my writing vs a vacuum cleaner

Yesterday I partook in a short story contest. One I prepared for, but also pooped my pants for. I haven't done any public speaking in years (do presentations count?) And I have never ever read something so personal out loud. The piece was about a love lost. Not just any kind of love; but a love that fills you up completely and then leaves a black hole where your heart should be.

I heard four stories before it was my turn, and as nervous as I was, I thought, 'I have this down.' The stories weren't so bad, but I know how to narrate a piece.I know how to deliver. Everything I am today, teacher, trainer, even friend, is because I know how to speak to people and connect, and it was my hope that my words and my story could do the same.

I would like to say I received a thunderous applause, but I honestly don't remember. I stand outside of my self when I speak in public, and I did not really hear the applause (although my friends tell me it was enthusiastic). I did see people paying attention. I saw people nodding along to my story, and smiling when appropriate. I thought I did well.

But then there was a voting. A ballot for the best two stories, and even then I was sure I was one of those top two. I had prepared (while some had not), I had delivered (while some had forgotten), and I had connected with the story.

Initially I had not cared about the voting. But then I thought, if I won that would mean that I could write! That my words did matter, and that I haven't wasted hours of my life, days of my life. writing those short stories for nothing! Finally, I would have some sort of acclaim - some sort of acknowledgment.

Alas, it was not so! I did not win first or second place. Instead I was ashamed and saddened that I had shared something so personal and it had amounted to...well, shit.

My friends thought I had done a good job. But then, that's their job, isn't it? A couple of people told me they liked my piece (one even said she had only cast one vote, while you were allowed two, and that one vote had been for me). But I hadn't won, so there's another rejection in regards to my nonexistent writing skills. Maybe I am doing something wrong. Maybe my writing isn't sophisticated enough (although last night I doubt that was a problem). Or maybe, since I am not out to please the masses, the un-pleased masses, forced to think during and after my piece, did not vote for me.

People are entitled to their opinions and their votes. And I need to realize that I did the best job I could do - but that makes the losing all the more difficult to handle, because if my best isn't enough, then what is?

I guess it's over. I performed a piece that was personal and meaningful, and a few people connected. Was it the highlight of my weekend? No, probably not. The highlight of my weekend was buying a vacuum cleaner, which has made cleaning so much more convenient.

And sometimes it's just that: the little things that matter, while the big things try and come together.