Any Day Now

About a hundred years ago, I was in a writing master's program at Naropa. Part of the degree requirements is that you attend a month-long intensive each summer. Near the end of one, while I was cranky in the heat and tired of sitting on a hard chair, there was a concert played by writing majors. The main take-away from that concert is: just because you good at one art form, doesn't mean you are good at another. While there is overlap and exceptions, most of the time you are good at something because you've put in the time...which is time you DIDN'T put into other things, such as acting, singing practice, painting, and onward.

As I've gotten older, I've seen that there is a strange sort of thinking about the arts, ESPECIALLY in music, that takes this to a new level. It goes something like this: because I am a good musician, that means I am a good person. The better musician I am, the better person I am. So if I'm better than everyone else in my instrument/voice, that must mean I'm a better person than anyone else.

Only life doesn't work like that. The skills to be good at music and the skills to be a good person aren't the same. It doesn't mean you can't be both, but it does mean that you need to work at both. I guess I've just seen too many cases of DU music egos running rampant over the last few years. Since I'm a good decade or so older than them, I get tired of the bratty attitude. I know I had a touch of that after I got done with my undergrad music degree. Eventually I realized that acting like an ass doesn't show the world how superior you are, it just shows you are an ass. Life will move on and hopefully rub the edge of those egos a bit. Because the world has enough bratty folks and I know I'm tired of them. The end.

An Erinku:

So cold

So cold

my sock

over there

Complexities of Bed Life

There are times when the very basics of life are too complicated for me. For instance, take flat bed sheets. Nothing could be simpler. It's a giant rectangle. It's flat. It's usually some fun color(s).

Yet at some point most nights, I wake up in such a tangle that my brain can't seem to figure out what happened. The sheet somehow gets twisted around my ankles or is missing from my shoulder or even seems to disappear from the bed completely. Since my sleepy brain is fond of bizarre thinking, I'm pretty convinced that flat bed sheets just pretend to look all flat and simple as a way of catching me off-guard.

As soon as I sleep, it starts practicing its wrestling holds and using teleportation to go explore far-off, usually freezing cold, lands. I know this because as soon as I wake up more, the sheet returns and pretends to be squished in the farthest corner of the bed from me and is super cold.

This is how I woke up today. Luckily, my quilt decided to join the sheet and had some wild adventures elsewhere. All I know is that I was drowning in pillows, my knees were cold, and the sheet and quilt were in mound down my left foot. For two flat pieces of fabric, they sure are complicated.

Moral of today's story: I woke up at 4:30 and this story probably won't seem nearly as funny when I get into normal waking hours.

An Erinku!
my neighbor
with wooden windchimes
thank you for the sounds

Wild, Wild Latte

I just returned from getting a caramel latte. What is exciting about ordering lattes in Colorado, is that Colorado can rarely handle fancy coffee orders. Even at a coffee shop. So. Today's adventure was at a coffee cart on campus. Two baristas were working and when I ordered a caramel latte, they both said, "Whoo!" Like I was being fancy or something. That was my first clue that this was going to be an interesting order.

They huddled together trying to figure out the recipe. It seems there are recipe cards for these crazy fancy drinks. Then one of them came over to let me know that a caramel latte had espresso, milk, and caramel. I smiled and said that sounded great. I think she was warning me that this was not going to be a cup of coffee. She then tried to ring up my order while the other was still puzzling over how to put this monstrosity together. Instead of being charged for a caramel latte, I got charged for a cup of coffee with a "flavor" added.

A few more minutes pass with whispered conversation about whether or not to stir the caramel or to make it in "layers." They decided on layers and proudly gave me a big cup of what looked like a latte. The creator warned me that it hadn't been stirred (the other chirped in that it was cheaper to order it this way, since it wasn't stirred). I was assured that once the drink "settled down" that it would taste great! I appreciate the warning, because I find rowdy coffee to be a problem. They took turns wishing me luck (!) and to have a good day. And this is why I adore going to the coffee carts on campus, because it's an adventure into the wilds of latte-making.

An Erinku:
it's still
too hot
to drink
I can't wait

Avoidance and Dinosaurs

In the past while, I've had major falling-outs with three  and a half people. While two of them live together here in town, the third works around here. The half just shows up around the edges from time to time in her part of town. In the past few years, I've very carefully navigated my way through the big city, avoiding places I know these folks go and basically getting more and more anti-social since some of them are friends of friends (which is a whole different rant in itself, because who would want to be friends with such ass-hats?).

Anyway, tonight I decided that even though some of my friends have the bad taste to be friends with these folks, it's not my problem. I'm going to romp around Denver and if I do happen to run into any portion of the three and a half people, I can always pretend they are invisible. Because of my history with them, my pretending they are invisible is SO way less rude than how I've been treated by them, that it's not even funny. Or maybe it is just a wee bit funny. Or not.

I think it's a good decision, because I fully expect any or all of the three and a half people to get eaten by a T-Rex any day now. Since I was routinely asking the universe to make that happen, repeatedly, and it's only a matter of time before some T-Rex escapes from somewhere, hankering for a bit of ass-hat for dinner. I'm just saying.

I like all parts of this big city and avoiding chunks of it is silly. And so. That's what I decided tonight. Because sometimes you make decisions on a Wednesday evening. And that is all.

An Erinku (like a T-Rex without a tail and longer front arms):
cinnamon
sugar
agave
I love sopapillas!

Hi, I'm Helium!

