Prayer

I've been thinking lately about prayer and what makes it worthwhile.  If I think logically about prayer, it doesn't seem to make sense at all.  I mean if God is all knowing, all powerful and has a plan, why would I want to ask for things that could possibly mess up that plan?  At best I could feel neglected with unanswered prayers and at worst, he could actually give me what I wanted and mess up his perfect plan.  But I discovered prayer isn't really about asking for things.  Prayer is more about shaping me and my character than changing the mind of God. 

If I pray alone, it helps me to be grateful for the things I have, it helps me to think about the needs of others and keep them in my thoughts, and it helps me voice my concerns about whatever is going on in my life.  Sometimes it gives me a sense of direction and purpose.  If I pray with another person, it makes me feel less burdened to know that someone else is involved in my concerns.  If I pray in church, it gives me a sense of community and a reminder that we are all in this together. 

The most valuable format of prayer I experienced was during my time in Greenville.  A person would offer up an issue in their life and the pastor would simply say "For this person, who is dealing with this..." and the congregation would respond with "Lord have Mercy".  We didn't tell God what we prefer he do about the situation, it was simply offering the problem to God. 

What I get out of philosophy (specifically Plato)

So, I'm doing this paper about Plato and trying my best to adequately explain his theory of the Forms to such a degree as to receive an A on my paper and I realized, my cat serves as the perfect example with which to demonstrate said theory.  My kitten, lets call her Olive (cause that's her name), partakes in the Form of cuteness.  Now Olive herself is not Cuteness because she of completely different substance than that of a baby chicken which also partakes in the Form of cuteness.  Also, Olive cannot be the Form of cuteness itself because she also partakes of many other Forms such as whiteness, kittenness, and claw-the-shit-out-of-my-handness.  Some Forms are necessary for other Forms to be present, for example, Olive must necessarily partake in both cuteness and claw-the-shit-out-of-my-handness at the same time.  If she partook in the later without partaking in the former, she would get kicked out of the house because no one would have efficient cause to put up with her shit.  Therefore, when Olive stops partaking in the Form of cuteness (as she grows older), she will also cease to partake in claw-the-shit-out-of-my-handness.

Olive partaking in the Form of Get-in-between-me-and-Jon-Stewartness

Just a thought

Five times a day Muslims stop what they're doing to pray.  That level of devotion amazes me.  I forget to pray for 2 weeks if I happen to miss one day of church. 

The purpose of religion should be to order and structure our lives.  It is sad to me that we have reduced it to merely a set of beliefs.  In the end, what are beliefs?  Practically, they mean nothing because no one knows for sure anything about the mysteries of life. 

I think Religion can be magical but only when we let it go and let it be completely mysterious.  That is why I love it, not because I can grasp it tightly but because I have no idea what it all means.

The Number One Threat to my Blog

BEARS!  The bears are threatening my recreational writing career.  They use their psychic bear power (with a slight mix of their razor sharp death claws) to prevent me from keeping up on my blog.  You can tell by this picture that this bear has malicious stop-Angela-from-writing intentions by the way he causally sniffs a dead tree pretending he has no idea who I am. 

Or it could be that I've gotten lazy.  Or that I had about 500 pages of reading to do for class last week.  I normally don't have THAT much, but classes are keeping me pretty busy.  The messed up part is I only have two of them.  If I only had 2 undergrad classes, I could write a novel in my spare time, but instead I'm trying to fill a couple paragraphs of blog after a month of school. 

John and I did have a fun summer.  We saw a lot of bears as evidenced by this picture of a bear.  One of them came right up to John and introduced himself.  Or he might have been pissed off because he was trying to catch a baby dear and he was distracted by a giant man on the side of the building. 

There was also lots of campfires.  Lots..... of campfires.  But those aren't very exciting to talk about.  Here's more bears. 

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C

Exhibit D (Exhibit C's twin.... or the same bear)

Exhibit.... oh wait, that's my boyfriend

Tampons Don't Grow on Trees

It's amazing to me how some people can drive 2 hours from civilization to 'get away from it all' and enjoy nature and then be completely distraught when a small middle-of-nowhere market doesn't have something they apparently can't live without.  If something is that essential to someone's well being, it seems like they would have thought to pack it before they headed 2 hours up a mountain.  There is no Wal-Mart in the woods.  We just don't have the resources to knock down some 1,000 year old Sequoia trees to build one yet. 

We've been out of ibuprofen and Tylenol pretty much since I started working a few weeks ago and I feel like I hear about it everyday.  Most of these people only seem minorly inconvenienced and I feel kind of bad for them because I love my Advil.  However, the biggest tragedy lately is that we ran out of tampons.  To some people, this is inexcusable.  One lady was so annoyed and upset, I felt like she was accusing me of withholding them from her on purpose as if I enjoyed seeing her suffer.  She was complaining that all we had was pads and "do you have any idea how hard it is to hike in these?"  I don't think she has any idea how long it takes for delivery trucks to make their way up the hill.  Shit happens.  We run out and it takes like a week or longer to get more. 

Even so, I can forgive a cranky bleeding woman for getting annoyed with me but the most perplexing thing to me is when we run out of large ice.  There were many people who seemed extremely put out and inconvenienced when I told them we were out of 20 pound bags of ice.  As someone was buying three 7-pound bags (which are the SAME price per pound), they asked "when are you getting more 20 pound bags in?"  to which I replied "I'm not sure" but my eyes said "what does it matter?  It's the same fucking ice." 

We also ran out of marshmallows.  Surprisingly, no one seemed quite as upset over that as not having a big ass bag of ice.  Next time someone bitches about ice, I should offer to open three 7-pound bags and dump them into a garbage bag so that the ice is all together in one bag.  Apparently that's very important.  Ice must work better when in the company of more ice.  I had no idea it was such a social creature.  I could've have sworn it was just frozen water. 

We'll probably run out of milk soon.  The only bitching I'll tolerate is from John because we go through it pretty fast. 

-Angela

Living with Giants

(I actually wrote this post about 3 days ago.  I was just able to get to the internet to post it tonight.  I realize it's kind of all over the place.  There was just so much going on.)

