There are times when you hit happy hour after work (and those times are brilliant fun) and then you come home to your cranky pet fish and thirsty avocado trees and realize that your apartment smells a bit...off. And then you realize that off smell is coming from your kitchen.
You (this note has apparently turned into a second-person point of view story) walk cautiously towards your sink knowing that it really has been a few days since the last round of doing dishes. And your sink smells like "Death At the Docks (with capital 'D's)."
And you vaguely remember making tuna fish sandwiches one night around 2:00 am when it sounded like a very good idea, but you also remember that tuna fish juice is gross and you used a lot of water to rinse away any stinkyness.
And so you start to do dishes, because this seems to be one of your annoying habits that you do after several happy-hour margaritas, never mind that you often drop something made of glass and get cranky with yourself the next day.
As you wash plates and cups and cutlery, you begin to feel smug since it's not so bad. Yes, there is a vague scent of the Docks (capital D) in the air, but it's being scrubbed away with each swipe of the washcloth. Until. Until. Until.
Until you put the bowls in the water. Phew! And you wash a few that are fine. And then...you pull out a bowl from under the sudsy water. It's like sniffing a dolphin. You make a face, throw the bowl back in the sink, and turn on your computer. Because when you are buzzed enough to make analogies that say anything was "like sniffing a dolphin" you know you should be writing that down instead of washing dishes. Even if one of them is evil-stinky and soaking in sudsy water.
Man, it is the day-to-day grind that makes for small, stinky adventures.
Moral of today's story: tuna fish is wicked dangerous.
An Erinku:
I know, I know
I should
be practicing!
But, I'm dealing with evil
stinky-dolphin-bowl
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Semi-responsible Thursday
It's official, after the typical navigating of the bizarre that happens every time I try to talk with my landlord-dude, I'm all set to stay in the Aquarium another year. And all my worrying was pointless (like it usually is); instead of a big rent increase, he looked at me blankly and asked what my rent was now. And I, being the compulsively honest person I am, told him. I sometimes think I should get better at lying and then I remember that lying is boring and takes up too much energy.
I'm here another year, with my Bollywood-loving neighbor on one side (he's playing the music now!) and my creepy wants-to-give-me-a-microwave-and-thank-me-for-finding-his-keys-when-I-didn't neighbor on the other, and the gentle newsletter reminders that residents are responsible for any puke their guests leave behind, what's not to love?
To celebrate my new lease, I stuck a warm beer in the freezer while I cooked dinner. This story has the predictable Erin ending in that I only just now remembered my beer, four hours later. Sigh. No matter how many times I scold myself about things like this, I still think they are a good idea at the time. Beer slushy is too cold and gives me a brain freeze. Boo.
Anyway, today's story has few adventures. I think it's to make up for my big adventure yesterday seeing Itzhak Perlman play. It was fantastic, in case I haven't already said that about 38 times already. However, I have a jam-packed weekend ahead and I'm surrounded by people all the time. Since people are silly and weird, it's only a matter of time before something exciting happens. Until then, I've got my beer slushy. Sigh.
Moral of today's story: bad ideas come in pairs. I just had a sudden thought that my laptop is warm and would melt my beer slushy quickly. Luckily my rational thought process pointed out that condensation and laptops have a long-standing disagreement and that my idea was a terrible one. Logic rocks!
An Erinku (in patience while my beer thaws):
empty taquito box
in recycling bin
the sadness!
I'll grocery shop tomorrow
I'm here another year, with my Bollywood-loving neighbor on one side (he's playing the music now!) and my creepy wants-to-give-me-a-microwave-and-thank-me-for-finding-his-keys-when-I-didn't neighbor on the other, and the gentle newsletter reminders that residents are responsible for any puke their guests leave behind, what's not to love?
To celebrate my new lease, I stuck a warm beer in the freezer while I cooked dinner. This story has the predictable Erin ending in that I only just now remembered my beer, four hours later. Sigh. No matter how many times I scold myself about things like this, I still think they are a good idea at the time. Beer slushy is too cold and gives me a brain freeze. Boo.
