The True Question of Love: Would you dive for it?

As an upcoming senior in high school, I am highly concerned with how I am going to pay for college next fall. However, I never thought I would become this frugal...

Today, I went dumpster diving. 

Now, before you write me off as a disgusting, radical tightwad, let me make it very clear that this endeavor was actually not an effort to boost my savings account. That part was only a joke. I did, however, go where no sane 17-year old girl ever hoping to achieve dating status again would go. Still, all the boys in the world couldn't teach me the lesson I learned from getting covered in last week's discarded sandwich:

Sometimes, you've just got to get in that trash can and show it who's boss!

Because I do slightly care about my image (sigh...) I will give a little more background info on this dirty little secret of mine (pun intended.) It's an odd twist of fate when something like this happens to me solely because I was trying to be responsible and vacuum my car. I had one floor mat left to clean when my CarVac decided to start royally sucking. Well, I mean, technically it stopped sucking... but you get my point. In the inconvenient minutes I had to wait for it to take a chill pill (it overheated), I decided to do something productive and empty the bag inside. (It's bad chi to mess up a vacuuming routine. Never empty the dang thing until you are finished!) I pushed the "release" button and shook, expecting all of the trash inside to meet its pitiful destiny. 

Of course, it's never that easy. The entire air filter came out as well. And I think my stomach might have too when I realized what I needed to do to retrieve it... 

A garbage bin can be so symbolic. I have always imagined my brain having such a contraption. When someone says something hurtful, I throw it in there. When I fail at blogging for 13 whole days, in the bin it goes. But what about when you throw away the filter? 

The filter in this strange analogy could be anything that you didn't mean to give up. It could be a precious relationship that you ended, or maybe a job opportunity you let slip by. Regardless, you have to retrieve it sooner or later. So get in that can and do some diving. Face the spoiled tomatoes of yesterday, because if whatever-it-was is really important, it'll be worth a little ketchup stain. 

And now that I think about it, dumpster diving might have even increased my dating factor. One very looooong shower later... I smell absolutely delightful.

The Electric Current of Personal Reflection

As I am writing this, my room is surrounded with darkness. My cell phone is plugged in, but it’s not charging.  Even the constant of time has capered as my alarm clock has transformed into a dull, black screen. 

Getting past the prose, the power is out. I am literally writing this at the side of a small candle in a notebook that I haven’t used in who knows how long. Obviously, I will have to type it out tomorrow so that I can share with you all what this experience holds.

First of all, it is so weird. I keep finding myself surprised when I turn on the television and Piers Morgan isn’t there to serenade me with that gorgeous British accent, or when I open the refrigerator and can't tell if I am about to pour milk or orange juice all over my cereal.

It’s aggravating that my modern conveniences are missing. No wonder people used to hit the lights (or the lack of lights) so early!

But considering the power has been out for over half an hour, I am starting to get used to the idea. There’s a certain inspiration that comes with the quiet flicker of a candle; simplicity lulls you to sleep as it reminds you that the to-do list will have to wait until the morning.

If I had the capability, I would research how modern technology has affected stress levels. However, considering the Internet requires electricity, this is a no-go. So, you will have to bear my humble opinion. Modern technology has caused a rise in stress level for most of the world. We are constantly hearing about war and chaos, about how that new "trendy" shirt you bought just went out of style, about how an innocent 2-year old's murder has still not been avenged. Sometimes, I know that I just want to scream, "Shut up already!"

Now, go back and read my first three paragraphs. I love technology. I am addicted to it, and I think it is a vital tool of the future. Never in a million years would I want to survive without Facebook, without constant updates on the world’s current status, or without… dare I admit it… the AntSmashers app for iPod touch (My high score is currently 653.)

Even so, I am humbled by the minimalism around me. Because it’s in this dim, troublesome spot that I am reminded of what it means to think for myself. Of what it means to contemplate only on my own, to truly form my very own opinion of the world. I can’t provide you with stats or evidence from leading experts in the field; heck, I can’t even look up better word choices from thesaurus.com.

I can only tell you what is spinning through my very own brain. And here it is: Sometimes, my own brain is all the power I need.

A Small Dose of Orange-Striped Perspective

When some crazy teenage driver starts yelling at you for absolutely no reason, just smile back at her.

I was jamming out to Jack Johnson and quickly speeding down the road so that I could be somewhat timely (an unlikely ideal) to my dog-walking date with my best friend. With the breeze wafting through my rolled-down window, I was happy, lighthearted, carefree... WHAT? BIG ORANGE "ROAD CLOSED" SIGN? Say goodbye to aforementioned adjectives. Oh boy, was I mad. That's the second time that road has been closed this year, and in a little town like mine, closing a street is a major inconvenience.

Feeling as such, I proceeded to speak my mind to the striped orange obstacle. "Why the heck are you here? You're so dumb! Can't you just go away and let me drive down the street?!"

Note to self: Never yell at roadblocks.

Especially when there is an innocent woman standing on the side of the road who happens to be in hearing distance of this conversation - and who might, in her naïvete to the new trend of talking to inanimate objects, think that you are screaming at her.
Rightfully so, the lady also put in her two cents on the issue in the form of a raised middle finger and a "What the hell did I ever do to you?"

Because I was so involved in my hatred toward the sinister sign, I didn't realize just what I had put that helpless bystander through until it was too late to apologize (I feel a Chris Brown song coming on.) Now, though, I feel terrible about the incident. It was never my intention to ruin someone's day because of a not-even-really-that-big-of-a-deal hindrance in the street.

As the old adage says, things are not always as they seem. It seems like foods that taste good should make you look good too, beautiful love should never turn to tragic heartbreak, and all journalists should be millionaires. (All right, so maybe that last one is opinion.)

