Friday Mix Tape IV: It’s Too Late

1. Belle and Sebastian – It Could Have Been A Brilliant Career
2. Old 97’s – Am I Too Late?
3. Two Way Radio – Carrie Rodgers
4. The Decemberists – We Both Go Down Together
5. Hank Williams – Wedding Bells
6. Liz Phair – Divorce Song
7. Sondre Lerche – It’s Too Late
8. Harvey Danger – Incommunicado
9. Rilo Kiley –Love and War (11/11/46)
10. Iron and Wine with Calexico – History of Lovers
11. Ben Folds – Late
12. The Smiths – Still Ill

Beauty Pageant Registration: You’re Out Of Your Element, Kerry.

So, this might be the worst idea I’ve ever had.

Last night, large stack of paperwork in hand, I went to the Student Center to register for the Miss Ball State pageant, which feeds into Miss Indiana, and later, Miss America. I was trying not to get there too early, lest I be the only one in the room with the woman in charge, forced to make awkward small talk about the weather and my motivations for entering the pageant. I got there about five minutes before it started, and there were already four girls around the conference room style table.

Now, I’m not sure where they hide these girls, but despite Thursday being horribly rainy, cold and miserable, they still looked impeccable. They had well-groomed hair and perfect make up that was like the visible achievement of all of those Glamour magazine make up tips that I skim over. Skim over because even if they applied to me, there’s no way I would be able to have enough technical skill to pull them off. The girls’ clothes looked like they had been borrowed from a fancy catalog photo shoot. And then there was me: with my conglomeration of dirty and clean clothing, orange rain boots, handmade scarf and glasses. My hair, styled solely by the humidity and rain, was in two lame little pigtails and curled around my face with wild abandon.

So, I sat down at the table and started to fill out the paperwork. Of course, I had no idea what half of the things on the contract even meant, and was stuck having to ask the blonde girl next to me. I filled out the contract, writing “Miss BSU” in every single blank (which, I would later realize, while glancing at another contestant’s contract, was all wrong – I should have written “Miss America”).

In all of my contractual confusion, one girl, clearly more comfortable with awkward small talk than awkward silence, asked what everyone’s talents were going to be. There were some songs from movies I had never heard of, some instrumentals and a few dancers. I’m apparently the only performance poet this year.

Things were going alright, if clumsily, until I got to the end of the contract, where it asks you to check some boxes. One said, “I am and have always been a female.” I couldn’t help it – I laughed out loud. I mean, how silly! I understand why it’s in there (God forbid we have a drag queen or trans-gendered person in the beauty contest) but how ridiculous. I told the others what I found so funny, and they looked at me like I was a crazy foreigner or a cave woman that they would gossip about later.

The next box I had to check said something to the effect of “I conduct myself morally and don’t engage in immoral behavior.” I went ahead and checked yes – I don’t think anything I do is immoral.

After waiting for a long time for the notary and for someone to fill out my folder, I started to get more nervous and uncomfortable. No one was talking to each other, and when I tried to be friendly, it just seemed like I was being met with a lot of resistance. I felt like an outsider, an intruder, the pink elephant in the middle of the room that everyone else is trying to ignore. I was the shortest person there, the only one with short hair, and the only one (despite it being winter in Indiana) who was pasty white. I was also the only one with glasses.

To make matters worse, there was an appendix to my contract where I had to fill out the awards I’ve won in college, and my other special talents. I mentioned that I had won a poetry slam, and an award for Ball Bearings last year. When it came to my special talents, I totally drew a blank. I was tempted to write down “long walks on the beach.”

I managed to talk about my screen-printing habit, my rock show photography and my poetry shows, which are all relatively normal. Then, because I was desperate, and still had a whole answer blank left, I wrote “competed in a pancake eating contest.” So, when I’m in the on stage at Emens, and the emcee says (in his emcee voice) “Kerry is a native of Memphis , Tenn. She enjoys news, screen printing, and eating lots of pancakes!”… at least there’s an explanation.

I went into that room last night confident and excited. I left feeling really insecure and strange. I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into. I mean, I had to list what I was wearing for my talent as a “costume” (I’m wearing normal “me” clothes). At this point, I think I just have to hold out hope that they’ll let me leave my glasses on. I haven’t even started to worry about things like poise or looking pretty. I’m also left hoping that the interview will save me, and that I can charm the pants off of everyone.

Anyway. I hope all of you have a lovely Friday, despite the fact that it’s intermittently snowing and raining. Only one week to go!

I am not a pretty girl,

Kerry