Dear World, I love you but you're crazy

I have a few drafted posts that I've been meaning to polish up and post for a few weeks.

You won't be seeing them today.

Instead I just wanted to share an e-mail exchange I had with my mother, who called on the evening of the election just so she could talk to me because she was scared. My mother who described herself the next morning as a "miserable mess of protoplasm". The following is my response to her very broken-sounding message she sent my yesterday morning. I wonder which of us was more scared. I felt like she needed more comforting than I did, but in sending her a message to re-assure her, I wound up making myself feel a whole lot better too.

Mom,

I haven't watched any coverage since I heard the news online. I can't. It's blasting all over social media and I can't.

And it's okay. The more love and gratitude I pour into the world, the less room there will be for hate and fear, right? I keep telling myself that, though I'm very unsure of it's validity. Historically these times of great adversity provide an exceptional background for making some incredible art, so that in the very least excites me, though it doesn't make it any less scary. Him being president sucks. It sucks so much more that a whole country that I was pretty sure I liked a lot elected him. I heard your voice echo in my head several times last night, "But I don't know anyone who voted for him." I guess there's a lot of people I don't know.

I'm scared for my friends. For people who aren't white. Who aren't heterosexual. Who are weirdos. Who aren't men. But I still oddly find faith and joy in people everywhere. Something I find as satisfying as I do confusing, being a woman of no religious association. I do believe in people. They're awesome. I've seen it.

I'm including a picture I took on a walk over the Ben Franklin bridge that I tweeted today. This city speaks to me through graffiti regularly. Sometimes in scary-accurate ways. I love it.

I love you. Don't apologize for anything. You and Dad have given me ambition, intelligence and a moral compass that cannot be swayed. Those things will serve me so well over the next four years, and I hope I'll be able to serve others with them too.

One little foot in front of the other, even if everyone else seems to be stumbling backwards.

Sarah

I don't know why I'm sharing this. I really don't. I just want to throw a voice out in the dark in case someone needs to hear it. I just want to keep sharing things that are important to me.

I have the next few days off from school and while holing up in my apartment and being sad sounds a little tempting, instead I intend to make stuff. And love people. And laugh loudly.

Ownership: It's Mine

Summer. I'm in it, people. Like, seven weeks or something. I don't even know. It's getting weird. Here's some things I've noticed over the last seven + weeks:

I live in Philadelphia. Wait. What?

It's hot and often very muggy here. 

I don't have classes eight hours a day to distract me from

I frequently don't finish thoughts.

My time is easily occupied and totally don't feel guilty about watching seasons of anything on Netflix, HBOgo or Hulu.

The West Wing really holds up.

I totally feel guilty about binge watching seasons of anything, even if it's slightly intellectual.

I lie to myself about feeling guilty.

I hate elections, hatred and what burbles up through the mean (all?) parts of the internet because of them.

People at the local thrift store know me by name now.

I don't want to be over dramatic. I'm not going completely stir-crazy. I've adapted over the last few weeks. I'm on a regular schedule practicing piano at school. I strum around on the ukulele now and then. I contacted one of my instructors that I really enjoy working with and asked if her theatre company needs any help this Summer. It does, so I'm freelancing some research for her.

In my meeting with her she said she's draw up a contract for me (my work is voluntary) just so we both know what's expected of me, that way there's no miscommunication and we both have it in writing. A few days after that meeting, it struck me that everyone in the theatre (maybe even artistic) community should do this. I've been a part of countless processes where rifts were formed simply due to someone not fully understanding what their job was. Not due to any fault of their own, just because they had never done it before, or it wasn't laid out for them. Then I recalled a process where we were under contract for a very small stipend, but I was SO relieved that it was in writing and I signed a piece of paper saying "this is what I'm going to do and this is how I expect you to treat me".

Contracts, guys, or Letters of Agreement, whatever you care to call them, are pretty great. 

                         

                             I bet someone was contracted for this.          Sorry. I just needed a 

                                                       Reason to use this photo...

I think they're so great that I took some of my Summer vacation time to write one for myself.

I was considering my goals for the Summer and they were all things like, "learn how to play piano" or "play a lot of ukulele" or "Write more". All worthy, to be sure, but none of them specific. 

So I wrote my first contract as a self-employed artist. For myself. To sign and complete.

You know me: Party. Animal. (Now complete with contract!)

Most responsibilities are weekly. It's not a small amount of work, but nearly all of it are things I'm doing anyway, just sporadically and in a disorganized manner.

No more, my friends. I present to you: My signed contract for being a Human Who Makes Things. This will also mark the first time I've actually attached my name to this blog. Taking ownership all over the place here people.

Contract for Human Who Makes Things

Contract Duration: June 20th, 2016- August 29th 2016

Job Title: Self-Contracted Artist

Job Duties:

Rehearse piano 3 hours weekly

Rehearse Ukulele 2 hours weekly

Read required reading 1 hour weekly

Read for pleasure 1 hour weekly

One blog post weekly

Swim Pony research: 7-10 hours weekly

One postcard or letter weekly

Physical activity excluding bicycle commutes: 4 times weekly lasting 30 minutes or more.

Make one thing outside of "regular craft" each week: 2 hours

This can include, but is not limited to: Dance, songwriting, painting, drawing, acrobatic sequencing, comedy, construction paper collages, model-building, carpentry, clowning, origami, etc.

One movie weekly

Knit 1 hour weekly

Share one work-in-progress with one or more persons each month, beginning no later than June 30, 2016.

Compensation: Self high-fives, spontaneous dance parties, artistic growth and satisfaction, staying out of stupid trouble while getting into all kinds of worthwhile trouble.

I, Sarah A. Gardner, fully understand and commit to completing the above tasks as stated to the best of my abilities. 

                                  

        

Oh yeah, I also wrote it by hand. Because. Summer. And you can't sign an iPad with pen.

So. One blog post a week. I suppose that takes a bit of the surprise out of regularly unscheduled contact. I'll try to make still as unexpected and strange as I am.

I'll end with a yummy Knit Preview: