I Need a New Head

I have a cold.

BLAH.

A Gentle Start

Earlier today I was feeling just plain weak. Weak-willed, weak physically, weak spiritually. Generally just feeling like I sucked. Feeling short and scrunched up and inflexible and impure.

The driving rain and whipping wind that plagued me today didn't help my condition, but a nice, gentle, beginning level yoga class did. Immensely. I went in there feeling as though the only difference between me and a first-week beginner was that I had the Primary Series memorized. But soon enough my chest opened, my back lengthened, my hamstrings... well, not so much, but my mind settled down, and now I feel long and lithe and clean.

Yoga is like the Fountain of Youth. Seriously.

It's Raining and I Forgot My Umbrella (and other pathetic tales of woe)

It's raining and I forgot my umbrella and have to spend most of the day outside running from office to metro to other office to metro back to office.

My muscles are all scrunched up from hours and hours in the car over the weekend and I feel like I'm back to square one with my yoga practice.

I'm on "Ladies' Holiday" this week and won't be doing much yoga anyway.

My tea doesn't have enough milk.

I need a haircut (this is hard).

I wanna go home and go to bed.

Dreary, rainy day.

Road Trip

In a silly little PT Cruiser.

Ciao!

Why I Can Never Get Anything Done

Open Letters

Dear Kind Stranger,
Although, like dear Ralph Waldo, I am bent on self-reliance, and like venerable Betsy, banner-builder, I grip the reins of my independence by its needle and thread, I offer you my deepest thanks for giving me your Metro seat this afternoon. I was not feeling well -- indeed, the horn call of my personal liberté, égalité, fraternité blared not from my bosom (see next letter) -- and was thankful to avoid the stomach-rupturing stench of the slob crammed aisle .
A thousand thanks,
Di

Dear Starbuck(s),
I supped last night on magnificent cuisine (of which the Proof was in the pudding, though I had none), and was, needless to say, unprepared to gorge myself on one of your one of your average-at-best pumpkin muffins during our morning routine. The shock to my system was truly earth-shattering; indeed, having choked down the brick, I felt as though I was doing damage to under-foot with every step as I plodded, pumpkin-esquely down the sidewalk. Were it not for that the Crisco sheen aided in the application of my cosmetics, I would have retributively left you the crumbs.
Resentfully,
Di

Home Again

I did a lot of running this past week down in Georgia, but not much yoga. So boy, was I feeling my hamstrings (and lower back, and calves, and shoulders) this morning in class. I purposefully took a Level I class because I knew I was going to need to ease back into things... god, I had it when my body is weak.

Two short weeks ahead, and a road trip to which I'm very much looking forward.

Ciao for now

I'm off for a week of top-secret training in a top-secret location.

Talk to y'all next weekend.

The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts...

I used to think that Christianity was stupid;

I used to think that in order to be perceived as having good taste I needed to criticize everything I saw/ate/read;

I used to hate olives;

I used to confuse arrogance and intelligence;

I used to think that being strong meant never needing anything from anyone;

I used to think that no one in the world was truly happy in their marriage.

..................................

I'm still afraid to answer a question unless I'm sure I know the answer;

I'm still afraid to try anything creative;

I still starve myself as punishment if I feel weak;

I still can't stop interrupting people on the phone;

I still can't do a yoga headstand;

I still enjoy dining in a restaurant by myself.

City Skyscape

She just can't get it quite right..

... so lately I have been taking the bus to work, which is actually quite nice. I like to look out the window and watch my city go by.

There is another woman who waits for the 6:36am bus with me, but she seems very confused and I don't think she actually checks the schedule. The bus, in my experience (and I don't take it every day) comes on time or within two minutes of being on time, yet this woman, right around 6:35, always starts to get really agitated and will give up on the bus. She'll hail a cab, and then the bus will usually come right after her cab has driven away.

She only takes the bus four blocks to the metro, anyway, so I don't see why she just doesn't walk... why take a $6 cab four blocks every day?

I've told her that the bus is supposed to come at 6:36, but I think she gets to the stop too early and feels like she's waited for ever, so she gets impatient.

I dunno, it's just a weird morning ritual to witness...

In Which Di Struggles To Keep Herself Intact

Lordy!

For some reason work has been really overwhelming all week. I have been falling asleep after work but still keeping up an evening yoga/running schedule, which is good, otherwise I would be turning into a completely useless lump.

The stress is enormous but the work (mostly) satisfying.

I need a moment of vanity to say the following: I'm so freaking competent at work. I rock. The volume and complexity of work I produce is truly awesome, the potential impact is life-saving, and I'm very, very proud of myself.

Run Report!

Today I began running again after an eight-month haitus. I ran a 3.3 mile route and finished in 36 minutes - not exactly a praiseworthy time, but I came in strong and felt great afterwards.

Mile 1: The beginning of my run was a struggle to run slow enough. Yep, that's right - slow enough. I'm trying to build my confidence again and set myself up to build a good base of endurance. The last thing I wanted to do was try to run my former pace and crash out early. The first part of my route is pretty much straight uphill, but I felt good.

Mile 2: The middle of the run was more difficult. My body kept trying to find it's own pace, which is ordinarily fine, except that my body's own pace was, for today, just too fast. So I consciously slowed myself down and distracted my mind by composing this post in my head.