John resting after I dragged him to the top of Moro Rock

Here I am on July 7th in the year 2011 and somehow I have made my way back to Sequoia National Park for the 4th summer in a row.  This was originally supposed to be a one time thing but after all the moving around during and after college, this place has become something of a second home for me.  It is reminiscent of the home I grew up in because I am surrounded by a forest but the giant sequoia's give it a special "there's no other place like it" feel.  They act as giant guardians making me feel safe and secure. 

Ever since beginning college, security is something that I have missed and longed for.  In recent months, I have found such security in the form of another giant: my 6 foot 8 inch soul-mate, John Goodin.  We had planned to spend the summer apart for financial reasons, but after only one week apart, he is back in my life and working for the same company in my second home. 

John drove me to Sequoia and left me here last Tuesday.  The very next day I took up my old post as cashier at Lodgepole Market.  I picked the wrong day to start.  After going through about 3 hours of filling out paper work and listening to rambling speeches from the HR manager, I began working in the market at about a quarter to 4 in the afternoon.  That day just happened to be inventory day.  I didn't clock out until almost 4:30 in the morning.  I'm good friends with the manager so I didn't feel shy complaining to him, which I did.... a lot. 

The next few days were a bit challenging on my feet because they weren't used to standing for so long.  Everyone knew about it because I complained so they would ask me for updates when I would go into work and sometime toward the end of the day.  It probably didn't help that I had dragged John to the top of Moro Rock on the first night we were here.  We watched the sunset. 

So, on my fifth day of work, the manager, Vince, informed me that John called him and wanted to come work at Sequoia.  John found out that his job at Target was less than half time hours.  Needless to say this made my whole day even though we were crazy busy because it was 4th of July weekend. 

Later that day we had a fire alarm and I got to stand outside and stop customers from going inside.  The next day, I worked the second half of my shift at the Wuksachi Gift shop.  Anyone who has had the privilege of reading the notes I write while working understands how extremely boring that job is.  The day after that, we had a crazy downpour and the storm drain was clogged so the parking lot of flooded and approaching the store front.  A few hours later about half of the power went out and mine was the only register open.  Somewhere in there John arrived from Sacramento all sweaty and tired. 

I got my first day off yesterday.  John did orientation and we set up our room.  Today is his first day of work.  He's moving large piles of wood.  I hear there's a lot of it although I have not seen these piles with my own eyes. 

Now we have about 8 more weeks until we both go home and start school.  I'm excited that I don't have to spend those 8 weeks apart.  I get to have my job and my boy and live in one of the most beautiful places on earth.  I'm feeling pretty good right now. 



-Angela

Not falling off the face of the earth.... yet

Forgive me readers for I have slacked.  It has been 14 days since my last blog.  I accuse myself of the following negligence. 

I've noticed that the dates between blog posts is getting progressively longer and longer.  I'm not sure why this is, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm loosing the ability to amuse myself.  Or perhaps my abilities have just fallen asleep from boredom.  Although a couple days ago I felt totally inspired to write something that I deem unfit for posting.  I wrote it anyway.  Then I felt sad that I had a creative burst of talent and nothing to show for it.  Then I started writing this post.... two days ago.  The opening sentence originally stated that it had been 12 days since my last post.  With each passing hour, my offense became greater and greater. 

In my defense, I'm on these antibiotics right now (which I started on Wednesday) that make me feel consistently slightly nauseous.  It kinda feels like when you're just starting to get sick and you know it's going to get worse, but it never does.  Sometimes I can ignore it, but it's always there.  However, two days ago when I started writing, I wasn't aware of this side effect and all I knew was that I felt sick and didn't feel like writing anymore.  It was yesterday morning when it suddenly dawned on me that it was the pills I'm taking. 

On a completely unrelated note (because I just decided this post isn't completely random enough), I applied for this job a few days ago that would be basically me proof-reading stuff.  Along with my application and resume, I was required to submit a writing sample to prove how absolutely amazing I am at mastering the english language.  I selected an essay question I wrote for Ethics class which only had one error in it.  I hope they don't hold that against me.  Just kidding.  I corrected and re-saved it before I submitted it for their review.  I pray to God this job allows me to use spell check because I just had to correct at least 3 words that were underlined in red including "reviewal" which, when marked, I realized wasn't even a word. 

On a tangential note, wouldn't it be great if there was a job that involved making up words?  I think I'd be pretty great at that.  We don't have enough words; we need more. 

I don't have a good picture for this post.  I don't know if I could even imagine what image I could possibly display.  I guess I could put a picture of my medication, but that would just be depressing.  Perhaps a picture of me in a Catholic confessional.  If only I had one of those.  I've never even been inside one so I'm certain that picture doesn't even exist.  I mean, it could if I could locate some kind of Photoshop master.... WHICH I TOTALLY AM!  But that might take me another 14 days to put together.  Probably not going to happen. 

Angela

Return of the Angela Trap

Yesterday John and I decided that in lieu of a stroll around the park (which we try to do everyday it's not pouring and/ or freezing) we were going to grab a blanket and go lay down under a shady tree in the central grassy area of the park.  So before we even make it to the park, I spotted a cat walking on the other side of the street a few house lengths ahead of us.  We watched as the cat patiently waited for traffic and then cautiously crossed the street.  She then proceeded to head into the park until she made it to the far side (and we conveniently headed in the same direction until we caught up with her). 

It was at this point when the cat became aware of our presence and seemed to be slowing down to allow an interaction when the question arose of whether this was the same feline of the previously documented Angela Trap.  After we were able to pet this kitty for a bit, we decided that in fact it was.  This was a chronic Angela Trap that probably made her way to the park on every sunny day to hang out in the dirt and hunt some unsuspecting birds.  We have frequently been spotting some delicious looking quail and while it would most likely be illegal for us to kill and eat one, no one is going to blame a cat for doing so. 

Even so, the adorable Angela Trap did not take advantage of the succulent quail on our watch.  Instead she found her way over to our blanket after we had settled down (conveniently close to where she had stopped) to take advantage of our abundant pets.  And since we had come to the park with the intent of laying around anyway, I was able to pet her as much as I wanted without John looking at me impatiently. 