As I was drowsy last night, it occurred to me that I'm like a helium atom. And after researching a bit more this morning, I'm modifying that to say I'm more like a helium-4 atom. Besides my usual analogy that I float through life like a three-day old helium balloon does, it occurred to me that I'm a pretty complete unit. While a lot of folks feel a need to be part of something bigger than themselves (whether that be a political party, a movement of some sort, a member of religion, and onward), in that sense, I don't so much.

I spent a lot of my growing-up nights sleeping in my backyard without a tent. There was very little light pollution and the night sky was brightly intense. And I think staring at stars for so long warped my sense of scale as well as warping my view on "belonging." Because I'm just a wee dot on part of a wee dot in a vast, vast universe, it doesn't make much sense to me to make more distinctions than that.

I have gone off before about I think a major problem with egos running rampant is that there is too much light pollution to allow for folks to do what humans have done throughout history: for about half of each day, be faced with how tiny, tiny we all really are. For a while, I was pretty passionate about light pollution, but then I found out that I'm contending with a lot of people who prefer to be inside, anyway. So it goes.

And I know this is abstract and that I'm as consistent as the next person with translating my views into real life. But I also know that the longer I go without staring at the night sky, the more wrapped up I get in things that don't really matter to me. So I'll continue to bob through life like a three-day old balloon does and I'll fit in, in my own way, in this big old universe of ours.

An Erinku:
open window
an invitation
for the lawnmower guy
to go by, again

Reflections

For the past few hours, I've been working on a school paper (ha! fooled you! You thought that since I was done with one degree that I wouldn't be taking any more classes!). The paper is a little "getting to know Erin" paper and they've asked me to talk about three good and/or bad supervisors I've had that have helped me be the worker I am today. When I reached that question, I giggled, filled up my sake cup, and started typing away.

I started working around 12 and since I was about 16, I've continuously held at least two jobs at any given time. That has given me a lot of different work adventures and a lot of different managers. I had to come up non-identifying names for folks, which just added to the fun. One was "Matt," the cocaine-addict who bought a restaurant on a whim and coerced his employees to come to his church or lose their jobs. His wife would sleep with each new chef as soon as Matt fired the previous one.  I navigated him and his crazy wife, managing to somehow get promoted to assistant manager. I blame this on his cocaine use. Adventures.

There was also "James" the owner of the liquor store. I loved working there, but eventually had to leave because it was only part-time. He was a great boss and had awesome parties...except most everyone would end up pregnant afterwards. And there was time I found a freaky big dead spider in a wine glass on the shelf. And I learned how to spot a fake ID like no body's business. And the adventures I had with my cow-orkers are typical of what you'd expect from a girl in her early 20's working in a liquor store with others like her.

And let us not forget "Sally" who ran a chocolate shop and was married to a politician. She told me in all honesty one day that she'd only had children to help her husband run for some political thing. And I thought my deliberatly having two cats at once was awfully coniving. 

All in all, I've had a boatload of bosses and all of them (and all my many, many cow-orkers) have such interesting stories and views of life, that I guess I've taken them all in a bit. It's been kind of fun to trace back through these tonight and it makes me realize how many folks I've lost touch with...since I began working way before the internet was really common, and so much earlier than Facebook was around. I hope all my old cow-orkers and bosses (good and bad) are having adventures in their own weird little ways and that I'll run into them again at some point. Who knows? The world is a small place and weird folks always seem to run into other weirdos. It also means I have a lot of interesting stories to go!

An Erinku:

I want to make curry

It weighs on me:

how bad of a cook

I am.

Some would claim "Karma"

A hundred years ago, I used to make fun of my mom for crying so easily. And as I've gotten older and been smacked around by life a bit, I now find myself getting a bit teary for movies, songs, and even some commercials (shhh!). I'm not sure if it's an age thing, an I've-been-through-hell-and-back thing, or just a girl thing. All I know is that I have to be careful with my iPod or else my random walkings could end up a bit sniffly. And right this second, iTunes isn't helping! Argh, Apple. I'm on to your wily ways!

An Erinku (in briefness)

It's been a while

since I've painted

It's time again

Veggies AND Meat

The other day I was listening to someone be all whiny about something. And that first sentence there is exactly what I learned NOT to write in writing school...specifics are better than vagueness. Anyway, the point was someone was whiny. And when their story ended, I opened my mouth and unexpectedly said, "That sounds like a second-person problem."

There was a bit of silence before we both started laughing, but I've now replaced my old favorite "Not my problem!" with this. And there's even been a bit of whining by me where I'll end with "Yeah, and this all a first-person problem." And that leaves things like poverty, world peace, and crappy instant coffee in the realm of third-person, or omnivorous, problems.

Wait. Not omnivorous. Omnipotent? Omnipresent? Whatever that word is that describes the disembodied narrator in a lot of novels who seems to know all of what's going on. Man, I've worked crazy hours these past two weeks and I'm losing words (nouns and verbs!) left and right.

An Erinku:
So tired
I think I'm sleeping
with my eyes open

Keeping it classy

Today at the day job, a student wandered into my office and handed me an envelope with some forms inside. This is not a strange activity, since folks are always killing trees and handing the results to me. What was odd was that the envelope was a bit rumpled and bent. No problem.

I took the envelope from the student and held it in my hands while we chatted a bit. The chat wound down and the student apologized for the envelope being damp. I told them it was all right and the forms seemed fine. The student then mentioned that it was damp from having been in their back pocket for a while. I calmly set the envelope down while we finished talking.