Mile 3: By this time I had my second wind and was sailing right along - albeit slowly. I fought the urge to check my pace, fearing that knowledge of my slowness would cause me to try to speed up, which would then cause me to hit the wall and crash.

The finish: I just let my body open up for the last .3 miles or so. The finish is downhill and I was well into my second-wind at this point.

My plan is to take a yoga class tomorrow and try the same 3.3-mile route on Wednesday. I really need new running shoes, but the ones I have will do for another couple of weeks or so. I also need running clothes, being that I got rid of a lot of mine earlier this year, anticipating that when and if I started running again I would want to reinvent the wardrobe, anyway.

New Goal

I am blessedly (but, surely, momentarily) free of existential crises, so this post will be rather bland.

I'm thinking of putting on my running shoes again. My faithful readers will remember that I stopped running about six months ago to see if I could affect positive change in my hamstrings and thus open up my yoga practice.

The verdict? Uncertain. My hamstrings feel more open but I'm not sure if it's because I stopped running or because I increased the hours I spend on the yoga mat.

But with this lovely fall weather and the drop in humidity I find myself itching for a run, so I think I'll spend the rest of the year building up a good base of miles and after the First begin a serious training program to ready myself for the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler in April (thanks to Matt for the idea!).

I guess the dust hasn't cleared

Yesterday after work I hopped on the L2 bus to come home and found a young woman screaming at her toddler to take his time eating his cookie. Just after I sat down, she slapped him three times and took the cookie away because he wasn't 'eating it properly.'

The kid didn't flinch or whimper at all. His startle reflex has already burned out.

A few minutes later she was crooning happily to him and then announced to the bus that today was his birthday, he's turning one year old.

She gave the cookie back but still wasn't happy with how he was eating it, so she filled his bottle with some of her Diet Pepsi and shoved it in his mouth. He started crying and couldn't hold the cookie, bottle, and his blanket all at once so the bottle sort of fell in his lap. He continued to sob a little and his mother picked up the bottle, shoved it in his chest and shouted that the bottle is RIGHT THERE and she doesn't know what else he wants from her.

They got off the bus at the National Zoo and I thought that would be a nice birthday afternoon for a one-year old, but instead she crossed the street away from the zoo entrance. We were stopped at the light there and I watched her push the stroller into the liquor store.

My heart broke for that little boy and today I am still thinking about it today.

The Great Reminder

Plato said, "Be kind, for those who you meet are fighting a harder battle."

If there's one undercurrent to an education in the classics it's that anything meant to cultivate and improve the mind necessarily involves a certain amount of labor, and labor with no discernible end.

It's so easy to get absorbed in the work itself, the winter work of persistence and consistency and rhythm. The progress truly begins to come, however, with the realization that the fruits of all this labor lie outside of the labor itself. Disproportionate focus on the work is like looking at the finger pointing to the moon and missing the moon itself.

It's always been tempting for me to find my salvation in work, in the law, in the rules. Doing feels good, it feels productive and meaningful; in some ways it feels good to suffer and to punish myself for any perceived weakness.

Be gentler with me than I am with myself.

Trite

Sometimes you don't realize how valuable something is until it goes away, or almost does. I guess that's what's called 'taking for granted.'

I feel anxious and jittery. I've been cleaning and pacing. I'm not calm.

I miss yoga.

Wow, this feels more vulnerable than I thought it would...

Inspired by the resurgence of Matt's Primal Eloquence blog, I just attempted to outline my own two-week workout/weight loss plan right here in public.

But I just can't do it.

Matt, how do you make that sort of thing public and still... be okay??

Maybe it's just me, but - I hate talking about food in terms of dieting. Describe me a gorgeous eat-with-your-eyes-first haute cuisine dining experience and I'll beg you to go on forever, but talk to me about your low-cal this and non-fat that, how much you're eating and at what times of day and I just want to scream and poke my eyes out.

It's a horribly uncomfortable topic for me.

That said, Matt, I am following your adventures and you have my utmost support in your journey! Just don't ask me to talk about it with you over dinner the next time we go out, okay?

My Mood

Thanks to my Annapolitan for encapsulating it perfectly:

Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honor bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbors' eyes?
Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.

--W.B. Yeats

Relapse

The culmination of my exceptionally challenging and stressful day came about an hour ago via panic attack while at yoga. I was literally hyperventilating in Adho Mukha Svanasana. A few poses later, I told Keith that I wanted to go home. He asked me to finish the standing sequence, after which he let me go with the promise that I would leave this behind me and show up anew on Thursday.

Now I am home in my cluttered and filthy apartment. My body is clean but my mind is a wreck. I feel disgusing and useless. I'm afraid to practice the banjo because my confidence is so shaky that a few bad tunes make me feel like never playing again.

But my Annapolitan offered a keen insight: it's the days when you don't feel like practicing that practice is so important. We talked about how that sets serious musicians (and athletes, and academics, etc) apart from the masses: anyone can practice their talent when it suits them, when it's easy. It takes true dedication and discipline to practice when it's hard, when you don't have time, when it's not going well and when you feel like quitting instead.

I quit yoga for today, but I am going to pick up the pieces and try to make something productive out of the rest of my evening. Wish me luck.

Still Alive

It seems as though leaves of absence are going around in the blogosphere these days.

I've been absent from most things lately - yoga especially. And reading. And prayer.

