This sucks!

Out of the 20 people in my catagory, the top 12 got to go to provincials. I wasn't one of them.

I couldn't have been that bad! Okay, well my speech was very unique -- It wasn't research or statistics-based or about literature or philosophy -- and I don't think anyone else told a personal story like me but that shouldn't mean I get automatic last place!

I guess one reason why few people do speeches like mine is because this sort of epiphany doesn't happen to most people this age. Or so timely. Or they just don't think about it. Heck, I didn't really know myself what I learned from this experience until just on Wednesday when I wrote the [new] second-last paragraph. Actually, there were other lessons too, only that was the most accessible to people in general (and isn't based on my "twisted" principles).

I suppose I'm just a little more than angry; I really wanted to be able to take my speech to more people, and the odds weren't bad at all! And it wasn't like I couldn't deliver it either, there were lots of people that stumbled and tripped over their cue cards and couldn't keep a good pace and stuff like that. I used a script but hey, the 4th place (or was it 3rd?) finished used a script too. Sigh. Crazy judges.

I've edited my Jan. 29th post so that it has the final copy of my speech.

"The High Priestess of IB," Part I

Ah, yes...Antonuk. High Priestess of IB. Indeed, such a title inspires both admiration and fear. Stout and shorter (in comparison) in stature and strong in voice, her outward personality leaves nothing to be desired. Dressed in colourful, flamboyant garb (which must certainly be the outfit of the priesthood) and a tiny IB emblem pin on her lapel, she strides confidently wherever she goes, her subtle tight-lipped expression demanding respect from those below her.

Sure enough, she is powerful. The members of the congregation are chosen by her hand. Prospective laymen and -women must divulge in writing their ambitions and contributions they intend to make to the Church of IB as well as what they wish to gain from it. She pores over these papers in her small, dim, messy and cramped office at the back of the chapel, admitting to the Church only those pure of heart and innocent of mind. She appoints them to 1½ or 2½ year terms, depending on their request. A pen flies across paper, scribing her florid signature on each printed letter of acceptance (which, thankfully, are not hand-delivered by her but by her peons...I mean, the clergy).

The recipients have probably only heard the High Priestess orate once before this -- that would be her yearly evangelical sermon just before application season begins. She even has current laity proselytize at this event.

To be continued...