And That's That Piece: my Week at Slam Camp

I've returned from what was possibly the best week of my life so far. I spent seven days at Gustavus Adolphus College's slam poetry camp, courtesy of the Fairy Godmother Council. It was brilliant.

This was the very first year of camp, and there were only seven campers total with the addition of four of the best poets and educators in the country. We bonded the very first evening and henceforth became known as the Slamily.

A typical day consisted of three gigantic meals, fourteen hours of poetry-related activities, writing time, and the occasional few minutes of sleep. By the third day of camp everyone was positively delirious. My caffeine intake increased significantly.

I feel that because of this camp I've grown leaps and bounds in my ability as a poet. I know now that it is perfectly okay to struggle with writing a poem because frustration means you care. This is something that I'll remember often, because I normally always have trouble when I sit down to write.

I met the most wonderful, talented, and kind people. Look out, world- I have no doubt you'll be hearing great things from them in the very near future. We are the Fourth Wave of slam- you'd best be ready for us.

My parting gift- five pieces of advice for the young poet from Adam "Henzbo" Henze.
1. It doesn't get better. You get better.
2. You can always pick up your pen again.
3. Your greatest legacy is your friends.
4. You are someone's favorite poet.
5. You don't owe anyone. You owe everyone.

The Poem In My Pocket

I missed Poem in Your Pocket day. I celebrated it by reading some poems, but I didn't blog about any.

So here is my favorite poem. I don't have the words, but I think it's better that you watch it, see it read how it was meant to be read.

This is "Northcountry" by Kait Rokowski.

Flailing for Finals

Friday, April 20

Finals day. The team checked into the Harper Auditorium waaaaay early so we could run a mic check. We allowed ourselves to get excited, even though winning wasn't really realistic. We were going to get second, and that was completely okay. All that mattered was sharing words with people who appreciate poetry just as much as we do.

It was one very exciting evening. Our team read very well. Actually, we kind of killed it. Our group piece was the best it's ever been. By the end of it, the winner of last year's National Poetry Slam was face down on the floor in front of his seat. I'm not sure why, but well-performed poetry tends to have that effect on people.

When the scores were announced, all the teams were mixed together. It was a beautiful thing, seeing students from four different schools supporting one another's words. Less than one point separated first place from third. Less than a tenth of a point separated second place from first.

That first place happened to be us.

Needless to say there was a lot of screaming and flailing involved.

I have no idea how it happened. Four days have passed and it still hasn't sunk in yet. But we just won the first-ever Louder Than A Bomb: Omaha. Slam communities across the nation know about this. I didn't know how big of a deal this whole event was until after, when I learned that Omaha might be considered to host the Women of the World poetry slam in a few years.

My life is so beautiful. There are so many people to thank, the team, our dear coach Katie, Andrew Ek and Matt Mason, Kevin Coval and Lemar Jordan,everyone who made this happen. I hope they know how many lives they've changed.

Curling Up

Today was the first day all week that I went straight home after school and did not leave. It was normal. I didn't go anywhere or see anyone. It was quite the startling change to go from spending evenings in the loudest place in town (the poetry slam) to wandering around in the quiet of my own home. There was so much silence.

It rained today. Not the feel-good, dance-around, summertime rain. It was the graveyard-cold, gray-skied, fog-in-buckets kind of rain. And it smelled nice, but it made me so sad. I wasn't feeling completely up to scratch anyway, but then the weather changed and it got worse. I went through the day trying very, very hard not to curl up in a ball and cry. I succeeded.

Finals are tomorrow. I don't know what to wear.

Oops, We Did It Again

We're headed to FINALS!!!!!!!!!!!

Tonight was a whirlwind. We rocked the living daylights out of our pieces, people were astounded at the words that came out of our Catholic-school mouths, a huge portion of our student population came to support us.

I have never felt so good about my piece as I did after the bout, when a poet from the other team came to me with tears in her eyes. She grabbed both of my arms and thanked me, over and over. Tonight, I made people cry. And I'm not apologizing for it in the slightest. I know the power of my words and the affect they have on others. It is beautiful.

I'm so proud of this team. We began preparing for this competition as a complete nonentity and now, every single LTAB Omaha school knows who we are and what we're capable of.

But "the point is not the points, the point is the poetry." And we put some quality stuff on that stage tonight.

See you at finals.

Überpumped

Tomorrow at 7:30 pm, the skies will open and poetry will rain down.

In other words, THE SLAM IS TOMORROW THE SLAM IS TOMORROW THE SLAM IS TOMORROW!!!!

I'm so excited, I might pee.

I love this team. I love our coach. I love our words.

We're going to rock.

What makes the grass grow?
BLOOD! BLOOD MAKES THE GRASS GROW!
KILL! KILL! KILL!

It This Real Life?