As soon as the student left, I dive-bombed the supplies and scrubbed my hands down with one of those Lysol wipe things. Once the student said "back pocket for a while," I figured out everything was damp...due to butt sweat. And while the rest of the conversation happened, my internal dialog was screaming "EMERGENCY!  BUTT SWEAT ON MY HANDS!!! EMERGENCY!  BUTT SWEAT ON MY HANDS!!!"  And that is EXACTLY why those bleach wipes exist. I figure the forms can dry out overnight and will hopefully be far less grody tomorrow.

And even though this is pretty grody, I actually dealt with much worse working at the herb store. That's the sort of place where customers want your opinion on rashes and will show them despite your protests. So in the whole of my experience, sweat-dampened forms aren't too bad. But still. And this gets me to thinking that telling stories like these are why I'm one classy gal. So it goes.

An Erinku (before I wash my hands, yet again):

day eight

of wishing

I'd remember

ice cream at the store

Around the Edges

On a walk the other night, it occurred to me that over time, the men I find attractive are in an age bracket that is slowly moving upwards. Meaning that, when I was a teenager, I liked cute guys in their teens and maybe early 20's. And now, handsome men in their 30's and 40's catch my eye. When I see teens and 20-something guys, they may be "cute" but...meh.

I figure it's because I'm a bit crinkly around my eyes, have some gray hairs, and am shaped like a cello. And I like men who are a bit crinkly around the edges, too. At this point, I'm not so into older-age-bracket men. I figure it's because they are in a much different life stage than me. But as I get older, I figure I'll find them cuter and cuter.

So. I guess I just had a minute and figured out that I've changed in the last 20 years. :)  This is in comparison with a conversation I had a while ago with a guy who said that he has always and still finds 20-something girls attractive...which will only get creepier as he gets older. Some problems I'm glad I don't have. Life moves forward!

An Erinku:
compared to tv
in all the weddings I've seen
none have had
the bride run off

An Open Letter to the Frat House Around the Corner

Dear Frat Boys,
I'm 90% sure I know which house is yours. I'm 100% sure your party last night went way too late. When you've got a party member at 4:30 am running around screaming "WOO-HOO, WOO-HOO" like a deranged cockatiel on Red Bull, it's time to reel that party in.

I stay up late and I understand parties are fun, but it gets annoying living around the corner from you. So. When I'm 100% sure which house is yours, and when I have access to a cowbell, the person banging on your door at 7:30 am, shaking that cowbell, while constanly screaming "WOO-HOO, WOO-HOO," will be me. Just so you get an idea of how it feels to finally be an hour or two into sleep while some asshat is screaming WOO-HOO nearby. That is all.

An Erinku (since I"m up at the crack of dawn):
There is a time
that is too early for coffee
That time
is now.

Bad Idea of the Day

Tonight, coming back from the fundraising dinner, I saw some guy walking down the street with an acoustic guitar and a stool. And I came up with the most evil plan, ever. It's not nice and I don't recommend it. But it's pretty funny. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Oooh, look! A guitarist without a case for his guitar and a stool! I bet he's a singer-songwriter! And he's going to sing some songs about a girl named Sarah, who broke his heart and left the dog behind. And how she drank all his coffee and/or beer.

P: Or possibly something all political and angry.

Me: OOOH!!!  I have a great idea! When there is nothing to do, go watch an earnest singer-songwriter and afterwards go up an tell them that their music changed your perceptions on EVERYTHING!

P: Yeah! Like: Oh, man, I never thought about war that way. You're right! I...

Me: I can totally hear the sarcasm. You have to use ultimate sarcasm so they think you're really into it. Like this: wow, it sounds like that Sarah never really understood your artist soul...

P: I hear the sarcasm.

Me: DAMMIT. I was trying to be sincere. Ok. How about this: Wow, your music is amazing!

P: Nope. Maybe it's less "ultimate sarcasm" and more "acting."

Me: This will be on the "list of things to do when bored and can't find anything else to do."

An Erinku (in snarkiness, since I actually do like most singer-songwriter stuff):

whiny

because it's hot

I really can't remember

ever being cold

Like I wish you would

Conversation from yesterday (AKA why hanging out with me sometimes results in 80's references).

Me (singing): Do, do-do, do, do, dooooo, da-do, do-do-do, doooo

P: "Push It" by Salt and Pepa.

Me: You know what I really want to hear? I want to hear Ben Stiller do a cover of that song.

P: What?! He's not even a musician!

(awkwardly long pause)

Me: Oh. Wait. I always get Ben Stiller and that other Ben "I'm on Ferris Bueller" confused....Ben Stein? Yes! I want to hear Ben Stein sing-talk the lyrics.

Me (pretending to be Ben Stein): 

Oh, baby, baby.

Oh, baby, baby.

Yeah, you come over here

And give me a kiss

You'd better make it quick

Or else I'm going to get pissed

I would pay $5 to hear that song by him.

An Erinku (in the hot, melty home known as the Aquarium):

I called the number

And I

(again)

don't have jury duty on Monday.

On being professional

So the choir is looking for a new conductor. And some of the folks who've applied have been a bit...less than professional. Like the guy who wrote in saying he originally thought the job was dumb, but now that he was a finalist for some other musical gig in the area, it might be worth his time to apply. He was hoping that we'd accept his resume a good two weeks after the deadline. I didn't feel so bad telling him no. As a consolation, since he thought the job was dumb to begin with, he probably isn't missing much.

And today, in response to the denial he received, a "professional" conductor from the west coast somewhere had an epic whiny e-melt-down since he wasn't considered a finalist. I suppose he thinks that will make the search committee change their mind. Really? Don't worry, buddy, your e-whine has been added to your file in case you apply in the future!

