the image on top is "Welcome Home Sweet Sugar" by Kelsey Brooks

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Find Your Calling

I went to the second part of Lama Kimberley Theresa's workshop at the Yoga Shala. I had never been to the Shala before, nor ever met Kimberley, but both were very lovely.

Kimberley takes Eastern philosophy within a Western framework, making it easy to relate to for the busy city body.

But really, having a projector and asking people to take notes makes for a shift in the atmosphere to more academic, and serious. Particularly for those from four-year college, or more. For more reminiscence of college life in the city, she asks us all to do more lines, no pun intended.

For example, when discussing the various forms of spirituality, she draws three lines on the paper.

One for "I" spirituality- finding the light within. Meditation, contemplative prayer, yoga, 'focused exertion' I blurted out,

Then there was "You"- God, love, finding the light in others.

Lastly, there was the "We, It" spirituality- finding the light in nature, finding spirit in everything, from shamanism to environmentalism.

A complete spiritual practice, she says, incorporates all three of these elements.

After her class, I have resolved to meditate (out-of-yogic-context) for five minutes each day, go swimming, and SHADOW WORK SHADOW WORK SHADOW WORK.

I'll write a post on Shadow Work in a bit

Did you know?

You can actually bond with other people over your crush on a yoga teacher? Really.

5:30 Fridays

At Yoga Studio 6 LIC!

I can't wait! We are going to start in May, and Alicia may have LIVE music at my class, with chanting and singing. That would be amazing.

Ah, impatience. My old friend.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Employment, and LA

not related.

So. My audition with Yoga Studio 6 LIC was on Thursday and it went wonderfully. As in, we're going to talk about a permanent slot. Maybe Fridays at 5:30. Maybe Mondays at 8:15. I should know this week.



So, also Annie came by and will be writing an article for Yoga Vida. It will be up Tuesday. Annie is incredible. Downright amazing. (And she had awesome dress sense. What else can you ask for?).

Other things of relevance that have been taking up my mind.

I have a friend, Paul, STOTT certified pilates instructor (woot!) visiting from LA. Stress as I'm attracted to him: my mind on overdrive as I strive to override the need to be vain, to impress and entertain.

[That was more rhymes that I've used in a sentence in a while. Yeah, slam poetry at the nuyorican subtly influencing my mind.]

But it's so weird. Clearly, this is a new phase in my personal growth (yay?)- learning to deal with this situation.


Angela, owner of Mala, and Tamara emphasized that Mala is looking for loyalty in its teacher.

Here's my thing with loyalty:

1. I am absurdly loyal: in the long run. I will always support a person, or group of people, once I start to do so, in any way that I can. I promote, I help out, I stick by, no matter what.

2. ....in the long run. That means, although you can count on my support over a course of years, I am seriously considering going to the Hamptons for a month or two this summer. I will also be in Italy for two weeks this summer. Is that ok?

3. I am not exclusive. So, that means, I'll be seeing other yoga studios. And with continuing loyalties to Yoga Vida*, Yoga Studio 6 LIC, Yoga to the People (I haven't been there all WEEK. I am going tomorrow at noon) and not to mention I hope Shannon pulls something together for Fierce Club. Before I graduate, certainly, am I going to have time to go to Mala Yoga? (Or any other studio, for that matter?).

*by the way, I asked Yoga Vida if work/studying led to any increase in chances to teach, the answer was "no promises". I did think it was important to let people know that although YES, I want to help no matter what, and although I am quite broke, it's not discounted $5 yoga that's turning me on here. I do hope to take a greater role in the studio, hopefully teaching. And it is important to make those intentions known, so I never regret that.