The Music is alive and well in my life, though, and that is an immense comfort to me.

Onward.

Purging the Healthy Way

No Mom - I am not bulimic.

I am in a mood to throw things away. Getting rid of excess is not just for spring cleaning, you see. I think it's wise to continuously pare down one's belongings and evaluate one's attachments to what one owns.

The problem for me is my definition of excess and the way I view any sense of affection for my possessions as being unhealthy and in need of dissolution.

For example: I do not like having two of anything. This ranges from black skirts to place settings to easy chairs to bottles of shampoo (and sometimes to kittens... NATASHA WILL YOU QUIT RUNNING AROUND). Sometimes, though, a person really needs multiples of things. I have been trying to come to terms with this. I have four whole wine glasses and two plates. I have two mugs for tea. And I have three black skirts. Yes, this makes me anxious, but I am trying to be okay with it.

I am not very attached to anything I own except for my kittens and my instruments. In some ways, I would like to have very few possesions that are exactly what I want and that I love. In other ways, I would like to feel as though I could give absolutely anything I own (with the aforementioned exceptions) away to someone who needed them without shedding a tear or looking over my shoulder. Sometimes I test myself by getting rid of things that I like, just to see how it feels. If I feel sad, then I have a nice talk with myself about the important things in life and how you can't touch them.

I am hereby acknowledging that this behavior is extreme. That is why, istead of getting rid of my coffee table or something else that I could justify "needing," I have decided instead to clean out my closet and purge worn out yoga clothes, unwanted apparel, and other useless clutter. Clutter being the key word, not anything that I am actually using.

And then I am going to meet up with Matt for MONGOLIAN BARBECUE and he has a very mysterious 'favor' to ask me, and hopefully it won't be something that makes my boyfriend want to maim him...

Untitled

It can be really overwhelming to think about a significant event in my life by tracing all the little details that led me there. It's scary because sometimes events are set in motion in such a way that, upon looking back, it seems incredulous that it all actually worked out and that nothing got in the way, and had I been ten seconds later or hadn't felt well or burned my dinner, that it would not have worked out the way it did.

In times when I can't fathom how our Creator has set in motion the events that have been ordained for us since the day we were born, I remember that even the hairs on our head are numbered. We are the answer to His question, and the question that He answers.

I Can't Relax

We got home pretty damn late last night (near 2am) and yet I still managed to drag myself to work. The day was pretty intense, and when I got home I fell asleep for about two hours. Which brings me to now and I hate this feeling, like I should be springing into action to make up for my weak will and lazy body that just crashed in the middle of the day.

I frantically did the dishes. Now I am thinking of re-stringing my banjo. And my bouzouki. And I should do some yoga since I will probably be skipping class tonight. Is David going to disown me? He'll at least be disappointed. I should clean. I should study. I should watch a film and return it to Netflix. I should check my work email. I should jog up and down the stairs a bit. I should go grocery shopping. I should clean my closet.

I should take a hint from my kittens and stretch out in a sunbeam and scrunch shut my eyes and breathe deeply and do nothing at all for the rest of this evening which I've dedicated to myself alone.

Why isn't that, like, simple?

Home Again

I apologize for the absence, dear readers (or as Patrick would say, I haven't been blogging enough blogging blog), but I've been up in New England for the past few days helping my grandparents celebrate their 60th wedding anniverary.

Sixty years. Can you believe it?

I'm finally home, and while I wait for my Annapolitan I'll be investigating the mystery of the Two Cute Kittens Who Did Not Get Taken Care Of Like Claire Said They Would. I'm more than dismayed. When I arrived they had no food or water in their dishes and yet there was food left in the bag - and there shouldn't have been if they were fed yesterday. That should have been all of it. Also, Natasha has a bloody gash on her shoulder. Now, I know my little girls tussle with each other from time to time (they are sisters, after all), but I've never seen anything go down between them fierce enough to draw blood. They must have been in the state of agitation that shelter kittens can regress to when left with dry plates.

Poor little girls. I'm glad to be home.

Le repas d'hier soir

Lamb chops stuffed with garlic cloves. A small breed of pasta with a very light tomato sauce. An expertly rinsed salad. Dubliner and pecorino cheeses with tomato and an airy cracker. Da Vinci Chianti.

A handsome Annapolitan slaving away for my affections.

Genius Annapolitan

I can't believe that I am 27-years old and just yesterday found out that Windows Media Player will slow the speed of a track without distortion.

This changes my life.

Explain Something To Me

Let it be known up front that I find cruelty to people, animals, minerals, vegetables, and musical instruments to be categorically abhorrent.

This condemnation, of course, includes dog fighting.

However, I am in an unfortunate business which requires me to think, from time to time, as an offender or criminal may think. I'm required to understand (not empathize) with an evil thought process.

So. If one has invested a significant amount of money into a dog fighting business and the dogs are not performing well, I can understand, on some level, why the dog would need to be put down. Cages, space, food - all these things cost money and can't be wasted on a dog that isn't fighting well. They can't be left for adoption as pets, obviously.

So I guess I always thought that killing a dog in this situation would be sort of a pragmatic undertaking. It's not meant to be a deterrent to other dogs, it's not punishment for the dog in question (because punishment is intended to influence future behavior, if something it dead it no longer behaves in any way at all). It's simply a matter of streamlining the business. So shoot the dog, or abandon it somewhere. Why in God's name would you drown the dog, or hang him, as Michael Vick recently admitted to doing? What is the point to the excess cruelty?

