Going Rogue

I've half-made a few resolutions in my head. You know, the kind you don't really want to make because you suspect there will a time when you really want to break them, and if you never made them, then you're not really breaking them, right?

One resolution that I did make is to write all of The Creative Collective (see the bottom of this post for more info) posts that I missed over the past year. The problem is that part of the reason I missed the posts is that I didn't have anything to say about the topic. Creativity: challenged.

My first make-up topic is "Where no one else has gone before." I think the reason I avoided this topic is because it alludes to something I have a bit of an issue with: being unique. I've somehow grown into quite the little realist. Not sure how that happened. Maybe I was always this way. In any case, I'm discovering that it's a help and a hindrance.

I like being realistic because it gives me a certain confidence. If I have a project in front of me, I'm pretty good at discerning what needs to happen in order for it to be completed well. I can be a visionary, but I'm inhibited by what I can actually see coming to pass in my brain - nuts and bolts and all.

I don't like being realistic because it makes risk difficult when something important is at stake. I can see, all too well, every reason a thing wont work.

For instance, over the past several months, and more-so since being laid off, I've been pursuing some entrepreneurial projects. The idea was, if no one was going to hire me to do something important, I'd just have to hire myself.

The problem is, there is a lot of risk involved in these types of things. It's less the financial risk that I'm concerned about, and more the risk of being made a fool. If I put any real faith in these projects and they fail, then I will have been unwise and wrong, and I don't like to be unwise and wrong.

I understand that failure at this sort of thing isn't really failure, it's invaluable learning experience, blah blah blah, but that doesn't really make me feel any better. I like to be right and I like to succeed.

So, I move forward, because it's what I want to do, but pretty regularly I have this unpleasant discussion in my head that's similar to two parents discussing whether or not to let their 5'1" asthmatic son try out for the NBA.

"He'll just be crushed."

"I know, but we have to let him try."

Depressing, right?

Yes. But every time I feel as discouraged as can be, something tiny happens: a kind word or a small success, and I'm back in the game. I hear this is what being a rogue professional is like, so I guess that's a good sign.

Old photo of me looking triumphant:

This post was written, though very tardily, as part of a blogging game. The players are The Creative Collective, and here are their thoughts on "Where no one else has gone before."

What do you want from me?

The older I get, the more I am beginning to recognize the pain caused by expectations.

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I was in a church service, not too long ago. The message was about wise financial practices. At one point in the sermon, the pastor said "Men, it's okay if your wife makes more money than you, but you're ultimately responsible for making sure that your family is being provided for, financially."

This was upsetting to me. It seems to me that it is difficult enough to love and care for one another unconditionally without having to worry about fitting your relationship into some kind of mold.

I can (and will) compare it to raising a child to be a doctor. Sure, it might work out. The child might grow up with the correct set of gifts and interests to be a doctor, but the child might not. And if the child does not, then they are left with a life of failure or unfulfillment. It is frowned upon for parents to predetermine their children's lives, but why is it acceptable to predetermine what a couple's marriage will look like, apart from generally wise and godly principals? Does this not set them up for failure and stop them from developing their relationship organically and uniquely, based on who the people in the relationship are - their gifts and interests, strengths and weaknesses?

I don't like the idea of being told that what I have to offer a relationship has more to do with my gender than who I actually am. I'm not married, so I am lacking perspective, but it seems to me that the added pressure of having to be something other than simply loving, committed, and graceful might make the difference between an exciting adventure and a wild goose chase.

To test my theory, I asked a married couple about this. The wife said that at one point in their marriage, she realized that it made more sense for her to manage the finances. She is more detail-oriented, better with numbers, and, as a stay-at-home mom, had more time to do it. The problem was, because of how the couple had been conditioned, it was difficult for her to take on this role without them both feeling like he had failed her in some way. They've moved past it now, but I thought this was a fascinating example of how the church, though well-intentioned, can really make life more difficult for it's members with unnecessary expectations.

