nyj68: 3 years in NY


Yikes, I have been slacking, haven't I? Well, as my excuse, the following is submitted forthwith.

Earlier in the summer I joked how this season was being defined by four "uncertainties": teaching, love life, book, work. But really, these four open questions have in some form dogged me much of the last year. I haven't had a permanent job or health insurance for nearly 16 months, I started pursuing teaching jobs last fall, and the blog has been an unfolding odyssey involving my love life and now a book. With that much up in the air you could start to go a little crazy! But somehow just as I was finally listing out my uncertainties, they started resolving, removing themselves as summer advanced into my 27th year.

Not long after my birthday, I was certified as a GRE teacher for Prep Co., a part-time job that should hopefully make me more competitive next time I apply for a religious-studies teaching position. Gearing up for my first lecture next week's a little scary. But especially now that things are starting to break in areas of strength and competency, it's probably healthy to likewise embrace new challenges that stand to humble me. One of those breaks is the sale of my blog-adaptive memoir, which was announced to the publishing trades this week. The book will likely come out spring 2007. Kinda crazy, eh?

I'm a symbolism/meaning freak, so I like to connect these boons with my recent success as urban gardener. Miraculously, the girl who once went through potted herbs and ill-considered cuttings like damp matches now has several jars of thriving vines. My thumbs are still fairly flesh-colored, but I do seem to be mastering the basic art of watering. Recently I even ventured beyond the insulated condition of sunny bedroom to leave a plant outside on my fire escape. So far my 2' basil (nearly that tall when I bought it; does it qualify as a tree yet?) has produced flowers and only lost a few leaves near the base. Shocking. I keep it fortified with the grounds from my daily latte habit (in lieu of fresh dirt) and made my first pesto from it while the folks were here on a recent weeklong visit. The happy tangle of roots that fills the wine bottles on my windowsill is a reminder I did not get here on my own — either to this mini greenhouse or my book deal.

On the eve of my birthday last summer, in a suddenly dark and very bleak place, two friends brought me two graceful stems of curly bamboo as a present. Not even they may have realized the wisdom of their gift, but those marvelously low-maintenance shoots launched the cultivation of not just what has become my "garden" but the discipline necessary to sustain it. Last summer was pretty rough — for a season associated with sun, sangria and breathy jazz like "The Girl from Ipanema" — and this winter I joked wryly of going through "character boot camp." But in the midst of that there were the friends, some of them recently come along, whose character, integrity and generosity nourished and encouraged me, emboldened me to do things I'd previously been too scared or rebellious to do. Those people have all become tools in God's hands — part of the chisels hacking away at the stubborn stone of my pride and laziness to reveal hints of the better self the artist meant to be, to the praise of his vision and goodness.

For many of you reading, this post is a testament to your faithfulness and patience; I would not be writing this without you. It's a little strange that my first book will be a memoir, but I hope it is equal parts the story of my mishaps and struggles and your redemptive faithfulness to me — friends who laughed and listened through my incoherent, inconsistent screwiness and hung in there through the dark days. Nina Simone sings an old song, ">Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out , but I'm humbled and grateful to say that hasn't been true of my friends. Some of you loved best and deepest when I was most down and out. May I have the privilege of being there for you when such troubles come! And may we not forget, as we go about our lives, that our actions form not just ourselves and our futures but those around us well. Do we bring out the better or the bad in others?

But enough solemn reflection. These days it's the blessed grace of humor I 'm most grateful for. I sure need mine — thanks to the small crop of suitors my blog and its publicity have produced. A crop such that I — yes, this madcap, modern single — recently decided to let my father do the initial vetting of these men (some of whom seem to be rather serious). Scary. And weird. I'm glad my humor has been so honed through blogging and other mishaps.

Oh, but that only covers three of my uncertainties, doesn't it? As to work, last week I picked up a great freelance gig that should keep me occupied full time through a good part of the autumn. We'll see where things go from here. Since I'll be keeping so busy this fall, I've also resigned from my volunteer duties at the New Pantagruel. See my flickr page for more pics from the parental visit.


Dad and I swap glasses.


My roomie and I at a belated birthday celebration.

posted @ 07:18 PM on Sat - August 20, 2005 remark! Email |  as quoted:
before I said ...  but more recently: 

©