It just seems to me that a person in the business of dog fighting and gambling is a different sort of criminal than the sadist who enjoys inflicting pain for it's own sake. Perhaps I should consult a forensic psychologist, because I just don't get it.

Major Faux Pas

I totally suck right now.

Both of my kitties are months overdue for their distemper shots, and Natasha is almost a YEAR overdue for her rabies shot. So I finally got around to making an appointment to take them to the vet this afternoon.

I rented a Zipcar and raced home from work to pick it up on time. When I got home, I found all of their paperwork, ate a small snack, and went about the intense but usually uneventful task of putting them in their carrier.

Well. The cat carrier I bought for them when they were tiny two-month olds is now far, far to small for the both of them to fit.

So I had to call and reschedule my appointment. Ten minutes before I was due to arrive. Arrgghh.... that's just awful. My girls are probably happy to be spared the drama of a car-ride, for two weeks at least.

I have issues

The other day I ran out of G-strings. It's a really awkward thing to have happen in the middle of the week, let me tell you. Here I've been going work, going to yoga, going to the pub... all the while completely immodestly without any functional G-strings.

I found some temporary replacements, which John was kind enough to feel up for me last night (I saw the grimace... I KNOW! I'm embarassed enough as it is, thank you very much) but... temporary replacements really aren't working for me right now. I just feel so good when I have a high quality, tightly wound, slightly vibrating G-string.

For my bouzouki, people! Get yer minds out of the gutter.

Dream

I know it can be irritating/boring to read about other people's dreams, but I wanted to get this one down for my own edification.

Last night I dreamt that I was supposed to read Psalm 31 at my father's wedding. I know this was in part a day residue because yesterday on the metro I saw someone reading a book about Proverbs 31, and last night before bed I was reading a few Psalms. Also, let it be known that I stood up and read from the Bible at my father's wedding several years ago.

However, in my dream, it didn't work. First, I started reading but the microphone wasn't turned on. Then, once we got that figured out, the page I was reading from was folded over, so I ended up reading the first half, skipping the second half, and going straight into the last part. When I realized what I did, I tried to go back and read the part that had been folded under. Then the microphone stopped working and I couldn't hear myself at all. Then people started talking and not only could I not hear myself talk, I knew no one was paying attention.

This is an interesting variation of my recurring theme of not being able to talk on the phone in my dreams. I will try to dial, but end up with the wrong number. Or the wrong person will pick up. Sometimes I am trying to call my mom, or 911, and it just won't go through or I won't be able to stop dialling the wrong number or some random stranger will pick up.

Deeply frustrating.

Tired of Summer

I'm ready for autumn.

Summer clothes are starting to bore me. I'm craving the warm tones and luxurious fabrics of fall.

The cooler months are always my favorites. Everything settles down. I revisit the classics and enter a time of contemplation and waiting. Something about the clean air, changing colors, and later, a blanket of snow on the ground just signals a time of sitting quietly.

Rumi-nating

Borrow the beloved's eyes.
Look through them and you'll see the beloved's face everywhere.
No tiredness, no jaded boredom.
"I shall be your eye and your hand and your loving."
Let that happen,
and things you have hated will become helpers.

A certain preacher always prays long and with enthusiasm for thieves and muggers that attack him on the street.
"Let you mercy, O Lord,
cover their insolence."
He doesn't pray for the good,
but only for the blatantly cruel.
Why is this? his congregation asks.
"Because they have done me such wondrous favors.
Every time I turn back towards the things they want.
I run into them, they beat me, and leave me nearly dead in the road,
and I understand, again, that what they want is not what I want.
They keep me on the spiritual path.
That's why I honor them and pray for them."

Those that make you return, for whatever reason,
to God's solitude,
be grateful to them.
Worry about the others,
who give you delicious comforts that keep you from prayer.

Friends are enemies sometimes,
and enemies friends.

Consider a porcupine,
if you hit it with a stick, it extends its quills and gets bigger.
The soul is a porcupine,
made strong by stick-beating.
So a prophet's soul is especially afflicted,
because it has to become so powerful.

A hide is soaked in tanning liquor and becomes leather.
If the tanner did not rub the acid,
the hide would get foul-smelling and rotten.
The soul is a newly skinned hide, bloody and gross.
Work on it with manual discipline,
and the bitter tanning acid of grief and you'll become lovely
and very strong.

If you can't do this work yourself,
don't worry.
You don't even have to make a decision,
one way or the other.
The Friend, who knows a lot more than you do,
will bring difficulties, and grief, and sickness,
as medicine, as happiness,
as the essence of the moment when you're beaten,
when you hear Checkmate, and you can finally say,
with Hallaj's voice,
I trust you to kill me.

-Rumi

Last Night's Fun

At the behest of Josh and in honor of Christie's brief return, we rallied the troops last night and descended on Nanny O'Brien's, the scene of my entry into DC Irish Trad and of many a debaucherous, whiskey-filled session.

Wide Awake

My brother's girlfriend cooked a lovely meal earlier tonight: roasted leg of lamb infused with garlic and rosemary fresh from their garden, roasted vegetables, peach and mango cobbler, an amazing petit syrah.

It was a lovely evening filled with talk of the future and the finer things in life.