I can tell from his application that he isn't actually a three-year-old, so one should be able to assume that he is old enough to have been told "no, thank you" a few times in his life. And yes, it's actually a big conspiracy against him and this whole hiring process was just a front so we could hire an insider. Our secret is out!  Because, in reality, if we really wanted to hire an insider, WE WOULD! The choir wouldn't have me coordinating all these national postings and replies and scheduling all this stuff just for a bit of fun.

Yeah, I haven't replied to his e-whine. I figure he's going to re-read it later today and feel like an ass. Or maybe not. I don't know. I've been known to mutter things about singers sometimes being overly dramatic and it seems that a couple of these wanna-be choir conductors aren't much better. Luckily, the rest of the folks have been professional about the whole thing...much like you would expect from people applying for a professional musical position.

And yes, it is disappointing when things don't work out, but being a professional means you whine to your friends and family and not to the place you were hoping to work. Because when you e-bitch to the organization, the only thing that happens is that you get made fun of by the cellist behind the scenes.

Moral of today's adventure: I rolled my eyes so hard, I pulled a muscle.

An Erinku (in snarkiness):
coffee
two inches of
awesome
left in my cup

Twitchy

Usually it's like this: you're almost asleep and then, suddenly, you're falling off a cliff and about to hit the ground. Then TWITCH! You're awake. I guess my mind was bored with that scenario, as it really isn't that funny (more scary). So, we took it to a whole new level last night. 

I was seriously close to zonking out, when I'm suddenly walking down the street. And then I'm not looking where I'm going and don't notice the uneven sidewalk edge coming up. I manage a MAJOR trip and then, to avoid landing right on my face, I have many, massive TWITCH, TWITCH, TWITCH actions as I wake up. I probably looked like I was having a seizure, but it was really my body knowing exactly how to contort when tripping so as to try and land on my butt. I tip over pretty often and have a lot of practice on landings.

I grumped out loud, "Not funny." And was seriously close to asleepness...when the whole thing happened all over again. Bad mind! Still not funny! Twice was the magic number, because I managed a trip-free nine-hour nap after that. I am aware my body and my mind like to mess with each other, but it's sometimes annoying being caught in the middle.

Moral of today's story: still not funny.

An Erinku (in pre-coffee-ness):

oh right leg

I promise to stop

bonking you

into things...soon

Saying Goodbye

It started on Monday night, May 21, 2007 and it will finally all be over tonight, Tuesday, May 29, 2012. A mere five years after I began, but so much has changed! People come and go, people graduate, get jobs, have kids, get blackmailed, held up, and thrown down flights of stairs. Even when my own life was pretty grim, I could always take comfort in the fact that I didn't witness a huge car explosion and find out six years later that it was just so someone I loved could go into witness protection. 

I've laughed, I've laughed at them crying, I've laughed at their serious conversations and now I'm finally sad to see them go. Oh Beverly Hills, 90210! I've watched your 10 seasons over 5 years and I wish I had another 10 seasons to go. I've had epic amounts of fun and to be fully honest, I've already watched a few episodes of "Melrose Place" and am pretty sure that will be an ok substitute once you are gone. It is an end of an era of terrible, terrible awesomeness. Goodbye and thank you!

An Erinku:

Odd, how this blog

could be mistaken

for a talk

about the end of school

It's all about the lists

All morning, pre-coffee, I was thinking about how graduate students are a lot like cats. Enough so, that I started a list in my brain. The list looks like this:

How Grad Students and Kitties Are Alike
1. They both sleep as soon as they stop moving, due to being permanently tired.
2. They both would rather be outside running around instead of stuck inside again being bored.
3. They both get cranky when you poke them.
4. They are both very aware when the espresso machine is hissing.
5. They both bite when annoyed.
6. They are both amused by incredibly bizarre things, which has links to number 1.
7. You need to watch out for all the pointy bits when messing with them.

It was a pretty good list, considering I was pre-coffee and bitey. And that is why I'm having coffee round #2 on my lunch break.

An Erinku:
poor apartment
it looks like
someone is finishing
their last quarter at school

Fever Dreams

Many years ago, in art class, I learned about mixing different colors to get the one you want. How complimentary colors mix together to make brown and that black is what happens when all colors get together. The one color we couldn't make was white, because white is essentially no color.

This hurt my brain at the time, because humans obviously figured out a way to make white paint and white crayons out of this no color. Then I learned that what we think of as white doesn't exist in the natural world. If you run around the woods with a piece of copy paper and compare, the white flowers are really more yellow or blue and the white butterflies really aren't.

Since this topic hurts my brain, I keep it (and other koan-like thoughts) stashed away for times when I get a little too smug about my ability to solve puzzles.

My fevered brain decided it was a topic worth dreaming about and so my latest round of napping had me visiting various artists' studios throughout time and asking how white paint and white crayons were made. I know artists used to have a rough time creating paint. They managed it somehow, but they wouldn't tell me.

In dream-land, these old artists' studios were making me cold, so I decided to fly to the center of the sun to watch how things were created. And also to warm up (though in real-life I was wrapped up as a five-layer burrito involving two sets of flannel pjs). I watched matter melt and explode and saw all sorts of colors, but the white was more yellow-y than the white of a crayon. I was also sadly disappointed about how cold the middle of the sun was, but that might have been the fever interjecting some commentary.

At that point, I decided to come back to earth and be one of those generic white butterflies you see bopping around all summer. It was lovely to flit around in the hot, hot sunshine and see the world from butterfly eyes. As the sun set, I started to get cold again, but felt I had my answer.

