A Day in the Life

Today had several interesting scenes, so I thought I'd just share snippets! My life isn't usually this interesting. Or maybe it is, and I don't notice.

Well, first, let me fast forward through my morning, which I spent at home, mostly in bed, but also on the computer and playing guitar.

I took the bus and walked to the new house I'll be moving into next month to sign the lease. The first thing I noticed walking in was that Charla - the 32-year-old who owns the house and paints on the patio, makes lamps in the basement, who had applied to BuildaBridge and who goes to the FitLife Gym with her and soon to be my roommates - was wearing those interesting Barefoot running shoes, that are like toe socks and just entirely very unique. Very fitting since later that day I'd be watching the music video that goes to Brett Dennen's Make You Crazy song:



While I was waiting for Charla to get the lease, I sat and looked out the window. There was a beautiful, large monarch butterfly perched on the aptly-named butterfly bush in the front yard. It made me be still for a moment with it. Every once in a while I see a butterfly or a speck of dandelion fluff, and whenever I do, it reminds me of things good and true and beautiful.

Then, as I walked to work along Washington Lane, I passed a house that had a small kiddie pool on its front lawn, complete with 7 adorable kids stuffed inside like sardines. As I walked away, one little girl kept yelling to her older brothers, "Somebody dunk me." They complied. :)

At work I started making the first few phone calls to connect with past alumni and donors. I got to talk with a friend from the Institute, Stevie Neale, and learned about her work doing choreography for a k-2 theatre group. Imagine that age group learning about the Circle of Life through Lion King, and then playing a dance game where one little girl yells out, "Let me see your omnivore!" to get all the kids to pretend to eat grass. Yeah, it was adorable when I imagined it, too.



After work, I was walking along Germantown Avenue, and decided to check out the BuildaBridge Artology summer camp art installation on the front lawn of Cliveden House. As I looked, a boy walked by and asked if I liked it. I said I did, and began talking with him. Josh attended his third year of Artology this summer. He's in 5th or 6th grade. His favorite part of the camp was the water fight. His second favorite part was going to a glass-blowing studio. We walked on together half a block before he was stopped by an older woman who greeted him by name.

I continued walking to the Wired Bean Cafe, for the open mic night. The sign-up list was empty for the first 15 minutes, and so the host, a middle-aged white guy, continued playing renditions of the likes of Adele and the Eagles - using the same chords! As I was waiting for my drink, a woman in line turns to me and says, "I'm Katie." I give a double-take, and I realize it's a lady from the Circle of Hope church, for whom I've babysat. Their cell group had decided to meet at the cafe that night. I smile, because I was a bad little Sarah and ditched my cell group that night for the open mic night, reasoning that a discussion about if we need an inner life might be one-upped by a night of music as inner life.

I was right. Great music. Eda James "At Last," Ingrid Michaelson's "Keep Breathing," and Sam Cooke's version of "Summertime," to name a few. There was also an old man with some fun rhyming jokes, as well as a man who had found bongo drums in the trash and taught himself how to play. The first hour was mostly older men and women. Later, a group of 3-4 girls, all black, came with this white guy who played guitar, and they just brought the house down. But EVERYBODY got cheered for, everyone felt appreciated. I sure did!

It was fun to look out the wall-length windows across the street, where a black man with a Muslim white robe and hat stood outside of a Hong Kong Chinese restaurant, next to a Mermaid Bar, with a younger black guy in a tank top stood. A couple ran by with the guy pushing the girl's back to get her to go faster. The mostly white Circle of Hope cell group met on the patio.

Today was nice.

state of the sarah

I’ve been here 3 months. I had my half-way discussion with my supervisor Danielle a week or two ago. I haven’t reached my goal of being able to coordinate a similar program, but I have a far more realistic understanding of the work necessary to do so. I’m learning about being myself while being professional and contextual. I’m taking initiative in setting small goals and creating action items to reach them, and fulfilling promises.