Pineapple (Mala)

I saw Tamara again today, at Mala Yoga. It was my first time in the space, which I thought was wonderful, and certainly had a sincerity to it which I appreciated. It's tiny, yet developed, each inch cared for and catered to. I came to a community class, and everyone seemed an amiable lot. Taking Tamara's class was awesome- she's Baptiste-style and there is something about that specific type of practice that gets me. Also, Tamara sends you through an intense flow while always emphasizing a 'eh, whatever' that is just such a fun contrast. More importantly, I just get such a sense of authenticity from her. A rawness that's instant attraction. I tease that she's a lucky charm, given the lucky day I had after I met her.

I was a bit nervous because I had sent an e-mail to Mala, sensing an amiable vibe from them, and received a reply "come to class and see the studio". Reasonable. Well, after that I learned from Tamara that she was just starting to teach for Mala. So, I felt a bit like I was intruding on the territory of a new friend, but she just said, "Not at all, I love to share" (or something along those lines).


Talk about yogis. Speechless.

Monday, March 22, 2010


Happy Birthday to me! I'm teaching class tonight at The Fierce Club at 7:45-8:45. First time students, only $10, so come by!

I am also teaching at Yoga Studio 6 LIC on Thursday at 7!

Also, Lauren got me a website for my birthday. It's in beta, but it will be up soon!! Lauren is the most amazing human/ best wife ever.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Malin Landaeus

Owns a hand-selected vintage store on North 6th, and she has a warehouse on 6th and Driggs full of beautiful, amazing authentic period items from the past century. Designers and art directors find these pieces, and use them in movie sets or as inspiration for new lines.

Except, a few days ago, the entire warehouse caught on fire. And I mean, really, caught on fire. All of her wares are now burned, scorched and/or soaked in fire extinguishing fluid.

They are trying to salvage what they can, so if you live in Brooklyn, and read this blog, first off, you are amazing. Second, if you and a friend wanted to head down there, and help out, she'll be out there for a few days....

My principles are the purest of absurdity

Jazz is a synonym of absurdity. As is jive.

(as is the entirety of my existence. anyway)

So, it's turned out to be quite a ludicrous (and wonderful) week. The raindrop's tension broke on Tuesday, and from Wednesday I've been taking mental notes.


10:00 Rocked my interview. Actually, Alicia rocked my interview. I remained in awe. Alicia seems to embody all the philosophy I strive towards. I feel like I'm learning from her, and I also feel like she's taking care of me, a bit. It's interesting, and I like it a lot.
The G train didn't stall, so I didn't blow my morning interview. This, along with a phobia of having to pee during class, is one of my greatest fear with my new profession. Showing up ten minutes late to your yoga class is not the sort of thing you can shrug off, at least not in this city.

I leave early enough to catch Shannon's 12:30. Shannon's yoga studio is called The Fierce Club, the name speaks for itself, but much more so for Shannon's personality. If you are backpacking across Europe, Shannon is who you want with you.

And then she says, "Hey, I know you're a teacher, so would you like to tandem teach with me? I'll teach a vinyasa and you'll teach a vinyasa..."

"Sure", I say.

(Fuck, I think).

"Augh," she says, checking her mail, "My sub for the 6:30 class just canceled on me. My regular teacher can't come, and now my sub can't come, and it's like "Come on, guys, I have plans tonight!"

"....I can take that class off your hands", I say.

"Would you?" she says, "You're such a sweetheart".

YES. YES I CAN. noooo problem. Woah.

PS: It was the best class I have ever taught. It was incredible.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Comfort Words

I walk into Shannon's studio, after having e-mailed her and checked her schedule, "Hey, you're Shannon, right? I'm Mona- I sent you an e-mail, but I though I would come by.."

And the corners of her mouth pull down as she grieves, "We're closing!".

"I'm so sorry," I say. We talk about it for a little bit, brainstorm ideas for a dance space/studio she could rent. Then she says, I'm exhausted. I've been teaching since 7 AM- can I comp you a class for tomorrow?
Sure, I say.

I head over to the 9 PM and catch Tamara's Baptiste-style hot vinyasa at 38th st. Afterwards, we chat, and she asks me some question to which I might have given a slightly snippy answers- snippy, not snappy, so not mean, just brief. Intuitively, "I don't want to talk about how things are because I am unemployed and I feel desperate and rejected and I think that's negative/ a complaint, I wouldn't want to meet you that way". So I snip.