Then I dreamt the following, separately: that I seduced an Army Ranger, narrowly avoided an abduction that surely would have ended in my rape and murder, smuggled a piece of artwork. Something else macabre that I can't quite pull up, now that I'm awake.

It's 4am and I am tired of dreaming. I am tired of waking up every hour disoriented and shaky. I could feasibly sleep for five more hours before I need to get up for yoga. What are the chances my subconscious won't interrupt me?

What I Need Right Now

I have been sitting here for I-don't-know-how-long trying to articulate the longing with which I want to play the piano.

I miss my piano so much.

THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE

This is the Ashtanga jump-back. It happens about fifty million thousand times in one practice and I just do not get it. Many, many thanks to Roboramma for his always helpful YouTube videos. Maybe one day it'll click...

Hi Tina :)

I just love it when I have new readers, especially when they're people who know me in real life!

In other news... absolutely NOTHING has been going on lately.

Let's see... I'm reading Water for Elephants (novel), No Man is an Island (contemplative), and am about to delve back into the Claudius novels, which are some of my favorites.

I'm watching The L Word (netflix) and waiting eagerly for Season Three of The Office to be released on DVD.

It's freaking HOT outside.

The metro has been running really slow. My hair needs a trim. I played tunes last night and this morning my fingertips are sore. There are no good Irish trad streaming radio stations for me to listen to at work and I am too lazy to bring in CDs, so I am listening to the "Celtic" station which pretty much sucks.

That's it. Bo-ring. Sorry :)

Less Angst, More Nipple

Thanks for the sage advice, John.

A brief narrative update, which is what I resort to when the time for a more thoughtful post eludes me. Yesterday I attended a very interesting wedding and got to spend time in the car with Kyong-Ju (yay!) and her husband (grrr). We connected over a love of Korean film, which I imagine she just calls film.

The ceremony was in Korean and English. Not sure how the Spanish-speaking family of the groom were following along, but I assume that it had been discussed. At the reception the bride and groom changed into traditional Korean dress and there were some ceremonial elements such as bowing, etc, that were beautiful.

Korean food, Latin music, interesting people, and I didn't even need to partake of the vodka-filled flask that Gretchen brought along, just in case!

Tonight I am meeting some very interesting friends for dinner at Hook. And by interesting, I do not necessarily mean that any nipples will be involved, I just mean that they are both complex people and the conversation will undoubtedly go towards... shall we say... fringe topics.

Speaking of fringe, I recently watched an interesting documentary called The Lifestyle: Swinging in America (and I'm not talking about dancing). There were some nipples involved, just FYI, but they weren't necessarily attractive ones.

Off to yoga and I will try not to let my mind wander too much toward what gorgeous cuisine awaits me later on...

Welcome To My Hermitage

Ever since Matt and John have linked to my blog in various ways, I've been getting a lots of hits from interesting places around the country.

If you were teased by Matt's vague and romantic description, prepare to be disappointed - you won't hear anything of my day-job here. Just random musings that I promise will be of little interest (even to me!).

But please visit as often as you'd like. It's a joy to be hidden, but a tragedy to never be found.

I met a hot Korean chick last night

A friend of mine, who I helped save from blackmail and extortion by the people who used her for slave labor when she first came to the States, is getting married on Saturday. Last night was her bridal shower. I had bristled at some of the instructions ("wear pink!") but ended up having a pretty good time.

The bride is Korean and doesn't speak much English. Her groom is Hispanic and doesn't speak much English. Neither of the extended families speak any English. One of the bride's friends is from Togo. The hostess' roommate is Brazilian. We counted at least six fluent languages present (including ASL and English). I love that!

Some of the Korean bridesmaids were totally hot. Asian girls can get away with some very edgy looks that Westerners just can't pull off. I couldn't take my eyes off of Kyong-Ju and Emily. Metallic makeup, razored haircuts, risky fashion... I'm jealous, and slightly in love.

Overwhelmed and I Want to Cry

But I've never been very good at that sort of thing.

It's impossible for me to describe the two things that happened today that drew back the curtains on my world to reveal a giant chasm of possibility, beauty, potentials, and ideals. I feel both inspired and deeply sad.

The only thing to do is to sit quietly with this zeal, this yearning and longing and offer it to God, Who alone can make something worthwhile come of my pitiful life.

TMI

My first order of business after work today was finding a piercer who could replace the bead that has mysteriously vanished from one of my nipple rings. I noticed it last night, and have the ring sans bead taped down all day to hopefully avoid losing the whole thing. My heart stopped when I noticed the missing bead; about once a month I'll have dreams about my piercings falling out, but this is the closest it's come!

I first stopped at Fatty's, who did my tattoo, but their piercer was off today. Just as well, actually, I've seen him work and would not want him anywhere near me with a needle - not that replacing the bead requires any of that, but a shaky hand is a shaky hand and I don't want one anywhere near such a sensitive area.

So then I embarked to find Tattoo Paradise in Adams Morgan. For whatever ungodly reason I decided to walk the mile or so between neighborhoods. Due to an unforseen footwear issue from last night, I have blisters on both heels and on the soles of my feet, which are also swollen and scraped up. Between that condition, the blaring heat, and the beating sun, I was pretty delirious when I finally found the place. But George was very nice and I have two shiny new silver beads and am only out $5.