I understand more of the power behind BuildaBridge classes’ three foci: hope-infused, child-center and trauma-informed. Last week I had to physically remove and restrain an 8-year-old girl. Her brother had hurt her, and it triggered something raw. I want to be trauma-informed. I am becoming so, and will become more, as I get to take classes at the same Institute that I am planning at half-price. It’s still expensive, but I’d be a fool to pass it up. This experience is giving me more of a drive, to be relevant, to be ready, to be willing, to be engaged, to be in community.

I’m past college. It’s been a year (Greg Laswell song!). Not that I’m an adult. But I realized we’re strange at this age. It’s cool, as long as we know it. People are better together, as family, however that family looks. Brotherly love is hard. College students are both really bad and really good at being family to each other. I want to be family to people, but it's hard. Anyways.

I went to an open mic at World Café Live. I had to have a table for one, which sucked, but then it was a spot right next to the stage, which rocked. I listened and drew and performed. No new friends, but I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, and at 11:30 I walked to the train station. I waited on my platform on the far end and played guitar and it echoed. It was by far the best part of the evening. That sense of peace and of healing and belonging is what I love in music.

When I went to another open mic, someone said I had an accessory with my guitar. It feels that way, like Malibu Stacy, only not. It opens up avenues for talking, carrying it around, even if it is heavy. When I first reached the train station on the way into the city, there was a guy playing his own guitar, and we talked. He’s a music ed major, and he has to learn several different instruments right now, which he’s never done before. It makes me think maybe it’s not so far-fetched for me.

I’m considering other far-fetched things, too. Like Georgia, for a 10 day arts camp through BaB with refugee youth. Like an internship in Atlanta, Georgia with refugees, through Fugees Family. Like staying in Philly. Or coming back to Cali but bringing the brotherly love with me. It depends on how the numbers add up. I miss Cali, and I miss family, and I miss free rent and belonging. But…idk.

I drive home from church cell with Barb and Liz most of the time. Last week Barb asked if I was getting what I wanted out of Philly, and what my plans were, where I was going. No, I don’t know, and Ill be somewhere. We laughed about it, because Liz had a similar answer when she was young about being somewhere, and that’s really still her answer and a lot of people’s answer. Because life’s full of questions. I don’t know where I’ll be. I’m trying not to care, though I do.

routine

My life feels really routine. Which is funny, because it’s not: there’s not a whole lot that’s the same every day or week, and it’s not routine/boring, either. But it is beginning to feel more familiar, and I’m really grateful for that. For instance:
• Walking down Washington lane’s mix of row houses and historic mansions to my internship. I’ve only done this route this week (the singing man Chad asked me if I wanted candy, and it was weird, so I avoid him now), but I like.
• Waiting for the bus & counting the birds in the bush next to me as they sing.
• Tuesday pm pomplamoose livecast – this will be my second time! Good night song!
• Wednesday night church cell group, and Roula’s pizza before it (once).
• Oatmeal with peanut butter for breakfast - every day except for one.
• Toasting pb and j sandwiches. Because the bread is cold.
• Eating breakfast in bed. Because I’m cold.
• Eating brunch for free at work after my Sunday shift – tasty tasty tasty tasty.
• Coming home after evening shifts with more energy than I had going into it.
• Taking showers and feeling like I’m in a cocoon.
• Thursday day-off visits to the Crooked Bookstore, while the washer/dryer go.

There was something new today though, that I hope becomes routine. Three red-breasted robins. Spring, are you coming? I walked off the sidewalk to go around one and not disturb it. Hopefully, none of the little kitty-cat friends I’ve made get hungry.

This Lent thing is better and worse than I thought it’d be. I miss facebook, but I know I’ll use it better because of this – I miss the ability to easily message friends and stay in contact. I don’t miss the wasting of my time. I do miss tv shows. A lot. But I’m using that time to build new routines. Playing guitar near daily. Reading and writing, too. Going to sleep when I’m tired. Reading my bible by playing guitar along with it. I’ve been sitting on Matthew 3 and John’s “brood of vipers!” talk to the Pharisees today.