Tamara must be awful clever because she picks up on, and so we talk about finding yoga work in the city.

And it's hard, she says. It's really, really hard, and it takes a long time, but it will happen. She went through me step by step her own experience and I couldn't be more grateful. It is so nice to actually hear the nitty gritty reality of fuck, having to look for work in the city. In the midst of a recession like this one, it's amazing how much 'looking for work' is a topic that people rarely talk about. How amazing is that?


My mom has decided that when she retires, she's going back to school. I am so proud of her I can barely speak.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Breathe Me

It's incredible to watch someone's teaching practice evolve. It's a feeling I caught glimpses of during my training, but to know someone's teaching practice over that exact duration of time in which someone becomes is impressive.

Jeremy Green graduated one YTTP teacher training before me, and he has gotten ridiculously good.

I took his class on Friday, remember, the day I embodied rugged individualism by eating all of Jeremy and Emily's food, stealing their clothes, reading their books, using their computers, and getting a free yoga class in the deal. Not too shabby for an amateur.

Jeremy just got hired by a yoga studio that was interested in developing a hot yoga fusion, a mix of poses one might catch in both bikram and vinyasa. He designed the sequence, along with studio-manager-guy (I think) and I got to be its very first test subject.

Jeremy's teaching has changed profoundly, I wonder about the accuracy with which I pick this up. It could be, of course, that the way I was reacting to his classes and the expectations I've placed on myself have lessened. But for the sake of this exploration, let's isolate Jeremy's growth and reduce all other variables to nill. This is an exceptional assumption, not one to be made in other situation, and certainly not one to be gloated over ; )

Previously I've either been concerned or projecting that he was leaning too far towards self-monitoring and commentary, or too close to intense scrutiny- both of these habits now seem gone. Instead, his voice offers a gentle challenge offered while reserving no judgment (only humor) for what I could or couldn't do. Self-consciousness evaporated and ease incorporated.

The sequence started out with the best of bikram, the standing pranayama breathing, spine stretching, and one round of the majority of the standing sequence. The one round encouraged me to work infinitely harder in each pose, though at first I had a difficult time remembering that there wouldn't be another chance to follow. I think Jeremy has perfected a sense of perfect trust while teaching. Trust, elusive and intangible as it is, may be the most important thing a teacher can develop, whether you are guiding students into turtle or tree pose. I lost my temper a bit in a sequence of toe stand, as toe stand is apt to do and this is arguably a good thing. As a fellow teacher myself, I should do well to remember that the ability to balance two inches off one heel is by all accounts an absurd proposal.

I also got into full camel (which I have never done before) and royal pigeon (which I have never done without danger of knocking over innocent bystanders). Jeremy was much more pleased with these developments than I was, and, additionally, displeased that I did not share the pleasure. But I am very happy about it! My spine has never bent quite that much before, and that is certainly a result of either the sequence itself, or the focus I've been placing on squeezing my shoulder blades together and opening up my upper back.

At the end of it, I was completely and totally relaxed. This is pretty shocking, remember that I have actually spend the entire day indoors, and apart from these 90 minutes, I haven't moved. This is also strange because I don't like Bikram (it makes me lonely! and I don't know why!). But, no, I was all set. There was actually a bit of flow in the sequence, too. And a gloriously elongated floor series, and hip openers, and actually, almost anything I could think of was covered. Oh, except a neck stretch. Should totally add in a neck stretch.

Apparently, that whole sequence is being changed around anyway before next week (so it goes), but, hey, I'd like the honor of being the first to try out that one, too.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Child's Pose Visual

It's been a long-term romanticism of mine to be able to convey an experience to someone. This is arguably what the arts are all about, and from there I could proceed with a digression of whether that is a visual, emotional or intellectual experience. (Arguably, classicism, romanticism and conceptualism for visual art, I haven't a clue of patterns in music, movement or film).

