My Life in Eb Dorian

My supervisor has been telling me lately that Eb Dorian is the one of the best keys in which to lead group improvisations. Although I understand his rationale for saying so, I'm not sure that I buy it. I have a sneaking suspicion that he may just be trying to intimidate me into learning all of my modes. (Incidentally, and perhaps in support of my hypothesis, this is the same supervisor who prefers to be addressed as "Lord Vader.") Anyway, I feel like in my life lately I have been "improvising" in quite a few unfamiliar modes. Much of it has been good, some of it hasn't been so great at all. I'd argue that lately my learning curve has been quite high, and has included both expected and unexpected lessons.

I can hardly believe that I've now been in my internship for three entire weeks! While I can't say that I'm surprised that I've learned musical skills and groupleading skills, I am a little shocked that I've learned to parallel park, as well as the "professional" response to a client who asks if you will be doing lap dances at the next day's group. (I can only hope that these types of comments will not become a frequent occurrence...) Other than these small details, I LOVE being an intern and am excited to see what the next 6 months will bring.

One thing that would fall under the "not-so-great" category is that my grandmother has been very sick lately. I've been at the hospital 3 of the past 5 nights, and it seems to me that she has aged 10 or 15 years in the past week and a half. Tonight while I was visiting her, I recounted to her the sad tale of my horrific internet service eating last night's blog entry alive. I tried most valiantly to explain to her what a blog was, since she had never heard of such a thing. Evidently I did a poor job, because the first thing she said was, "Oh, well I bet you can incorporate some of your blog into your thesis!!" I am laughing just imagining the kind of questions my thesis defense committee would have for me if I plunked this thing down on the table for them to read. "So tell us Erinn, why should we give you a master's degree? Clearly you haven't actually learned anything!" I think I'll try to keep technology out of my future discussions with Grandma. Don't even get her started on her opinions about using cell phones. Much to my chagrin and annoyance, I can now recite her exact feelings verbatim.

Other than interning and visiting my ailing grandparents, it seems that my summer calling includes both being in weddings and attending wedding-related events. Wedding participation is both an immensely enjoyable and expensive hobby. I have noticed a somewhat curious trend lately. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that only married, engaged, and seriously attached people attend weddings. Statistically, logically, and reasonably, I know this can't possibly be true. It always pains me to get the feared "And Guest" written next to my name on an invitation and realize that I don't even know any single men I could possibly invite. Even at work, I have yet to come across even one unmarried/uncoupled man (well, save the angelic-looking Catholic priest intern)! This new trend is alarming to be sure, but there is nothing that can be done about it. For now, I'll just smile bravely and double my shares of stock in wedding chapels and reception halls. That way, by the time I'm old and gray, I'll also be rich enough for some much-younger guy to marry me for my money. ;-)

Error #3

I would like to report to my readers in blogger land that I have just spent the past one and a half hours crafting a well-written and informative blog entry, which, I might add, was long overdue. However, due to my defective wireless internet which I hereby HATE, the entire thing was erased during the publishing process. Since I have to get up in 6 hours, there will no recrafting of the entry at this juncture. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused my favorite readers.

TIHL #12 How To Be A Nine-To-Fiver

I believe it was last Tuesday at 5:53 am that I became acutely aware that my life of leisure had come to an end. As I stared in disbelief at this offensive beeping object blaring at my bedside, I realized that I was about to assume a new identity as a Regular Person, with a Real Job. (Of course, most of these Regular People are rewarded with some sort of monetary compensation at the end of a two-week period, but that's just details...) Gone were the days of rolling out of bed at 9:00 am, gradually acquiring the energy to work out at around 10:00, and then enjoying a multi-functional "meal" of sorts around 11:00. Gone were the days of spending the whole afternoon running countless errands and watching Jeopardy. Suddenly, I was transformed into an a full-time, unpaid laborer known as an Intern.