--

As long as we're talking about things of which I know very little, let's move on to parenting. This is something I'm very much looking forward to, while at the same time, am very much terrified by. I have three nieces, and watching them grow up has been one of the great joys in my life, but the idea of parenting scares me. And one of the biggest reasons for this is the pressure that I see on moms in the culture that surrounds me. This is by no means a church-problem, but a culture-problem. I could write more about this, but someone else has done a better job here. The bottom line is that I hope I can find a way to enjoy my children, even if parenting magazines or some neighbor lady tells me I'm doing it wrong.

--

So, what about me? I'm not a spouse or a parent. What undue expectations am I struggling with?

I'm an adult; I'm single; I'm a Christian; I'm a woman; I'm unemployed. My culture tells me to pursue my career. My body tells me to date and have fun. Churches tell me that I should get married and have children. My brain tells me that I should make wise choices. My heart tells me that I should love those around me. (I will add that God is in all of these things and that these divisions are not as clean as I make them sound, and some don't exist at all, but for the sake of the conversation, allow me to create them.)

When all is said and done, I feel tension in most places. My heart and my brain influence me in ways that stop me from fully participating in the fun, the dating, the pursuit of a career, and the marriage. And so, I am, in ways, at odds with parts of my culture, church, and even my own body. The silver lining is that this tension keeps me on my toes, it keeps me thinking, like a tightrope-walker. Every step is cautious, but needs to be made in confidence, or I'll never get anywhere. Admittedly, I slip sometimes. I lean too far in one direction, but that's where the safety net of grace comes in. (Have I taken the analogy too far?) I ask for grace from my God, my community, and my toughest critic: myself.

--

I conclude that expectations can, I suppose, be helpful, but only for the person who knows herself well enough to know which are appropriate and which are toxic, and who is honest enough to live accordingly. May we be that person in this world full of expectations.

It really is a wonderful life.

Sometimes I go through this unfortunate writing season during which I believe that I can't write anything unless I have some sort of epic truth to communicate to the world. Understandably, I don't write during these times, as new epic truths are often difficult to come by. Usually, I free myself by forcing myself to sit down and write about something somewhat inconsequential, like what's going on in my life.

Today, I'll do just that. 

The last time I wrote about what was going on in my life was over two months ago, and I had just been laid off. I can only imagine that all of my readers are sick with curiosity as to how I've been spending my time, and how I will avoid living in a box.

I still have no jnb, though I have a had a few interviews that went very well. I've also been working on some entrepreneurial (spelled that without spell-check, by the way) projects, one of which has some promise.

To be honest, I have no idea what I'll be doing in six months. I could own my own business, be back in school, be working in another office, or be waiting tables. Likely, it will be more than one of those things, plus or minus some other unforeseen life-change. I've stopped trying to guess.

I was reflecting on my life the other day (I do this most days, now) and couldn't really name one tangible, life-altering "success" that I have achieved since I bought my house over two years ago. I suppose I was promoted last fall, but in retrospect, I'm not sure I care to add that to this list.

Why, then, am I still happy - with no job and no job offers in an unkind job market? Sure, I go through times of despair and hopelessness, crippling self-doubt and complete lack of motivation, but for the most part, my world is still rosy.

I have some theories.

One is that I don't have to do things I don't care about anymore. That's a biggie.

Another is that, through applying and interviewing for jobs, as well as making professional connections for the sake of my would-be business, I have begun to build a type of professional confidence that previous workplaces have more or less stopped me from developing. I've started to think "I can do this," and actually believe it, even if it's something I've never even thought about doing before.

These two things have been really great for me, and have made this unique time one of growth and learning.

However, there is one other thing, to which I can't help but accredit most of my joy: my community.