Anyway, today's story has few adventures. I think it's to make up for my big adventure yesterday seeing Itzhak Perlman play. It was fantastic, in case I haven't already said that about 38 times already. However, I have a jam-packed weekend ahead and I'm surrounded by people all the time. Since people are silly and weird, it's only a matter of time before something exciting happens. Until then, I've got my beer slushy. Sigh.
Moral of today's story: bad ideas come in pairs. I just had a sudden thought that my laptop is warm and would melt my beer slushy quickly. Luckily my rational thought process pointed out that condensation and laptops have a long-standing disagreement and that my idea was a terrible one. Logic rocks!
An Erinku (in patience while my beer thaws):
empty taquito box
in recycling bin
the sadness!
I'll grocery shop tomorrow
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Procrastinating taking out my contacts...
Yesterday, I thought I saw one of my ex-boyfriends. As in “an ex of Christmas past”...by a long time. It was creepy. He was older and pudgier (which is good, because so am I), but since I was in the midst of an “Erin Meltdown®” he, if it really was my ex (he had kids the right age and everything), totally won that ex-encounter as I had weepy eyes. I first saw him while I was on the phone and figured it was just weepy paranoia, but since he stared long back at me, I started thinking it might actually be him. Eight kinds of creepy. Dammit. I haven't seen him in forever long and I always figured I would win in any ex-encounter I had with him. Alas. You can't plan for the random encounter many miles from home.
Anyway, today was a better day. I wore my contacts most the day and noted that I was officially a lecherous old lady as I scoped out the hot, half-naked guys around me in the hot springs. I also realized, having nothing to listen to except other people's conversations, that being a musician-type is a blessing and a curse. I repeatedly heard folks going off about tunes they had stuck in their heads, which totally happens. Only, ALL of the songs stuck in their heads were jingles from commercials. I heard the Meow Mix theme, and the Baby-Back ribs thing, and onward. (Keeping in mind these were several different conversations from different groups of people). I realize that yes, I definitely get songs stuck in my head, but if I were to sing them out loud at hot springs, barely anyone would recognize the theme from a Puccini opera. Sigh.
I also realized that on any given day, there is a 50% likelihood that I danced in the shower to a mental version of a Prince song. This realization happened as I was shower-dancing in the public showers and noticed slight looks of alarm from fellow showerers. It turns out not everyone shower-dances to Prince songs playing in their heads. Next time, I'll dance around and sing the Meow Mix jingle; that should make people feel more comfortable.
One of my epiphanies this weekend is that I have reached the burn-out point in my seemingly never-ending music degree (two and half years and counting). I've been increasingly cranky the past two quarters with extra events that I am expected to do and I think about dropping out roughly once a week now. This, coupled with a few other cues, suggest that I've got the “life-changing winds” starting up again.
For instance, I spent my entire 20's working and saving up so that I (and others) could travel. Then, BAM, my 30s start, I find out everything I had been working towards was pointless and naive, I spend a few years pouting and being bitter, and I suddenly find that 2011 is full of travel. And I've got a trip planned roughly every four weeks through the rest of the year.
Some of the trips are bigger than others, but I figure I'm trying to make up for the last 11 years of working over-time without any reward except working over-time for the last 11 years. Hmm. That smacked a little bit of bitterness. Anyway, since I jumped into music school as a way of being a better musician (a long-time frustration), it was also another way of distracting myself from the awkwardness of life.
Now that I'm getting totally over music school, I'm taking that as a good sign that (despite slight hints of bitterness) I'm moving on to a new phase. And it's looking like this new phase will have me and my Birkenstocks traveling all over the place and back again. Epic. Again, I'm grateful that I mostly like my own company and that I'm a pretty good traveling companion to myself. Although, it does make picture-taking a bit more difficult. So it goes.
Moral of today's story: Gianni Schicchi! Actually, that would be TERRIBLE shower dance music.
An Erinku:
river
mountains
sun on snow
Colorado!