We ended up hanging out on our blanket for about an hour and a half and during that time the Angela Trap spent her time going from laying under a tree to coming back for pets.  She presented the perfect opportunity for us to take pictures of her so that I might post them on my blog, but I had previously complained about John bringing his phone to the park (and hence the camera) and I somehow managed to end up with one of the few boyfriends who actually listens to me.  I guess the best solution would be for me to bring my phone/ camera because I'm never tempted to text while I'm walking.  That way if I am correct in thinking this cat is in the daily habit of hanging out at the park, I will eventually obtain a picture of her.  In the meantime, here is a visual approximation of what she looks like. 

Charlotte doing her best Trap impression

This is actually Charlotte, our lovable long time stray from Georgetown.  Trap is skinner than Charlotte with no white on her. 

Anywhozers, we decided that if we were going to be seeing this cat a lot, she needed a name.  To achieve this, we simply dropped the "Angela" from "Angela Trap" and simply named her Trap.  Real pics coming soon.  Hopefully. 

Angela

Master of EVERYTHING (that interests me)

The other night I was on my way home from my weekly meeting/ bible study at Old Soul, driving down the freeway (previously my sworn enemy) and I started thinking about my imminent return to higher education this fall.  For some reason driving anywhere for longer than 2 minutes by myself sparks the contemplative centers in my mind.  Probably because it's quiet and there's no one to interrupt me.  Also I think there's just something about driving down a road that triggers a symbolic image of my future and were I'm going.  Of course with that logic, I should have had plenty of time to plan my entire future when I lived in Georgetown when it took 30 minutes to get anywhere.  But I digress. 

So on this particular 15 minute drive, I was thinking about all the different majors I had previously considered and where those would have taken me.  I then had a revelation.  I want to do EVERYTHING.  I wish I could just spend 10 years or so in school and learn every subject I want and eventually be a multi-subject expert.  Then I could be a professor that teaches five different subjects and/or be a more dynamic writer that can speak on a wide range of subjects. 

Alas, it's not really practical to spend that much time in school before starting a career.  However, I hope to have the opportunity to continue learning these things throughout my life, if only as a hobby.  Then by the end of my life, I will be a Religion/ Philosophy/ Psychology/ Graphic Design/ Digital Arts/ English/ Theater/ Baking expert.  Perhaps I can roll them all into one and come up with some new discipline that other students would then study as a major in college.  That way I could live off the patent rights.  I'm fairly certain it doesn't work that way, but it sounded good. 

I'll let everyone know how this works out. 

This is how my brain will organize all that information

Angela

I'm a female?!??

Lately I've been finding that my emotional response to fictional and/ or televised material to be significantly heightened.  Usually my sadness response was limited to well crafted movies and that scene in Scrubs where Dr. Cox thinks he's at his sons birthday party but he's really at his best friends funeral (swear to God, saddest moment on television I've ever seen), but even in those situations, I only ever THOUGHT about crying, I'd never actually shed any tears.  However, recently there have been MANY sad things on TV and I've even had a full blown meltdown during a movie.  I think I've figured out why. 

I am now in a relationship.  I think since I've started dating John, I have been put in the role of girlfriend and my body suddenly realized "OMG!  I'm a female!  I should act like one!".  It's like my hormones were laying dormant pretending that they didn't exist and giving me a false sense of sanity.  But then they were called upon to fulfill their destiny of turning me into an emotionally compromised crazy person.  Now I'm the kind of person who starts balling in the middle of "The Last Unicorn" because the main character is having identity issues.  And just the other day, I had to stop watching a show about this girl who hordes animals because it was so sad it made me want to kill myself. I swear my feminine hormones are just throwing a wild party and laughing at me while I cry at every sad story on TV. 

I wish I had some kind of master control switch that could turn them off at will.  I'm sensing a great business opportunity here.  Someone should invent this.  Females and boyfriends everywhere will thank you and forever be in your debt. 

Me being innocent and carefree before I realized I'm insane

Angela

Update: Distraction

I actually made it past the dreaded purple levels (all 2 of them) to the even dreadedier turquoise level.  Of course having never made it this far, the turquoise level kicked my ass but not before I made a significant dent in the overall ball count. 

Mark my words, turquoise, someday I will make you my bitch....

Angela

(Not) An Allegory

Today I am going to tell you a story that is going to sound like I made it up.  You're probably going to think I came up with this story to illustrate a point, to point out some bigger universal truth, or to make myself sound wise and spiritual.  However, this story is one hundred percent true and factual.  It is simply cosmic coincidence that it just so happens to double as an insightful allegory. 

Most of you are familiar with a certain trust exercise which involves one person leading another person around blindfolded (or just with their eyes closed).  The whole point is to illustrate how hard to it can be to trust another person with your safety.  Of course it's easy to assume they wouldn't lead you off a cliff or into a large body of water because they wouldn't put themselves in danger as well, but it's harder to trust that they are paying attention to make sure you won't trip over any rocks, tree roots, or (if its the rainy season) walk into any puddles.  

For some weird masochistic reason, I thought this exercise was great fun and it became one the occasional pastimes of my teenage years.  Living out in the sticks like I did also made it even more challenging and extremely treacherous.  I would mostly play with my BFF, Brandi.  I got so good at trusting her that I would walk beside her (eyes closed) at my normal pace of walking (as opposed to stepping cautiously and flinching when passing under shadows because it felt like something was about to hit me in the face). 

This place was TREACHEROUS!  Look!  A wild Tiger!

One particular fine day, we were walking around like this and I was SO confident in my abilities as a blind person that I was sure Brandi was leading us the wrong way.  I argued with her.  I pulled her in the direction I thought we should be going, but she was having none of that.  So, instead of simply opening my eyes to gain orientation and prove to the person who could SEE that she was wrong about where she was going, instead of doing that insanely smart thing and ruining the game, I DROPPED HER HAND AND CONTINUED WITH MY EYES CLOSED. 

Now there are any number of things that could have happened to me at this point.  Considering all the possible obstacles in my yard, I'd say pretty much the worst thing that could have happened was the exact thing that ended up happening.  Not long after my bold, blind departure from my sighted guide (going average walking speed), my face collided with something hard and metal.  I opened my eyes to find A) the bar on the side of the motor home to which the side mirror is attached (to high up for my outstretched hands to have detected) B) I was nowhere CLOSE to where I thought I was (big surprise) C) the throbbing pain on my face specifically my upper lip (it was a miracle I didn't loose any teeth) and D) I'm an idiot (Brandi could have told me that 10 seconds ago). 

