Tag: Philadelphia

Life in Suburban Philadelphia

~ K ~ Leave a comment

NYC vs Philly

Living in Pennsylvania is better than I ever thought it would be. In some ways, I prefer it to New York.

Oh no! Did I just say that?

New York is all hustle and bustle, just the facts ma’am, I’m trying to get where I need to go. Everyone outside of New York seems a whole lot more laid back. Not Southern laid back, but certainly not as uptight.

I didn’t like Kentucky much when I lived there, mostly because I was unable to have a life. And, it had a pitiful mall. But at least it had a Barnes & Noble and Chick-Fil-A. That’s important.

But here in suburban Philadelphia (much like I was in suburban New York City), I have many of the accoutrements of the Northeast-living lifestyle. I have a great big mall that I adore (yay! King of Prussia!), a Barnes & Noble within 5 minutes, and my choice of Chick-Fil-A within a 25-minute range. (Okay, so Chick-Fil-A is not a New York thing except for food court at NYU’s Weinstein dorm.) The traffic around here is not as slow as the south, but much better paced than the craziness that surrounds New York City driving. People don’t necessarily smile and say hi (some of the older folks do) when walking past each other on the street. That’s all right by me.

They opened up a Container Store on Long Island. The closest one to me right now is in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. I am praying for a Container Store within 25 minutes of driving distance of my home. Praying, I say.

It’s great to have my husband’s family only 10 minutes down the street, and if need be during the day, a 5-minute walk to my mother-in-law’s job. (No sarcasm. Many people would joke that the in laws are a bad thing, but they’re not for me. I am very fortunate to have such a wonderful family.) If my mom wants to visit from New York, there’s an Amtrak stop less than 10 minutes away from where I live.

I never thought I’d be content living in a state outside of the great state of New York. I didn’t know that settling into suburban Philly life would feel like a second skin. I love my job at the library, and I would be loathe to give it up. I like the flexibility that freelance life brings with the work that comes and goes. I enjoy my Bible-believing church.

I love the neighborhood I live in. I live along a major road that’s busy during the day then gets quiet at night. I live right across from the SEPTA train station, and love to hear the trains occasionally. (The sound barriers are pretty darn good.)

I love occasionally traveling out to Lancaster County to Shady Maple Smorgasbord to eat or Shady Maple Farm Market to do some grocery shopping. Amish people, or Dutch country, are the heart of Pennsylvania culture. I’m beginning to love it all.

I’ll always be a native New Yorker, and my first allegiance will likely be to where I grew up for 23 years of my life. But as a transplanted New Yorker near Philadelphia, I’ve learned that Philly is not so bad. And in fact, will just do quite fine.

Desperately seeking local female friend who loves Jesus, Justin*, and John**

~ K ~ 16 Comments

A ramble/rant/possible form of incoherence.

I am trying to reconcile who I am with who God wants me to be as a married woman living in the Philadelphia area. More than that, I think, I struggle with trying to reconcile who I am with what I think Christianity expects or wants me to be.

I’ve written before about how I see differences between myself and other women. I am currently struggling with my role as a Christian woman within the church. I’m 28, married, and currently childless. I’m a minority at my church. Moreover, I’m suddenly starting to feel like a minority in my phase of life. I am having a difficult time accepting that I’m in the stage of life where many of my friends are married and having children and parenthood is not a place God has called me to yet.

I am also struggling with the idea of a glass ceiling in the church: how much can women serve and is that glass ceiling really ordained by God or by power-hungry, chauvinistic men hanging onto an archaic rule that served its purpose for that time and that culture? (My husband warned me that I sound all Brian McLaren with those thoughts, but I happen to think he’s a little biased considering he’s a guy and all.)

I spent the day crying (partially about what I don’t have but also) about what I like: social media; reformed theology; discussing mental health issues; writing fiction; blogging about topics that don’t include fashion, kids, or TV shows; pop music; and going to concerts. I am grieved by the superficial — apart from my faith, I share very little in common with the women of my church.

I whine about the days when I used to be able to call up a buddy and say, “Hey, want to go to a concert with me?” and she’d say, “Sure! Time and date, please!” and we’d just go. Perhaps it’s because I don’t have children that I still feel that kind of freedom. But even if I did, I’d hope that I’d still be able to go. (I attend concerts once or twice a year.)

