I really didn’t give it much thought, but I noticed bloggers, here and there, commenting on auditioning for the 2012 Blogger Idol contest. So I checked it out, and with a casual shrug, sent in my blogger audition. I almost retracted and rewrote. It seemed a little down and I have a relatively up blog, but done is done and off I sent it, fully expecting that to be the end of it. Well, lo and behold, what have we here… you are reading one of the top 13!
Here’s what I wrote for my audition piece…
“8…9….10!” The counter shouts. “Ready or not… Here I come!!”
The boy turns around and spies her immediately. She stands quiet as a mouse in the center of the room. At two years-old, she is still young enough to believe that if she just closes her eyes, she is invisible, but everyone is smiling at her.
At seven years-old she is a stealth spy on an important mission. No one can see her in her black shirt, pants and hat. “Boo!” she yells from behind her mother as she washes the dishes. “Oh, you really got me that time!” her mom says, looking around. But she is gone. She is invisible. Her mom stifles a laugh.
At 14, she stands awkwardly on the outside of the world looking in. Her sweatshirt hood covers her head and she stuffs a chocolate bar in her pocket, thinking, hoping no one will notice her. With a wicked smile and body curving too much for its age, all they do is notice.
At 20, she hides in the back of the class, her long locks covering her eyes, her face always hidden away in a book. It all draws more attention to her than less.
At 42, with three kids and a mini-van, she schlepps up and down Main Street, lugging groceries and back packs. Her hair is pulled off her face in a ponytail. She wears yoga clothes and sneakers. For almost 20 years, she had it. She walked in, people looked. She smiled, the world smiled back.
Now she looks like she wants to be invisible, but mourns the fact that she actually is.
I don’t want to be invisible anymore. I’m ready to be the next American Blogger Idol.