You've No Clue What You Do To Me [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUkkHOZaTIs&feature=related]

          Last night, I returned from an exhausting and extremely quick Thanksgiving break. On the drive back, my brother took me to Jimmy John's for lunch, an abnormal sub station that makes the sandwich fresh but you do not get to instruct the workers how to make the sandwich as you would in Subway. So, while Ben and I were waiting, patiently, I glanced over to see an easy and absent smile spreading across his face. Ben has three smiles: the polite smile, the I-think-I'm-funny-smile and lastly, the natural smile. The smile softly moving across his face was the natural smile, the most rare of all, and certainly an accomplishment to receive, so I knew this was not just an average text message he was reading.
         Nosy as ever, I glanced over at Ben's phone, which he was grasping as if it contained food and water for a lifetime and he was stranded in the wilderness. As I stole a glance, I saw his girlfriend's name in the recipients box. Then I recognized the familiar smile, one that people had accused me of before.
         Just days before, I had toured the war memorials in Washington DC with select members of my family but had been wholly involved in my cellular device. My dad noted this and told me to put it down. My uncle recognized it and was frustrated that I was texting rather than listening to his spiels about various futile and frankly, boring information. In that evening, I abandoned my interest in U.S. History, perhaps my favorite subject, disobeyed my dad, disrespected my uncle, and ignored some of those who I have the privilege of seeing only once every few months. And instead of savoring such time, I disposed of it by texting the one guy that is set apart from the rest in my mind, the one that would be titled as a long-running crush.
       In films, one sees the actor or actress abdicate all they know to be with their love interest. In The Notebook, we see Allie leave the umbrella she has been raised beneath to be with Noah. Allie deserts her lifestyle of summer mansions for a man who could not afford two pairs of shoes.
       The evening I toured the war memorials, a night I would have still enjoyed completely had my phone been left at home, I discarded treasured time with people and exploration of history. Yesterday, as Ben was consumed by his phone, he ignored one of his largest interests, food,  giving all his attention to his girlfriend. We resign from what we enjoy involuntarily to our lovers. The oblivious smile and withdrawn happiness are testaments that we are victims of our beloved. You have no clue what you do to me, those in movies and reality feel similarly.

Encroachment : Fifty Yard Line.

         The little yellow flag finds itself frantically being swerved through air in a stadium that has enough people to function as an independent country. The ball makes it's way down the field as if it has wings. The crowd goes wild over a sporting event that is a novelty to none. The teams once more line up face to face like two boxers before a bout.
        "Encroachment over the fifty yard line!"  That is the dawn of our futile fortifications, we feel imposed upon or just our guard is let down beyond our comfort. Walls are then built, forged, unnaturally, for we are afraid of being hurt once again. But, unlike in the football movies and games, no ref is available to step in and shield the offense. According to the football definition, encroachment is simply making contact with the opponent before the play starts. Then, why are we so horridly afraid of contact?
          We are bitter cowards in the countenance of an unfamiliar identity. Utterly petrified of being the victim of a vicious crime, one in which we haven't even seen the silhouette of. We risk any possible reward by claiming Encroachment. We lose all possible profits, even the wealth of love, all's deep desire thats at our finger tips is denied.

Finally Find, You and I Collide.

         Daily, each of us interacts with countless people. Just being a few people ahead of a woman in the grocery store line is interacting, it creates an instant or gradual effect on the person watching. Thus, if we are so surrounded by opportunities to encourage and edify just the people that pass on the sidewalk, why don't we? Smiles and small favors are all that do the trick.
         During swim team yesterday,  a moderately slow and poorly-taught swimmer was in  my lane. Routinely, she'd stop when she knew she was holding the rest of the swimmers up and patiently wait for the whole population of our lane to pass. I had just finished a lap when it happened, the event that shaped my day and definitely a moment of revelation. As I stopped at the wall, I spotted the girl in the yellow cap leaning against it, absently allowing much of the lane to pass.
         Knowing I am a speedier swimmer, I wondered what it would hurt to allow her swim in front for the remaining ten minutes left of practice. Realizing it would do more good than hurt, I asked the yellow cap girl, "You wanna go?" And, she simply said "Yes, please," with a lighthearted and grateful tone. It broke my heart to hear those words, speaking volumes through their two syllables. The deed I did was not off of a checklist for being kind, nor for my self-gain. Instead, it was presenting the I'll-just-sit-on-the-floor-it's-no-big-deal girl with a gift that cost me nothing and maybe was priceless to her. Most of the other swimmers (you would think they were competing in the Olympics by their intensity - newsflash- it's just high school swim team!), if not all, swam around her, were entitled and dismissed her from their thoughts instantly. But she deserved more than that. And for the whole ten minutes left of practice, I struggled to not touch her toes as I was too close behind her, but it was worth the while for the girl to apprehend what she merited and how none can arrest that.