This comes up a lot in teaching yoga, after all- you have only the slightest clue of what your students are experiencing. I've seen many teachers assume that what they feel in a particular pose is universal, and although empathy is great, the inaccuracy of that assumption is pretty profound. That's not to say that there are no similarities in our experiences, or that teachers can't highlight those (how boring that would be!). In fact, everything set aside, the transitive experience of yoga is one of the lovely things about it.

I think about this a lot when I'm in child's pose, when if someone snapped a photo of my view (note to self: do this), then they would catch a triangular curtain of black cotton thigh framing a slice of mat and then the rest of the room in all of its various activity. It's sort of fun to watch people in funny poses between your thighs. Just saying.

Mini-existential crisis (II)

Lately, in savasana, I've been having these flashbacks to acting classes I took in 5th grade, martial arts I practiced in high school. Hip openers?

Monday, March 15, 2010

Hiding in my friend's apartment.

I forgot to mention that the entirety of Friday took place in the rain.

There is nothing minor about this detail. It is no short secret of human existence that our moods and moves are based almost entirely off the weather. Just thinking about this makes me walk over to my vitamins and swallow Vitamin D.

Friday would have been the most absurdly fun day ever. I mean, come on, going to three classes a day, exploring new studios and an mind-blowing slam poetry session with Potus.

Brilliant. Minus the downpour.

Now, I love rain. I love drizzle, and hazy streets and that feeling of total calm and clean air.

Downpour is significantly less appealing. The only proper way to appreciate a downpour is to abandon time, space and productivity and cuddle on a couch, bed or other soft surface and give homage to the hard work of thousands of actors, producers, writers, art directors and other creative folk that make stuff for people to appreciate on such occasions.

And so I did. Hide, in my friend's apartment, the entirety of Saturday. All of it. I woke up at about twelve, and made banana-pecan pancakes, watched an episode of Boston Legal and then looked up yoga studios and made myself a schedule for the rest of the week. Jeremy left. Jeremy went to the gym, Jeremy went to a hockey party. And I hid in his apartment. I left once, to buy gum. I owe them groceries.

On a productive note, however, as I was huddling around Jeremy and Emily's kitchen table, I sent off e-mails to all the studios which I cannot afford to take classes at to find out if they were looking for new teachers. This is very effective, actually, and a good idea. I'm doing more of that now.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Condensed Yoga

So, yesterday was interesting. I started off with Michael Hewett's 10 AM packed class, which was great as always. Then, walked over to Abhyasa Yoga Center and took J. Brown's class. I read some of his articles online before I went, and I liked his ideas. The breathing-over-asana, practicing the mindset you want to create, non-guru based teachings. I liked it a lot.

I took his class, and he asks me "Do you teach a specific style of yoga?". "Power vinyasa", I said. "This is going to be a lot different than a power vinyasa".

It was. Angela would find it really interesting, it was, in J. Brown's words, "much more like yoga therapy, except that you don't have to be sick, it's for everyone". It was incredibly soothing, and oriented me in the present moment, enjoyable. The only trick with classes like that is that you don't get the little yoga high which is so uplifting, so after class I felt calm, but not ecstatic.

We had a lovely chat about existentialism after class. I got added to the sub list, so, yeah, fun stuff all around.

Then, I went off to Hosh to take a class there, in greenpoint. Hosh (XOS) is a new donation-based yoga in Greenpoint, NYC. I just found out it exists. That's pretty freaking cool. Kyle, a girl with whom I had talked about creating a donation-based space with, has been involved with it since February, which is amazing.

I need lists of creative, positive adjectives. My first yoga class, I couldn't stop using the word "wonderful". Take a half-life- wonderful!, and release. Come up to standing with your arms raised, wonderful!- shoulders down- wonderful!

