Wednesday, December 19, 2012

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

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

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