Everyday Is the Start of Something Beautiful (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRwjdJVyHkA)

        Each day contains a new zest, an undiscovered taste, happiness and bliss of an unspoiled experience. When such diction is utilized to detail life, I cannot help but muse about how fortunate I am. My parent's coercing me to visit the doctor and be tested for anti-depressants may be ineffectual and somewhat trifling, but, currently, it is an un-lived and pristine adventure, yet to be molded and explored.

         Every blemish and dysfunction is a blessing, a signature of the maker, a reminder that we at least have the gift of breath and existence. Independent of flaws, we still share one commonality and one superfluous profit, life. While rising in the morning is agonizing and arduous at times, it is a bounty, an undeserved prize. With time remaining in the Clock of Existence, oxygen in one's lungs, and a beating heart, none should lament or moan. Per single day, an irreproachable, novelty of a sunset is draped in the atmosphere's canvas, untrodden opportunities saunter in reaching distance and bridges tarry to be contrived. Without exception, any and every day is a  page in the Story of Life anticipating to be scribbled on, a sheer privilege and nothing meager of one.

What Is Love?

        After watching a halting episode in the odyssey of the television show, Hannah Montana, I am severely aware of this question. On the brink of tears, (yes, endings never cease to fill my eyes with tears) I speculate over the last years of Hannah Montana. Throughout the seasons of life, Miley parades that those in her life, her family, best friend, and boyfriend epitomize the backbone of her strength. As she progresses, approaches relationship troubles, faces contention in the fame, Miley gapes at those closely around her to provide the stability to endure.

       In the show, love is perseverance. Not only do the romantic aspects of Hannah Montana greatly symbolize how love perpetuates. Wherever Miley travels, the arms of her father are the most genial and gracious embrace. Even through their tussles, Miley recurs, conducting an unyielding bond with the single parent remaining.

       While love is relentless and untiring,  Jake and Miley do come to a pitiless, doleful cessation. Together surviving some of the most rapidly changing years, middle school and high school years, Miley and Jake discover their love to be inadequate. Coming out of the combat zone called high school, they find each to be too much sacrifice for too little reward. In the resolution, the few words spoken and the multiple unspoken are some of the most wrenching in the life of Hannah Montana.

        The river bend brings change. As Jake and Miley retreat, the previously seen Jesse comes into the panorama once again. The dreamy, charming, and definitely-more-attractive-than-Jake guitarist and rocker adds an undiscovered element of spontaneity and chance for Miley. Jesse shows Miley that while coping with her double life is not only inconvenient but distressing, she is worth the atonement. Miley grasps how Jesse's generosity far outweighs hers and is compelled to announce her secret to the entire world for his and best friend, Lilly's, sake. Miley manifests the endurance of love. She leases her one constant and steady variable, her identity of Hannah Montana, to seize the leap in order to meet Jesse halfway.

         Lastly is Lilly, the loyal Lola and ardent pal since before the awkward ages of the sixth grade. Finally, a split comes between the two inseparable teens. Their dream college accepts Lilly but not Miley, forcing both to make a pivotal decision. Selfishness or selflessness? Me or My Best Friend's and My Relationship? While the ending leaves the audience semi-unsure and certainly expecting more, Miley does forgo Hannah's identity for the sacrifices Lilly made in order to keep Miley's secret and so no more sacrifices will be made. In this crucial episode, we see Miley abandon her typical selfish character and succumbs Hannah existence. She embodies the endurance of love and allows no obstacle an avenue between her and the ones fundamental to her.

       Miley says Love Is Perseverance; however, it is solely a show, a movie in principal. So, since life is no movie... What Is Love?

Raise Your Glass If You Are Wrong In All The Right Ways (do annual fights with the rents' count?)

        In movies, after the glorious apex and climax, an inspirational song resounds as all the ruffled edges are solved and parallel plots are oriented with each other. But, in life, nothing ever ends so smooth-edged-ly and picturesquely. No, life is not ideal, and that is where My Story begins.
        I am a mere teenage girl with such fantasies as the next, only hoping to be relieved of these horribly tensioned and agonizing juvenile years as soon as possible. Today, my parents and I shared another brutal vilification. After the short-winded but slicing remarks, and my-parents-would-not-even-compromise culmination, I expectantly waited to hear the dandy, life-is-wonderful song in the background. Yet, no music, except the fridge door slamming in melody with the microwave's resonance. Departing to my room with fleeting contentedness of balmy pumpkin bread in my stomach, I was in search of the song to conclude the ardor of this afternoon.
        Tuning my radio from the reckless rock through oldies and country ballads, I landed pathetically on the closest song, I Gotta Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0MrqkiHWCnM]. The song, though acutely distant from a compelling carol, gifted me with the disposition to create this blog. Haste-fully completing the prerequisite steps to write in the blog, I am lead to this point in time. All the thoughts in my mind are paved in response to the one shadowing, bully-on-the-playground, recondite consideration: If Life Were similar to a Movie, what, aside from my parents' and my previous debacle, would be disparate?