I woke up still wrapped as a fiver-layer burrito, shivering, and not really able to articulate the answer to my white crayon question, but that's how fever dreams go sometimes.

An Erinku:
In times
of too-hotness
I break out
ice-cream medicine

Blue Men in Red Hats, the Third Round

I've realized that Aprils for the past three years (and this year makes four) have been pretty stressful and awkward and unpleasant. As I was thinking about this, I ran into my Blue Men in Red Hats posts. It's technically a year early, but that's how things work out sometimes.

**In April 2003/2008/2012**

How old were you?
2003: A robust 25
2008: GAH, I'm 30
2012: 34 and staring down my mid-30's

Where did you go to school?
2003/2008:Naropa University. I drank the inconsistent chai, I ate the hummus, I learned I'm not tragic enough.
2012: In my final, final, final quarter at DU. I'm on my 11th quarter in a row without a break (including summers). Bleh.

Where did you work?
2003: The den of evil. Also known at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Shop. GAH!
2008: An herb shop by day and at the local choir by night.
2012: At the university by day and still at the local choir by night.

Where did you live?
2003: "The Normal House" in Lafayette with Chris, Kristin and Tom (and the kitties). It was an eerily normal house with a fenced back yard and multiple levels. We created odd artwork to off-set the normalcy.
2008: Dana's garage. She hates it when I say that. It's also known as the "Hobbit Hole."
2012: "The Aquarium." Complete with neighbors who scream-fight, do/sell meth, and steal my Jane Austen Netflix, which is why deadbolts are awesome! I'm going to guess that meth gives them the magic ability to tell which Netflix of mine are Jane Austen vs. every other possible Netflix I get.

Where did you hang out?
2003: Dolan's with school folk, downtown Boulder with work folk, and that one Mexican restaurant with the killer margaritas in Lafayette...I forget the name, the margaritas are that good.
2008: Niwot Tavern with orchestra folk, Mountain Sun with Kristen, Woody's (love that name!!) with the other Hobbits, downtown Boulder with day job people, Dark Horse (for some reason) with choir people.
2012: Practice room. Occasional margaritas at the Pioneer and awesome beers at the Vine Street Pub (Denver Mountain Sun). And the practice room. Spice China and Avery Brewery with my Boulder friends. And the practice room.

How was your hair style?
2003: Very long and straight and mildly red.
2008: Long, straight, mildly red.
2012: Chopped off it all dramatically for a change in 2009 (and donated it all to Locks of Love again), but it's now all long, straight, and mildly red again.

Did you wear glasses?
2003/2008: No. Was I supposed to? You bet.
2012: Contacts now. It fixed my Jan Brady complex completely.

Who was your best friend?
2003: Kristin & Kristen. I like everyone to have the same name. It makes it so much easier for me.
2008: Here in Colorado: Kristen, Dana, Ducky.
2012: Here in Colorado: a bunch, but I mostly see Bubbles and my cello more often than the others.

Who was your regular-person crush?
2003: Huh? Is this like squishing your head?
2008: Huh? Like love interest or more like worried fascination? Either way, I'm going to say Papa Smurf.
2012: Huh. I still have a thing for David Boreanaz. Hotness.

What car did you drive?
2003: My zippy, often broken, 1990 Ford Taurus. That thing is still going.
2008: Ha! Still the 1990 Ford Taurus. The new car is a fancy Lexus. Both cars were presents (thank you, moms!!)
2012: The Taurus died a fiery death with every single warning light turning on at the same time as a smoke cloud engulfed the whole car. So I now drive around in the zippy Lexus. It's got a lot of miles but likes to go, go, go.

What was your worst fear?
2003: Never leaving the quiet horror of working in a retail chocolate shop.
2008: Aside from skidding off an ice-packed road into a mountain stream near Boulder and dying because my power windows short out? Hmm. BLACK HOLES! I'm terribly nervous about them. No, seriously, it's been an obsession of mine for the past few years how galaxies spin wildly around them. AH!
2012: (shudders) still black holes.

Had you smoked a cigarette yet?
2003-present: But of course!

Had you been arrested?
2003-present: Why, yes. Thanks for asking and reminding of that lovely day!

Had your heart broken?
2003: Yes. Bono never calls, he never writes...
2008: Yes. Orlando Bloom never calls, he never writes...
2012: Yes. Which is why I stick with loving music written by dead, Russian composers. :)

Still talk to any of your old friends?
2003-present: Why yes. With the magical power of the internet, I can keep in touch with old friends, buy airplane tickets and check the local weather. What a wonderful invention!

How many piercings do you have?
2003-present: Let's count. One in each ear would count as two, yes? So then (2, 3, 4, 5). Hmm. I thought it would be more than five. I keep thinking I need another one; pierces hurt and require a bit of bravery, so I'm currently stockpiling bravery.

How many tattoos?
Sadly none. I've been thinking about one for years. I'm such a whimp when it comes to pain though. It took several years to have enough bravery for the nose piercing. So maybe in another few years...

Sometimes I write on my lunch breaks

Since I wake up most mornings in the shower (I sleep-walk, all right?), each day starts off in an odd way. To help offset this, my brain comes up with entertaining ways to get me through my morning routine without fully waking up. Because if I fully wake up, I'm going to decide to go back to bed. The first hour or so of each early morning is a fine balance of automation and consciousness. So the boss part of my brain amuses me with jokes and songs and the vague planning of adventures to wake up at a controlled pace.

