you've missed me, haven't you?

Wow. It's been quite a while since I posted. For those of you who dutifully awaited my each and every blog with bated breath, I profusely apologize. Much  has occurred in the almost 2 years since August 2011. I'll attempt to be brief (not my strong suit, as demonstrated by my earlier writings).

Disclaimer: if we speak regularly at all, you likely already know much/all of this.

• In August of 2011, I accepted a job teaching 1st-12th grade general and vocal music in a small town in Minnesota. It did not go well. I was very stressed. An 8th grade girl told me I was going to get shot because I confiscated her cell phone. Later, her friends told me that this same student often lamented that I was stupid and fat.This type of student-on-teacher bullying was not all an uncommon occurrence at the school district. Something happens to many kids when they get into 5th grade.  They go through their awkward/horrible person phase. Needless to say, with my stress levels increased (even beyond that of working in liturgy), my cortisol levels did as well. If you don't know what cortisol does in your body, I'll tell you. It makes you fat. I got kind of fat again. It's difficult to take care of oneself when you struggle just to stay above water in terms of your work. Thanks for the extra load on my heart, B. Area School District. 
• While I worked in B, I lived in Pine City, Minnesota, with my dear darling friend BM. He's a great friend to have (loyal, funny, intelligent, etc.), but a terrible influence on my drinking behavior. My liver hadn't worked as hard as it did in the 2011-2012 academic year since the most salacious semester I spent at St. Cloud State (Spring '08). That's saying something. Honestly, I can't totally blame BM for my temporary alcoholism, as it was due in large-part to self-medicating.
• Summer 2012 brought job and residence changes. I moved home to Glenwood with my mom and one of my sisters (7 years my junior) for the first time since 2004 (the summer between sophomore/junior year at Carthage). I'm not proud of the amount of time I spent playing Temple Run on my phone, mostly in an attempt to beat my 16 year old brother's high score. Nor am I proud of the fact that most mornings, I didn't get up until 9am or so, and waited until 12noon or later to put on pants. I'm not proud that I spent more time watching entire seasons of Gossip Girl on Netflix, rather than reading books. There was also that one time I went to A&W without having showered for a couple of days and wearing my brother's NASCAR t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.  I'm definitely not proud of that. It's a good thing I didn't run into anyone I know. Even my sister K was embarrassed. I'm sure my mother would still express her disgust at the memory of such days.* As such, I will be seeking employment this summer (2013), so as to avoid a repeat of the self-loathing/stupid-ifying summer of 2012. Also, my dad got remarried. His new wife is closer to my age than his. I'm still in the adjustment period, and probably will be for the next 20 years.
• I was offered a couple of elementary music teaching positions over the summer (PHEW! No more 8th graders! And don't even get me started on high schoolers!), and I ultimately accepted a K-4 music job in Perham, Minnesota. It was one of the better choices I've made in my "adult" life.
• Summer/fall 2012 also brought the more official launch of E.T.G. photos, my serious hobby/business adventure. I'm really enjoying taking pictures of babies and kids and families and documenting weddings. Preggo? Engaged? Hire me?
• I recorded an album of Christmas music with an extraordinarily talented friend and musician. We donated/will continue to donate proceeds to this amazing organization. Buy one (a CD, that is). 
• Since moving to the Perham, Minnesota area, I've been re-learning how to live in rural lake country. The closest Target store is 45 minutes away. It's always 10 degrees cooler here than in Minneapolis. Minneapolis... is 3.5 hours away. It might as well be in Canada for as often as I'm able to get there. Speaking of Canada- Canada is just 4-5 hours away from here. Dating here is difficult, even when trying to fish in the online dating pool, where you can easily filter out some of the less stellar choices. Most  All single men here are more than likely younger than me and are sons of coworkers or sons of friends of coworkers. They work for their dads and went to NDSU or Moorhead State. I'm not saying it's bad- but it's different. It's very, very different. For amusing anecdotes and horror stories, stay tuned into future blog posts.
• It's sounding as though I'll be in Perham again for another school year. That's a good thing. I like it here. The students, staff, work environment, and community are all consistently pleasant. The level of cortisol flowing through my bloodstream is at a much more healthy level than during my time at BAHS. Thanks for aiding in my 30+ pound weight loss, Perham-Dent School District. You are literally saving my life. Cheers!

