 2022

12:25 PM

Man, am I glad I "let" the Universe pick me. 

Something tall and strong has sprouted in my soul as a result of my stepping beyond my comfort zone.

Something I can lean against the next time I'm facing something that seems beyond my reach.

Bonus: Mike, my dear, rule-following sweetheart, surreptitiously made an audio recording of me telling my story, at the risk of running afoul of the Moth Police. I was reluctant to listen at first. In the end I decided if I had the guts to perform in the first place, I could muster the courage to listen to the performance. And you know what? It wasn't so bad. Especially considering what little preparation had gone into it. Granted, I exceeded the time limit, and when I became animated my voice went up two octaves -- still! It's the most perfect example of process over product. The process is the gift that continues to give.

The BRIGHT SPOT Awards: No. 055

Tuesday, April 12, 2022

Recipient:

Sofia @ Piece, Love & Chocolate, Boulder

Sofia made me the best tiny cup of dark sipping chocolate I have ever had the pleasure of drinking. And she let me sit there on a stool by the window for a long time, looking out at the mountains and writing in my new multimedia journal (extra shout-out to Two Hands Paperie). 

Also, she patiently answered my questions about the business: How is it going? Are you very busy? How well-attended are the classes? This is a particular kindness because Sofia is an introvert. When I heard that, I had to ask how it was for her, being an introvert and working such a public-facing job. She said it's better than working in a restaurant -- too loud, too many people. PL&C is fine; nice people come into the store. At which point a gaggle of tourists crowded into the small space, and I took my leave.

The BRIGHT SPOT Awards: No. 054

Saturday, April 2, 2022

Recipient:

Jess @ Acova, Highland

Mike and I were having a long-overdue dinner out with our friends Terry and Kaye.

Jess, the Assistant General Manager, did a stellar job. We felt like we were the most important people in the room. And mind you, we were not -- it was a pretty busy night -- which makes this an even more impressive feat. 

First, she came around to our table to check in with us. Oh how I love it when someone in charge does this. The personal touch goes a long way. She could have easily said, "Nah, too busy," but she did not. Then she cracked us up with her banter with Terry about the garlic sauce that was plate-licking good. The whole interaction just lifted our spirits, which is saying something since we were already having a fabulous time.

I gave her the award and she kindly gave me a hug. She also shared the fact that she had been having a rough day and getting the award made her feel better. Being in her orbit made us feel better, and I'm sure we weren't the only ones. Two thumbs up, Jess.

The BRIGHT SPOT Awards: No. 053

Saturday, March 26, 2022

Recipient: 

Dan @ USPS Buchtel

Dan was nice. He let me use his Sharpie. He didn't make me wait at the filling-out-paperwork counter while I finished writing out my shipping label; he waved me up to the window and helped me figure out the service that best balanced speed of delivery and price.
 
Kind? Yes. Award-worthy? Well...maybe not. I had a hard time imagining anyone getting too excited over permanent markers and postal rates.
 
Anyone but me, that is.
 
I was on to my next errand when I realized I couldn't find my favorite pen. I emptied my purse, and my tote bag, and looked through every nook and cranny of my car. No luck. 
 
I feel the need to confess that we are not talking about a fancy-schmancy writing implement. It was a bit of swag Mike got from a client -- Pilot G2 gel pen, fine point (07), navy ink. I claimed it for myself when he brought it home and, knowing the likelihood of it escaping my grasp, bought more of the same. Except they weren't the same. The new ones did not write as smoothly as the swag pen. Was it because the swag pen had navy ink and the new pens were blue? Was it actually a custom product made for the client by Pilot? I wasn't sure, so I decided this time I would be extra-extra careful and not take the swag pen out of the house.
 
HA-HA! Silly idea. When you have a favorite pen, you want to use your favorite pen whenever you get the chance. Besides, it was now my preferred crossword puzzle pen, and I was bringing the Sunday New York Times puzzle from the Denver Post to the post office because God only knows how long of a line there would be on a Saturday just before closing. Now I was across town and the post office was closed and what chance did I have of finding my pen ever again? Maybe this was a lesson in letting go I needed to learn, a cautionary tale against attachment, the cause of needless suffering.
 
Or not. Five minutes later I was driving back to the post office. Parked in the same spot, walked into and back out of the self-service lobby, looked on the floor, on the ground, in the grass, around the car. No pen. 
 
I was sitting in the car entering an address into Waze on my phone when I saw Dan pushing one of those canvas laundry-type trolleys over to the mailboxes. Hurray!
 
"Hi! It's Dan, right? This is gonna sound crazy, but by any chance did I leave my pen behind?"
"You sure did. Hang on a minute and I'll get it for you."
 
He unloaded the mail into the trolley and I followed him into the building, waiting in the self-service lobby while he went through the locked door. He returned a few minutes later with my pen. I thanked him and he went back inside. I was ridiculously happy to have my cheapo gel pen back in hand; this was an award-worthy occasion. He was off sorting mail behind that sturdy door by then, though, so there was nothing to do but leave it behind where he might find it. And that's the kind of letting go I could live with.