Despite getting up at such an unreasonable hour, I was still feeling fairly perky as I cruised down I-94 that morning. I had triumphantly managed to rise above my genetic destiny and was actually running 20 minutes ahead of schedule, believe it or not. I had to be there at 8:00, and it was 7:41 as I passed the front of the UGSC building. Since I'd seen a map of the designated employee parking lots the day before, I was not worried about the prospects finding a suitable parking spot. I couldn't believe my luck as I pulled into a spot directly next to the back door. As I turned my car off, I heard several loud honks from behind. I turned around to see a guy shaking his head and gesturing at me in a peevish fashion. I pulled out of the spot and rolled down my window. The guy explained to me that although I could not, in fact, park in any of the spots in that lot, there was another employee lot "just across the 94 bridge." Well, I drove as far down that street as I would have been willing or able to walk, and found no such parking lot. A good 14 minutes and possibly a tear or two later, I happened upon a third lot labeled "UGSC Employee Parking Only." I hastily parked in spot number 12 and dashed for the back door. Since the elevators there are infamous for being slow, I decided that I would just sprint up the 8 flights of stairs to the orientation room. It was 7:59. The door was locked with a key code, but I was pretty sure I had memorized all the different codes for the entire building. However, none of them happened to open this particular door. After pounding on the door for a few minutes, I realized my only option was to sprint back down the 8 flights of stairs and take the elevator. Naturally, only the left-hand elevator goes to floor 8, and only the right-hand elevator continually opened as I frantically pushed the "Up" arrow. Luckily a janitor (who was coincidentally named "Angel") explained to me that by pressing the Up and Down arrows at the same time, I could convince both elevators to open. Breathless, I finally arrived at the orientation just a couple of minutes after 8:00.

The first question our orientation leader asked was "Did everyone find a parking spot ok?" I told her that after much ado, I had parked in spot number 12. "Oh no, you're not allowed to park in the numbered spots! Those are reserved!" She told me that I would have to wait to move my car until the first break of the morning. As luck would have it, I did not get towed. Thus began my first morning as a intern.

Since then, I have learned where, as well as how, to parallel park on the street. What I have not learned is how to get mcuh sleep when one must arise at such an early hour. My body apparently does not believe in going to sleep before 12:00 or 12:30, although it does believe that approximately 8 hours of sleep are is necessary for normal functioning. Fortunately, my office is merely a stone's throw away from an overpriced source of Diet Coke. I'm sure I will get used to this new schedule as time goes on.

Luckily, the work that I will actually get to do is wonderful! My supervisors are fantastic, knowledgeable, and approachable people who are really great at what they do. (However, one of them did call me an "old lady" when I couldn't keep up with him climbing to 8th floor, taking the steps 3 at a time....) Apparently I will no longer need to work out, as I have a built-in exercise session just getting from one group to the next. I'm confident that this new lifestyle should offer plenty more of its own benefits, (for instance, no homework!) once I figure it all out! And someday, when I am important enough, I'm going to get me one of those reserved parking spots.

Fourth of July Weekend

Ah, the 4th of July weekend. Nothing says "summer" to me quite like that particular holiday. It always seems to me like the rest of summer just evaporates once that weekend has passed. (Well, for all intents and purposes, my summer, or at least the break part of it, is over this Sunday! I'm excited to be starting my new internship, but I'm sure going to miss rolling out of bed around 9:00 most mornings...) All the barbecues, parades, parties, and fireworks displays seem to invite a carefree summertime feeling. That enthusiasm was somewhat squelched by the fact that I worked a long 10-hour day on the 4th, but I still had a great weekend.