*One afternoon, my mom "dropped trou" in the living room and exclaimed, "Look! I'm Erin!" just to put me in my place.

avian flu

Today I received one of those subscription emails from a salon I used to frequent. I usually delete these without hesitation when I see them in my inbox, but something about the subject line caught my eye- "feather extensions."


"What are feather extensions?'" you ask, and I must admit did the same thing.


I had preconceived notion (envisioning voluminous hair extensions that feathered out, like the style made popular in the 1970s by Hollywood star Farrah Fawcett, may she RIP), but that was quickly proven to be wrong when I saw photos similar to these :

Sweet, right? I think so. I think I could easily rock this look, or something similar, even at the risk of looking like ke$ha, a currently trendy pop "singer."

Of course, like any good 20something who often doubts herself, I forwarded the email to a handful of friends/family members, asking them whether or not I could pull this look off.  The responses varied from "probably, but what about [your church] job?" to "hot! and dangerous!" Best of all, though, was my sister K's witty commentary, as seen below. Cleverness runs in the family.

Ew. Avian flu. Pruning. Other birds try to hump you. Suddenly bursting out in whistles that sound like common songbirds. I don't advise this. --KG, March 22, 2011

Whether or not I have changed my mind will remain to be seen, but K's response put an entirely different spin on the the "hottest new look in hairstyles." I prefer that a winged animal not attempt to copulate with or on me during my next walk outside. And, while the risk is very, very highly unlikely, I do not wish to die a premature death at the hands of a disease most commonly affecting poultry.

P.S.  Do me a favor again and click on an ad- any ad. Doing so helps to put food on my table and (expensive) gas in my car.

a father's wisdom

on the phone...

me: Dad, what took you so long to call me back? What have you been doing?
my dad: Well, Erin, I've been busy. Busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger with crabs.

Here's Dad, relaxing in the house just after Christmas, in his favorite spot- the recliner across the room from the television (most likely tuned into Lifetime Movie Network). He was sporting his long johns (sans pants) as there had been a cold snap that week.

thirty

With my 27th birthday looming just less than a week away, I find myself having miniature, short-lived existential crises as of late. 27. Just 3 years away from 30. Mid-late-20s. Late 20s. Oh, oh, goodness. Late 20s? Seriously? My mom had already birthed me at this age, and was probably already planning child #2 (who came in the form of my lovely, always entertaining sister Ashley Ann when my mom was 28). No, no thank you. Because of my work schedule, I need a second dog-sitter to dog-sit the dogs I'm dog-sitting. I haven't the slightest clue as to how I could work my own progeny into the mix.

Of course, I sometimes experience the 20something single girl blues. You know which ones I'm talking about- the...

"woe is me, I have no boyfriend" or 

"if I don't start having children soon, I'm going to be an old mom" or 

"why can't I attract straight men like I attract gay men?" or 

"if that mean girl can get a boyfriend, so can I" or

"only my cat truly understands me" 

...thoughts that tend to creep in after a long, solitary Friday night of binging on red wine, pizza, chocolate, and rom-coms starring Sandra Bullock on Netflix's instant watch feature that you're too embarrassed to admit made you shed a tear or two.

"They" say that 30 is the new 20. If this modern adage turns out to be accurate, then I shouldn't be worrying so much about being "behind" my peers. 

Nonetheless, I feel more compelled than ever to just do the things I've been putting off for one reason or another. Whenever I feel anxious or troubled about the future or a big project at work or school, or am just having difficulty articulating myself, I like to make lists. This situation is no different.

Thirty Things Before I'm Thirty 

(if I really mean to attain completion of this list, I need to work at a rate of ten items per year- doable?)

1. Spend more time with my remaining grandparents- make audio recordings of our conversations about their youth.

2. Sponsor a child through a mission organization.

3. Go to London for the Proms classical music festival, held yearly from mid-summer to early fall (this might have to wait for my "Forty Things Before Forty" list, as trans-oceanic flights are not cheap and I work for a church).