I'd LOVE to say this story is something I made up as a wise allegory about how you should trust people and not walk around blind because you'll hit things, but I didn't.  Instead I experienced this story so that I could set an actual example of why you should follow the rules when doing the 'lead each other around blind' exercise.  If you don't trust your partner, don't be an idiot, just open your eyes. 

Angela

Distraction

Was there something I'm supposed to be doing right now?

This is the reason it took me a whole week to post a blog.  Every time I would think "Hey, I'm gonna write a blog post!" for some reason directly following that thought was "But first, I'm gonna play this game!"  I think the logic centers in my brain thought playing this game would somehow stimulate my thought processes and cause me to be a better writer.  However, after countless episodes of me deciding to write and then never quite making it to blogger, I started to realize that this premise was false. 

Instead, I believe what happened is that every time I started playing this game, the colorful disappearing magic balls wiped all thought out of my brain.  It's like they have some kind of hypnotic hold over me which they harness with their colorful arrangements and magical disappearing sounds.  I'm not even being cute about that last magical reference; they really do use the same sound effect that always accompanies magical wands in Disney movies. 

I've actually gotten pretty good at this game.  I can pass the first four levels with little to no problem, but whenever I get to the dreaded purple level, I run into issues.  I have passed it twice though and that was cause for celebration.  Then I realize the cost of achieving excellence in a game with no consequence (not blogging) and I die a little inside. 

I'd like to say that blogger being down for an entire day put a dent in my productivity, but really that was only one day and I could have written my post in word pad and saved it to post later.  In fact, that's how I used to write all my blog posts until I got lazy because blogger saves my drafts every few seconds without me even doing anything so I have become less paranoid about losing my material. 

That being said, I believe I have come up with a solution.  When I decide that I am going to blog, I shall forbid myself from playing until after I have finished.  In that way, it will become a reward instead of a distraction.  In case you're wondering, I have not mentioned the name of the game on purpose because A) I don't want to hear any immature giggles and B) I hope to save you from this addiction.  I know it would probably take you like 2 seconds of research to find out.  Do yourself a favor, just leave this one alone. 

Me about to loose the dreaded purple level

Angela

Angela: Grad Student

I found out in the middle of last week that I have been accepted into the graduate program of Liberal Arts at Sacramento State.  Now I am officially a graduate student.  After 2 years of aimless wandering and half made decisions, I feel like my career is moving forward again.  It feels really good knowing that someday I will have a degree that actually means something in the world of employment.  On top of that, I also have a very promising job prospect (for right now). 

Sometimes I feel like God's just messing with me.  Every once in a while he looks down at me and says "Is she sufficiently panicked yet?" and if I'm not, he waits a couple months and then checks on me again.  This time he looked down and saw me freaking out and decided to throw me a bone.  He has decided that I have panicked about my future enough. 

Perhaps I just worry too much about my future.  I think I'm learning how to be less worried though.  I just remind myself that, no matter how uncertain things may seem at the time, my basic needs will always be met.  Also things just seem to work out for me.  I'm not sure how it works, but I always find myself in new and exciting places.  I'm happy with where things are going. 

All that being said, I'm also pretty terrified about actually attending grad school.  I have to write a 50-75 page minimum thesis paper.  On a side note, how can there be a minimum range?  Wouldn't it just be 50 pages minimum?  Or does that mean I will get skinned alive if I go over 75 pages?  Either way, that's a long paper to write.  Of course, I'll have plenty of time to write it.  I guess this is exactly the same as the time I was terrified of beginning college.... and the time I was terrified of beginning high school and middle school.  Perhaps a certain amount of fear is needed to ensure success.  In high school, I was so terrified of failing my first Algebra class and I ended up receiving an award for algebraic excellence. 

In conclusion, I believe I am sufficiently afraid enough to begin grad school.  Also this post took forever.  I'm not sure why. 

Angela

Sometimes I forget which fingers are mine

Same picture, different post

I assure you, this is not the same post as last time with me bragging for an entire post about how awesome I am at typing.  I just want to talk specifically about this picture which was taken in the spring of 2008.  I had completely forgotten the context behind this picture, as I often do what with my less than stellar memory. 

It dawned on me while I was examining this photograph last week, those are not my fingers.  I wanted to offer this picture up as evidence of me typing on my computer, but it suddenly became clear to me that there is no way those could be my hands in the reflection. 

Evidence #1 - The website depicted here is Gaia, a veritable "what the hell am I doing on this website while I could be doing something much more exciting like watching grass grow" of the internet.  I probably spent a whole 10 seconds on that website, which makes it extremely unlikely that someone would have gathered photo-evidence of that short visit. 

Evidence #2 - Those fingers are just a tad longer and skinner than mine. 

Evidence #3 - I'm the only person who resided in that dorm room who would have taken a picture like that and there is physically no way I could have both taken the picture AND posed for it.  I mean, unless I was magic of course, but the jury's still out on that one.  We will have to assume for the sake of science that I am not magic because science can't prove that I'm magic. 

So, with those 3 pieces of hard evidence, the only person it could have been is Kris.  To demonstrate how awesome I am at something, I used a picture of someone else doing it.  Let me assure you, this does not in any way make me less awesome at it.  It simply means that during the time it takes to write one post, I temporary forgot what my fingers look like, the fact that I hate Gaia, and that I am not scientifically proven to be magic. 

If you're still wondering what Kris was doing on my laptop in the first place, you're in luck!  I remember that as well.  See, Kris lived in the top bunk-bed which, in a standard sized room, was closer to the ceiling than anything else.  She also lived on her computer so she spent a great deal of time on the bunk-bed while also on her laptop.  It's pretty obvious to see where this is going and, yes, she dropped it.  The computer got angry and stopped working so I allowed her to spend quality Gaia related time on my computer while hers was out of commission. 

So THAT is the complete story about how that picture came into existence.  It's a pretty long story about one snapshot, but you know me, I could write a novel about every picture on my computer and there is a lot of them. 