On some days, my brain even tries to get me to talk...way before I've had coffee. This is always pretty funny because the words that live together in my sleepy brain don't really have any business sharing sentences. Today I was mumbling about how I would never breed with a giant because it would create a series of enormous people with big, fragile floppy feet and freakishly strong hands. Right. Early morning talkings don't quite make sense.

After the "feet of giants" mumble, which got me giggling once I realized what I was saying, I started remembering the times I've laughed the hardest. And that always sets me off laughing all over again. There's a something that happens every few years that is right up my humor alley and I will howl with laughter for hours, eyes leaking, stomach hurting, but whatever it is is just so funny I can't stop laughing. It's been about a year since the last round (involving a Youtube video of a merry-go-round and a motorcycle...hahaha). The time before that was about three years ago, which happened over a chat and went something like this:

5:32 pm
Friend: Need me to grab you some dinner food or are you ok?
Me: Hmm. If you run into food that would be nice.
not road-kill.

5:34 pm
Friend: Requests?
Me: road-kill...run into food. hahahahahah ha
Friend: I was ignoring that. ;)

5:38 pm
Me: that was super funny, excuse me for a minute
haha
Friend: Seriously, I don't think you're aware of the nutritional value of raccoon.

5:41 pm
Me: it's still funny. I crying a little bit because I'm still laughing.
raccoon.
deer
hahaha
Friend: Breathe, Erin, BREATHE

5:48 pm
Me: Wow. Something about that was right up my alley. I'm all weepy and laughing.
and apt to break out in smattered laughing fits.
sniff.
OK.
Friend: Prairie dog?
Me: hahahaaaaaaaaaaaa

And I laughed on for about an hour with leaky eyes and a ouchy stomach muscles. I know it's not that funny, since no one else laughed about it that long, but I'm currently snickering as I type about it right now. And about the Youtube. hehehe Anyway, it's been about a year since I last cried from laughing super hard and I think I'm about ready for another round.

I can never predict what it is that will set me off and, in a way, it's tricky because I find so many things funny. But there is just something magical every once and a while and I can list all six times it's happened. And every time, the people I'm with find it funny but not to the level I do. And there's been times that I've been involved in other people's magic moments and I understand they aren't as funny to everyone else. Like the time when Linda laughed on and off for six hours after my encounter with a spider in her office and she still gets the giggles each time she brings it up (it was like five years ago) and it's still really, really not funny.

Anyway, I'm just putting it out there that it's about time for a perfect melting of circumstances and smart-assery to combine for my amusement. I can't wait!

An Erinku:
spring break
equals
lunch breaks!

On Having Answers

This morning, I was wandering around a different college campus on my way to a meeting. I was a bit grumpy because it was early, I hadn't finished my coffee, and I'm still not fully back to healthy from getting smacked around by a migraine a few days ago. I thought about excusing myself from the meeting, but it only happens every five weeks or so and I'd missed the last one for being sick. So. I was walking around and people kept asking me for directions because I look like a school official and should know where things are. I do know, just for another college campus.

I did my best at directing folks to the library and sorting out which light-rail they wanted and thought about it all on my trip back to my campus. And I realized that all day, every day, no matter where I'm at, strangers and people who know me expect me to have answers. Answers about directions, where to order copy room paper, where to go for lunch, where the singers' handbook is, where that orange thing came from, where the concert is being held, which bus is the quickest to get to the zoo, who did I think I was, and onward. Since I usually do have answers, it's been o.k. for however many, many years I've been the answer-person. But right now I'm worn out and over-burdened. I know it goes with the territory of being a responsible adult, but I think I need the rest of the world to be good, self-managing detectives for a while and figure things out on their own.

I'm good at being organized and figuring out efficient ways to handle what-nots, but I'm bad at relaxing, bad at not taking on too much, and bad at making sure I have free-time. I'll be devoting the next however many months to working on my badnesses and letting others have a chance to have answers for a while. And if the copy room runs out of paper, so it goes. Folks have figured out who really handles the school's office supplies for a good hundred years before I got here, so it won't have long-lasting catastrophic consequences. Although it would actually be pretty funny if it did. My office has pretty good seats to epic copy-room meltdowns, so if there is a copy paper crisis, I'll get to see it first-hand.

Anyway, all this is in response to an epic lunchtime stress-induced meltdown I had today. I am only one, wee, little sea otter and I don't have all the answers. If I did, I'd really be running the world. And if I did that, you'd see a lot more purple poodles in the world. And a lot more tiny ponies. The end.

An Erinku (in stressiness):
All my emails
have pages
of needed replies
they will wait

Answers from a 33 Year Old

It's getting to that time of year when I start to stare down another birthday. I am counteracting the angst of this by pretending I have answers. Come to me with your fill-in-the-blank questions, life!!!

1. What bill do you hate paying the most? Rent. Since the lobby was demolished a month ago in the (apparently) spelunking search for hot water, I have to literally walk across a plywood plank over a large, deep pit in order to turn the rent in (and to leave the building each day). I suspect the pit is filled with vipers and angry polar bears, just to make the wobbly plywood walk feel that much more scary.

2. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner? Hmm. I had tacos and beer while watching little kids fall down playing ice hockey. I'd probably put that more in the "snarky" column rather than "romantic." It was super funny and is turning into a fairly regular adventure.

3. What do you really want to be doing right now? Sleeping in footie pajamas. Yes, sometimes I'm overly specific.

4. How many colleges did you attend? 1.2.3.4.5..I'm in my fifth one right now nearing the end (hopefully) of my second master's degree.