Anyway, today was a better day. I wore my contacts most the day and noted that I was officially a lecherous old lady as I scoped out the hot, half-naked guys around me in the hot springs. I also realized, having nothing to listen to except other people's conversations, that being a musician-type is a blessing and a curse. I repeatedly heard folks going off about tunes they had stuck in their heads, which totally happens. Only, ALL of the songs stuck in their heads were jingles from commercials. I heard the Meow Mix theme, and the Baby-Back ribs thing, and onward. (Keeping in mind these were several different conversations from different groups of people). I realize that yes, I definitely get songs stuck in my head, but if I were to sing them out loud at hot springs, barely anyone would recognize the theme from a Puccini opera. Sigh.
I also realized that on any given day, there is a 50% likelihood that I danced in the shower to a mental version of a Prince song. This realization happened as I was shower-dancing in the public showers and noticed slight looks of alarm from fellow showerers. It turns out not everyone shower-dances to Prince songs playing in their heads. Next time, I'll dance around and sing the Meow Mix jingle; that should make people feel more comfortable.
One of my epiphanies this weekend is that I have reached the burn-out point in my seemingly never-ending music degree (two and half years and counting). I've been increasingly cranky the past two quarters with extra events that I am expected to do and I think about dropping out roughly once a week now. This, coupled with a few other cues, suggest that I've got the “life-changing winds” starting up again.
For instance, I spent my entire 20's working and saving up so that I (and others) could travel. Then, BAM, my 30s start, I find out everything I had been working towards was pointless and naive, I spend a few years pouting and being bitter, and I suddenly find that 2011 is full of travel. And I've got a trip planned roughly every four weeks through the rest of the year.
Some of the trips are bigger than others, but I figure I'm trying to make up for the last 11 years of working over-time without any reward except working over-time for the last 11 years. Hmm. That smacked a little bit of bitterness. Anyway, since I jumped into music school as a way of being a better musician (a long-time frustration), it was also another way of distracting myself from the awkwardness of life.
Now that I'm getting totally over music school, I'm taking that as a good sign that (despite slight hints of bitterness) I'm moving on to a new phase. And it's looking like this new phase will have me and my Birkenstocks traveling all over the place and back again. Epic. Again, I'm grateful that I mostly like my own company and that I'm a pretty good traveling companion to myself. Although, it does make picture-taking a bit more difficult. So it goes.
Moral of today's story: Gianni Schicchi! Actually, that would be TERRIBLE shower dance music.
An Erinku:
river
mountains
sun on snow
Colorado!
Friday, April 22, 2011
Morning Relativity
Mmph. I was up early today in order to get started on my trip to the mountains for the weekend. And by early, I don't mean 10:00 am (which actually is early for me). My alarm first started buzzing at 5:30. I usually build in a few rounds of clock smacking before really getting up. And since it was so early, I set it to buzz instead of having it play music. When it's getting into the time of day that I'm never awake, my brain will incorporate any music into my dreams, complete with intricate dance scenes, instead of waking up. Sneaky brain.
I have a theory about the relativity of mornings. It's like that theory that the closer to the speed of light you get, the more heavy you become, and so you'll never go as fast as the speed of light because you'll weigh so much, or be too dense, or some physics type of thing involving mass. Anyway, my theory is that there is a point at some time each morning that the closer to it you try to wake up, the slower you will move.
Say you need to leave to catch a train at 6:15 am. You can get up at 5:45, run around, and barely catch it. Or you can get up at 5:15, sit on the bed waking up for what feels like a minute, look over and realize that you lost half an hour and that it's now 5:45 and you run around, and barely catch it. It always ends up that the earliest I can move around happens to be 5:45, no matter how early I try. This has been true for at least the last 20 years, so I bow to the inevitable and sleep as late as I can.
In the typical style of my life, I arrived a bit early to the train station only to find my train delayed by a lot. And the internet connection doesn't work. Alas. While I've been sitting here actively ignoring some lady's foot bonking my row of seats (it seems she's bored and isn't content with mere foot tapping to burn off energy) I'm thinking it's finally late enough that my body wants coffee. My body gets cranky with any food or drink (including caffeine) before 8:00ish, which adds to the paradox of me trying to get up early. And so my adventure continues...