Angela

PS - Happy Mother's Day.  I love you, Mom.  You made me into a functional human being and I am grateful. 

Typing = Cool

I always feel super cool when I'm blogging or chatting with one of my buddies on instant messenger and my fingers are practically flying over the keyboard in their ultra-fantastic choreographed typing bonanza.  It's almost like my brain can't keep up with my fingers sometimes.  To be able to type so fast makes me feel like I've arrived; that I've officially reached computer awesomeness. 

I first aspired to this position when I used to watch my mom type on our computer and, to my little kid brain, she was typing up a storm about super important business.  Of course this was during a time when it would take me 10 minutes of searching the keyboard just to locate the "A" key and then once I found it, go on another epic journey for the "N" key until, after an average movie-lengths worth of complete non-action, I managed to spell my name.  I thought it would be so cool to be able to type like my mother and be able to crank out pages of text in seconds at a time.

After my arduous journey of learning how to type along with plenty of internet play time for practice, I discovered one of those mind-blowing secrets that shatters childhood notions of how things were.  I had the opportunity to work with my mom in the same office and I discovered she never actually learned how to type.  She's one of those people who looks at the keyboard and just has a good idea about where all the keys are and thus has managed to type at a decent speed.  In fact, she contracted me to do a job that required typing something up because I was a faster typist. 

Although somewhat surprised that she couldn't possibly be as quick as I remembered, (perhaps writing words in seconds instead of pages) I had arrived.  I realized that I had surpassed my childhood expectations of how cool I would look typing too fast for the naked eye to see.  The only way it could possibly get any cooler is if I could type really fast while not even looking at the computer screen to see my words.  Oh wait, I can.  The only problem is, there are very few occasions when this skill is necessary so no one gets to see that awesome talent.  Either that, I just look like a total douche who's just showing off.  I practice this skill in front of John when I want to reassert my superior skills because he's one of those "look at the keyboard" types.  He doesn't seem terribly impressed, but I know he's just jealous. 

I can type fast.  That makes me cool.  It's proven my science.

My keyboard where I type fast which makes me cool as proven by science

Angela

Recovering is Highly Recommended

I don't want to speak too soon, but I believe I'm finally recovering.  It's a good thing too because I only made 2 posts last week and, at this point in the game, anything less than 7 times a week just feels inadequate.  However, I feel like now that I don't have to post, my posts should be better because I have more time to think and perfect them.  If I have an idea about something to write about, I think "If I wait longer then my ideas about this topic will get better and thus my post will be better".  This is not the case. 

What actually happens is I completely forget what I was going to write about and end up sitting in front of a blank screen thinking "What was that idea I had?  Something about.... fish?  Pickles?  Paint?  Wait, how on earth do those things fit together?  Maybe I should go watch the Daily Show and I'll come back to me."  Then I go and do other things and forget about posting. 

So, now that I am feeling better, I believe my brain is functioning at higher capacity and thus I shall not allow my brain to be tricked by my faulty logic.  Also it means I will be doing more things because I feel well enough to do them and thus will have more things to write about.  It's a win-win.  I don't know why I ever got sick in the first place.  All it did was bring me down.  That was a bad decision on my part.  I mean, it couldn't have been my faulty sick-logic that got me sick because I wasn't sick yet.  Somehow in my clear headed mind I thought it would be a good idea to sit around and be unwell for over a week. 

I told John not to get sick.  I hope he learned something from my example.  It is definitely a bad decision and I would urge anyone to take it seriously.  I can only in good conscience recommend that someone get sick if they are A.) wanting to get out of school (but only for below college level because you're not paying for that time) B.) need some time off a job that offers paid sick leave (but don't contract anything serious or you won't enjoy the time and you might have to leave said job) C.) need to get out of an awkward social obligation (in which case faking it would probably be sufficient).  Other than those situations, don't even think about being sick.  You will regret it. 

I really wish I have a picture for this post.  That would make it so much cooler. 

Angela

Am NOT down with the sickness

I've been sick in varying degrees of severity since last Friday night, although the general pattern is that I feel alright during the day and then bad at night.  I guess this is still true, but its started to even out more.  Usually I can handle being sick, but this sickness is the devil. 

Remember when you were a kid and you were happy about being sick?  I mean sure you felt a little crappy and your energy level was a little lower than normal, but you got to skip school and sit on the couch watching TV all day.  It usually only lasted one day (or if your lucky two), but it was amazing just to lay around and do nothing while you knew all your classmates were stuck in school learning.  I always got left at home by myself so I had the added bonus of having the entire house to myself.  Those were the days. 

These days are nothing like that.  There is absolutely no up-side to this sickness.  Plus its lasting way too long.  I was ready to be done with it on Monday and felt very close to recovered, but that dream was snatched away from me when I realized I didn't feel well enough to leave the house that night for my weekly church group meeting. This particular sickness is holding on tight and refusing to let go.  It is something I can definitely live without. 

I wonder if there's someway to trick myself into getting better.  My current method of mercilessly attacking the sick with juice particles seems to be coming up short.... but that won't stop me from trying. 

Angela

My Brain Trust

After my Easter break from blogging everyday, I decided I wanted to post.  Note the transfer of power in that statement.  I decided to post, which means I now have the freedom not to.  However, after posting everyday for 46 days straight, I feel the desire to continue.  This just goes to further prove my belief that discipline builds character because it turns obligations into fun pass-times. 

So, after I decided to post, I gathered together my brain trust. 

My Brain Trust

After a heated discussion, they decided (like all selfish stuffed animals) that I should write about them and their impromptu meeting. 

It started like any other meeting.  I picked each one of them off of my shelf and gave them each a quick dusting.  Thief (the pink lamb) lamented being pulled away from his precious two-face coin and frog shaped stone.  I put him in charge on protecting them but, him being a thief and all, I'm pretty sure he's claimed them for himself.  I then pulled Garfield from a lower shelf and arranged them in a nice little circle. 

It was around this time that John walked back into the room and wondered aloud "what the hell I was doing".  I explained that this was my brain trust but didn't say what I needed it for.  He then gave me a look that said "you're fucking crazy but I'm not the least bit surprised". 