5. Why did you choose the shirt that you have on right now? Because I only dress in Sarcastic-Casual. All business casual on top with snarky shirts underneath.

6. First thought when the alarm went off this morning? NOOOOOOOOO!!! SNOOZE BUTTON!!!

7. Last thought before going to sleep last night? Cursing my nocturnal tendencies since I'd need to wake up in just a few, short hours.

8. Do you miss being a child? Hmm. Yes and no. I still tip over fairly easily and watch cartoons (like a child) but I like coffee and beer (like a grown-up)

9. What errand/chore do you despise? Mopping. It's just a big, soggy mess.

10. Get up early or sleep in? SLEEP IN!!!!

11. Favorite lunch? Potato-based. Or taquito-based.

12. What do you get every time you go into the store? Forgetful. I can never remember what I really needed to buy. And the answer is usually peanut butter or toilet paper. Sad times when I guess wrong.

13. What famous person would you like to have dinner with? I'm going to change this question to "....have dinner on?" And my answer would be: David Boreanaz. Because he's big and square and would make a nice dining surface.

14. Have you ever crashed your vehicle? Yes, a few times. Which is yet another reason I prefer to not drive in the snow. Or even walk in the snow. I'm not good with icy surfaces.

15. Somewhere you've never been and would like to go? Belgium. I heard they have the best fries in the world. Couple that with good beer (and chocolate) and it sounds like a country just asking for an Erin invasion.

17. How old are you? 33.86

18. Do you have a go-to person? I've spent so much time isolated in a practice room these last four years, that I've dealt with many of my dramas by playing music written by dead, Russian composers. ...and that's not creepy at all. Have I mentioned I'm really ready for this degree to be done? I expect to hold various parties throughout the summer to celebrate.

19. Are you where you want to be in life? Yes and no. I think that we are always moving towards where we want to be, forever. Otherwise, we'd have no forward momentum and would stagnate. I've always got new plans brewing, even now.

20. What about you do you think has changed the most? I'm a lot more humble than I used to be. I firmly believe that if you go through life smug about something, life will conspire to smack it out of you. I've also learned to hate, which is something I didn't know how to do. Not all life lessons are positive.

21. Looking back at high school were they the best years of your life? Nope, although there were plenty of awesome-sauce adventures. Oddly enough, I tend to think that around now is the best time (with some exceptions). I mistrust nostalgia, because it's usually false.

22. Are there times you still feel like a kid? Yeah. I still fall down a lot (like last week when I slipped on ice and spilled most my coffee), I sleep a ton (like I'm growing), and I still laugh at dumb jokes (Q: what is brown and sticky? A: a stick!!!)

23. Were you the type of kid you would want your children to hang out with? I've been accused multiple times over the years that I'm a bad influence. So yes. Yes.

24. Do you tell stories that start with “when I was your age”? No, but to quote myself.. I read one story that said "To the next generation: when I was your age, if I wanted to steal music, I had to get off my ass and go down to the cd store!" It was BRILLIANT!

-----
An Erinku:
two coffee cups
one me
challenge
accepted

Alter Ego Adventures

Every so often, I end up taking a personality test. All them recommend that I be an actress when I grow up. Since that's not what I do in real life, I've noticed that this tension builds up, like how dragging your feet across the carpet makes for a hell of an electrical shock. And so, every now and then, I run off and have an adventure under an assumed identity.

Recently, I went on the Coors Brewery Tour, by myself, as Susan: a Kansas girl who refused to have her picture taken...ever. I created a big scene wth the people at the front entrance (where they take your picture before allowing you to come in), demanded to go on the "short tour" (straight to the tasting room, instead of spending an hour walking around the building), and confronted anyone who took a photo near me in the tasting room, because I was photo-phobic. Being Susan was dramatic and fun in a fucking-with-strangers sort of way. I only wish that I had bought the tour photo, I was pretty cranky-looking and massively glare-y.

So. I think it might be time to start looking at acting classes or lessons or what-have-you, because I do this sort of thing every few months. While it's super fun, I suspect I could channel this energy a bit more effectively. Anyway, this is one of the many ways I spend my free time when I'm not stuck in a practice room or running around town. The end.

An Erinku:
After leaving
Coors,
I went out and
bought PBR.


"Susan thought this was hysterical and (in a fit of irony) took a photo of it."

Cough Syrup of Awful

There is a terrible invention called Fruit Punch Vodka. It's pink and cheap. And you think "oho! Ten bucks! AND I won't need to worry too much about a mixer, because it has the juice stirred right in!" And this is a good thought. Until. Until you realize that it tastes...exactly...like generic flavor cough syrup.

And then you rationalize it by thinking of how you've been cough-y for a few weeks anyway and you power through an inch or so each week. And you drink it slowly, because it's gross. And then, to be funny, you tape a post-it note to the front claiming that it's your cough syrup. This doesn't change the taste. It's still gross.

After a month (or two or so), you realize that there is only a wee little bit left in the big bottle. And you put on your big-girl pants, toss some taquitos in the toaster oven, and drink some of your "cough syrup" while typing up a proposal for a final class project. It's still gross.

And now, I'm staring at the bottle because there is just one more awfully terrible shot left. It's gross. My taquitos are nearly done cooking. And I think...I'm almost ready to just finish this awful pink mess and just let it be gone forever. Until then, I look and wait for my taquitos to finish.

An Erinku:
so many
computer wires
FINALLY
the one to my camera!


picture from early January...after the enthusiasm for drinking cough syrup had long faded.

