I’ve lived life. There are lots of big things I have yet to do, like skydiving and seeing Table Mountain; but as far as everyday, tangible things go, I’ve done a lot of them. I sometimes forget that I still have a lot of everyday firsts left in me.
So last night, I participated in my first open mic. I was nervous and my voice caught and I…may or may not have jumped around on stage to “Niggas in Paris,” (the ratchet burrows itself deep down into my 9th ward bones), but I did it. And it was totally fun. Despite at times feeling like I choked through it, it seemed the people in the place dug it, and that also made me happy. I’m always conscious about how people will receive me. I can only be me, but I also wonder if, when the pressure is on, I’ll be choppy or off putting. And I managed to gulp down my nerves and make it through my (mercifully) short poem. I liked the feel of the mic though, so I can’t say this will be my last time. I guess we’ll see.