An Erinku:
it appears
plaid
is making
a come-back
I have a theory about the relativity of mornings. It's like that theory that the closer to the speed of light you get, the more heavy you become, and so you'll never go as fast as the speed of light because you'll weigh so much, or be too dense, or some physics type of thing involving mass. Anyway, my theory is that there is a point at some time each morning that the closer to it you try to wake up, the slower you will move.
Say you need to leave to catch a train at 6:15 am. You can get up at 5:45, run around, and barely catch it. Or you can get up at 5:15, sit on the bed waking up for what feels like a minute, look over and realize that you lost half an hour and that it's now 5:45 and you run around, and barely catch it. It always ends up that the earliest I can move around happens to be 5:45, no matter how early I try. This has been true for at least the last 20 years, so I bow to the inevitable and sleep as late as I can.
In the typical style of my life, I arrived a bit early to the train station only to find my train delayed by a lot. And the internet connection doesn't work. Alas. While I've been sitting here actively ignoring some lady's foot bonking my row of seats (it seems she's bored and isn't content with mere foot tapping to burn off energy) I'm thinking it's finally late enough that my body wants coffee. My body gets cranky with any food or drink (including caffeine) before 8:00ish, which adds to the paradox of me trying to get up early. And so my adventure continues...
An Erinku:
it appears
plaid
is making
a come-back
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Weight of the sole
I am not a girly-girl. After years of being pale and freckled with people not sure how show me the whole make-up thing, I am mostly at peace with how I look unadorned. While I go for fancy pj's and pretty dresses, I'm completely minimalist with shoes. For a long time, I felt irritated that I have as many as seven pairs of shoes: tennis shoes, every-day walking shoes, Birkenstocks, brown work shoes, black work shoes, black high heels, and silver high heels. That was about four pairs of shoes too many.
In the last two weeks, I've increased my shoes by just under 50%, with a significant percentage purchased today. And all three new pairs are for my upcoming trip to Costa Rica. It turns out Birkenstocks don't like getting wet (as many times as I tried it with my old pair, it never ended well) and my walking shoes aren't designed for rain forest amounts of rain. So. I've got a pair of “amphibious” shoes (which makes me feel like a frog whenever I hear that word), a pair of plain old brown flip-flops, and a pair of “fancy” black and grey flip-flops (for any potentially dressy events during the adventure).
I feel the weight of these extra shoes and it makes me uneasy. I'm worried I'll suddenly bolt out, have a(nother) make-over experience, and start wearing big, big, big press-on nails. Sigh. And then I took a risk and got a mixed pack of hard ciders on my way home from the night job. Sadly, the “surprise” flavor was maple & brown sugar hard cider. It sounds all right, but it's pretty grody. All right. My buying hard cider is actually a pretty girly move. Now where did I put that nail polish...
An Erinku:
Falcor, enormous
neon orange
stuffed dragon
protector of the Aquarium
In the last two weeks, I've increased my shoes by just under 50%, with a significant percentage purchased today. And all three new pairs are for my upcoming trip to Costa Rica. It turns out Birkenstocks don't like getting wet (as many times as I tried it with my old pair, it never ended well) and my walking shoes aren't designed for rain forest amounts of rain. So. I've got a pair of “amphibious” shoes (which makes me feel like a frog whenever I hear that word), a pair of plain old brown flip-flops, and a pair of “fancy” black and grey flip-flops (for any potentially dressy events during the adventure).
I feel the weight of these extra shoes and it makes me uneasy. I'm worried I'll suddenly bolt out, have a(nother) make-over experience, and start wearing big, big, big press-on nails. Sigh. And then I took a risk and got a mixed pack of hard ciders on my way home from the night job. Sadly, the “surprise” flavor was maple & brown sugar hard cider. It sounds all right, but it's pretty grody. All right. My buying hard cider is actually a pretty girly move. Now where did I put that nail polish...
An Erinku:
Falcor, enormous
neon orange
stuffed dragon
protector of the Aquarium
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Cupcake Conspiracies
My epiphany of the day today is that it would be incredibly easy to take out a bunch of staff members and students at a small graduate school. All you’d need to do is put out poisonous cupcakes. This thought crossed my mind as I was reaching for a pink cupcake with sprinkles that was anonymously left in the lounge (thank you cupcake fairy!!!). I thought about this some as I ate said cupcake and while I licked pink frosting off my fingers. I suppose I could be all paranoid about it…but then I’d miss out on cupcakes. And who wants to live life without anonymous cupcakes?