Pirates, ahoy!

Last week, somewhere on the great internet, I was reading an article about cool things bodies can do. Among things like wiggling ears and whatnot was the reason that pirates wore eyepatches. I always figured it was because they lived in close quarters and had a bunch of sharp objects around and that they were the reason folks say things like, "It's all fun and swords until someone loses an eyeball!"

But no. It turns out that old-timey ships were dark inside and that running back and forth from bright sunshine to dark inside results in a bunch of bonked knee-caps...until you figure out that by closing an eye before it adjusts to brightness, you can keep your night vision action going in that eye. Hence, eye patches.

I was astounded and really wanted to try this out. Since I'm not a pirate (yet), my only similar adventures are when it's the middle of the night and I want a glass of water or have to pee or something. So. I tried this experiment of using one eyeball in the bright and the other in the dark...and it totally worked! Creepy! Awesome! No bonked kneecaps!

I am so fond of this little factoid that I keep thinking about it and even my dreams last night were pirate-tinged. Except, in my dream, my friend was explaining how pirate romance novels are different than other romance novels: the authors put "your" into pirate cliches. As in, "Arrrr, I'll swab your deck," "Arrr, I'll shiver your timbers," and Arrr, "I'll scurvy your scallawag!" My dream-laughing at the last one is how I woke up today. And that, my friends, is how to romance a pirate and how not to bonk your kneecaps in the dark. The end.

An Erinku:
box of
soy nuts
so empty
so good

Yearly Check-Up

Woo-hoo, 2011 is done! As I’m going through and moving all my past blogs to one happy home: http://celloerin.blogspot.com/, I looked through this past year to remember what my adventures have been like. January started off with me still recovering from being epic-ill all December, while working my way through my cult class (with much whining on early morning Saturdays) and grumpily shopping for a spaghetti pot. February brought out-of-town visitors, using Colin Firth as measurement (as in, I walk 40 Colin Firths to work), and losing hairbrushes in mighty battles with my long, tangled locks.

March brought finals and the end of the cult class, my being stuck in an elevator, a trip to China (with my first experience of ass-less chaps, sadly, not in a sexy way), and the brilliant realization that my accent sleeps like a bear, only to pop up unexpectedly. April featured my new Bollywood-loving neighbor (who I miss), me alternately being pissy with whiny people and then being whiny myself, being a stress-ball with school and running off for a weekend to Glenwood Springs, getting contacts, losing an ex-boyfriend encounter, and ending the month with the infamous "Evil Stinky Dolphin Bowl."

May was about observations on "Choose Your Own Adventure" (and how I didn't get the happy endings, but mostly often fall into pits of angry kangaroos, instead), how hard McGuyver's everyday life must be, and why I can never remember what I'm shopping for when I go into a store. June started off with year-end finals, my trip to Costa Rica, a trip to Saint Louis, a grim anniversary of 18 months after being diagnosed with PTSD, my interpretation of football rules, and another jaunt into summer-school-land.

July had a wedding of two of my old Niwot Orchestra crowd (yipee!). The rest of the month involvd more crankiness with more classes and homework, being saddened working events with students at my day job (one type of intolerance displayed while professing a different type of tolerance), and the resurgance of my addiction to Nutella. Classes finished in August, I ran off to Portland to help record on my friend's cd, and my day job picked up steam with massive amounts of hours. However, through all this, I learned my body's instinct to all dangers encountered while sleeping: bouncing on the bed.

September started off with the typical chaos of working at one school, attending another, with both beginning the new year on the same day. I went to baby shower, played a few gigs, named a new medical condition "Riker's Syndrome" (where Riker from Star Trek: Next Generation, gained weight through the series by eating for himself and for his beard...which is why I try to shave my legs routinely to prevent Riker's Syndrome) and started up with another quarter of way too many classes and rehearsals.

October, I mostly kept my nose to the cello and performed an incredible amount (focusing more on the performance aspect of my degree and less on the musical side, it seemed). November was more of the same, but with finals thrown into the mix. Then away for Thanksgiving week, with shopping trips to Trader Joe's (and many cookies from Trader Joe's, too), and many restful days before heading home again to gear up for my recital boards.

December had me passing my boards, in spite of cutting my finger in a ridiculous way (as opposed to cutting myself with on a knife), more boring self-reflections, a general slowing down of life, being lazy and wishing everyone a "Happy Merry," ending the month with an out-of-town trip to Glenwood Springs (again), and ringing in the new year at an awesome concert back down in Denver.

I find doing a big overview helps me see past the end of my nose once in a while, since I'm usually camped out in a small room with a cello for company. It's nice to remember that I do run around and adventure sometimes. Overall, 2011 was more of a "meh" year for me. I learned:

1. I have a lot in common wth the Little Engine that Could. In spite of thinking about dropping out of school most days, I've been a plodding ass and now only have two classes, one recital, and one final written project left. Dropping out now would be pretty lame after all the work I've already done.

2. I'm getting better at cooking. Finally. I can even, sometimes, make a real meal without fire and smoke alarms and whatnot.

3. I'm not looking forward to the quarter starting in a few days.

Not all the things I've learned are deep. It's been funny to read over all my old blogs as I move them all to their new home. I used to have more free time and was angsty about completely different topics. But life moves forward, you have new adventurings, meet new folks (and drop old acquaintences), and the kaleidoscope of life rotates forward with new prettiness and purple sparkles to be. Welcome to 2012!

An Erinku:
sunlight
sneaking through blinds
yellow stripes
on the floor