It may have been a bit too wonderful.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Heart Space & Collarbones

Right after Lindsay's class last night at YTTP, I went straight to Go Yoga to catch Michael Hewett's class. I would like to apprentice under him, and though I'm not sure what that means since I can't adjust his classes or anything like that without a formal teacher training, I really want to learn from him and get some advice on how to be.

Even though it's something I have to figure out on my own. I know. You probably do, too. I know. It can be fun sometimes.

Michael kept getting me to squeeze my shoulder blades together down my back, and open up the area right around my collarbones.

That's your area of self-expression. It's the space you close up when you get hurt.

And, all of a sudden....I felt so abandoned. So incredibly abandoned. I suddenly remembered it being 2 AM in the morning the night before a final paper was due, and this kid- a friend of my roommate's... they were all going out, a whole group of her friends, but they met at her apartment first.

But this kid- I can't even remember his name- asked if he could linger on in the apartment. My first response was "Not tonight, I have to go to sleep and write an essay". But then two minutes later, he asked again, he asked if he could take a nap, just for twenty minutes, because he was so tired.

And I've been exhausted and relatively homeless in the city. Of course I said yes.

He lied down on the couch and then asked me if I had a plastic bag. And in a second I understood that he was not just tired, he was drunk- and dangerously so. He threw up, three times, mostly in bags with shocking accuracy, a bit on the couch and a roommate's boot. I cleaned the boot. I got him some water, and he was pale, and dizzy and either really cold or really warm (I can't remember).

I felt scared. Not scared, as in, someone will be angry, not scared as in, someone doesn't like me, not scared that I can't do it or I'm going to die (You know, my favorite fears). Scared as in, someone is hurt. Really scared.

And I didn't know what to do. Look up alcohol poisoning on my Iphone. Call someone.

"You're going to be ok" I tell him, "Have some water".

"Please don't call anyone" he says.

"I'm scared," I tell him (soothing voice). "I don't know how much you had to drink, and I don't know what to do".

"A lot. Please don't call anyone. Please. I got to go to work tomorrow morning".

"I understand and respect that, but I'm not sure. I'm not sure if I could deal with myself if I didn't" I told him.

"Don't call anyone. Please. Just be with me." (We do drama on the Mott St. Network, kids).

"I'm going to call 311" I told him "Not 911. I just want some advice".

I call 311. They tell me that I should call 911 if it's an emergency. Huh.

I want to call someone else, but I don't know who to call. It hits me: there is no one that I really trust. Any person who answers the phone is going to tell me to call 911, maybe even I would (would I? wouldn't I? would I? ....after a few moments in this hypothetical, I let it go).

You seek the advice of people who generally tell you what you want to hear. I told De La Vega that Sartre said that (he did), that's why I was asking advice at the "Become Your Dream" station.

I thought of calling Rich. He didn't pick up.

And I feel so abandoned. There is no one I can ask to tell me what I need to hear, what I know I need to hear: to trust my judgement and respect this drunk kid's wishes as long as he's coherent enough to make them. In a moment of real crisis, and real panic, I don't know who to call.

Who would I become if I just didn't want to deal with this mess, if I freaked out under pressure, got him taken away? After he said no. I don't do stuff after a person says no. Maybe life/death. I doubt this kid is on death's door.

He's thrown up three times, he's probably fine now, he's not passing out. I put him on his side, on my bed, on the covers. Held his hand. I intended to stay up the whole night, but I was feeling dead exhausted by now, finals week, and I wanted to lie down, too.

I positioned myself right next to him so I could tell if he was breathing, intending to rest my body but not my mind. After a long time of this, him breathing smooth, feeling better, I began to drift in and out of consciousness. I kept poking him to make sure he was ok. (I don't think he liked this).

He smelled like beer and liquor and started to nudge himself closer to me. I pushed away. I simultaneously took this as a sign that he was feeling better, but at the same time decided not to ascribe motives. After all, trying to cuddle next to someone when you feel miserably sick could be instinctual. I have no clue. I don't care. I maintained distance, but kept holding his hand. Drifted in and out of sleep.

