The difference between a Starbucks in Nashville and New York (or any other city, at that)

First, the music. I don't know what kind of music Starbucks SHOULD be playing, but it sure shouldn't be what is coming in through my ears right now--long, dreary fiddle music accompanied by a woman singing about her father's ranch in an accent that is more dreadful than the song itself. Some would probably argue, though, that this is better than the sappy Korean music that sounds exactly the same as the song before it that they play in Korean Starbucks. So maybe I shouldn't complain.

But then, there is the most obvious difference. This space is far too underoccupied for its own good. You shouldn't be able to see 10 empty cafe tables next to you on a Saturday evening. This may be due to the fact that people have to drive about 5 miles to get to this Starbucks from any residential area. Yeah, it's pretty crazy that I even decided to come out here.

What's more...Part of the joy of going to Starbucks is watching all the bourgie wannabes carry their macs and sip their cafe lattes or short espressos with sly grins on their faces. You can imagine what kind of lives they are living, and what terribly important thoughts are going through their minds. About their ridiculous boss at work, their impossible girlfriend, the art exhibit they were missing to work on an assignment, the romantic date they had planned for the weekend.

Instead, this cafe is filled with a group of people whose lives I cannot even begin to fathom. To my left is a retired gramps in his 60s or so, clad in a shiny motorcycle t-shirt and ripped jeans. He's drinking a large green tea. -_-

Far to my front, several tables over, are two fat socially awkward girls with braces. They're studying AP chemistry and are probably too cheap to buy drinks, since there are nothing but books on their table.

Outside are a group of football jocks yelling over each other about how their truck can outrun anybody else's. Yeah... I can hear them through the window.

Oh and look who just walked in. Okay, they look pretty bourgie. The first girl is a beautiful, thin, tall girl with dark skin and a turquoise scarf wrapped around her shoulder and neck. The other girl has pale skin and seems like she's tried, unsuccessfully, to follow her friend's stylish move. They really should not be standing next to each other like that. If it was just to the two of them, I could completely imagine them in any other Starbucks cafe around the world.

But then look who is accompanying them. A stocky, sunburned, red-haired guy wearing a red shirt (that doesn't match his hair color), black basketball shorts that are too short for his own good, and dirty white sneakers. All topped off with a unibrow and an unshaved beard. Beautiful.

Does this make anyone want to come visit me in Tennessee? You can see these kinds of people and more if you just come on down to your ole uncle bubba's farm right here in the Volunteer state of Tennessee. Okay, Nashville really isn't that bad. I'm just in shock mode right now.

Back to life. Did you miss me?

It's been several months since my last entry, mostly because I could not access my blog in China. Even after I got back to Korea, I was too lazy to write. Afraid, perhaps, that I had forgotten how to.

I am finally back home in good ol' Tennessee, where the rows of cookie cutter suburban houses greet me with their perfectly mowed lawns. I am a bit disoriented and and even frustrated at not having a job, not knowing when I will get one, and most of all, not being able to do anything about it. Government jobs, think tank jobs, anything and everything else under the moon. No luck yet.

And all my pride, all my education, the little vanity I had left from my mistaken sense of self-accomplishment all came tumbling--no not just tumbling, but crashing down. I've been stripped down to a girl in a faded T-shirt, pimples, and enough energy to let out a couple of sighs a day.

It is human nature to compare and to dismay if the situation looks bleak. Since I am human, that is exactly what I did. I would look up message boards where people talked about applying to government jobs to no avail, and become discouraged by the unreal qualifications of the people who did make it through. The worst was when I stumbled across a high profile think tank website, where a classmate of mine had just been promoted to a policy analyst position. After only 2 years. Under her name was a list of 20 or more publications, all about Afghanistan and Pakistan, the two most important countries to the US at this time. You overachieving eager beaver, I scowled. It was hard for me to be happy for her when I was barely scraping by, applying to non-paid internships. I even thought of emailing her, but remembered that we hadn't ended on a good note. Who would have ever thought that would come and bite me in the butt?

But despite all these immature emotions and frustrations, I have learned, again, what it means to be patient and to wait with no real end in sight. To not know what lies ahead is one the most discouraging and exhausting feelings in the world. But this requires me, maybe against my own will, to stop relying on my own logic, intelligence, and achievements for an answer. I am broken and hungry for some peace and rest from the raging battle that is going on inside me. And when I call, He (and I mean the big G) brings times of refreshing to my soul. It is the only thing that keeps me going. (Apart from my mom's nagging, of course :P).

In His time, He says. So I wait. And I wait. Just waiting for some sign of movement.

Maybe there will be none. Or maybe in several months, years, when I have forgotten what it feels like to be distressed. All I can do now is to be obedient and continue searching for what my purpose is in life.