Gracefulness

There is a crosswalk at the University with the warning, "Cars do not stop for pedestrians." As I've almost been smacked by drivers there a few times, I suspect it's not an ironic sign. As I was carefully crossing yesterday, I noticed that there are signs facing the drivers. I slowed down, looked at the back of the sign, and wondered if perhaps it said something like "Don't bother stopping for pedestrians; they've been warned." I then walked into a garbage can.

My one grandma would always over-compensate when driving if she was looking off to one side. It was always kind of fun to get her to look "over there, hey, look grandma!" because we'd start to swerve towards the lawn on the other side of the street. Apparently this condition is genetic.

After successfully navigating around the large, bright-red garbage can, I noticed there were students around who were watching my tango attempt. They may have been laughing, but as I wear my little iPod to avoid knowing such things for certain, they might not have been laughing specifically at the girl who walked in a semi-straight line at the garbage can.

To cap it off, I started doing a crossword on the bus home. I suck amazingly at these things and, perhaps to save my ego, I can read (not answer, just read) three clues before falling into a deep sleep. I woke up with a face-plant to the seat in front of me. There were other riders around who were, perhaps, laughing at me. Again, my little iPod helped convince me that just about anything else would be funnier than a fully sleeping person launching themselves at the cushioned back of another seat when the bus comes to an abrupt halt. I've become much more confident since I got my iPod.

Moral of today's story: Fraggle Rock is as cool as I remember.

An Erinku:
pink today
though girly,
not
heavy metal.

It's Blue With a Black Case and Yellow Note!

The Democratic National Convention has come to town. There's festive bunting on the tracks where my light rail used to run last week. There's all manner of t-shirt hawkers outside my new, temporary bus stop and on every bit of open inch on the way to the other light rail. There are many flocks of cops standing about.

Yet none of this helps the fact that I left my cell phone on the light rail on Monday. I've been pretty pissed at myself and at the world at large. For I am a bit anal about such things and there is a yellow note TAPED TO MY CELL PHONE that says "If lost, please call Erin at..." I am smart enough not to have put my cell phone number at the end of that sentence. Yet, no one calls.

In addition to the fun of hissing at people trying to hand me flyers (for and against the various things going on in Denver), I notice that many people together always smell like poo. I don't know why this is, but it's a fact. I suspect there is a certain number of people you need to collect together in one place for the poo factor to kick in. I'm thinking it's maybe about 217 people. Roughly.

All I know is that Denver smells like poo and in spite of all the flocks of cops around, my little cell phone is all alone in the world, riding the rails if you will. How in the hell am I going to tell time now?

An Erinku:
red leaf
ah, so soon
gold leaf
too

Thunderstorm

There is a thunderstorm right now. While I was talking away to Chris about things that are scary, it occurred to me that I mildly worry about peeing during a thunderstorm. This completely stems from the idea that you shouldn't shower/bath during a thunderstorm since water can conduct lightning pretty well. I took it to the next step by realizing that when you pee, there is a little stream attaching you to the puddle of water in the toilet. If lightning were to stike at that instant, it would totally suck.

This is a very mild, back of the mind, worry. I wasn't even aware of it until today. Chris very helpfully pointed out that salty water is more conductive of electricity than non-salty water. And as the thunderstorm approaches, I need to turn off the computer since I once lost one to lightning blowing it out.

An Erinku:
blue chair
portable
more than
it should.

Alone in a Pub

I was thinking today, while alone at the local pub waiting for folks to join me (which they never did), about looks. I spent the first many years of my life thinking I was a) short and b) ugly. As I'm not a leggy, tan, voluptuous blond, both "a" and "b" became my norm. Then I got to college and thought that "Wow, Catholics are short!" which, over time, turned into "Wow, a lot of girls are short!" and is now, "Wow, everyone is short!" I also have got to a point where I don't snort derisively when someone claims I look pretty. Though I do still snort in surprise.

Lately, my hair has been a topic. It's odd getting compliments on how long it is, because it's purely a testament to how lazy I am. I don't have to do anything to make it grow. And as my hair has broken multiple elastic bands and brush bristles this week while still being annoyingly in my face, I'm thinking it's time to chop it off.

