Small Town Girl Meets the Big City

I’m not really a small town girl. I grew up in what I would consider a moderate sized city and for the past four years, I lived in the OKC metro area. I’m used to driving in traffic and am not particularly intimidated by big cities. All this to say, however, that today my new “big city” sure made me feel like a small town girl.

It’s not like it’s the first time I visited. Perhaps that’s the problem … today I wasn’t a visitor. I was there on business. I wasn’t my usual touristy self, aimlessly walking downtown taking in the sites. Today I had a purpose, a job interview in fact. A job interview that required I leave my safe suburban bubble and venture out into new Chicago territory. I was almost as excited for that as the actual job prospect itself.

I’ve only driven into the city a couple times; I usually try to opt for public transportation considering the better cost and convenience. But I was informed that I could find free (or at least metered) parking near the site of my interview. So rather than running the risk that I might miss my train, misread the train schedule, or get lost on the El, I opted for driving in.

This being an interview and all, I wanted to make sure I was on time. Although MapQuest told me that I could make it in 47 minutes, I gave myself a good two hour cushion not knowing what traffic/construction would be like. About fifteen minutes into my commute, I remembered that I forgot to print off my transcript (which I was supposed to bring to the interview), so for the next twenty minutes or so I juggled coffee, egg soufflé, and cell phone as I maneuvered various interstates. I called three different offices at OBU trying to get a pin number that would allow me to access my transcript online so I could at least print it off when I got there. I even tried to get my roommate to go back to our apartment and rustle through my important papers to find the pin that I had written down somewhere. Nothing really worked out, although I did get to have a nice little chat with one of my former professors.

So I already felt a little frazzled going into an interview not completely prepared. However, MapQuest steered me right, and I easily found the place. Next was parking.

See, I have a relatively new realized fear. We’ll call it “One Way Phobia.” When driving in areas with a proliferation of one way streets, I am constantly worried that I will inadvertently go the wrong way. This causes me to drive particularly slow, sometimes starting and then breaking again quickly because I’m unsure if I’ve judged the street correctly. Couple this delightful driving tendency with my Texas license plates, and I’m sure the true Chicagoans love me.

Well, once I firmly established that I was not in fact turning the wrong way down the street with free parking, I was excited to see a nice open spot. Oops, a fire hydrant. I figured there was enough room up in front however, and it wasn’t until after I had finished parking and got out of my car that I realized I was still over the line. Back in the car, and further up the street I went. I was barely able to avoid the sprinkler that accounted for the other open space on the street, but I did and enjoyed my short walk to the office building. I felt like I was on the Cosby show … all the cute houses side by side with their little 4×6 foot yards. I half expected to run into Cliff helping Rudy ride her bike down the street.

Time to find my interview spot. I was armed with an address and suite number, walking down the right street, and with a good thirty minutes to spare. I passed a young business man outside on a smoke break, and I wondered to myself if he could tell I didn’t belong there. Well, I soon got my answer once I realized I had passed the office I was aiming for as the numbers began to get smaller and not larger. I sheepishly turned around, not fifteen feet after passing him, smiled what I’ll call my small town girl smile, and passed him again, this time paying much closer attention to the numbers.

I eventually found the right one, but was surprised to find that the building was locked. Surely this couldn’t be right … was there another entrance I didn’t notice? I tried the door again, thinking perhaps it was just a little harder to open, but no, it really was locked. This was perhaps my biggest small town moment of the day until I realized that this was one of those buildings where you have to be buzzed up. Now, not only did I feel like I was on the Cosby show, but I just knew if I scanned the resident/office list to the side of the door I would find “Seinfeld, J.” somewhere near the top. Granted, both Cliff and Jerry lived in New York (and were not real … just in case you thought I was really crazy), but those big city lessons I learned via their shows still applied. I was just getting ready to “buzz” Suite 202 when Smoke Break Guy walks up (it happened to be his building too) and says, “Here, I’ll help.” I guess he had witnessed my two failed attempts at opening the door. I was grateful, a little embarrassed, and a little disappointed. I was on my way to figuring it out … five seconds later and I would have been buzzed in, completely on my own. I thanked Smoke Break Guy and walked in, having successfully reached my destination.

The interview went well; barring failed background and reference checks, I should have a second (and better paying) job this fall. My lack of transcript was no big deal, and about an hour later (including my getting there super early), I was out the door. I took a little time to walk around the neighborhood. I visited a thrift store and almost bought a t-shirt with the Hebrew word for righteousness on the front. I didn’t have any cash, however, and wasn’t going to spend nine extra dollars to be able to use my debit card. Walking back to my car, a guy offered to wash my feet, which really completed the whole big city experience for me, I would say.

I drove around a little before heading back to the ‘burbs. I navigated my way to Wrigley Field which was nearby. I’m not a huge baseball fan, but even I have heard of and seen pictures of Wrigley Field. My first thought upon seeing it was, “Wow, where is all the parking?” I guess I just remembered walking through the massive parking lots outside the Arlington Ballpark the few times I went as a child. Poor baseball fan that I am, however, I would love to catch a game there sometime.

Anyway, I made it back a little older and wiser, I suppose. Perhaps a bit more humble. I hope this is just the first of Small Town Sarah’s adventures in the big city!

