|
pearliangi
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Angie
Birthday: 6/15/1983
Gender: Female
Interests: Shoes. the occasional rainy day. adventuring. chalkboards over whiteboards. daydreaming. daffodils. gerber daisies. jason mraz. Mr. Darcy. Gilbert Blythe. Black sweaters.
Expertise: Lord of the Rings, of course! and trees that move.
Message: message me
Member Since:
6/9/2005
|
|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| You know that crazy phenomenon, that luring power, bonfires have on you? The sun has set, we've eaten all our hot dogs, and the only thing left to make that summer night even more perfect would be to take out the chocolate (nothing other than Hershey's do the trick), fat marshmallows, graham crackers, and most importantly, the wire hangers our dry cleaners have politely given us.
We sit around the bonfire
happily
and lazily
and contentedly
eating the perfectly melted marshmallow/chocolate/graham cracker combination as we ask for some more and some more and s'more.
The dancing flames catch your eye and we all stare.... Seriously.. I'm held captivate by the random flicker, spray of flames, as we slowly watch the fire settle down into embers. Whatever we say is encircled by the romanticism of the moment, and we're taken to a simpler time. I think your summer's day bonfire is the hardest thing to describe. No one can just say: Fire. Red. Hot. It's somehow not enough. I mean, you can describe the grass as green, light, thin. But with fire, you can't. It dances, turns, snaps, angers, dies, reignites, casts shadows, doubts, lurks, engulfs. It's got personality. Maybe that's why we tend to get quiet around the fire and just STARE. To figure out what it's doing because it's so uncontrollable.
So when someone is angry at you, you say you can see the FIRE in her eyes.
When someone is passionately in love with you, you feel as though your heart is on FIRE.
When someone has lost her will to live, you say the FIRE has gone out... and all is cold.
I realized I need something to always keep my fire going, kindling it when I get lethargic, apathetic. because you can't reignite fire from its own ashes.
| | |
| Sunday
2 p.m.
Trader Joe's.
Register1
HOTTIE SIGHTING.
Shameless stare.
That was two months ago.
And the grocery shopping experience has changed ever since. No longer is it a mere "fill up my fridge for the week.' Oh no, my friends, it has become something more. I enter through the automatic doors and as I pick up my grocery basket, I sneakily take a peek at the cash registers to see which one this cutie is at that day. Sunglasses are always on because I don't want him to catch me staring at him (which actually happened, because I was totally looking for the guy but couldn't find him one Sunday. And at the far corner, I see a guy who resembles the cutie, except the hair is shorter and he's wearing black plastic frames. And so I continue to stare to see if this is the guy, and he TOTALLY TURNS AROUND AND LOOKS ME IN THE EYES! I think I could have kicked myself if I were alone. I'm so OBVIOUS.).
Anyways, so it's two months later w/o having said one word to him except with my adoring eyes. And FINALLY, his register just happens to be free and I just happen to stand in line, and we have our first real conversation.
He asks if I have a sweet tooth since I bought about 7 boxes of chocolate chip cookies.
I tell him it's for my students w ho have finals this week.
He incredulously asks if I am a high school teacher.
I tell him fo sho.
He then asks how I enjoy it.
I tell him I love it.
The end.
Awkward silence. He quietly hands me my change and wishes me a great week. I mumble the same, disappointed I didn't buy more groceries to elongate our stimulating conversation.
And I can honestly tell you I have no idea what his eye color is, or his name (his name tag was right on his shirt!), because I was so nervous I couldn't even look at him. My eyes kept on darting around. Which I'm sure made it even more obvious that I was nervous.
So. That was a blip of excitement in my otherwise mundane existence.
| | |
| While I would never contest the validity (or lack thereof) of my own opinions, I think sometimes, some things just need to be said.
IRONMAN WAS AWESOME.
