nyj54: Cashin’ in again


I’ve probably used that phrase in some email or other, but this time it’s fairly apt: both in terms of today’s momentous bank errand (to cash my first real paycheck in several months) and in that I’m listening to the man himself.

Yes, Johnny. This album evokes fond memories of driving along through the rolling farmland of New Zealand, Dad at the right-side wheel, as my parents discovered The Man Comes Around for the first time. Dad even spoke of tearing up at the first (and title) track.

But you’re probably more interested in my other cash reference — the implication of moolah. Yes, I’ve actually been doing some work lately. Nothing full time (24 hours last week, 18 this week), and nothing permanent, but it has been a good interruption in the strange “routine” established these 20-odd weeks. And it’s been affirmation that, if nothing else, I did something right in my persistence with That Company earlier this summer. You see, they’re the ones for whom I’ve been working — on a “small” but involved Excel project regarding contacts for an event they’re planning. But while they spent most of today interviewing applicants for an admin/research vacancy I didn’t choose to apply for it as invited.

Working with them has been great over all, but shown me that I don’t have the field-specific knowledge to work in health care or public health the way I (rather naively) thought earlier this summer. Had I pursued the admin position, I’d be looking at an entry-level job paying below the salary at both of my previous two employers. Considering that publishing isn’t a particularly lucrative field, I don’t think I’m being too picky to insist on at least equaling my previous salary, and not downgrading from a moderately experienced position (associate editor) to an entry-level one.

Nor do I intend to find another publishing job. Which is strange in that much of the reason I came to New York was for work in publishing. If you merely compare my absurdly detailed city-index rating, Berkeley/the Bay area actually came out slightly higher than New York. And then I wasn’t even considering the cost of living so far from family, versus being a day or two’s drive from them.

Strange observations from a girl who, only a couple months ago, was vehemently dismissing the suggestion of others that she consider looking beyond New York for work. But since then a thought — like a leaf set afloat in the eddies of a stream — has entered my consideration. Taken along with a constellation of other facts — the likelihood one if not all of my siblings could be stationed in Iraq next year, the expiration of my lease in April, and the possibility my much-beloved roommate will leave New York once she graduates in the spring — that idea has been quietly circulating in the back of my mind. Two years wasn’t enough, but three years … ??

I love the endless possibility this city offers, but I’m finally realizing just how many of those options hold no interest for me. As I told a friend last night, it’s like I’m finally sobering up a bit. This isn’t about wavering from the conviction that God alone holds my future in His hand. But it’s worth considering carefully: do my decisions make the things I say I want at least possible? Whether or not I marry, and even though I generally try to wait and see what happens in terms of a “love life,” I’ve made some choices that probably reduce the odds of meeting the kind of man I could marry.

It’s probably no surprise that, like many women, I really seek attention from men — even thrive on it. Often it’s enough to have a good conversation with a guy friend or male relative, but even those are hard to come by. And men outside the church generally don’t care unless you’re offering something they’re interested in (ahem). So, over the last several years, I’ve subconsciously modified my behavior to get as much male attention as possible despite the fact that, normally, secular man with any thought of pragmatism would ignore such a conviction-bound woman as me. Strangely, such behavior is apt to discourage the interest of exactly the kind of men I claim would be most attractive to me.

“Wait a minute,” you might be thinking. “If God is so allegedly significant to you, how come you’re considering all this stuff on account of men?” Um, yeah. Kind of a problem, I recognize. But for some reason, over the years, God has always used my interest in men to get my attention and take me deeper. Kind of like tying string to the hook already sunk into my willing lip.

And recently He’s reminded me where my deepest passions lie. (Warning: this news may be disturbing to certain readers.) Lately I’ve been reminded one of those passions is the e-word. Yes, that’s right: evangelism. Hell, I kind of choke on it myself; if I were sipping my gingerbread latte just now, you can even imagine a splutter. But it’s not so much evangelism in the pavement-pounding, talk-of-hell way that frequently enrages. It’s conversation — about God, life, and spiritual matters — like I used to have with surprising consistency at that bar where I studied my final year of grad school. In fact, a good friend who rarely attends church recently suggested I consider a mission with my church or something — as an alternate to work.

Now I think of it, her comment’s pretty strange. Last night I told a friend one of the biggest reasons for restlessness with my current church is the lack of “fire for evangelism” among its attendees. For those whom that word connotes a religious sales-pitch, I mean that the Christian life entails a pretty radical set of commitments and values. Values that should subtly but powerfully come into tension with life all the time — even if it’s me correcting a friend on my reasons for giving to the homeless: “I give because I’m going to heaven,” not to get there. If the bulk of church-going folk at my congregation are merely slightly nicer, slightly more conservative New Yorkers — and little else, —something is wrong.

The whole reason my family went overseas was to pursue lifestyle evangelism — the notion that having a regular job and being a regular family could nonetheless result in and demonstrate a quality of life so radical people would ask what made them different. They could’ve lived that life over here — and, for many years, did — they merely chose to take it abroad for a season. But I haven’t met many lifestyle evangelists in New York. And considering I think I want to marry one, that’s kind of a problem.

What this all means, and where it all may lead in the coming months, I’ve no idea. But I wanted to let you know what’s happening on the job front, and to get a little glimpse of where my time to think is taking me.

posted @ 01:16 AM on Sat - October 2, 2004 remark! Email |  as quoted:
before I said ...  but more recently: 

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