Because I was never 100% enthusiastic about my job over the past few years, I found purpose and fulfillment in something else: building a home (meaning the people, not the building, though I am fond of my building) and community. I see now that I made the right choice. I don't believe my home or my community will be laying me off anytime soon. :)

In all seriousness, though, I completely believe that, even if I had my dream job (and knew what that was), but had no real home or community to speak of, my life would not have nearly as much as joy in it as it does now. I have people I can rely on and who need me. I am affirmed often. I busy myself by recognizing what it is that I have to offer, and trying my best to have open hands.

I watched It's A Wonderful Life recently and cried a lot. I had never identified with it so much. In the end, when George Bailey, in the face of financial ruin on top of a heap of abandoned dreams, finds redemption and salvation in the community he has taken in place of the life he wanted, I nearly lost it.

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This post was written as part of a synchroblogging game that The Creative Collective likes to play. Click here to read what the other players have to say about "Community."

Deep Thoughts

Water is kind of like tofu. Whether or not it's a good thing depends entirely on what is done with it.

I find that most things are that way.

This post is part of The Creative Collective's synchroblogging game. To read the others' posts on Water, click here.

I'm stepping in love with you.

I like analogies. If you've read a bit of what I write here, you may already know that. The world is so vast and beautiful and interconnected, that I can't help but think of a thousand existing things while trying to describe one new thought. They help me understand things I've never experienced. Experience is the best teacher, yes, but an apt analogy is like a good study partner.

Despite my frequent use (and perhaps overuse) of analogies, there's one thing that I just can't seem to match: marriage.

I understand that the church is the bride of Christ, and so we can model marriages that way - trying to incorporate the love and sacrifice shown by Christ into our own relationships, but even that is not something I can say I completely understand. Analogies are supposed to be simple and familiar: throwing a party, closing a door, stubbing your toe.

There's no earthly thing that I can compare to committing myself to another person forever. I suppose if I chopped off my leg, that would be permanent and difficult to ignore, like a marriage, but I'd rather not draw that parallel. I have some hope that being married is very different from being an amputee.

And so, because I cannot understand marriage by thinking about something else I already understand, I live with a healthy fear and respect for it. Part of this healthy fear and respect is an increasing befuddlement with common ideas surrounding the whole thing. Falling in love, for instance. Yikes. I have no doubt that there is some kind of romantic thing that happens and which feels beyond the control of the person affected - something like infatuation and excitement - but I doubt more and more that that has very much to do, really, with marriage. The marriages I admire appear to be participated in very much on purpose. 

When someone says to me "you can't help who you love," I have begun to assume that our definitions of love are quite different. Similarly, anxiety wells within me when I hear people talk about engaging in a less-than-wonderful relationship as "taking risks for the sake of love." What I really hear is "taking risks for the sake of not being alone." That scares me because I'm learning that people don't realize how much they have to lose. I've, somewhat accidentally, learned what they have to lose. I have an extraordinary amount of singleness experience, and I shudder to think that I could have lost all of that - the fun, the learning, the independence, the empowerment, had I decided that not being alone was more important than waiting for something that fit.

I am only 25, yes. I have not yet lost the will to encourage people around me to relish their singleness and, if marriage or some kind of committed relationship is what they desire, wait. Wait and be intentional. Your are of more value to the world as an energetic, joyful, single person than you will ever be as a person in a relationship that does not give you joy or energy.

This post, though tardy, is a part of The Creative Collective's synchroblogging game. Click here to read what the others have to say about Falling.

yet again

The Prequel: http://tinyurl.com/3c5h5ok


I ended up a server at a gourmet breakfast place and renting a studio on my parents' property. I told the restaurant when I was hired that I would be looking for an additional full-time job.

When I accepted a full-time position at a salon/day spa, I drove straight to the restaurant to let the owner know. He told me that I was no good to him and fired me. I cried all the way home.