When I start being mildly paranoid about desserts, I know it’s time for me to make a small exit from my normal world of stress, music, stress, hot baths, stress, and talking to my roommate-fish Bubbles. And so I’m heading off on an adventure this weekend by myself (Bubbles gets motion sick and prefers to stay at home). By-myself adventures are what I’m great at, so I’ve got some good expectations from this weekend.
Until then, I’m a working machine. Between day job, night job, and grad school, I’m surprised I haven’t stepped up my paranoia even more than “dessert-level.” If only all warning systems had a “dessert-level.” Hmm. I do seem to have more random trains of thought than usual. I wonder if I should get paranoid about that…
Moral of today’s story: cupcake.
An Erinku!
chai
of tasty goodness
I love you so
(though you burn my tongue)
When I start being mildly paranoid about desserts, I know it’s time for me to make a small exit from my normal world of stress, music, stress, hot baths, stress, and talking to my roommate-fish Bubbles. And so I’m heading off on an adventure this weekend by myself (Bubbles gets motion sick and prefers to stay at home). By-myself adventures are what I’m great at, so I’ve got some good expectations from this weekend.
Until then, I’m a working machine. Between day job, night job, and grad school, I’m surprised I haven’t stepped up my paranoia even more than “dessert-level.” If only all warning systems had a “dessert-level.” Hmm. I do seem to have more random trains of thought than usual. I wonder if I should get paranoid about that…
Moral of today’s story: cupcake.
An Erinku!
chai
of tasty goodness
I love you so
(though you burn my tongue)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
On why a cellist in her mid-30's won't put up with that.
So. It was announced today that instead of having one epic opera round of performances next year, the DU orchestra will do two. Meaning that instead of having one two-week round of 26+ hours of rehearsal (in addition to regular rehearsals and regular rounds of concerts), we'll have two. And that other professors, other music departments, and other school departments, instead of grudgingly forgiving students from not being able to practice for lessons/show up to class/make it to rehearsals/attend performances for two weeks each year, will need to frown about this for two separate rounds next year.
When extra rehearsals happen as a grown-up, professional performer, I get extra compensation (even if it's tiny bitty). Sadly, I don't get scholarships or any type of payment for this decision of theirs to increase (by a lot) the number of rehearsals this fall. But, in exchange, I do get to to turn down paying gigs in order to accommodate their stupid new schedule. RAWR!
In general, it'd be best for them to audition for an "opera orchestra" for those folks who are anxious to have additional orchestra gigs. I'm not taking this class for credit and I object to having to cancel paying gigs, classes I need to take, and going to my "night" job to attend all these excess rehearsals and performances.
If they can't stick to the Monday/Wednesday class schedule (with the occasional Thursday concert), I don't have time in my grown-up schedule to accommodate them. It isn't written ANYWHERE that string majors/grad students have to participate in orchestra (except maybe in folks' scholarship stipulations), which doesn't pertain to me as non-scholarship student. All my paperwork says that students have to participate in two groups per quarter, and only one group if the student is part-time. I'm part-time and I have spent the last two years participating in string quartets as my one group.
I'm in school to be a better cellist, not to be a classical musician. I suck tremendously as a classical cellist! And this orchestra, while being one of the best I've played in, takes up WAY too much time and isn't helping me out in my degree at all. I've got a healthy history of being a rock cellist and being a studio musician. I was sad that my technique was getting sloppy from all the rock music I was playing, so I started focusing on the classical training that is common for a cellist, instead, since music doesn't get more technically demanding than classical training.
I currently have no idea what classes I'll be taking in the fall or next spring, but I do know that no matter how much I get talked about in staff meetings (the sole reason I was SERIOUSLY pushed to play in orchestra this quarter), my finishing this stupid degree is my top priority over making some prof somewhere feel better about themselves. I'm a grown-up and I've been around the block with "requirements" for a degree. I've also been around the block of being the "problem" student discussed in faculty meetings; I'm over it. It doesn't threaten me at 33 like it did at 19. If I have a Tuesday night class that I need to finish this abomination of a degree, that class takes priority over an additional rehearsal that was arbitrarily decided on one April afternoon.
