Don't Try This at Home!

A month or so ago, I went to an end-of-the-school-year party with some cellists. At this party, I was re-introduced to an old addiction of mine. I broke the habit years ago, but when it was my turn, I joined in, acting like it was something I ate every day, anyway. And I managed to wait an entire 24 hours before going to the store and buying a bottle of my own. I'm talking, of course, about Nutella.

It is evil, tasty, tasty, tasty goodness. You use it like you would peanut butter, only it's exactly 50 million times tastier. You go through life just fine until you try Nutella. Even once is too much because you'll suddenly realize your body has a need for chocolate hazelnut spread and suddenly everything else is considered of secondary importance until your tummy has just one more crepe with fresh raspberries and Nutella. Evil, tasty, tasty stuff.

I sometimes hear what folks think musician parties are like and I compare them to the parties I've been to. Yes, booze (beer or wine, usually). And now we can see: yes, drugs like Nutella. I roll with a dangerous crowd. And now, some Nutella on toast for breakfast!

An Erinku:
Frederick
my piggy bank
empty
but happy

Religious/Tolerance

I'm up early because I'm getting ready to head back south to run our school's booth at the Colorado Springs PrideFest. Since the day job has some religious degrees, at events like PrideFest, we sometimes get folks who come up looking for a fight or a debate or want to tell their life journey. And perhaps you get this too, when sitting around showcasing engineering or music degrees, I don't know.

What I do know is that for the last few PrideFests, I worked at the table with some students. And it's interesting to me to hear their stories and see how they interact. Because it's not at all how I handle things.

And I guess I'm mostly sadly amused that while folks are celebrating all the different types of love (emotional, physical, and onward) at these PrideFests,and patting themselves on the back for being so tolerant, they then turn around and are appalled at each other's religions. So.

When the angry atheist comes up, I know how to talk with them, because I've been an angry atheist myself. When the "ha, ha, fooled you because I'm a BUDDHIST!" arrives, I've been the surprise Buddhist, too. I can relate to the over-the-top Christian, because I tried that for a week once and have friends still in that category. I can address the Wiccan, the New Ager, and the seeker because I've been all those things at one point too.

I see life a bit like a buffet: you always go for the stuff that makes you happy. And just like in a buffet, it's kinda pointless to get all upset that your neighbor didn't fill their plate with honey glazed carrots like you did. And it seems to make sense that if you are celebrating tolerance at a PrideFest, you should be aware of tolerance in general.

And yet, as I work these events, I hear students' talk about how they got in a religious argument with a Wiccan at a festival a while back and then prayed for her as she angrily walked away a (by the way, vindictive prayer: seriously? Prayer as a threat or as a vindictive act doesn't seem like the sort of thing that really helps anyone). And that makes me feel sad that the students, who are all in these degree programs to learn about theology/religion/spirituality, feel threatened when another point of view comes along. If you want EVERYONE to only eat honey glazed carrots, you don't go to the buffet; you should go to a restaurant.

Anyway, I'll be working again today. I'm excited to meet with folks who want to talk with me. I'm working with a student so I'm a bit curious to see what stories he has. I suspect he has an interesting life blind spot as he recently suggested I should become an ordained music minister. Considering he doesn't know me, I found this job suggestion incredibly amusing. And considering he didn't specify which denomination I should be ordained in, this suggests he believes everyone to be the same religion as he. Interesting.

And I know it's a weak comparison (I know, ok?), but just because I play cello, I don't assume that everyone I meet is a musician, let alone a cellist. But I will make this assumption when I'm at a music conference and I'm clumped with other cellists. And I study music (just like these other students are studying religion) and I don't even assume all the music major are classical musicians.

I also don't think everyone should be a musician (just like I don't think everyone should be an accountant, or a cliff diver, or a race car driver). I just know that folks are all different shapes and sizes when it comes to bodies, minds, emotions, and spiritually.

So. I think my goal today at PrideFest will be to treat everyone as if they are a suspicious oboe player and I'll try to convince them that the bassoon is a better choice. Or maybe I'll start pushing my cookie evangelism. EAT A COOKIE!!!

An Erinku:
it's seriously
way too early
for this deep
of a topic

Removal of cranky pants

Having lived around a variety of folks, I've picked up some good wisdom from various belief systems over the years. One of my favorites is a Buddhist idea that the mind is like the sky and emotions are like the clouds. The clouds pass across the sky and don't get stuck there. Another one of my favorites is the soothingly, rhythmically nice sign in a Naropa bathroom, "Please be mindful. Open door slowly so no one gets whacked in the head." I will sometimes chant this to myself as I walk down the street because it has so many peculiar Naropa things going on in this simple little phrase. And I totally can make fun of Naropa, in case anyone needs to see my credentials.

Anyway, I once upon a time realized that even though the sky seems like this remote beautiful blue thing way up high, there isn't a division between air up there and the air I wander through each day. Meaning that I am wandering about through the sky all the time. And while I do enjoy fog (it's clouds on the ground!), I'm not a cloud, no matter how cranky pants I get.

It's amazing how much better I feel after a hot bath, a good grump, and a bit of meditation. I was also mindful on opening my bathroom door. No one got whacked in the head during the writing of this blog.

Yet another Erinku!
wrinkled
toe tips
and James Brown songs
playing across the street

Cranky pants and Angry Pants

There are those days when I get angry about life situations. Like screaming into a pillow angry. Tonight was one of those "days." (Get it? It happened at night!) After much work on myself and much playing of MarioKart, I'm getting better than I was, but I'm one cranky-pants woman sometimes.

So tonight I sit on the couch and am bitter and Bubbles swims in circles either being a good pet or threatening to eat me if I don't cheer up. Grump. I suppose this is one reason I don't allow myself a lot of free time. Or why I limit my MarioKart losing. It's a good thing I rock at MarioKart. Grump. And I was having a lovely evening too! Alas. This calls for a cookie.

An Erinku:
cranky pants
don't really match
with anything I wear
bah, humbug.

To the Google!

While washing dishes, I started thinking about many things. One of which was manservants. Once upon a time, I lived in an on-campus apartment and had many manservants do my (and my suite-mates) bidding. It was lovely. After washing dishes, I started googling many things and then realized my google history was a bit...odd. In the past 24 hours, some searches I've done for (listed in logical order):

"epic sauce"
"does Dave Foley really tap dance?"
"those Japanese wooden shoe things"

"psychic power that moves things around and answers my email"
"dammit google"
"that word for moving things with your brain"
"telekenetic ability to send email"

"Manservant a politically correct term?"
"Manservants washing dishes" (image search)
"Sexy manservants" (another image search, hoping for David Boreanaz to show up)

Sadly, looking up pictures for "sexy manservants" brings up pictures of Conan O'Brian and a picture of cupcakes. Google punishes me sometimes. Anyway, sometimes I think of random things while I wash dishes, but at least my apartment is on the clean end of the spectrum once again. And I think it's time to google "tap dancing geese" because I'm pretty sure I haven't googled that before...

An Erinku:
sunset time,I look out
my south-facing window
only to see
my landlord's butt.

Today is a very weird day.