I feel the need to live two different lives: a life with Christians where I act all Christian and do whatever Christian people do and a life with non-Christians where we share similar interests but nothing that unites as deeply as spiritual things do. Is it wrong for me to want the two worlds to collide? To want the crazy friend who dyes her hair pink and purple, loves music, literature, and Jesus just as much as I do (if not more), and would go to Hershey with me to see Justin Bieber? To want that friend who can say, “You wanna hang out on Saturday and find a place in Philly where a local band is playing?” or “I’m in a really dark place right now in my life. Could you come over, talk, and pray with me?” Perhaps it’s never too late to develop imaginary friends. Or, slightly less creepy, put an ad up on the Philadelphia craigslist. (Maybe imaginary friends are safer, though. Hmm…)

I have friends all over the United States who I connect with on different levels, but in suburban Philadelphia, an area I’ll likely call home for the rest of my life, I still feel lost. I still see myself as the freak loser even though I’ve never gone to school here and have never had anyone tease me here. I have lots of local friends, but when I’m depressed, upset, and hurting, I don’t have that “one” friend I feel comfortable calling. Mostly because I know they’ve all got their kids and their husbands, and hence their busy lives that have little room or space for me.

I keep wondering how to rectify the situation. How to find my crazy Christian friend who loves Jesus, loves pop music, lives within 20 minutes, and can educate me on the greatness of Proust and Faulkner.

Or maybe I’ll just stick to this solitary life of writing novels and keeping hoping and wishing that I had different so I didn’t feel so immature, so isolated, and so alone.

How is a Christian woman supposed to act? In the novel I’m currently working on, my protagonist gets a brief lesson on being a Titus 2/Proverbs 31 (Biblical) woman. I’m feeling about as flummoxed as my character. The Biblical woman is ever working, ever busy, ever faithful, ever diligent. Striving to be like the woman the Bible outlines is striving for perfection — a goal I’ll surely never attain. Why bother at all?

I struggle with ambition. I am an ambitious woman. I don’t know what I want to do but I want to do something. But all I can do is write. There’s not much of a need for that in my local church.

I could go on and on but the rest of my thoughts are a jumble, I’m feeling tired and depressed again about how I’m doomed to live with a 16-year-old mentality in a 28-year-old body and a New York mentality in suburban Philadelphia, and how I have no kids and probably too much time on my hands. I need to get involved in something in which I can utilize my talents regularly but I’m not sure what.

*Justin Bieber
**John Piper

In search of an identity… location.

~ K ~ Leave a comment

Am I still a New Yorker or can I legitimately call myself a Philadelphian now?

I was born and raised in New York for 23 years. However, I’ve lived in suburban Philadelphia for the past 3 years with no plans to move anytime soon. I wouldn’t even mind retiring here.

Am I displaced? Can I still call New York home even though I may never live there again? Can I claim myself as a transplanted Philadelphian even though I hate the Mummers and the Philly Phanatic scares me?

What does it mean to have pride from where you live? A waste of energy? A waste of time?

In search of an identity…

~ K ~ 1 Comment
Who am I?
What is my purpose?

questionThose two questions run through my mind at least once a day. (I’m probably providing a conservative estimate on that front.) Well, here are the basic answers to each question:
1. Who am I?
First and foremost, a Christian female; an adopted child of God bought with a price and a joint-heir with Christ.

2. What is my purpose?
To glorify God, and to enjoy him for ever. (Westminster Shorter Catechism, Q1)

Those are the general things, applicable to a wide variety of Christian women. But specifically, who is the person that I’m supposed to be—the person no one else can be? What is God’s individual purpose for my life? Let’s start with a list of things that make up who I am:
Who I am
  • Christian
  • Female
  • Daughter
  • Wife
  • Cousin
  • Niece
  • Black
  • Writer
  • Friend
  • New Yorker
Really, is there much more to it than that?
Some of who I am is pretty straightforward in my opinion and does not need to be pursued much further, ie, female, daughter, wife, cousin, niece, friend. However (for me), it can get complicated when one of those things becomes a noun and the other becomes an adjective: What does it mean to be a Christian female? Or a Christian wife? Or a Black Christian? Or Black female? Here are the main topics I struggle with regarding my identity:

Christianity: What does it mean to be a Christian?

Race: What does it mean to be black in America, especially since I am first-generation American and am also married to a white American male?

Career: What kind of a writer am I? How do I pursue this, namely in a dying profession such as print journalism?

Location: My heart longs to be in no other place than New York but I’ve become content to live in Philadelphia. Am I still a New Yorker? Can I call myself a Philadelphian too now?

After exploring the main topics that plague my identity, I’ll try to address the issue of what my purpose in my life. I have the scary feeling, however, that the task will be much more difficult that trying to figure out who I am.