square one

thursday was the last day of my brief employment at (probably shouldn't put the actual name here). most of you probably didn't know i had ended my nanny job and landed a position as a studio coordinator at a global architecture firm. april 28th i moved into a new apartment with two roommates and embarked upon a "normal" life in this city.

i worked a pleasant 8:30-5:30 shift on wall street in a surprisingly casual environment for that area of town. it was fun and exciting being around such creative minds and actually interacting with more than 4 human beings a day. i relished the freedom of leaving work at 5:30 and actually getting to LEAVE WORK. the actual working part of work, took some work. i had good days and bad. but, like i've said before, i have this thing about bosses who expect you to be able to read their minds. if there's something i've realized, it's that i do not have that gift. if it's not spelled out for me to the last detail, i'll mess it up. as hard as i try to use every one of my 5 senses to absorb information, it's almost inevitable for me to overlook the most important thing. believe me, i even tried altering my diet in attempt to improve my short-term memory and help my focus. i ate lots of berries and nuts and drank green tea. i really did see improvement. i thought i was getting the hang of my job (i was having more on days than off), but i guess it was just a little too late.

HR girl: "there's no easy way to say this, julia,"

me (in my head): oh, boy, i'm getting fired

HR girl: "you are nearing the end of your 90 day trial period, and...it's just not a good fit. we're letting you go."

i felt it well up in my throat. there was no stopping it. and the flood gates opened. fortunately, they had tissues ready.

i couldn't help but feel like a total loser. more than that, i felt lost, off balance, completely disgruntled. i was so certain this was where i was supposed to be. i had just begun to cultivate some significant beyond surface-level relationships with my co-workers. i was confident in what the Lord was beginning to do there, in putting me in the nucleus of polar people, the majority of them homosexual and agnostic. i reveled in the opportunity.

but, i'm back to square one, groping for a place where i am a "good fit." disappointment is not fun, but i am blessed to be surrounded by people who elucidate the sovereignty of God in my life. it is a certainty that steadies my weary heart and strengthens my weak knees. i know the authenticity and necessity of perseverance through my exposure to adversity and my own sin. there's something about this place; there are just some things that you cannot avoid that are so easy to elsewhere. i'm not making any sense, am i?

i am anxious for the moment of inspiration, where i can clearly sumarize in words what i've acquired in my 10 months here. i hate to sound so dramatic, but sometimes it can't be helped.

press rewind

beats me...

I can't explain how I got here, or why I'm here. People often ask me, "What are you doing in New York?" and it stumps me every time. It's been nine months, 24 days and counting. It began as a one-year test-drive in a foreign land. Somehow, at some point that changed. It hasn't been a year yet, but it seems much longer. I feel aged from the things I've experienced and seen.

roots

this is a new chapter in my life, to be annoyingly cliché, one that seems strikingly out of place compared to chapters 1-23. september 4th i uprooted myself from Texas soil and landed awkwardly on the harsh, unforgiving concrete of New York City. i didn't give myself time to think twice about it. i did it as fast as i could, hoping the hole in the ground could remain for me to sink back into when i was done exploring. will it wait for me?

the nanny named julia

i thought being a nanny would come easy for me, considering I made a pretty good living babysitting until i left for college. it seemed like the easy route to take. two girls, 12 and 14. shouldn't be too hard; they are at school most of the day right? well, let's put it this way, my adventure in the live-in nanny world was like The Devil Wears Prada and the Nanny Diaries combined. i've thought about writing a book on my experience, but i was beat to the chase. i still haven't finished reading the nanny diaries because it cut too close to home. ihe books frighteningly accurate of life in the nanny/corporate arenas of nyc. i know the "Miranda" look well; the one where the eyes roam you up and down, evaluating each article of clothing. i was not used to being scrutinized for the way i dressed. i will never forget the day when that look finally ended in approval; once i finally had moved on from the sloppy "I don't care" maroon-out t-shirt and jeans look ingrained by a&m culture.

esp

there's something about bosses here where they think that their employees can read their minds. she would often stop mid-sentence while giving me instructions, or think that i can hear her finishing them as the elevator door closes. i've honestly held my ear to the door as she went down just to try to get every last word.

you want me to do what?

i did all sorts of things as a nanny i never expected to do. i spent half a day in the animal hospital, waiting for brownie as she had some teeth removed. the drugs must have messed her up somehow because she was never the same after that day. that cat was always running into things and falling off the furniture.