In the morning he woke up, 8:40 AM, no joke, and went to work. I asked him if he would come back and help clean the couch later (very jesus-like), he said yes, I have no clue if he did or didn't, I just fell asleep. Roommates came home two hours later, loudly, I'm so beyond caring about anything- how could I explain what just happened and what would be the point? I just want it to be quiet.

- Now, that whole story didn't blow through my mind in my up-dog last night. In fact, I totally forgot about it until I was trying to blog it just now. But the feeling of abandonment did. Mixed with forty different kinds of wishing I could rely on someone. Knowing it's for the best that I can't. Crying through class : )

Michael at one point said things along the lines of "what would it feel like to actually become the thing you want to be? What would it feel like to envision a positive future? If you can't, notice that, what makes it hard. Tired of being in limbo". So much gratitude for those words. I felt like they were directed right at me, and if they weren't, that makes it all the more impressive. Ironically, he said that at the exact moment I was experiencing another kind of abandonment. For one moment of that day. But if you want an accurate description for how I feel when I'm not on top of the world right now- that's it. Dead on.

He also talked about thinking of class as pharmacology.

After class, I asked him "What pill was that?"

"The green one", he smiles.

De la vega

Has a new phone number, lost Greg's, and is generally a neat guy. I need to stop by more often.

Meeting in the park

I met with Megan Mook today. Yes, I got her name right, and she was wonderful. Interestingly enough, talking with her rooted me right in the present moment. She gave me a lot of good advice, a few teachers I need to hit up, and the book "How Yoga Works". She really reminds me of the kind of teacher that I want to be and is both so respectful and respectable. All smiles.


Holly has successfully bottled joy. That was freaking awesome, and incredibly inspiring.

Also, I ran into Laria on the street today! Guess who's going to Yoga Vida tomorrow?

Even my blog needs a mission statement

I'll look back at these moment and smile thinking 'ah, that was a journey'. I don't expect anyone else to really read this, cept amazin existentialist and body/soul united Jean Graybeal, but maybe one day.... One beautiful indeterminate day in the future, someone might as me "so, how do you teach yoga (read: find a job)?". And I'll be able to say something like "It was absurd. It was exhilarating and depressing, enlightening and anxiety-ridden, magical and challenging. And it was scary, and it took a long time. I took notes."

Monday, March 8, 2010

Patience is like Courage

It's tough for me to see people in my teacher training teaching class when I'm not.

I want to be happy for them. Part of me is. Part of me... not quite jealous, I know everyone's journey is different... part of me just feels left out.

So I came to Lindsay's class and saw Holly teaching, and Holly was so vibrant and positive and so clearly held the space- Why can't I do that, I think...

So I take a break and breathe a bit in child's pose, massage my neck and remind myself of stuff. Such as, Holly is incredible. And she's Holly. And you're you. And you'll get there. And if you allow envy to take over your practice, that's an active choice that's harmful for everyone. Don't do it.

If I truly believed I was on my way to teaching, then I would have only joy.

I grabbed a permanent marker and wrote "Patience is like courage, it just takes longer". A favorite quote that Liz, another YttP wonderful teacher, taught me. I wrote it right on my left hand so that I would see it as I practiced. It worked.


It was a tough weekend. Many of the things and people I love
were attacked by other people I love, which is my least favorite situation. Words are much better than weapons, so theres a lot of gratitude there. But still. Also, my actions and motivations came into questions. Actions that were true, I acknowledged. Actions that were false, I denied. Intentions I didn't hold I made clear of this. Intentions I did hold I maintained.

But that's not happening anymore, as Laria would say. I'm home in Brooklyn surrounded by the lingering presence of the love I've cultivated. I didn't lose my integrity. I didn't yell. I didn't lose my temper. I found things to love, and tried to balance the best I could. Sunday afternoon I ran the Brooklyn bridge, got some frozen yogurt, took Lilia's class, came home, cooked, did homework, had a friend come over and couch surf, went to class and continued.

