See. Speak. Feel. 2016

On days when my life is a hundred meter hurdle, it’s hard to distinguish between reality and the realistic dreams that surface amid thin wisps of sleep. Do I remember emailing her or did I dream it? Did I unplug the coffee pot before hitting the road or before hitting snooze? Am I cringing at the memory of that conversation or cringing at the nightmare? When I turned the corner into March this year I had the hurdles of See. Speak. Feel., two mime performances, and final planning for Think This Way lined up in the hundred meters ahead, and the realistic dreams were plenty.

So I can’t be certain if I said this in real life or of it was another vivid reverie, but somewhere between truth and trance, I told my sister this: these things never, ever, turn out the way we expect.

It was meant to assuage her worries regarding her first time on stage. Tyece left it more or less up to us what we wanted to do at See. Speak. Feel., the Twenties Unscripted event dubbed A Night of Performance and Art. My sister and I like a little challenge, and we love a little freedom. So naturally, we went for it.

What exactly we should call “it,” I don’t know. Our performance was much like us, difficult to describe, but so uniquely distinct you can taste it. It was us in the kitchen, divvying up a pot of coffee, saying things that seem senseless to everyone around. It was us in the car, picking up a tune mid-song. It was us before work, us in my bed at 2am, us in a way that no other pair of people could ever be. Our performance was three minutes and thirty one seconds of us, laced with an insider’s understanding, but packaged in a way than an outsider could laugh along.

See. Speak. Feel 2016 was amazing in a lot of unexpected ways. In the weeks leading up to the show, I couldn’t shut up about the sole dancer on the roster, and Teresa did not disappoint. Yetti blew me away and had me beaming with pride at her first time reciting spoken word. Tass overturned my idea that reading on stage is an invitation for a nap with her personality and pain bursting from the pages with every word she spoke. O-Slice was something I’d never, ever heard of, but something I need to hear again. I left that night full and tired and thoroughly entertained.

Below is our performance if you haven’t watched it. It certainly didn’t turn out the way I expected, but it was nothing short of being amazingly, essentially us.