I made it home and decided that I've had enough of being outside for one day and am going to have a little yoga practice here instead of walking to the studio. Word on the street is that we're supposed to have "severe thunderstorms" sometimes between now and 8pm. I would love nothing more than to open a bottle of wine, the blinds, possibly the windows, too, and watch a storm from my sunroom. There hasn't been a good one all summer.

Sunny Day Salutations

I think this blog encourages my writer's block.

Since college my prosaic prowess has degenerated daily.

I've already had to use the Thesaurus once this post.

Also, I think my penchant for solitude is eroding my conversational competence.

Last night I had one of the most lively, interesting, and at times intimate conversations that I can remember, in the recent and not-so-recent past. Looking back, it seems like such an amazing thing. I've apparently forgotten what it was like in college, where I was exchanging ideas and being challenged on a daily basis.

I miss that. Repartee, civilized argument, exploration of attitudes and perspectives are critical elements for the cultivation of the mature mind. And a mind, once matured, makes no guarantees to remain in such a state. It requires tweaking. Pruning. Scathing, even, and regularly.

Updated Thesaurus usage count for this post: 3 - Pathetic.

Good Find!!

Today a girlfriend and I walked up to Chevy Chase to have iced teas and we stopped by a video store that she likes. Imagine my astonishment at discovering the most extensive and complete Asian film section that I. Have. Ever. Encountered.

We rented Suzhou River to watch later this week, and got to talking to the guy who checked our film out for us, who might be the owner. He asked about our interest in foreign films, Asian in particular, and I mentioned how impressed I was at his selection. He asked if I had spent any time in Asia, and I said I had been to Shanghai but actually my favorite director is from Hong Kong: Wong Kar-Wai.

"We have a whole Wong Kar-Wai section downstairs," he said.

I started hyperventilating with pleasure.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, "You're BLUSHING! Your arms, too!!"

What can I say? I really love Wong.

Rainy Day Ruminations

Today while walking home from work wearing a white skirt and rather clingy red top, I got caught in the rain! I owned it, though, not afraid of accentuating my curves. And since it was raining, not many people were out walking around, and thus I was free from leering strangers.

Which got me thinking. I'm confident, I know I've got stuff to strut. And I like that I get noticed, most of the time. What it comes down to is, I think there's a big difference between being admired and being ogled.

I very much enjoy being admired by a lover or boyfriend. I do not, however, enjoy being stared at in bars. Both (the second possibly to a different degree) are measures of appreciation, but I think what matters is the taste of the person doing the staring. I would think that guys in a bar are probably staring at every girl that walks by, so while they may be appreciating me in some way or another, their tastes are not very discriminating. It cheapens the compliment.

I liken it to cooking a gourmet meal and serving it to someone who ordinarily eats hot dogs. He may enjoy the cuisine, but his praise wouldn't mean as much as if it came from a connoisseur.

Sorry, John

I know we had tentative plans to visit closer to the film release date, but yesterday when my brother called and proposed an excursion to the newly erected Kwik-E-Mart in Bladensburg, MD, I could hardly say no! We got Krusty-O's, Buzz Cola, and squishees! It was very fun.

The place was pretty difficult to find - despite the address being on Kenilworth Ave, there is no sign for Kenilworth Ave anywhere nor is there any indicated that Route 201 IS, in fact, Kenilworth Ave. Once we figured that out, we still ended up on a wild goose chase through the parking lot of a public housing complex, which is where the signage led us in order to go north. But we found it (packed!) and had a pretty good time all in all.

Dream

I just dreamt that I kept receiving plane tickets to Greece in the mail that were from a mysterious stranger whose name, on the documents, was written in Greek cursive that I couldn't read. The tickets would come in the mail, but I would never go to the airport and get on the plane becuse I didn't know who they were from, really.

And then one day the names were in a form of Greek that was easier to read, and the name sort of looking familiar (minus a few letters) and I thought I realized who they were from, even though I didn't really remember meeting anyone in Greece with whom I promised to come back.

So then I was coming down this weird escalator where there are vendors and you have to buy something from them and then they lower you to the ground so you can descend, but I only had a dollar so the vendor opened a pack of gum for me and let me buy one piece, and at the bottom of the escalator were my brother and Christos, this guy I met in Mykonos who was apparently the person who was sending me the Greece plane tickets, which is weird because in my dream he had just moved to DC for four years, so why would he be flying me to Greece?

Semi-Serious Post

Sometimes being a friend is difficult.

Often times, being a friend is difficult.

I am still learning how to be supportive without judging.

I suck at it.

I'm extraordinarily gentle with my friends compared to the way I treat myself.

That's depressing, considering that I'm actually quite harsh with my friends.

But when they want to self-destruct and I don't want to let them, what am I supposed to do?

My not so secret admirer sent flowers yesterday for the Big Two-Seven... he is going through a bit of a rough time at the moment and I am sending him all my love...

I was just in the middle of reading the Washington Post Book Reviews, when:

Tonight after my yoga class I met up with my new friend for another Thai feast. I ordered modestly: vegetable soup, satay, and spring rolls. He proceeded to order four more appetizers and two entrees, including a whole steamed rockfish in spicy lime cilantro broth. The waitress had to ask us to move to a different table (for four!) because the table where we were seated wouldn't accomodate all our food.

On the walk home I saw some lightning bugs (cute!) and also a vanity license plate that read HEY JERK.