I just wish I had the rest of my brain trust with me.  Their circle would occupy the entire bed and with that kind of stuffed-animal-man-power at my disposal, no one would even dare think about calling me crazy, even with their eyes. 

So now that we've conquered this post, my brain trust and I are going to solve some serious problems like world peace, or teen pregnancy, or what to eat because I'm hungry. 

Angela

Day Fourtysix: Lent IS over

Well the 46 days of the "40 days of lent" is finally coming to an end.  I'm proud to say that I have posted everyday during this time.  Admittedly, one post felt like cheating because I posted some pictures and very few words, but other than that, I feel fairly proud of all of my posts. 

Does this mean that I am now finished and will never post again?  Hell.  No.  While I will definitely not be posting everyday anymore, this is only the beginning of my determination to write on a continuing basis.  I'm thinking 2 or 3 times a week will be good.  Maybe I'll even start working on a longer term project like a short story or short novel.

I feel like this whole experience has been a success.  I was really surprised by the amount of people who told me they have been reading my blog and the amount of people who harassed me when I would take too long to write it.  Accountability is a wonderful thing that I don't think we as a society value enough.  I think it tends to get pushed aside by our sense of personal freedom. 

So, until next time (but not tomorrow), HAPPY EASTER!

Angela

Day Fourtyfive: My BFF

Tomorrow is a milestone day for one of my favorite people in the universe, my BFF Brandi.  Tomorrow is the day that my best friend turns 21.  Brandi and I have been friends since I was 7 years old (and she was 4) and best friends since I realized that just because she was younger than me didn't mean she wasn't a super awesome person that I loved to hang out with all the time.  I'm not sure exactly what age that was. 

She used to live right next door to me which made it extremely convenient to get together and execute mischief.  There was a period in our lives when it wasn't even necessary to inform either of our parents that I was spending the night at her house on Friday, it was just assumed. 

I can't imagine what I would have done without Brandi.  Georgetown is a pretty boring place and we were 3 miles away from it with no transportation.  Our idea of going to town was catching a ride with her mother and renting a movie at the video store.  Sometimes we would also buy junk food.  Having her around made me forget what an unexciting place I lived in. 

Now that she's going to be 21, we can finally go to a bar together.  I don't know when that's going to happen but I'm excited. 

A visual approximation of what she looks like

I love you, Brandi. 

Angela

Day Fourtyfour: Babies

Today I pulled myself away from watching adorable kitties to take a walk in the park with John.  We ended up on the bridge, as we often do, that overlooks a river/ waterway/ junkyard (not really sure what it is/ is used for but there's trash in it).  There's a shopping cart that someone dumped in the water that we always visit but it was gone today.  The water was the lowest I've ever seen it so I know it wasn't covered like the last time I thought it was gone.  Even though it was trash, it was kind of sad. 

There was also a duck swimming around with her crowd of baby ducks.  They were so adorable, I asked John if we could keep one.  He said no.  I have no idea why.  I mean who could possibly say no to chasing after a duckling in trash-infested muddy water so that we can bring it home.  What kind of heartless person doesn't want a baby duck?  So I settled for going home and watching baby kitties play on my computer. 

This made me realize: baby anythings are adorable.  When have you ever seen a baby something and thought it was ugly?  That's right, never.  I don't think it's possible.  Babies are natures way of making sure the animals are cared for because no one would take care of a baby that wasn't cute.  They're loud, annoying, time-consuming, messy tyrants.  They have to be cute so that we'll continue to love them. 

Nature is an evil genius. 

Angela

Day Fourtythree: I'm Infectious

Recently I set up a blog for John.  He was inspired by me writing everyday and decided that it would be super awesome if he started a movie blog to write about movies because that's what he knows best.  I set it up about a week ago.  He finally wrote in it today. 

We had made a plan to go to Dimple's earlier today, so I was getting ready while he finished watching Resident Evil.  When I was finished and he was finished and I was ready to go, I offhandedly suggested that he blog about it because he was bitching about how much the movie sucked.  So he did.  Right away.  I tried to wait patiently while he was writing (passing some minor judgments on his grammar now and then to which he responded "I'm not finished!  Go away!"). 

When he had finally finished writing and going over every detail, he noticed what I had written in his bio section.  They were somewhat biased complementary things that he would probably never say about himself and that he ended up changing before he made his post.  That made me kind of sad.  I said some pretty nice things about him that no one will ever know about now.  I then proof read his writing and he posted it.  If you want to read it and you're not friends with him already on facebook, his post is here. 

He told me while he was writing it that I couldn't write my blog post about his blog post because that was cheating.  Then after we got back from Dimple and I was trying to think of something to write about, he suddenly contracted a case of amnesia and told me to write about his blog.  So I did.  

I'm super excited.  We're watching Bill and Ted now.  Maybe he'll write about that next. 

Angela

Day Fourtytwo: Better Than Porn

Live kittens... on my computer, whenever I want.  My life is complete. 

John introduced me to Live Kitten Cam only a short time ago.  It was his intention to keep me thoroughly distracted while he plays Mass Effect instead of working on his homework.  He then gathered picture evidence of his success in getting me addicted to internet kitties. 

Me being addicted to internet kitties

So I waited for him to settle down and gathered my own picture evidence of him being addicted to Mass Effect. 

John being addicted to Mass Effect

I then picture messaged the images from his phone to my e-mail account so I could put them on the internet.  I would be worried about him seeing this picture posted and getting angry, but he'll probably be in that position for quite some time so I at least have time to locate myself elsewhere.  Of course there's a high probability that I'll be too distracted watching kitties to remember to leave the room. 

So.... if you need me, I'll be watching kitties... FOREVER! 

Angela

Day Fourtyone: Lent's not over

Well it turns out lent is longer than 40 days.  Leave it to the Catholics to take a specific number like 40 and say it doesn't actually mean 40 days; it means 46 days.  Now I'm not entirely certain that this Lenten tradition started in the Catholic church, but they're the oldest of the Christian faith traditions (excluding Orthodox who, lets face it, are irrelevant no offense) so I'm blaming this whole incorrect number debacle on them. 