Redemption came in the form of Robert Downey, Jr., his chocolatey brown eyes and newly toned body all inclusive. Sure, it's a cookie-cutter plot, but life isn't always a box of chocolates: sometimes, you DO know what to expect. But with that said, I sat in the movie theater (sans boyfriend, but you know... Janet Chong was a good alternative), surrounded by the twang of the electric guitar every time Downey donned his Ironman suit, and was in awe of EVERYTHING: Paltrow's 6 inch heels, black pencil skirt, Downey's many insecurities as a man (but that is to be expected.... no man is perfect), Bridges' nemesis-itis (Yes, I pulled a Stephen Colbert and made up a word), and the many, many, many close-up shots of Downey's eyes...... OH HIS EYES!!!~~~
There's something just so surprisingly satisfying about these been-there-done-that hero plots that make me go back again and again. Maybe it's the theme that people can be saved, redeemed; and what they do with their lives after that's important. But I also like how not everyone is meant to be saved. Hence, all the bad guys, the nemesis, the character foils. The intricate plot unfolds to reveal that there is an obstacle, a fight must occur, someone must die, the day is saved; and the hero's perseverance over inner demons is rewarded.
Until the next bad guy comes along. Who presents an obstacle. Who must die.
| | |
| ummmmmmmmmmmmm
it's already April. In the year 2008. Seven years after I graduated high school.
Crappers.
Before the onslaught of "what have I done with my life" questions overcome my thoughts, I decided that being 24 and having done NOTHING to the grand-scale things I wanted to do with my life is merely...... normal.
Considering only 25% of Americans are SATISFIED and HAPPY with their job, and
Considering I fall into that bracket,
I realized I'm considerably lucky.
While all these statistics help me understand that I really am sane, that I am not an Aragorn, or a Moses, or a (preferably) Angelina Jolie, the "ordinariness" it makes me feel is so self-defeating. As I continue with my daily routine, I feel as though I have more questions about my future than I previously realized. I planned on moving out next year, but realized I don't make enough money to SAVE money if I do. I would be living paycheck to paycheck, and how is that going to pay for my Christian Dior sunglasses, Paige Denim jeans, and Starbucks lattes?
I am 24, overindulgent, and underestimated by myself.
In other words.... I'm just like any other average, ordinary 24 year old. How sad.
Not to say that all those other 24s aren't doing anything wonderful with their lives. I'm sure they are in their own subjective way.
I envision bigger things for myself. I just wish I knew what that was. But maybe that's what the 20s are for. (Wait.. isn't that what college was for? Freakin UCLA. Thanks for preparing me. Or maybe I'm just a late bloomer.) The 30s are the new 20s these days anyways.
I just don't want to whittle away time that I know can be spent doing awesomer things.
| | |
| The Illusory Pot of GoldOne can only travel so far to find out that the pot of gold
never really existed. One can follow
that radiant path that she wholeheartedly believes in, but will that
necessarily result in success?
I’ve known I wanted to pursue my career since the second
grade, and have never doubted for a minute that my dream would come true. Everything from tutoring, volunteering, and
choosing my majors were deliberate, purposeful, and meaningful. So why was it so disappointing when I stood on
top of my rainbow and realized there was no pot of gold?
What did I expect? A fanfare? A congratulatory party?
All my education was geared towards obtaining my job, but
was never how to hold onto it. There’s
an inner strength I must learn and value before that can happen. When I come home, I am exhausted, depleted,
numb.
With what little energy I have left, I scrape for evidence
that I have succeeded. That I may have
somehow made all those years of education worth what I feel now.
I wish success was something more tangible. Something I can store in a glass case so that
when times get rough, I can take it out and be reminded of what it felt like to
succeed.
I am a thumb-nail short of the dreaded quarter-life crisis,
and am now becoming all the more convicted of having an accountability group to
remind me of why I am doing what I am doing.
It’s incredible how much I need to be reminded of simply the reasons I chose
my career.
Remind me how inspired I am, how much hope I have for my
students, how much potential I see in them, how much more I want to contribute
to the field of education, how passionate I am about my career.
But above all, remind me of what spiritual success looks
like. As I observe those around me, it
seems almost inevitable that I’ll fall into spiritual wantonness as I get lost
in the daily grind of career-ing… it’s already so easy and tempting to do
so. My accountability group reminds me
of what it means to hold Christ in my heart, prays that I yield wholly to God,
and helps me continually build my faith.
It’s amazing, wonderful, and every time I think of them, I think of God
and praise Him for their encouragement and His work in their lives.
Worldly success, as I’ve heard, is fleeting. Much like that pot of gold. | | |
|