These are the things I think of by myself in a pub. Also, I was thinking that I see the world through an 80's filter. As in, when I see grown-ups and teenagers riding tiny little bikes, I don't think "Wow, cool." I automatically think "Wow, they stole some little kid's bike. What a jerk." And I still think kick scooters are super dorky; I don't care what the 90's (nineties) and 00's (naughties) thought. Yeah, me and my 80's filter are rocking out today.

Moral of today's story: Locks of Love needs a minimum of 10 inches of hair to donate. I'm at nine and a half. Hmm.

An Erinku:
candle
crispy around
edges
"Warning: flammable!"

Fashion Sense

Yeah, I'm lazy. This is me while camping:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3J_9dyLi2Y

An Erinku:
fresh
feathered mouse
from the depths
of hiddendom

Things That Aren't

As I was prancing around and warning Chris not to drink that orange juice (it's way old), I was talking aloud like I do. Mostly what I was saying had to do with juice he was going to put in a drink for me. My exact hollering was, "Don't you use that on me! Don't you dare use that on me!" which, to the untrained ear, might sound way more exciting than an orange juice debate. Once the new juice was made, the decision was about the other half of the drink: did I want to go spicy or ganster? Confused, I said, "Spankster." This is a good name for a drink. It does not exist.

Another thing that does not exist is a fabulous bra line that I just invented today. It's called "Ü ber Bü b" (the spacing is odd because it's slightly foreign). It's pronounced Oober Boob, but since it's German, it's exotic. The slogan is "Ü ber Bü b, you know you need one."

Hmm. Spanksters aren't very good, but as I'm drinking the James Bond Spankster (stuff poured but not stirred together), I could be wrong.

An Erinku:
cow slippers
concern the
cat
greatly

More of a Musing

During my second week at the University, I sat in a meeting where super-higher-ups talked about how they routinely searched on-line for the University's name, read the blogs that came up and got cranky at those who wrote anything bad (employees included). And so, I've only referred to my new job as the University. Because if you search for College/University near Denver, many will come up and while I'm amazingly hyperactive at times, I do only work at one.

Magically, I've only had a good time there. Though I did see some guy peeing on a truck...but that does seem to be a big city thing. And while taking classes in half a wee cottage at Naropa was good in many ways, it is nice to have a campus bigger than a driveway. Now if only they served better hot beverages than Naropa, but that does seem to be a Colorado problem.

As I was walking the wee brick-paved path near some brick buildings, I remember why I do so love going to school. And I do so love that I'll be able to take classes after I've worked for a while. Today's story is boring and I find it strangely comforting that despite my upper-ups searches, my little story will not be on their radars.

Moral: I have received a large christmas stocking. It's full. It's August.

An Erinku:
to ignore
my planner
suddenly
free evenings

Cathartic Letter of a Cranky Erin

Dear so-and-so,
It recently came to my attention that I'm still pretty pissed about what you did back in June. And though I've said "yes, it IS because of that" you seem surprised. I'm still boycotting your parties, your events, your meeting times and I disregard your emails and ignore your phone calls. Having you keep saying how much you like me really doesn't make it better. I hope you are enjoying what you took and know that every time you ask for help with it, I respect you less and less. In the end, everyone gets what they really want. Hopefully, this will fill the space where I used to be. When a dream becomes a burden, it's time to drop that rock. When a friend becomes conniving, it's time for the shun. After two months of being upset, with no apology or even awareness that I'm serious, I have better things to do than you. -a justifiably pissy Erin

An Erinku:
blue berry
sweet and plump
tasty breakfast
snack

Friday Mornings

From yesterday:
This morning, Colorado smelled like vaguely salty mold. This morning, Colorado smelled like Oregon. I was thinking this as I made my way to the bus station. I'd had a pleasant morning, only tripping on Dylan twice, only spilling a bit of coffee grounds, and leaving roughly on time. All thoughts of salty mold were banished as I was instantly accosted by two campaigners at the bus station. My "NO" hand popped up to make some space for me and I mentally noted the politician's name because I was going to…complain to the bus station people!

My entire ride to the University was filled with mental rehearsals of how I'd present this. For me, it doesn't matter which party (if any) people belong to. It does matter if I'm quickly surrounded by wildly talking strangers thrusting things at me at 6:54-in-the-damn-morning. I wonder what this politician's stance on speed is, as his campaigners seemed pretty hopped up on something.