Happy Fourth!

I didn't feel like going downtown tonight for fireworks, so I decided to wander up to the rooftop terrace to see what I could see.

I could see everything! There were fireworks going strong on all sides! The entire river was lit up with displays from Alexandria and Anacostia, I could see the displays from Georgetown, U St, and lots of others... the whole city looked to be sparkling.

Happy Independence Day.

Gratuitous Cat Pics

My girls slept in a big pile between my feet this afternoon... it's a little blurry because I took the shot with my cell phone. Adorable.

Natasha's Favorite Spot

Cautious Success

I set out this morning determined to enhance my wardrobe. I was even prepared to go into debt (and I did, heh). After trying on a gazillion things at Lord & Taylor only to feel my frustration mounting (why does a SMALL hang like a BAG on me??), I decided on a whim to stop by a little boutique. I had been by a few times but couldn't decide from the window displays if the clothes were really me, or if they were even my age!

But the girl who helped me was amazing and everything fit beautifully and I ended up spending way too much money but I love all the clothes I bought.

My refrain while at clothing stores is always, "I never see anything I like!" Why can't that ever be my problem at the grocery store??

On that note, I'm going to have a bowl of Breyer's Black Rasperry Chocolate Chip ice cream and enjoy the hot, sunny day.

Lazy!

It's been a weird week. Not unduly stressful, but a couple of evening committments and late nights amount to no yoga and a drowsy Diana.

Just now, I slept right through my 4:45 class, and I don't necessarily feel up to rolling out my mat right here and flowing through the poses.

I hate going a whole week without yoga. Not only because I feel flabby, but because yoga is such a great anchor for me.

So I'm going to have some tea and try to slowly wake up and find the energy to do a few Sun Salutations and try not to feel so generally useless.

I AM NOT ASHAMED

Yes, I am about to go watch Larry King's interview with Paris Hilton.

Whatever, don't judge me.

A Taste of the Other Side

This evening, for about an hour, I had a sugar daddy! About a month ago the owner of my yoga studio threw a party and I got a chance to talk to some of the people I practice beside every day. One of those was a guy about my age and his girlfriend. We had a good time talking and then went out for drinks and food afterward. They were a fun pair.

I've been seeing them in class from time to time, and tonight he was there alone. We walked out together and ended up going to the Thai restaurant next door. Looking over the menu, I made my choice rather quickly. When the waitress came, he ordered soup and three appetizers for both of us, and his own entree plus a couple bottles of Perrier. I ordere my entree.

So, not a $500 tab or anything, but I'm getting to the sugar daddy part - when the check came, he paid with one of those black American Express cards...

Wednesday Evening Blues

For reasons of feeling stressed and rushed in general this week, and also possibly dealing with an existential crisis, I decided to skip my sign language class tonight.

Did I mention that I'm taking Advanced American Sign Language at the library? First class was Monday night and it was great. There is even a very attractive deaf guy in the class, sort of like an assistant-teacher. I think he's friends with her and just likes to sit in.

But tonight I would have had to rush and barely make it in time and I just decided to come home instead. I took a bottle of wine and The Seven Storey Mountain up to the rooftop terrace and read for a while, then came in and painted my toenails.

How Considerate

A few minutes ago I noticed that my kitten Elena threw up on a dishtowel that had fallen onto the kitchen floor.

What considerate aim she has.

Back Into The Groove

Well, it's my last day of vacation before heading back to work. I feel like I've been gone a long time. I feel decompressed. I feel... ready to get back to work! It's a good feeling, enjoying the routine you've created for yourself.

Nice to get away and nice to get back.

I spent most of the afternoon and evening yesterday with Matt working on some artistic ventures. The man's a genius, I can assure you. I take full responsibility for his impending photography career, which will be wildly successful. Of course, he'll still continue to shoot me pro bono - or, as he corrected me last night, pro-food-o. Hah.

Today I woke up at a decent hour to try to reclaim my space at the yoga studio. I feel fatigued. In a few minutes I might wander around and do some clothes shopping, maybe see a movie... maybe not... just a lazy, drawn-out summer Sunday.

It's good to be home.

Photos Hellenica

Just a sample from Athens and Santorini:


The Parthenon




The Temple of Olympian Zeus




The Porch of Maidens at the Erectheum




View from Mars Rock of the Agora, where Socrates used to question his students and debate with other philosophers




View of the cliffs from our hotel in Santorini




Me in a cafe overlooking the village of Ia on Santorini

Home (Sort of)

I'm back in the States, but for the life of me I can't figure out why. Certainly not for the rich Midwestern scenery.

I'll be flying back to DC later this afternoon and will post pictures and details soon.

Yassou!

Hello from Greece faithful readers. I'm currently enjoying the gorgeous dry weather in Athens. My hair looks amazing because of this weather. I know many of you cannot picture what that would be like. Just trust me.

There are Artemis icons everywhere, her Roman counterpart being, of course, Diana. For those of you who don't know, Diana/Atermis is the goddess of the hunt. She both hunts and protects wild animals, and also inflicts cruel punishments on men, who are usually trying to court or rape her.

Tomorrow I will go all the way to Delphi, then it's off to the island of Mykonos, and beyond.

I have already eaten my weight in feta cheese, which is so creamy and unbelievably seasoned. I also like the wine very, very much.

