Three Years

Three years.

Three years of waking up Saturday after Saturday at 4:30 AM to compete in Original Oratory. Three years of looking like a complete idiot practicing gestures in the mirror. Three years of scouring ballots, searching for any tidbit of information that could help me be better.

Three years of trophies, team dinners, and congratulatory smiles. Three years of "You're going places!" and "Just wait until you take this piece to state!"

Three years of wanting more than anything to qualify for nationals... and three years of bawling my eyes out behind the deserted vending machines when it didn't happen.

Today, as a high school senior, I said goodbye to my dream of qualifying for nationals. While it may be trivial in the long run, it still hurt like none other. It made me want to tear all my ballots, throw away all my medals, and tell myself I am simply not good enough. And when that stage passed, it made me want to blame it on other people, mainly my judges.

Dear judges (these are sole opinions of Angela and in no way are meant to be taken personally):

1) Original Oratory is supposed to be... original. Talking about discrimination doesn't quite cut it.

2) It is not interp. Once the speaker starts sword fighting himself, it's gone too far.

3) It is not extemp. I don't need 7 cited, dated sources. That's why they have file boxes and I don't.

4) When you write on my ballot "Great job! You're an awesome speaker! Reach for the stars!" and then give me a 5, I can't help but feel like you're bipolar.

5) Are you even listening to me?

6) Yes, I am at 9:41. Now could you watch me finish my conclusion before you tune out? The stopwatch can count the time for you...

7) Are you even listening to me??

8) It's called the Oratory Formation. Back center, left, right, center, forward. Just because the other competitors don't know the Bible of Oratory doesn't mean I should be counted down for not moving enough.

9) Don't write "No pop culture examples" on my ballot when I talk about both Charlie Sheen AND Kim Kardashian! WINNING!

10) Are you even LISTENING to me???

Alright, so maybe I overreacted a tiny bit. After all, my judges are older than me, smarter than me, and overall less biased than I am. They see a bigger picture than I do.

But where do I fit in that picture? Am I forever destined to be the "almost qualifier" girl? Do I really just suck at public speaking and no one has bothered to tell me?

Questions flood my mind about the incident, and I know they will for a long time. I don't understand how I can win tourney after tourney and fail at the times when it counts the most. I don't understand how OOs that I see as having no substance can beat me. I don't understand why I can't win.

But what does winning mean anyway? One of the OOs I've heard countless times this season has forever engrained this line into my head: "You, and only you, have the power to make yourself a winner." Is it true, though? Can I be a winner when I feel so crummy? Can I be a winner when after three years of hard work, I have no national qualifier plaque?

I choose to say yes. I choose to see opportunities for what they are - a forever replenishing source. I choose to recognize the skills I've gained over the trophies I haven't. I choose to use my loss to my advantage: Losing is a beautiful concept because it opens the door wide open for improvement. For goal-setting, for another chance, at a different time, to succeed.

Maybe my judges were right. Maybe the other orators were more creative, more expressive, more passionate, or more logical than I. Maybe they were better than me.

And I'm ok with that.

Here's to the next three years.