I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that this is real.

We won. We won. We actually won the slam.

Won, as in first place, five perfect tens on one piece, one step closer to finals, WON.

I am quaking in my boots.

This happened.

I Did Not Die. Instead I Made Merengues.

The majority of the public seemed to be under the impression that the world was going to end today. The weather reports all pointed to severe storms and possible tornadoes, and some big-shot weatherman flew all the way out her so he could "survey the devastation" tomorrow. My friends were freaking out. Fox News was reporting disasters of apocalyptic proportions...but that's pretty normal of them so I didn't pay much attention.

I don't generally buy into the mass hysteria that comes when expecting severe weather. I have never seen a tornado. And I know they happen, I know what this kind of weather is capable of- but since it's never happened to me I have a hard time envisioning it ever happening at all. So when storms come, I usually sit in silence and wave it off. Storms pass.i wish I could apply that kind of calm to my emotional life, but it seems that attitude is only present when it rains.

Anyway, I spent four hours at Madame's house shaving thin slices of zucchini and rolling them around a mixture of goat cheese and pesto. Unfortunately we didn't get to serve them to our guests because the dinner was cancelled. Oh well, I guess the plan is to host lunch for some nuns tomorrow afternoon instead. That should be fun. I do like these nuns. Some nuns are scary but these ones are cute and adorable.

Louder Than A Bomb is tomorrow, too! I am so excited. I'm not reading any individual pieces until the bout on Tuesday, but I am a part of tomorrow's group piece. Tickled Pink, Good Sport, and I wrote it together and we're performing it together as well. We're pretty connected to this piece. It's our baby, and it had an especially difficult delivery which very nearly ended in us punching one another in the ovaries. I'm glad it didn't. Wish us luck!

Let The Break Begin!

It's break! Thank goodness. This three day long schoolweek seemed to last about eight.

Tonight was Movie Night with The Gang. There wasn't as much movie-watching as there was hysterical laughter and obnoxious comments. But it was still lovely. I've missed them all so much since this weekend.

But now I'm exhausted, so I am going to cease with my blogging and fall into bed. I have a poetry meeting tomorrow. We're getting closer and closer to Louder Than A Bomb and it worries me deeply because I know how far from ready we are at this point.

Off to dream-land.

The Bomb Is Ticking

I am really stressing.

We've got 20 days until Louder Than A Bomb. We have one group piece ready when we need three. Tickled Pink, Good Sport, and I spent three hours trying to get something, anything, competition ready. It was rough. We've taken the remnants home to work on for ourselves.

I am not creating anything of worth and it's making me sick. I literally have written nothing for myself. It's so frustrating and I can't figure out how to push through it. This is not okay.

Twenty days.

Things That Are Good

Today I slept. Sleeping is good. I also had a cup of coffee and some toast. That was good, too.

That is seriously all I did. And it was good.

I'm going to Tickled Pink's tomorrow to work on some more poetry pieces. That also shall be good.

Sorry, I'm too tired to think of any more riveting adjectives.

This Day.

Mentally exhausted after sitting through a fairly uncomfortable but generally alright National Honors Society induction ceremony.

Also mentally exhausted from studying for a giant PreCalc test that I'm extreeeeemely worried about.

Also fangirling really hard because Kait Rokowski told me that I am one million shades of adorable. She's my favorite slam poet and I've gotten to see her perform multiple times and she recently took third place at the Women of the World Poetry Slam in Denver. Besides her poetic prowess, she's a super great human. AND SHE THINKS OF ME AS AN ACCEPTABLE HUMAN BEING. Will wonders never cease?

"Kait Rokowski is the kind of writer I completely trust, rooted in the kind of muddy honesty that makes her readers/listeners want to become better humans. Her poems are sly and full of blood, she is going to dismantle everything wrong with poetry. She is one of the women who will save the poetry slam scene from itself."
-Rachel McKibbens

It's the truth, y'all. Here's to PreCalc and Poetry.

Boring Life Post

I've had a full day.

Father Steinbecker and I drove all the way to the DMV and were too intimidated by the length of the line to even go in. Again, one does not simply walk into Mordor. One must stumble in, uncaffeinated, in the very early morning if one wants to make it through with a permit. I guess we'll try again another time.

I spent two hours with some lovely poetry ladies arranging a piece for group performance. Two pots of coffee and multiple chocolate chip muffins were consumed. But we did what we set out to do-adapt one three minute poem for four voices. We're super psyched to show the rest of our team later this week.

Our dear friends are here all the way from St. Louis. There are now fourteen people in a house that isn't even really big enough for the seven it normally holds. But that's okay. I'm so, so glad to have them here, even if it means extra chaos. Especially if it means extra chaos.

This is my last weekday of Spring Break. No part of me wants to go back on Monday. Such is life, my friends.