So today I've been living in what I can only describe as the twilight-zoneness of the 41st day of lent.  Because it was day 41, John and I went out to ice cream.  For those who aren't aware, John gave up take-out food/ eating out for lent which means I essentially gave it up to even though I never made an actual commitment.  My job has been to keep him away from take out food which has been loads of fun.  However, we decided that since 40 days doesn't actually mean 40 days, then not eating out doesn't actually mean not eating ice cream on this, the 41st day of lent.  It is cheating somewhat, but we felt the need to make a point to the Catholics.  I'm confident they got the message. 

I actually realized a few weeks ago that day 40 was coming sooner than Easter so I've been prepared for a while now.  This is just the first year I knew lent is longer than 40 days because its the only year I've been keeping meticulous track of each day by posting a blog.  Not only does blogger tell me how many blogs I have posted so far, I have also been self numbering each one with the alphabetic representation of each number.  

If anyone is curious as to why there are 46 days in the "40 days of lent", it's because lent is a time of repentance and all good Christians were required to do that on every Sunday anyway so they don't count those as part of the 40 days.  Also they knew I would one day figure all this out and wanted to give me an opportunity to rag on the Catholics.  They are one of the most fun groups to rag on in general.  Outside of groups, there's only one person I enjoy ragging on more and that is my father.  He also happens to be Catholic.  I doubt very much that this is a coincidence. 

I actually do like Catholics.  I'm not just saying that so that I won't be smited by the pope.  Okay, maybe a little bit.  That dude's scary. 

Angela

Day Fourty: Angela Trap

Today John and I were taking our somewhat daily walk around the park when we came across an obvious Angela Trap.  We were strolling down the sidewalk and I was going on about some topic and in the very middle of my sentence, without even pausing to indicate a subject change, I said "Oh my god, there's a kitty."  Naturally, me being me and all, I walked over to the cat who was lying underneath a tree and rolling in the dirt with the 'pet me I'm cute' look on her face, and I slowly inched my way up to the cat and began petting her.  She was a dark calico cat with no visible deformities or ailments who was very friendly and non-bitey. 

As I was explaining to John later, I don't understand why cats roll around in the dirt when they want pets.  It's like they're saying "Oh my gosh, look how cute I am, don't you want to pet me?  Oh wait, wait!  Before you touch me, let me just coat my fur with some dirt and twigs and pebbles and whatever else happens to be lying on the ground."  Of course, me being a giant sucker for cats, this does not deter me at all. 

Anyway, I'm petting the cat, and while I'm doing so, I am CERTAIN there were people waiting to attack me from somewhere close by.  They are probably the same people who drive the rape van, or least someone associated with them.  They were hiding in the park, waiting for me to see the cat so that they could make their move.  However, they did not emerge from their hiding place.  They were probably looking through their binoculars and just as they were about to attack, one of them noticed John and turned to the other one and said "Oh no, She brought her bodyguard with her today!  Abort mission!"  and they packed all their stuff into the van and left. 

So I got to pet the kitty in peace even though it was obviously a trap set up just for me.  This is why it is advantageous to have a boyfriend who is 6'8".  I'm just glad that they decided to set up the cat trap on one of the days he was with me because sometimes he leaves me to fend for myself (usually when he's at school). 

Angela

Day Thirtynine: St. Meinrad's

In my senior year of college, our class visited an archabbey in Indiana called St. Meinrad.  It's a monastery were benedictine monks live.  St. Benedict is probably the emo-y-est of monks because he is the patron saint of death.  I'm not sure how many emo Catholics are out there.  They must be a small minority. 

Pictured here is the chapel area where mass is heald.... 5 times a day.  One of said masses happens at 5 am.  Luckily we were not required to subject ourselves to such torture. 

This is the giant organ inside the church with what appears to be black Jesus standing on top. 

As we toured the grounds on the first day, my exploratory group and I came across this giant cross while skirting the outside of the dormitories.  At first glance, it seemed like a normal god-fearing, Catholic cross with its Catholic symbology and random Latin phrases, but upon further inspection, I discovered a disturbing secret. 

This cross is a Nazi sympathizer!  Now, granted it does look a little bit different, but this was too close for comfort.  Also I am certain it has nothing to do with the fact that this cross was probably made long before Nazi's even existed and the swastika was, back then, associated with something peaceful and probably pagan.  That can not possibly be the case.  It is more likely that this peaceful Catholic monastery is secretly in league with secret time traveling Nazi's from the 40's.  However, these Nazi's are kind of on the outs from the main Nazi party because they're not smart enough to draw their own symbol correctly... even though they were smart enough to prefect time travel.  But enough conspiracies, our party then headed into the most sacred place on campus. 

This is the graveyard.  Kris and I found this place to be very quiet and relaxing and thus returned here many times during our short stay (I believe it was about 3 days).  I fell in love with this place.  I saw a poster in the gift shop of Jesus photographed with the red gates in the foreground, so I tried to recreate it with this picture.  I think it turned out pretty well and for the longest time I kept this picture on my computer desktop to remind me of how good I felt just hanging out there.  Luckily there was no swastika related mischief going on in the graveyard so its reputation remains completely untainted. 

I hope to do back to St. Meinrad's someday to visit my pal Jesus.  We had some good times together. 

Angela

Day Thirtyeight: Distraction!

Today I am sitting on the floor next to the bed in a semi-secluded computer writing cave because I'm having trouble thinking about what to write.  John's on the bed watching Harry Potter which is majorly distracting when trying to think clearly.  It's like I'm trying to grasp for thoughts but they quickly slip away in a matter of seconds by the flashing imagines and captivating storyline on the "TV" (its actually a big computer screen).  This just proves that it's a FANTASTIC idea (intense sarcasm) to mix my less than stellar attention span with outside stimulation. 

Having said that, I realized something about Harry Potter today.  The movies don't really work for me.  I think its just too hard to mix the humorous narration of J.K. Rowling with the seriousness of the story into a pleasing combination.  I guess I enjoy watching them to see how they portrayed the story, but I'm not sure they really work.  I may be biased.  I do love to read.  It seems to be a dying pass-time. 

I think that'll be it for tonight.  My short attention span is kicking in and Ron's chocking on something.  It's hard to concentrate when people are chocking in the room, real or fictional. 

