Car Crying

Warning: I'm about to go super-Christian on you.

So I'm still living the strug life in LA. I might be moving in with a friend officially this month/next month so that's very exciting except it's bringing up a ton of insecurities I didn't know I had about officially calling LA my new home. I'm petrified. I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. I've spent countless nights since moving here crying myself to sleep. I have practically no money. I don't have a job. I might have a place to live, but how do I sign a lease if I'm not sure how long I can pay rent without an income? I'm stressed all the time. I'm never not discouraged about my job search. I have no clue what I'm doing in any area of my life.

Sometimes I'm fine and dandy and feeling super great about this whole deal and having faith God will see this through and other times I feel like I'm seconds from a mental/emotional breakdown. It feels like I'm falling down a deep dark hole and have no way to stop myself, nothing to hold onto as I plummet down, down, down, scraping the sides of the pit as the light I see above me gets smaller and smaller and smaller. It feels like I'm drowning and, try as I might to reach the surface, I'm only sinking further and further down into the depths of the sea, feeling the crushing weight of the ocean constricting my chest and compressing my lungs.

Half the time I want to give up. What am I doing here? Why did I move? What's the point? Where am I going? I sit in my car and weep asking for something, anything, from God to give me comfort, a confirmation that I'm following His will and not pursuing a fruitless path I made up on my own.

And that's where He meets me. In some small way. Every. Single. Time.

He comforts me and holds me and calls me His. He dresses me in robes of glory and crowns me with righteousness. He shelters me and protects me. He tells me He is proud. He shows me all His favorite parts about me. He brings me to the stream of life and lets me rest in the fields of His peace. He fills my cup to overflowing and the excess become my tears as I weep in His presence. He is patient and kind. He cradles my head as I relax in His security. He is everything good and whole and I will never be worthy of His amazing love. But he does this anyway.

I will continue to strive to live out His will. I don't know what that will look like or where I will end up, but if God will comfort me every step of the way, I will follow Him. And He will. Every. Single. Time.

I'm an L-Alien!

So I've officially unofficially moved to LA.

Officially meaning that I quit my "nothing job" (which is described in my last post). Unofficially meaning that I am now sleeping on my friend's couch. And by friend I mean my old babysitter. She still babysits me. When we walk on the sidewalk, she refuses to let me walk by the street. "That way if a car comes," she says, "I'll be hit and not you." As if 12 inches of walking room is going to spare my death sentence.
She's the best.

Aside from living on my friend's couch, life is okay. I've just found a sublet for the month of September, so if the girl I'm renting from doesn't cut off all communication with me and move to Mexico, I have a place to sleep that isn't my babysitter's couch. This is a good thing. I'm bringing an aerobed (air-o-bed?) and a folding table with my computer. So I'm really living the life of luxury. The room I'm renting doesn't have a closet, so I'm borrowing my aunt's rolling rack for my hanging clothes, but it does have a bathroom so we're all very excited.

I have a couple interviews this week so I'm praying God will see them through. I'm so stressed about not making much money right now that I almost don't even care what the jobs are (That's a total lie. I totally care. Please don't make me work at a coffee chop for the 10th year in a row, please). These are design focused jobs that will hopefully get me going on a career path.
We're aiming for photo-editing jobs focused around the fashion industry. I'm overwhelmingly nervous about this, but also excited so that's a good thing, right? I guess we'll see. I think all I really need is an entry-level job somewhere to prove that I can get the work done and do it well. I don't have a ton of experience in this field, but I know I'm proficient enough to do the work and do it well.

Also also, I just had my last Sunday serving at my church in San Diego, and aside from the fact that literally no one was excited with me about my moving to LA, it was sweet and nice to see everyone one more time before taking the move. All my friends are praying that I get a great job in SD, so I guess I have to pray faster or harder so my prayers reach God first or something. Don't listen to them, God! The race is on.

Well its 9:30pm and we all know this is wayyyyyy past my bedtime. I should've been in bed over an hour ago. Also, I have a phone interview tomorrow and I need to make sure I get at least a solid 12 hours of beauty rest so I can ... look great ... over the phone ...

Job-Seekers Anonymous

I'm sitting at work re-reading a book I just finished last week because I have nothing to do. I'm waiting until 4:00 so I can start my pre-close close so I can go home. The problem with working a meaningless job is that you suddenly become increasingly aware of how what you're doing is just that: meaningless. Maybe I should be reading What Color is Your Parachute? and working on my 5 year plan. Maybe I should be learning a new language. Maybe I should be doing something instead making a list of things I should be doing.

This was supposed to be my nothing job. I wanted a job that took little-to-no brainpower so I could devote all my energy into figuring out what I wanted to do next. But now I'm tired all the time from doing nothing and have only discovered what I don't want to do next (hint: this job).

The problem with applying for jobs for two years is that after a while it becomes apparent that what you're doing isn't working. But how do you get an entry level job in an industry you have close to zero experience in? Answer: you don't. It's impossible. Maybe when I'm dead and my body is sitting in an urn somewhere cold and dark I'll be having coffee with God on a porch at a beach-front property like on those House Hunters shows on HGTV and He'll look at me after sipping His black cup of joe (what else could God possible be drinking?) and say, "I'm glad you finally pulled your head out of your behind back there in 2016 (God doesn't cuss, obviously). I thought I was going to have to do something really drastic like let you get smallpox or get in a car accident just to get you to do something." And I'll chuckle before gazing out over the twinkling ocean and look over at God and say, "it's too hot here."

Because that's what I'm good at: complaining. If I had a superpower it would be to take any possible situation and find something worthy of complaint. The sun is too bright. I'm too hot. This bar is too noisy. I'm too tired. This iced soy vanilla triple latte is too cold.

I'm too good at this.

The upside to this ability is that I'm highly attuned to my dislikes. The downside being that I've become so skilled at pointing out what I find uncomfortable or distasteful that I'm not even sure what I like anymore.

Which brings me back to figuring out what I want to do next. How am I supposed to decide what I want to do when I can't even figure out what I like to do? Is there a career for people who find things to complain about? That seems like a depressing way to live.

I've been in connection with a couple people for prospective jobs in LA, but the more weeks that pass the more discouraged I get about ever finding a job in the industry in which I think I want to work. You would think a company that has a position they're trying to fill would be more inclined to hire someone than wait a month to start interviews, but I guess when you're at the bottom of the corporate food chain, your perspective is a tad skewed. At the very least, I'm learning a lot of patience. And by patience I mean being stressed out of my mind and coming up with every possible activity to distract me from thinking about or acting upon things I should be doing, which doesn't include, truth be known, this blog post.

Maybe I should stop complaining and read that book about colorful parachutes.