4. Visit my friends in far-off places (Arizona, Atlanta, Boston and South Carolina, specifically speaking)

5. Scan and electronically preserve all photos taken in my immediate family before the miracle known as digital photography was invented and made accessible to the general public. 

6. Live by myself.

7. Learn to knit.

8. Lose thirty pounds.

9. Chaperone a prom.

10. Establish a photography business.

11. Pay off thirty percent of my student loans (have you noticed a theme yet?).

12. Sing in a band. A soul/funk/folk/bluegrass/rock/jazz/gospel/hip-hop inspired band. Jam. Gig it up in bars and outdoor festivals. Record an album.

13. Make my first entry into... Canada.

14. Keep a plant alive for a remarkable length of time (remarkable for me would be two months, and bulbs don't count).

15. Start composting.

16. Refinish a coffee table top with all the corks and beer bottle tops I've been saving for the previous 3+ years.

17. Buy myself a "right hand ring"

18. Meet Tina Fey.

19. Organize a family vacation with my dad, Pat.

20. Go on a hermitage retreat.

21. See Beyonce in concert.

22. Go through the entirety of my (current storage) 2034 MB-sized gmail account. Delete unnecessary archived items.

23. Convince a straight man to love and be devoted to me in the same way some of my dear darling gay man friends do.

24. Be more fully healed of the anguish caused by my parents' divorce.

25. Spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with family, rather than at church. 

26. Send more birthday cards to friends and family. For an entire calendar year, do not miss one birthday of those most important to me. Mail cards to the intended recipients on or before their birthday. Tape $1 bills into the card.

27. Go blonde for the summer.

28. Make a pie. From scratch.

29. Take a community ed pottery class.

30. Publish a humorous memoir.

Whew. I better get started.

Sept 18, 2007

I searched my gmail this afternoon for my sister's address, using the term "Ashley parker" because my sister Ashley currently lives in Parkers Prairie. The search yielded no archived address, but there was a little gem of an email that I'd written to my friends (among them, a friend named Ashley). I am amused at my ramblings, but a little disturbed by the candor. Have I always been guilty of sharing "TMI"? I think the 2007 version of me is pretty funny- a bit odd, but endearing.

Thanks, Gmail, for unlimited storage, archiving, and a search bar within email.


Following is a direct "copy and paste" of an email I sent to a handful of college girlfriends on September 18th, 2007 at 10:15am (no doubt from my work desk):

My feet stink. It's the shoes I'm wearing, rather actually. But the stink transfers. I wore them too many times without any sort of socks, so now they're gross, even though I dumped some antibacterial citrus febreze in them. Maybe I should dump body spray in them now? Will the alcohol kill the stink? or should i rinse them out with hot water? they're only payless shoes and it's not like the outer is made of real leather- it's a man-made material.

I just discovered "google scholar" and I'm pretty excited.

For breakfast, I had an english muffin with roasted garlic hummus. The hummus was a bit runny compared to what I'm used to- disappointment. Also, I had lime yogurt with granola. I love granola and yogurt. It's my new favorite food.

On my Starbucks cup this morning: "childhood is a strange country. It's a place you come from or go to- at least in your mind... It's like a little sealed-vault country of cake breath and grass stains where what you do, instead of work, is spin until you're dizzy."

I miss my childhood.

I had dinner with my mom last night at "my" vietnamese place. I don't think she appreciates the Vietnamese the way I do. I love Vietnamese and Thai food. My favorite Vietnamese food is the bowl soup with clear noodles and pork and seafood. And fresh spring rolls. The best part is the fresh mint leaves and cilantro. Anyway, Julie (age 49) tried to tell me she was going to date a 35 yr old man and I didn't really care and then she said she made it all up to test the waters but I don't think she really actually made it all up. There is a 35 yr old out there somewhere from match.com who my mom is thinking about making out with.

I got Megan Dieschbourg and Trevor Parker's "Save the Date" card in the mail yesterday. They're getting married July 11, 2008. I can't believe we'll all be 24/25 within the next 16 months.

pre-planning

Some girls fantasize about their wedding day, pre-planning down to the most trivial detail, long before they even meet the man who will eventually become their spouse.