I’ve been noticing other people’s routines, too. I want to have them:
• Remembrance. Over lent, my church is doing weekly communion.
• Generosity. Christy shares lots of her food with me. Liz, my cell group leader, has given me a couple of rides to church. Danielle, my internship supervisor, never hesitates to compliment or note good work. Edgar and Kim, who run Avenida, feed you every shift, and for Sunday brunch go all-out. Smorgasborg. Overwhelming. And then Edgar tells you to take more home.
• Hard work. Most of my co-workers have at least one other job. Danielle works at BuildaBridge as the only FT paid staff (a lot of work!), and then has a dance instructor position, and THEN works at a restaurant. And she still has a bf.

I want to practice these habits till they’re just routine for me. I think moving makes you lose a lot of your old routines, and it throws you off. Even simple ones. That’s part of why I’ve been so anxious at my job (that and I don’t want to lose it). Anxiety’s very difficult to overcome. I really sympathize now with the movie character girl in the new city working at a restaurant. Heh. But apparently Edgar and Kim like me: a server told me they were planning to train me in all the different work, including server. Cool…gulp. Danielle likes me, too. I figured out how to use Adobe Illustrator to fix a flyer after a day of failure, since the marketing intern is on spring break. We were joking afterwards, and I said “yay, I’m going to be marketable!” And she quite nicely said I already was.

Of course, she’s way more “marketable” than me, but she has to have two other jobs. I’m realizing how much hard work is necessary, to do what you want with your life, help people. My head’s still sorting out Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and that book has taught me a lot about hard work and faith. It’s too bad the Uncle Tom character seems to be misunderstood. He’s impressive. And there’s quakers, too, in the book, and of course they’re big in Pennsylvania. Talk about hard work to help people. The book highlights their role in the underground railroad, the risks run and the work done. My bus stops right in front of a historic underground railroad stop. It made me pause to wonder today. I may visit Thursday. In the meantime, I tried to read Aunt Phillis’ Cabin (southern anti-abolitionist response to Uncle Tom’s Cabin), but it made me feel physically ill.

I want…to have routines that’ll make people feel good, not ill. There’s no underground railroad right now, though there’s an underground human trafficking trade. People are hungry for change, but they’re also just hungry. I can’t imagine. Last Wednesday I didn’t have money to buy Roula’s pizza before cell, so I didn’t eat dinner. I figured I’d just rely on the cell’s generosity, even if I did feel a little foolish eating so many of their little muffins. But it’s weird. I was so hungry, even though I’d eaten twice that day already. Everyday I feel hungry, though I eat a lot. I joked to Christy: “If I didn’t know myself better, I’d think I was pregnant, I’m so hungry.” Needless to say, I’m not pregnant, and I am eating well. But this amusing hunger of mine has made the video below about homeless kids all the less amusing. I hope you can watch it all, but at least see 4-7:20.



“Homeless kids tip-toe in a world of insecurity, hoping to be invisible.”
If you watch the rest, you will see.
It makes me grateful to be interning at BuildaBridge, and want to be a part of their programs within homeless shelters:



I mentioned that moving seems to make people lose a lot of routines. How much more homelessness must do this, hurts to think about. Same thing with refugees, whom BuildaBridge also does some work with. Art really seems…in my own life it has helped. The routine of it, the expression of it, the security of it. The city hall exhibit I’ve been helping with at BuildaBridge will make homeless kids’ art visible, and so it will make them visible, also. This is what I’m thinking about.

But now I’m late for the pomplamoose webcast. So much for routine ;)
and they're talking about nuclear power plants. it's hard to be serious.
now they're talking about nuclear power pants. it's really hard to be serious.
and now they're singing jack's original, "the way it was before" and asking if their music's getting too dark. well, actually they asked if their shit was getting dark. tee hee. :) as long as their routine and life routines make space for addressing light and dark times/experiences, i like. if buildabridge's art programs only let the kids focus on happy, and avoided dealing with the sad, it'd be useless. but if it didn't teach how to see the good in the bad, it'd be useless. So.