Seamless. Grateful.


Out of order, but I think I should dedicate some time to describing the joy that flowed through my Thursday.

The positive deserves mention. Especially because that positive involves giving credit to an incredible array of people and events that deserve, deserve, deserve more love and gratitude than I can ever imagine.

Lindsay for getting me a class (I assume she did), showing me the ropes, the amazing class she taught right before, Natti being INSANELY supportive (Insanely, insanely, double-yoga and almost embarrassingly vocally supportive)- and as always, so much fun-, Jill for exchanging pants, My fantastic world dance teacher Kathryn Posin for giving me an extension, the really cool belly dancing class I taught with five minutes of prep and research, everyone in my dance class for being kick-ass, Roberto and Tyler for helping me clean up, David for getting me set up, Everyone in my class for being magical, Of Montreal for Oslo in the Summertime, the singing bowl, the vegan picante Natti and I got for love.


I taught class last Thursday. It was incredible, it deserves its own post and many more, actually.

Thursday was arguably the most elated day of my existence, I just woke up that way. And as your mood makes the weather, I found out on Friday that I am a nasty, impatient perfectionist (I will one day be perfectly rid of these qualities, of course). Friday wasn't as kind, but very arguably I didn't give it a chance. I woke up thinking, "Oh, today cannot possibly be as good as yesterday..."

That's not a path to success by any means.

Anyway, it took three hours of yoga to realize this, because I was busy ignoring the less satisfying (satisfiable) aspects of my being in favor of denial.

My first class was with Giada, a basic beginners. It was a slow class, I thought at first, but that's all right because I'll take another later on. Maybe I'll go running. I would really like to go swimming.

Despite the agitation, I should really consider this practice as a learning experience. Giada knows so much, and she's so calm. Learn from her. Learn from her, that's what you should do. Just breathe. It's not that hard, don't think when class will be over. Don't hate cobra. I hate cobra. Don't hate cobra.

And about halfway through it way pretty obvious that it was moving way too slowly.

Just like everything else.

Just like teaching, just like it being fucking March and I feel no where. And yesterdays class was NOT good enough.

David asked me to put on a playlist and I spent 20 minutes picking out songs, who was I kidding.
I didn't even clean up downward facing dog.
I rushed through every pose up till pidgeon, 'cept chair pose.
And maybe Greg had David listen at the door, or had someone in class. But no, of course he wouldn't, that would be an impressive and quite honestly, shocking, show of affection.

And I want to fucking teach, and I want to fucking teach at YTTP because that place fucking matters to me. And I have no way of getting Greg's attention and I want to fucking rip things to shreds.



I've got crush on a few teachers. And crush, not as in, I secretly dream about banging them (for the most part), nor do I keep my fingers crossed every day that they will invite me to the prom. It's more of an exaggerated belief that we have some magical connection between us, one that is communicated in small gestures, signs and symbols. And maybe, one day, an eternal union of our souls in nirvana. For my own health, I hope I'm joking.

Crush in the sense that someone has an incredible amount of significance and impact, unknowingly, for the most part.

I also justify this by saying that I feel that some teachers are in my karass*, that is, the group of people who lead me to my life's meaning.

Kurt Vonnegut is love, by the way.

Saturday, March 6, 2010


Woohoo! I free one-week pass to Crunch gym!

Shockingly, I've gone once. Tuesday.

Crunch scares me. Pure sort of scares me, too, but it's so pretty that I let it go. Crunch really confuses me, though. I took a pilates class that made me self-conscious* EDIT: I am self-conscious, the class had nothing to do with it*, and then a pretty cool yoga-with-weights class.

"Buff yoga". It was awesome because I could, as the teacher said, "feel myself getting stronger". It's an interesting concept. I think it's neat, really.

But something about Crunch-as-concept gave me such a bad headache, I haven't even gone back. I don't like places with recruiters, generally.

This is why Sam said go to studios and gyms before you apply....