I'm rant-y today because I've been working on this degree for so long, because I've put up with a bunch of bullshit (musical and otherwise) this week, and because I'm too old and WAY too tired to deal with it longer than I need to. Screw politics. I'm a free agent.
/end rant
An Erinku:
I need
a basketball
friend to watch games with
(I like Blazers and Nuggets and am surrounded by folks who don't watch basketball, sigh)
When extra rehearsals happen as a grown-up, professional performer, I get extra compensation (even if it's tiny bitty). Sadly, I don't get scholarships or any type of payment for this decision of theirs to increase (by a lot) the number of rehearsals this fall. But, in exchange, I do get to to turn down paying gigs in order to accommodate their stupid new schedule. RAWR!
In general, it'd be best for them to audition for an "opera orchestra" for those folks who are anxious to have additional orchestra gigs. I'm not taking this class for credit and I object to having to cancel paying gigs, classes I need to take, and going to my "night" job to attend all these excess rehearsals and performances.
If they can't stick to the Monday/Wednesday class schedule (with the occasional Thursday concert), I don't have time in my grown-up schedule to accommodate them. It isn't written ANYWHERE that string majors/grad students have to participate in orchestra (except maybe in folks' scholarship stipulations), which doesn't pertain to me as non-scholarship student. All my paperwork says that students have to participate in two groups per quarter, and only one group if the student is part-time. I'm part-time and I have spent the last two years participating in string quartets as my one group.
I'm in school to be a better cellist, not to be a classical musician. I suck tremendously as a classical cellist! And this orchestra, while being one of the best I've played in, takes up WAY too much time and isn't helping me out in my degree at all. I've got a healthy history of being a rock cellist and being a studio musician. I was sad that my technique was getting sloppy from all the rock music I was playing, so I started focusing on the classical training that is common for a cellist, instead, since music doesn't get more technically demanding than classical training.
I currently have no idea what classes I'll be taking in the fall or next spring, but I do know that no matter how much I get talked about in staff meetings (the sole reason I was SERIOUSLY pushed to play in orchestra this quarter), my finishing this stupid degree is my top priority over making some prof somewhere feel better about themselves. I'm a grown-up and I've been around the block with "requirements" for a degree. I've also been around the block of being the "problem" student discussed in faculty meetings; I'm over it. It doesn't threaten me at 33 like it did at 19. If I have a Tuesday night class that I need to finish this abomination of a degree, that class takes priority over an additional rehearsal that was arbitrarily decided on one April afternoon.
I'm rant-y today because I've been working on this degree for so long, because I've put up with a bunch of bullshit (musical and otherwise) this week, and because I'm too old and WAY too tired to deal with it longer than I need to. Screw politics. I'm a free agent.
/end rant
An Erinku:
I need
a basketball
friend to watch games with
(I like Blazers and Nuggets and am surrounded by folks who don't watch basketball, sigh)
Sunday, April 10, 2011
On Oppression (of the fake sort)
Lately I've seen an extra large amount of complaint on Facebook about how various so-and-sos are feeling oppressed because of their views on whatever topic. And there is definite amounts of oppression in the world. But. It seems that every American feels oppressed about something, in some area of their life. Yet no one is claiming, "Haha! I totally oppressed little Timmy today!" So this leads me, again, to wonder about the fake-oppression mentality (again, stressing that there are absolutely folks who are being oppressed; people get bullied, oppressed, and killed for their race, their sexual orientation, their gender, and onward, and that is completely unacceptable).
This is more along the lines of what I consider the "wishful" oppression. Say that you act like an ass-hat and your friends call you on it. The only "oppression" happening there is your friends are oppressing your obliviousness to you acting like an an ass-hat. You probably weren't taking a stand for ass-hats everywhere and your friends aren't "the man" dragging you down. You were being an ass-hat and claiming oppression gives you victim status, with a little bit of a martyr air to it.