I, on the other hand, am pre-planning my funeral liturgy, along with a few other major details surrounding the conclusion of my life here on earth.

This might seem shocking to most- why would a seemingly healthy 26 yr old woman be contemplating her own death? Do I really foresee an unfortunate, gruesome, and untimely demise for myself? Hopefully not, but anything is possible, and pre-planning will save me much agonizing over whether my family will force "How Great Thou Art" and "On Eagle's Wings" on those who attend. Am I unusually morbid? Do I have an obsession with the macabre? Absolutely not.

Still yet, a few readers may be puzzled as to why these thoughts are occurring to me in the first place. I'll tell you why: funerals. I'm in funerals up to my eyeballs. Approximately 7 months ago, I began working full-time as the music and liturgy director at an aging Catholic parish in St. Cloud. I had been warned that we have a high incidence of funerals at this particular faith community, but I was not prepared for the almost weekly onslaught that seems to have taken hold. Since January 1, I have had to plan the liturgies for 8 people. I wonder if I shouldn't go into the business of it all, considering. Because so many people seem to choose the same "comforting" songs so often, they have little, if any meaning for me at all anymore. Whilst sitting at the bench of the piano or the chair for the cantor at all of these funerals, my thoughts often stray to the future, and with great frequency, the future affair of my end.

What I do not want:
-wailing and gnashing of teeth
-the notion that I've become an angel- people do not become angels...
-an elaborate coffin (if preservation of my body is preferred by my loved ones, I wish for them not to waste their money on anything but a simple, wooden box, perhaps even wrapped in a favorite quilt- I believe in as green a burial as possible- in fact, why not bury me by the tree I planted in first grade on the farm where I grew up- the place from whence I came?)
-if cremated, please do not place my remains in a conspicuous spot in someone's living room; it's not healthy to not let people go
-How Great Thou Art, On Eagle's Wings, You Are Mine, Be Not Afraid, Amazing Grace, Shepherd Me O God, Wind Beneath My Wings, The Rose, Ave Maria (Schubert, Bach/Gounod, or otherwise), Here I Am, Lord (unless sung by a good choir, arranged by Ovid Young), Hail Mary, Gentle Woman, Prayer of St. Francis, God Is Watching Us, Shine Jesus Shine, In the Garden, Softly and Tenderly, Our Father (Albert Hay Malotte), Panis Angelicus (Franck), etc., etc.

What I would like:
-music to be chosen from the following (or similar pieces): Earth and All Stars, All Creatures of Our God and King, I Know that My Redeemer Lives (Handel or DUKE STREET), O God, Beyond All Praising or O Spirit, All-Embracing (set to THAXTED), Holy God, We Praise Thy Name (arrangement used by National Catholic Youth Choir), Bread for the World (Farrell), In Paradisum (Faure), A Mighty Fortress (for my inner Lutheran), Steal Away to Jesus (sung by the men of Cantus) or Deep River (sung by local gospel favorite Jearlyn Steele- if she's available), Precious Lord, Take My Hand, Walk in Jerusalem, etc., etc.
-a party held yearly at my gravesite, marking my death date, to celebrate my new baptism
-beer and other spirits served at my funeral luncheon/dinner, and a jazz pianist playing meal music
-much laughter and story telling
-a memorial scholarship established in my name at Carthage College, reserved for a financially despondent OR first-generation college student , majoring in music
-to be buried sporting a full face of makeup and my most fabulous pair of heels


Thus ends my death directive. Consider this a legal and binding document. Friends, family, I am entrusting you to uphold my wishes based on this virtual note, my blog.

Love you all, and good night.

grateful

I work for a church. There was a time when I swore I'd never go back into a full-time music ministry job, but here I am, six months into a new position and still alive, not having ended my life by my own hands in a fit of fury and frustration. I absolutely have days when my mind's eye sees me leaving after a staff meeting and never looking back, but ultimately, I am aware that it isn't the parishioners or choir members that I'm frustrated with, but rather the nuances and unspoken rules that govern Church (with a capital C) and the privileges that go hand-in-hand with priesthood.

What impresses me most about my current place of employment is how the people of the community so positively respond to Christ's teachings- to feed the hungry, clothe the naked and visit the sick. I see examples of this everyday.