A few months later, I was leaving the salon with the two owners in the middle of the day to attend a fashion show. I set the alarm, but as I was talking to the owners, I was distracted and forgot to lock the door. After we were gone, a customer walked into the space and set off the alarm. Nothing was damaged or stolen, but I was fired anyway. (My experience there up until that point had been so life-draining that I actually received a congratulations card.)

About a month later, I started a job for a publishing company - finally something that seemed to have anything to do with what I went to school for, or could see myself doing long-term. After about six months, I realized that it was not the type of company that I wanted to work for: not invested in the local community in any way and not even interested in building relationships within the company, not to mention that they managed through fear, pressure, and negative reinforcement.

I began to look into other options/coping mechanisms.

I was going to move to South America to teach English, but I couldn't find a program that inspired me and for which I was qualified.

I decided to go to graduate school for. I took the GRE and started a couple of applications. That looked promising until I was told by several people that I shouldn't go to graduate school unless I absolutely needed to in order to get where I was going. The problem was that I didn't know where I was going, I only knew where I didn't want to be. I didn't finish the applications.

After the earthquake in Haiti, I had an opportunity to go there for a week as a volunteer. My company told me I could not, as I would not yet have earned enough vacation days to take the entire week off. I cried at my desk and my desire to leave the place grew stronger than it had ever been. (Right around that time, they began greatly increasing my responsibilities. I asked for a raise. They said "No. You haven't been promoted.")

Even though I couldn't go on the trip to Haiti, a connection formed and I planned to move there to use my skills to teach children in an orphanage and publish a newsletter that would help them gain support in the States. Finally, an escape into something that would do someone some good.

The connection fell through and the trip was canceled. I felt chained to my desk.

I decided that the thing to do, since I had now been with the company for two years, was to look for another job. Surely, with such experience, I would be able to find something interesting.

No.

I applied for several jobs over the past couple of years. Each of them, I was qualified for and excited about. For each of them, I submitted a carefully crafted resume and cover letter. None of those applications even lead to an interview.

Not even an interview.

And here we are, almost three years after I started at the publishing company.

This past Thursday, my manager calls me into her office.

"Your position is no longer available."

"Okay. Are there any other positions available?"

"No. Please check in with me before you leave today to turn in your keys and credit card."

"Okay. Thank you."

And now I have no job.

I am not sad.

(Though, my feelings are hurt because my employer of three years laid me off as though they were notifying a temp that their assignment had ended.)

I enjoyed my co-workers, but very rarely the job, itself. Plus, now I can get work on getting back to the future I had always dreamed about in college, the one that's been on hold for three years, the one in which I work for something I am proud of and believe in. See you there.

This post was written as a part of The Creative Collecthve's synchroblogging game. Click here to read what the others have to say about Back to the Future.

Nope.

I understand that growing up involves the pruning of dreams. I understand that the older I get, the more things will need to be given up, in order to pursue other things - the ones I have decided are important and worth the sacrifice. What I don't always understand is how to decide which is which.

Which dreams, loves, passions, likes, enjoyments, amusements, and whatevers need to be given up, to make way for others to grow?

I sometimes feel like I'm standing in front of a large garden bed, brimming with life and then I'm told that the weeds must be pulled, in order for the desirables to be saved. The problem is, they all look desirable to me.

I know that part of this is a personality issue. For instance, I was a humanities major because I didn't like the idea of not being able to take a particular class I wanted to take, simply because it was "out of my major." The humanities program at Milligan, thankfully, included so many areas of study, that I was never presented with a problem like that. My biggest problem was that I needed special approval to register for more than eighteen credit-hours in one semester.

As an adult, things have become more complicated.

I need a path. I need a calling. I need something that fits the needs of my community as well as the strengths and desires of my person.

But what?

Gah.

This is like being asked to pick a major all over again. Can I find the humanities department of life?

I don't think so.

Here are a couple of songs with which I identify. Maybe they'll validate a part of you like they do for me.

This post was created as a part of a synchroblog. Visit The Creative Collective to see more posts on "Giving Up for the Long Haul."