I have seen the fake oppression/persecution mentality in different folks I've met, my whole life (covering a spectrum of humanity). I honestly see it as a left-over of being colonized by folks who were being oppressed and persecuted several hundred years ago. Some traditions need to be let go.
Yes, there are things in life that aren't fair and there ARE cases of active oppression that happen. And I think we should work towards treating everyone the same, whether or not they ride a bike, love "Halloween" movies, are nudists, enjoy coconut in cookies or whatever. Everyone is just living the best life they can, making the best decisions they can, and being the best people they can be in whatever circumstances they're in. For the most part, there is no organized "other" out there trying to hold you down, they are too busy living their own lives and making the decisions they do with what information they've got.
Sigh. This all makes sense in my brain and probably comes across as this elitist little rant saying, "Suck it up and shut up." That's not what I mean. I'm just tired of folks whining about their different problems every day and making them sound like huge catastrophes of deliberate oppression, when there actually are huge catastrophes of oppression happening. There is a line between the two, and I think Americans are a bit fuzzy about that line. It's the difference between malevolence from an outside source and having a situation where you don't get your own way all the time. I have parts of my life that feel oppressed, but I'm aware that it's just the result of folks acting dumbly and not as a united front of oppression of me. I live my life as best I can and stand up for what I believe...and I suspect there are folks who think I'm actively oppressing them. So it goes. Alas, it would probably just be easier for me to wear a shirt that says, "Taking a stand for ass-hats everywhere."
An Erinku:
even
vegetarian diets
result in the death
of vegetables
This is more along the lines of what I consider the "wishful" oppression. Say that you act like an ass-hat and your friends call you on it. The only "oppression" happening there is your friends are oppressing your obliviousness to you acting like an an ass-hat. You probably weren't taking a stand for ass-hats everywhere and your friends aren't "the man" dragging you down. You were being an ass-hat and claiming oppression gives you victim status, with a little bit of a martyr air to it.
I have seen the fake oppression/persecution mentality in different folks I've met, my whole life (covering a spectrum of humanity). I honestly see it as a left-over of being colonized by folks who were being oppressed and persecuted several hundred years ago. Some traditions need to be let go.
Yes, there are things in life that aren't fair and there ARE cases of active oppression that happen. And I think we should work towards treating everyone the same, whether or not they ride a bike, love "Halloween" movies, are nudists, enjoy coconut in cookies or whatever. Everyone is just living the best life they can, making the best decisions they can, and being the best people they can be in whatever circumstances they're in. For the most part, there is no organized "other" out there trying to hold you down, they are too busy living their own lives and making the decisions they do with what information they've got.
Sigh. This all makes sense in my brain and probably comes across as this elitist little rant saying, "Suck it up and shut up." That's not what I mean. I'm just tired of folks whining about their different problems every day and making them sound like huge catastrophes of deliberate oppression, when there actually are huge catastrophes of oppression happening. There is a line between the two, and I think Americans are a bit fuzzy about that line. It's the difference between malevolence from an outside source and having a situation where you don't get your own way all the time. I have parts of my life that feel oppressed, but I'm aware that it's just the result of folks acting dumbly and not as a united front of oppression of me. I live my life as best I can and stand up for what I believe...and I suspect there are folks who think I'm actively oppressing them. So it goes. Alas, it would probably just be easier for me to wear a shirt that says, "Taking a stand for ass-hats everywhere."
An Erinku:
even
vegetarian diets
result in the death
of vegetables
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Neighbors
My new neighbor moved in a few months ago, directly from India. He is very quiet, keeps to himself, and seems nicely boring. But. My bedroom wall is his front room wall. And I know he plays Bollywood music until about 4:00 am and starts up again around 9:00 am. Since I routinely sleep with music on, anyway, it doesn't bother me at all on the nights when I sleep to his music. However, with his music playing, my dreams feature a lot more dance scenes and are significantly more colorful.
An Erinku:
coffee running
breakfast cooked
Bubbles fed
Sunday morning
An Erinku:
coffee running
breakfast cooked
Bubbles fed
Sunday morning
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