breaking point

i took the girls to all doctor's appointments. i had to pull myself together when the doctor brought back in the examining room. the 12-year-old was anxious about getting a tetanus shot, so she wanted me to be there. she squeezed my hand so tight. this is the same girl who said, "Who died?" months earlier when i tried to give her a hug.

brooklyn

the other night Angela and I were walking down a street in brooklyn, headed for an art venue where there was supposed to be free ice sculpting and fire spinning lessons

a woman yelled to us from across the street in the quintessential raspy brooklyn accent

"have fun tonight ladies! enjoy your life!"

it was just another one of those avant-garde moments that has become so commonplace that i forget to remember them

but, this one's worth trying

to-do

the thing i hate about "to-do" lists is that they never end
one thing checked off the list is immediately replaced by another
that's life in the fast lane, i guess

*file taxes- done! i'm such a grown-up
*pay deposit on new apartment- almost, hope it can wait till i get paid on friday. i'm going to have to get used to the constant draining of money from my account. losing the perks of being a live-in assistant
*edit resume and make yourself look good- done! (with daddy's help)
*buy affordable dress suit to look professional for interviews-done!
*have dress pants hemmed since i'm lacking in length- still need to do
*send out resumes- i think i've sent out one?
*figure out what i want to do with my life- this is the one that will keep replenishing itself forever

kiwi moments

the other day i was slicing a kiwi and i was instantly overwhelmed by the memory of the first time i saw or tasted one. i think it's an amazing gift when we can recall experiencing something in life for the first time; when nostalgia is triggered by a song you hear on the radio, the taste of chapstick you haven't worn in a while, or an old t-shirt you find buried in your dresser. it was that kind of moment with the kiwi. i'm fond of this memory because it's one of my oldest and there's really no reason for me to remember it so vividly. i had to have been 5 or 6 because we still lived in our house in Mississippi. my mom and i were having a tea party with my favorite little plastic tea set. i knew this was no typical tea party when my mom brings out this small, round, ugly, fuzzy thing. she says she wants me to try something new. can't we just have cookies, i remember thinking, no way i'm eating this thing. this is a kiwi, mom says. strange name, i'm thinking. then she slices it, revealing the shocking, alien green of the inside with its magnificent white center and black speckles. it looks to me like a large monster eye. i had never seen anything like it. i remember being surprised by the tart sweetness of the new fruit and how anything so green could taste so good. i felt special to try something so unique and mysterious. it seems so simple now, but it was monumental for this five-year-old.

my life in new york has been one giant kiwi. i have days when i'm weighed down with sensory overload and i just can't seem to take it all in at once. i don't want to forget one single sensation of these experiences as they fly by me. i want the nostalgia to stay with me at every turn, a moving picture in the back of my mind. i want to remember how giant the world feels while standing in the middle of time square, lights blazing around me and thousands of people from all over, jabbering in their own languages. i want to remember the feeling of running up and down the east river on the most perfect day, the promenade littered with all types of dogs and their owners, taking advantage of the break from the cold. i want to remember the taste of my first beer in the city and how it made me think of summer and country music. i want to remember the look on sasha's face when she unabashadly hugged me for the first time. i want to remember the first time i took communion in my new church, the tears of pure joy that filled my eyes as i assimilated Christ body and blood. sometimes i find myself stopped in the middle of a sidewalk or in the center of a crowd of people on the subway, and i'm thinking, don't forget this, don't forget this, don't forget this. these moments are so rare, and yet so common. these are kiwi moments. help me remember...

good friday

O come and mourn with me awhile;
O come ye to the Savior's side;
O come, together let us mourn;
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

How fast His hands and feet are nailed;
His blessed tongue with thirst is tied,
His failing eyes are blind with blood:
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

Seven times He spoke, seven words of love;
And all three hours His silence cried
For mercy on the souls of men;
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

O break, O break, hard heart of mine!
Thy weak self-love and guilty pride
His Pilate and His Judas were:
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

A broken heart, a fount of tears,
Ask, and they will not be denied;
A broken heart love’s cradle is:
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

O love of God! O sin of man!
In this dread act Your strength is tried;
And victory remains with love;
For Thou our Lord, art crucified!

-Fredrick W. Faber, 1849

a white valentine's day

school was cancelled on account of
snow...
sleet...
rain...
mush...
did i miss any form of water?
that is the kind of day we're having
i won't be caught dead in it
if i can help it