Life has its fair share of barriers, whether it be in the form of a traffic mechanism or a 17-year old who should perhaps watch her temper a little more. Here's the kicker, though. We choose our own destiny. And we choose to either approach these impediments with poise and problem-solving skills, or we choose to let them destroy us. The trampoline to lunge us over them is just a wee bit of perspective.

And to you, poor, innocent pedestrian, my deepest apologies.

Grab the Spoon!

We were down to the final two in the Spoons tournament of the season. Two players, one spoon. One destiny to conquer. My older brother Josh and I sat face-to-face like two old west cowboys ready for a showdown. And the time had come.

In case you aren't familiar with Spoons: Each player always has four cards in his hand, and as the cards get passed around the table, players are allowed to pick up the card of their choice in exchange for one that they discard. The object is to get four cards of a kind (ex. four 6's) and to pick up a spoon, of which there is always one less on the table than the number of players. Once a person picks up a spoon, the other players must grab one also. Whoever ends up without a spoon loses the round, and once he loses six rounds, he is eliminated.

I normally employ a unique strategy when playing this simple but competitive game: Look sparingly at my own cards and instead keep an intense focus on the spoons present on the table. However, this becomes a problem when there are only two people. With only one spoon available to grab, the person who wins would obviously be the same one who got four of a kind.

Obviously not.

I had one round left available to lose. It was the nitty-gritty. I peered at my three 9's, awaiting the last of the set as Josh furiously passed cards to me. Finally, the 9 of hearts made its appearance. Excitedly, I reached for the spoon, thinking I had victory in the clutch of my hand.

 Until Josh suddenly leaped out of his chair and grabbed the victory before I had even felt its metallic surface.

I was absolutely bewildered. It wasn't fair that he could win! I had four of a kind! But, the rules of the game did declare the player without the spoon the loser, and four a kind or not, that happened to be me.

There, of course, is a greater lesson to all of this. Even when you've worked so hard for something, when you're seconds away from achieving your lifelong dream, it's not yours until you grab the spoon.

In a more legitimate example, golfer Thomas Levet just won the French Open. Pretty sweet, but there is a lot more left to win in the season. Except Levet decided to celebrate by jumping into a small lake... and broke his shin in the process. Oh shin, looks like someone might not be able to compete in the British Open after all. He had his four-of-a-kind, but he celebrated before he grabbed the spoon.

We have to persist beyond the realm of "I think I've won." Beyond "Of course I'll get scholarships; I'm a straight A student!" (Speaking to myself there.) Beyond "I've been an extremely productive employee for the past two years. That promotion is mine." We have to absolutely leap over the set standard and grab that shiny piece of silverware before someone else does.

And folks, I'm not just spooning.

The Presently Untitled Post Explaining the Presently Untitled Blog

Admittedly, I just spent forty solid minutes trying to think of a blog title.


I covered everything from "When Charlie Sheen and Reality Collide" to "The Flowers of Love Never Die," even finally resorting in my frustration to a simple "." Nothing stuck.


Aggravated that Blogger was going to make me choose a title before I had even begun posting, I almost called it a night. You can guess what happened next.


Presently Untitled: It has undoubtedly been used before, perhaps even by some newbie who named his blog, say, forty minutes ago. But whereas he might have hastily chose this title as an excuse to turn out the lights a little sooner, I have thoughtfully taken this title as a description of my life. At 17 years old (18 in less than a month!), I am quite unsure of who I am, let alone what my blog should be called. Nor do I particularly want to know. What is the fun in life if you always know what is coming?


My friends will be shocked when they read that last sentence. I'm pretty positive they think "Angela" is synonymous with "Must always plan ahead; freaks out under pressure; delays change for as long as possible." (I'm sorry, other Angelas of the world, that I have put such a bad rep on you.) Ah, but my dear friends, what you don't know about me is that my spontaneous experiences, regardless of the fact that they terrify me, have made me who I am.


Let's take my choice to run cross country in 8th grade as an example. I've always loved running, and when two buddies convinced me to join their practice just for a day, I happily agreed... and then IT happened. Yep. Someone made a bet that I couldn't last a whole season. Ohhh, he did not just go there. Of course I told him to shut up, and of course I puked my guts out after attempting three miles in the 102 degree heat of Canon City's deserty Hogback hills without any previous training. (I think I might have purged my ego also, thankfully. I now have the utmost respect for cross country runners!) Although I now know XC isn't my thing, I DID last the entire season. And it made me a more disciplined, focused, and confident individual. Not to mention, I was one sexy girl in 8th grade!


Or, we can take the more recent example of my encounter with a fellow Original Orator (http://www.nflonline.org/AboutNFL/Events) who happened to be in one of my rounds at a speech tournament. He was giving his oration on balancing uncertainty in our lives. Coincidence, anyone? At any rate, because I am adamant about adding even acquaintances on Facebook, I maybe slightly creepily friended him... but it turned out to be worth the risk of being labeled as a stalker. After occasional status-commenting and late-night-complaining-about-homework, Jake and I started chatting. And kept chatting. I now consider him a treasured friend and an important influence in my life - it was not planned, and maybe not even wise according to Internet safety protocol, but definitely just what my life needed.


I don't know where this blog will take me. For all I know, tomorrow I could decide to shut it down. (Unfortunately for you, don't count on that.) It would be foolish for me to title it now because how can I decide on the all-important description of something that hasn't even happened? How can I name my thoughts and experiences before they occur?


If at some point in the future I know I have exactly 30.52453 more seconds to live, I will name this blog. And I will probably name it "A Boring Life," because anyone who knows they have exactly 30.52453 seconds left had a little too much time on her hands. But until that moment comes, this blog will remain Presently Untitled.


 Because I am presently untitled.