During the Christmas season, parishioners donated cold weather items (hats, mittens, scarves, thermal underwear- "long johns," etc) to local organizations. By the end of December, there was a heaping mound of these items under the tree that decorated the back of the church. The van used to transport the items was filled, and I was particularly struck by how many of the items were handmade.

This week, the parish is "Church of the Week," which means that we are sponsoring those who seek food and shelter from the nearby Place of Hope. Parishioners take turns cooking meals for the people in Place of Hope's care, and at night they sleep in the school gym.

Wednesday evening, as I was cleaning up after one of the choir rehearsals and getting ready to go home, I started thinking of how it was going to be especially cold this week. In order to get to my office without going outside, I had to tiptoe through the gymnasium, where the homeless persons were bedded for the night. In the darkness, I heard the occasional whisper and position adjustment as people attempted to find comfort on a sleeping mat on a gym floor, covered only by the blankets available to them from the garbage bag allotted each person.

What circumstances led them here? What single event devastated their existence? What twists and turns in their lives took away shelter? Does a mental illness prevent some from regular employment, and therefore the inability to pay rent?

The last three years have not been easy ones for me, financially speaking. Not having even an inkling that the economy would take a nosedive, I quit my full-time job and took up a teaching certification program in winter 2008, planning on working a few part-time jobs to make up for my lost income. I lost track of the applications I filled out- trying for everything from waiting tables to office assistant and in desperation, even McDonald's. Things were extremely tight, and I somehow managed for the next few months on my tax return, PTO that I cashed in when I quit my job, and a meager $500ish/month that I made at a very part-time church conducting gig. Even after that, I struggled. Ultimately, I ended up juggling 2 different conducting gigs, teaching a class for adults coming into the Catholic church, and cooking at a chain restaurant. There were many times when I had to decide between gas and groceries or my car payment and rent. Without a doubt, not an easy time, indeed.


No matter my circumstances, however, I knew that if the struggle got to be too much, if I  had to, both of my parents would have welcomed me home in order to get back on my feet. If not my parents, then a grandparent or generous aunt and uncle or cousin. If not family, then friends.

Fortunately, I am employed full-time again, and life is less stressful (to a degree) than before. 

I have so much. Even though I still need to find creative ways to pay all my bills- mainly, student loans-  (LBA and I keep the house at a very chilly temperature in order to save on heating costs), I have food to eat in my refrigerator, a bed with many blankets piled on top to keep me warm, and clothes to wear. Personal possessions aside, I am richly and profoundly blessed with supportive, loyal, trustworthy friends and family.

And so, as I quietly walked through the gymnasium last Wednesday evening, I was reminded to thank God for all that I have and all that is to come.

virgin blogger

Hi. This is my first blog. I have been interested in blogging for quite a while, but could never seem to find the time nor the initiative to really start. Facebook, it seems, is becoming more and more public, despite advanced privacy settings; while I'd love to write "notes" via the social networking site, I cringe at the idea of all of my fb friends having access to said musings. I'm most certain that some of my ruminations may or may not inflame some people who I stay connected to on the site if only for networking purposes. I've already had a handful of flare-ups with extended family members who just can't seem to get past my political leanings, ideas about religion, or the humor with which I approach topics that some consider taboo. As a (student) teacher, too, I am nervous about creating material for the whole world to see that might jeopardize my employment with a district. However, I am confident that with good taste and proper disclosure, this shouldn't be a problem. Thus, I embark on a voyage into the world of blogging.

So, it is here that I will make an effort to start a record- simply of thoughts, stories, anecdotes, etc. I come from a very colorful immediate family, so that in itself should provide plenty of material to laugh over. I often make the comment to friends or family or even people I'm meeting for the first time (on awkward first dates- but dating is another blog topic in and of itself) that I will be writing a book of memoirs someday- perhaps more than one, even. Among my sisters and brother and myself, I am positive that we'll have enough material to fill multiple volumes on things my mother has told us, wisdom spouted from our Grammie, tales of the Gaffaney farm and more. It is my hope that my blog posts will provide the framework for which we base our memoirs.

Now I begin.