Still thinking about this while on the light rail, an ass suddenly appeared in front of my face. Some lady, being led ass-first, was aiming for the seat next to me that I'd absent-mindedly set my little plant on. Ass Lady was going to squish my plant! I scooped it up barely in time, managing to miss her cheeks, and completely lost my thought process about politicians. As she was iPodding-it, she said nothing. I then started noticing how everyone on the train was backing ass-first past other passengers to get a seat. I know we sit ass-first, but I'm talking about standing in an aisle and leading with the butt past strangers. It's weird.

I started wondering what that said about people in Denver and wondering if it said anything about Americans. It's as if our collective ass is bravely heading out into the world, seeking out soft and squishy landing places. It could also say something about who wins in an election with a constituency of ass-leaders. This, luckily, returned me to previous thoughts of politicians harassing me while I stood in line for a bus. As I left the train, I glared at Ass Lady for almost squishing my plant and, as she was still wearing headphones, I mouthed nonsense words at her in an annoyed manner.

An Erinku:
shards of
toilet paper
litter of a
kitty

I can wear big-kid pants, too.

As I get older, there are things I know I shouldn't do but still do anyway. I jumped on the bed yesterday. It was very fun, but as I live in a Hobbit Hole, I had to jump in a tilted fashion so as not to bash my head on the ceiling.

Today's example involved putting a beer in the freezer. I suspect there are faster ways of cooling a beer but this one works well, as long as I remember to pull it out. After a few hours (spent watching a thunderstorm, talking to the cat, and cleaning up while Chris is out of town), I had an epiphany and yelled "OH SHIT!!" Luckily, my neighbors seem to have adjusted to the fact that the Hobbit Hole is routinely boisterously profane.

I have a mostly solid beer now with a tiny liquid center. It could be a good marketing gimick. Except for the part where you get just a wee little bit of beer. It's very cold and it kinda sucks. Maybe I'll tempt fate and shower during a thunderstorm next.

An Erinku:
whack
shin on chair
gasping/swearing
pain

Coffee and Art

Today, I bought a portable french press mug. You put coffee grounds, sugar, milk-like substance and hot water in, push the little plunger and: fresh coffee! The level of my excitement is unbecomingly high because I've been suffering the fate of terrible morning coffee for the past while. Granted, I'm not the one making it, but drinking bad coffee does not a grinning Erin make. It's even worse than Naropa chai, and that's saying something.

I've already been to an art museum today and very much enjoyed the Impressionist exhibit (though I've seen some of those paintings at another exhibit in Portland so long ago). I lusted strongly after a book called "30,000 Years of Art" that I think is pretty close to 30,000 pages long and full of art. I've also seen a snippet of my favorite cartoon, had my favorite iced latte, and woke up on my own without Dylan landing on my head or hollering for breakfast. So far it's been a good day, though I am sucking at Wii Bomberman. I probably need to get my act together and start working on projects.

An Erinku:
dolma
quickly eaten
longly
put together

Misconceptions

I will often notice when people have a skewed perception of me. Sometimes, they are convinced my name is Anne. Sometimes they are absolutely sure of my taste in movies. Sometimes they think I like tea. I am none of these things (I don't even know my own taste in movies). But I really don't care enough to set people straight because they are usually just acquaintences and it ultimately doesn't matter.

Tonight, someone was absolutely convinced that I am a religious type. This usually catches my attention in a more cranky way. Due to my various back-story life things, I had to decide at very young age my stance on religion. In my opinion, no one should have to decide before eight where they stand. This is a whole different rant of mine because I was not given that luxury. Anyway, I knew my stance before I had the name for it. And, no, agnostics are not atheists and are not devil worshippers, no matter what I heard in elementary, junior and high schools. Again, a whole different rant.

I do tend to get overly pissy about this. Though, since I don't talk about it much, it may not be obvious to the casual observer. I'm on my own little adventure and other people are on theirs. Anyway, this person was assuming things and it skewed the whole conversation and evening. As she is on her little adventure, I didn't know how to correct her without drama. And so she continued. And now I rant. And I still don't like tea.

Moral of today's story: when in doubt, whine or meow REALLY LOUD!!

An Erinku:
broken
glasses
splinters
in history