Study Break

How funny to use those words!  I haven’t had the need for a study break in quite awhile.  However, over the past few days I have become intimately reacquainted with the concept.  With a Greek competency exam looming in my not so distant future, my mind is swimming with paradigms and vocab as I try and cram for the test that will determine this semester’s class schedule.

As I transition back into student mode, I’m realizing (or remembering) all my study quirks:

Quirk #1:  I cannot study at home.  This may be relatively new development, because in college I remember sitting on my bed listening to Yo-Yo Ma with Hebrew flashcards, dutifully committing obscure words to memory.  However, now I can’t seem to concentrate in my apartment.  I start to think about things I should clean up or organize, people I should call or email, general to-do list type stuff.  So this week I have tried out various study spots – the library, Starbucks, Panera – and all seem to work better than my apartment.  More expensive perhaps, but definitely more efficient.

Quirk #2:  I need noise.  Silence distracts me because it allows for prime thought wandering.  And, when little noises break the silence, they are a huge distraction.  If I’m at the library, music is a must.  Not just any music will do, however; I need “study music.”  This used to be mainly classical (Yo-Yo Ma was a fave), but over the past week I’ve begun to branch out.  Sufjan Stevens is working well at the moment.  If I can’t have music, the white noise hustle and bustle of a public place will do as long as people’s conversations aren’t too distinct … I am an avid eavesdropper.  : )

Quirk #3: I can only study about an hour and a half without a break.  I’m sure there’s some scientific study about study breaks and their usefulness to overall information retainment.  After about an hour or two, nothing seems to stick anymore and I have to move on to something else.  Like blogging.  : )  My downfall, however, lies in the lengths of said breaks.  While usually fifteen to thirty minutes would suffice, I’ll end up wasting hours under the guise of a “study break.”

Well, in the spirit of not succumbing to my downfall, I should get back to the various uses of “autos.”  Blessings, friends!

In Search of the Third Place

Exactly three months have passed since I last posted, my longest blogging break on record. If I ever had an excuse, however, I suppose packing up everything I own, moving across the country, unpacking and trying to adjust to a completely new life would be a pretty good one.

Coming off of my little hiatus, there’s a lot I could write. I might do an annotated and illustrated update soon, but for today I want to talk about the Third Place.

I moved to Wheaton about two weeks ago, completely prepared in most respects. I stayed in Edmond a couple weeks after my job ended, so I had plenty of time to pack and get organized for the move. I had a place to live (thank you, Jesus) and even tentative job lined up for when I got here. In Anne Lamott’s book “Traveling Mercies,” she talks about two prayers she returned to over and over again: “Help me, help me, help me,” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Throughout this whole ordeal, my heart has echoed the latter.

When I moved to Edmond four years ago, initially it was really hard. I was lonely. I had a few friends in OKC, but no real sense of community in my new place. The start of the school year helped once I had a staff and had grown closer to a couple of my coworkers, but it was a good year before I felt really a part of a community outside of work.

So in moving here, I knew it would be hard again. I was prepared somewhat. I am not a superficial friendship person; I hate small talk. I just want to snap my fingers and magically conjure up deep friendships. However, as my good friend Stacey reminds me, the superficial stage and the small talk are necessary to the development of the depth I long for.

I think the hardest part now is the loss that I feel. I mean, I knew it would take time to develop the kind of relationships that I had in Oklahoma, but being here and only knowing a handful of people (if that) has reiterated how blessed I was not only by my friendships but by the communities I was a part of there.

As much as I want to fast forward to deep community, I know it’s not possible. I have to start somewhere, so that’s what I’ve been doing this past week. Last Tuesday I visited a group discussing a theology of poverty and a specific chapter of “Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger.” Having read some of the book a few years back upon the recommendation of a professor, I jumped at the opportunity to discuss something so interesting (and rarely discussed in my usual circles). Plus, I would be getting out and meeting people other than my roommate. : )

Ironically, the conversation at one point turned to community, and someone mentioned a phrase I had never heard of before. He said something about the decline of the “third place” in American society. I interrupted at this point asking for clarification, and received a little sociology lesson. The first place is considered one’s dwelling place, the second place, their workplace, and the third place is a place of community apart from home and work. For some it may be a bar, a local park, a church; the place is insignificant. What matters is the community that develops there.

Sitting there among this group of strangers then, it clicked. Yes, the third place. That was what I was looking for. That’s what I needed. Third place, anyone? Got one I could join?

Now, please don’t start to feel sorry for me. : ) Things are good, really. Moving carries with it inevitable adjustment. I know the community will come in time, and I’m actively pursuing it, even if it means going to dinners in homes where I don’t know a single soul and succumbing to the despised chit chat. (Actually, I had an incredible experience doing just that this past week … real third place potential there) Being here just makes me really thankful for all the third places I had there. I was so blessed by Sunday morning FLOCK, FLOCK at Craig and Beth’s, card night with the girls, Henderson Monday night volleyball, House Church, Wednesdays in the Mesta with Stacey, Conversation Cafe, and Friday Panera breakfasts with Jamie.

So … first place? Check. Second place? Check. Third place? I’ll get there. Prayers appreciated friends.