Angela

Day Thirtyseven: Cheap Candy

You know when I eat a piece of high quality chocolate from somewhere like Godiva, I feel satisfied, fulfilled even.  But when I eat two pieces of Milk Duds, even though the Carmel stuck my teeth together and made me tired from chewing, I have the sudden urge to eat an entire box.  Cheap candy is the devil and I am now convinced that they add some super addictive ingredient that assures you will never cease eating them.  They're just as bad as big tobacco. 

It is self aware

Speaking of which, I don't think big tobacco is as bad as everyone seems to think they are.  I mean, the media makes it sound like they eat babies for breakfast, pregnant babies that they abort right before they eat them.  But really, how much worse are they than every other company out there?  The only difference is their product kills people with cancer instead of obesity, lead poisoning, and soul-crushing dependence. 

However, candy is what I'm concerned about right now.  To further prove my point, since beginning this post, I have eaten one milk dud and anywhere from 8-15 pieces of frozen mini-charleston chews (delicious!).  The milk dud was an extra that didn't fit in with the spelling scheme that the pieces arranged themselves in when I dumped them out of the box.  They did it completely on their own with absolutely no help from me.  I know it's creepy. 

That box of charleston chews is going to be empty by 9 o'clock.  Mmmmm. 

Angela

Day Thirtysix: Impasse

As I've mentioned before, I've been playing a lot of Super Mario Brothers lately.  I'm usually able to make decent progress when I play especially with the handy "save state" feature in the programs menu.  However, I have come to an impasse.  I am trapped in a cave on chocolate island 4.  This is cruel and unusual; chocolate has always been so good to me but this particular chocolate cave is completely merciless. 

In the scene pictured left, Mario and Yoshi must together navigate the moving pieces of dirt over a sea of what I can only assume is deadly boiling chocolate.  But as you can clearly see in this picture, the screen is not big enough to see the moving pieces of dirt that Mario needs to jump to.  He has fallen to his death many times from blindly jumping down and hoping for some dumb luck, but has so far been unsuccessful as indicated by the second picture taken only moments after falling to his death. 

Unsuccessful attempt

It is unclear what kind of backhanded villainy is going on here, but this WILL NOT STAND!  Okay, maybe it will stand because there's really nothing I can do, but I'm not very happy about it.  I expect a certain level of difficulty from games, but this is just ridiculous.  It's like trying to find your way through a maze with a blindfold.  Sure, it might be possible but there's very little skill involved. 

Although I will say writing this blog about it has helped me a bit.  Taking the pictures caused me think about it long enough to realize that if I had a cape, I will have a better chance of landing on the moving piece of ground because I can fall slower.  I should write a blog about every problem I have.

Angela

[Update: SUCCESS!]

Day Thirtyfive: Nephew

This is pictorial evidence of shaggy haired Austin trying to hack into my computer and steal all my secret files.  As far as little boys go, he's definitely the most curious and shamelessly invasive character you will ever meet.  He would often sneak into my room with his adorable little boy act asking cute questions like "what are you doing?" and "can I play with you?" but the second you let your guard down, he's playing with the 3 dollar Elmo underneath the night stand.  Sure it might be a toy that my parents bought just for him so that he would have something to play with when he came upstairs, but before you know it he's also playing with my little stuffed animals that are like family members to me and even though I warn him not to leave the room with them, they somehow end up underneath the couch cushions downstairs. 

During this particular incident, no amount of red stuffed animals could distract him from the shiniest toy in the room, my laptop.  The second he walked into the room, he just had to figure out what it could do.  I'm pretty sure he just ended up moving the cursor around which was followed by a bunch of penguins on the personalized Google homepage, but I'm confident that given a couple more years, he could come up with some real mischievous mischief to accomplish on that computer.  He's halfway to those couple years now because this picture was taken almost a year ago.  When that day comes, we should all be afraid.  Very afraid. 

Angela

Day Thirtyfour: Pillow

You may or may not recognize this picture.  I posted it on facebook a while back.  This was my valentine's day present from John. 

John acquired this particular pillow from a friend he met at school who makes custom pillows.  He chose these words to put on the pillow because often times when he would say "I love you", I would respond with "I bet you do".  Interesting fact: since he got me this pillow, I don't say it so much anymore. 

I just think it's interesting the communication that develops in relationships.  It's almost like speaking a different language because certain words or phrases take on new meaning.  I guess it happens amongst friends as well especially if said friends were like roommates or something and came up with a way to classify themselves as one entity.  However, it is more likely that they will be separated eventually and that language will die.  I think in a relationship there's at least a potential for a more permanent foundation.  I can only imagine the crazy things John and I will be saying to each other 10 years from now.  I don't think anyone will know what we're talking about. 

By the way, that singular roommate entity I was referring to was Krangela.  We were pretty proud of that one. 

Angela

Day Thirtythree:Hoiles

I've mentioned Hoiles a lot in recent posts.  I thought I'd put up some picture so that you might understand its almost magical nature.  Kris and I were randomly put together as roommates when we both transferred to Greenville in the fall of 2007.  We lived in Hoiles 203 which has access to the secret room that no one knows about (incidentally, forget I said anything).  We loved Hoiles so much (and had become somewhat attached to each other) that we decided to stay in Hoiles for our senior year.  We then occupied room 204 which was a somewhat significant number for both of us.  Kris left me alone after the 3 week interterm of 2009 and it was then that I started bothering Sara Miller more often. 

So, here's short tour of Hoiles.  I have tons more pictures, I assure you, but I don't really feel like displaying an whole album in one post.  I'm a somewhat compulsive picture taker especially since I got a digital camera, which makes it so much easier. 

Our first dorm: 203 (just the bedroom)

Our second dorm: 204 (the beds were in the closet!)

Walking downstairs action shot

Community Kitchen

TV/ socializing space

Porch with philosophical couch

View from the porch (its campus)

So that's were I lived during college.  Our first dorm had a secret room and our second one had beds in the closet.  Both of those things were very exciting.  We didn't spend much time in the secret room though.  It was kinda gross up there.  It was the attic.  It was sweltering hot in the spring/ summer time also. 

The philosophical couch is a place that Kris and I used to hang out and flag random passerby down to come chat with us.  Then it would get cold and we were forced to keep our philosophy inside. 

Angela