After working and a batchelorette party on Saturday, I headed up to Duluth with my girls for a night in the wilderness. I historically have not been the most valuable member of any camping trip, as I really know nothing about building fires or pitching tents despite my obscene number of years as a Girl Scout. I did, however, discover a few things I am good at. First, I can make fantastic scrambled eggs. I spent a good hour over the portable Coleman stove whipping up a dozen and a half, and they may have been my finest effort ever. (Somehow, everything tastes better when you have to cook it outside.) Second, I can provide even and thorough sunscreen coverage to people's backs. I'm not sure if this qualifies as a skill, but I did it alot, and I will take what I can get. Third, I managed to dump the chunky dirty dishwater down the toilet without gagging or vomiting. This may not seem like a huge accomplishment, but after years of making other people wash my dishes because I couldn't stand the water, this is a large step in the right direction.

Besides cooking, applying liberal amounts of sunscreen, and getting poured on overnight, we also went "hiking" around Gooseberry Falls. We saw some beautiful scenery, but our wilderness experience was somewhat interrupted by the fact that we kept losing the trail and ending up in parking lots. I'm not certain how this happened, as I was not even in charge of the navigation. Perhaps the area is getting too camper friendly and no longer provides the out-of-doors adventure that it once did.

After returning home about 24 hours later, I spent all day working at Sunrise. Very little actually happened during my 10 hours there, so I made a game of doing my job as inefficiently as possible. Why make one trip back to the kitchen with a tray of coffee cups when you can carry each one individually? What is the point of quickly jotting down a phone message when you can laboriously script each letter in your finest penmanship? Why locate a different paper shredder when you can spend a total of two and a half hours unclogging the first one with only a scissors, a pen, and a paperclip? (For the record, I did eventually get the paper shredder to work, but I'm not sure the scissors fared quite as well.) You too could be embarking on these activities, should you ever get a job that does not allow you the luxury of a computer on your desk.

What Fourth of July celebration would be complete without fireworks? Several friends and I decided that the St. Paul fireworks were the way to go, and for some reason I was nominated to drive down there to the Taste of Minnesota. (I just learned from a friend this weekend that all of my friends were afraid to ride with me throughout the duration of high school! Honestly, I didn't think I was ever that bad!) The trip there was fairly uneventful, aside from a slight misinterpretation of the word "Yield." We found a ramp that was a mere 1o (ok, maybe 4) blocks from our approximate destination, and cleverly parked near the entrance for a quick getaway. Our first snafu came as we tried to enter the Taste of MN. Our ability to get onto the grounds was somewhat inhibited by what appeared to be some kind of gang fight halfway down the block. We decided to retreat in the opposite direction. Fortunately, we encountered a group of policemen downing corn dogs nearby, as some young Taste of MN volunteer with a whistle that could shatter glass roared by on her golf cart to break up the fight. Hmm.

The fireworks were spectacular! We could have gone without the somewhat cheesy narration in the background, but the display was worth it. The entire half hour was comparable to the finale of the fireworks show that I'd seen growing up. After it was over, we made our way through the two bazillion people to our primo spot in the parking ramp. As it turns out, we were just a little bit too late. There was already a ginormous line of cars waiting to get out, and none of them seemed to be willing to take pity on a poor little Corolla and let me into the line. We spent 45 minutes in the parking ramp, trying to find the right moment to aggressively pull out into the line. We smiled and gestured at the people around us, hoping that one of them would befriend us and let us in. We played the honking game with at least a dozen other cars. After a while, people started getting out of their vehicles. One drunk-looking man pounded on our window and demanded that we roll it down. We tried our best to ignore him and looked very engrossed in my car's owner's manual. One friend tried to convince me that although the "Fuel empty" light had recently come on, I still had another 60 miles to go. The manual failed to weigh in on this argument, although it did tell me that the fuel tank is either 13.2 gallons or 11 "Imp. gallons." I'm fairly sure that we measure in Imp. gallons around these parts, meaning that I had literally no gas left. Running out of gas would have only added to the night's adventure.

Eventually, (about 1 hour later) we made it to the Holiday station, where we filled my car with approximately 10.8 Imp gallons of gas. We made it home around 1 am without too much more ado. It was definitely a memorable evening! Maybe next year we will find a less cosmopolitan location at which to view the fireworks. Of course, what would be the fun in that?