I'm Off

In a few minutes I will embark to the sunny Mediterranean.

See you all in mid-June!

Save Me From Myself

Lately I have been toying with the idea of going back to school for a second Master's.

What a horrifying, masochistic thought.

Just kill me.

Wine

I read somewhere recently that, despite the initial depressive effects of alcohol on the body's system, once the alcohol begins to dissipate, it has the opposite, stimulating, effect. This is why people don't actually sleep well after they've been drinking despite sometimes feeling drowsy and falling asleep quickly.

It's kind of irritating. And then I fall into the equally irritating wine cycle: Fall asleep. Wake up, need to pee. Fall back asleep. Wake up, dehydrated, drink water. Fall back asleep. Wake up, need to pee. Fall back asleep. Wake up, dehydrated, drink water. Fall back asleep. And so forth.

So yeah, that was basically my night. I have the day off today, thankfully, and I think we're going to head down to Alexandria to visit a jazz festival. The forecast calls for isolated thunderstorms in the afternoon, though, so that may negatively impact our plans.

Long Weekend

Time is ticking down until I leave for the sunny Mediterranean! If I can get through this weekend and four days of work, I will be home free...

Last night my brother, his girlfriend, and I had dinner at Rosa Mexicano in Chinatown. I ate way too much of their guacamole, made tableside, and a light and lovely seared tuna filet crusted with avacado leaf served over a spicy salad. Yum.

I think I will spend the next few days just enjoying the feeling of being hungry, if it ever happens again... I wouldn't be surprised if I feel full for the rest of my life.

I Want A Cheeseburger

A double cheeseburger. With bacon and bleu cheese. A crispy thin seasoned fries with barbecue sauce. And a coke.

But instead I think I'm going to take a yoga class and have some cereal for dinner afterwards.

I need my strength for the game tonight.

This playoff series is giving me a stroke

I don't think I can take much more of this.

The Ducks tied the game at one with 47 seconds to go. They won it with a goal in the first overtime.

Next game is Tuesday. God help us all.

Update

At long last! I've been terribly delinquent of late. I've been busy, which is unusual!

It's been kind of a hell of a week, so I'm just hanging out by myself tonight and waiting for the Red Wings to continue their psychological and physical domination of the Might Ducks in game four of the Western Conference finals. The Ducks are lamenting the loss of their star player, Chris Pronger, who must sit out a game because of a rough hit he made on Tuesday night.

Am I sad? Hardly. Pronger can suck it. His team is doomed no matter what.

Of course, I don't get the fancy cable channels that are showing the game, so I'll be listening to it on streaming radio. There's something old-school about listening to a hockey game. I like it.

Underground Claustrophobia

This afternoon I had a speaking engagement at a conference in Crystal City. I was a little early for my lab session and subsequent lecture, so I took a few minutes to wander around the weird underground village.

My verdict: slightly creepy. I mean, they have EVERYTHING down there: restaurants, grocery stores, drug stores, salons, clothing and shoe stores, a cobbler, newstands, a food court, a weird store that sells those Pinnochio things, what are they called? Mobiles? Those things? Marrionettes? Whatever. There was even a woman sitting at a little table outside the Starbucks.

TODAY IS A BEAUTIFUL, 70-DEGREE, DRY, SUNNY DAY and she was sitting UNDERGROUND drinking her coffee and reading a magazine.

That underground city is a tease, too.. every now and then you walk around a corner and see what looks like a beautiful open courtyard in front of you with sun streaming down and greenery.. then you get closer and find out that it's still enclosed. Skylights.

So, I'm sorry. I realize that in some strange way this may be convenient, to never have to set foot outside, ever, to do any of your errands or even go to work. But I think it's creepy. I'm going to go take a bottle of wine up to my rooftop terrace right now... and soak up the rest of the sun.

Just Thinking

When a student of yoga is ready to make a greater commitment to the Ashtanga practice, he or she is encouraged to begin Mysore classes, the traditional self-led practice. I've posted about this before, I think. My yoga studio offers Mysore classes every day of the week, although I actually go to work too early to take advantage of the weekday times. Recently one of my teachers encouraged me to begin coming in on the weekends, which I took as a complimentary recognition not only of my commitment to the practice but also to my potential for improvement.

The problem is that I've recently realized that coming to Mysore has occasionally been out of a motivation to impress my teacher. This is Not Good in yoga. Yoga is not about the teacher. The teacher is a medium, but when the practice becomes about the teacher as opposed to the practice, problems can ensue.

I have a history of wanting desperately to please my teachers, dating wayyyy back to my days showing horses... then soccer... then my incredibly demanding Polish piano teacher... my martial arts instructors... for me the tendency is for my focus to gradually shift from the activity at hand to gaining approval from my teacher, and this desire begins to overtake the practice itself and eventually I burn out.

So as I sit here at home over a lovely glass of Pinot Grigio, just having finished a small dinner of whole wheat orzo with sauteed portobello mushrooms, garlic, and shrimp in a basil pesto, I am beginning to agonize over going to Mysore tomorrow morning.

It's not that I won't be awake in time. It's that for one or two days out of my week I don't want to spring into action immediately upon waking up. And I could go to a 10:30am class, but then I caught myself thinking, "Oh God, David won't see me and he'll think I've skipped Mysore..."... when really he should understand that at this point in my life, simply having a consistent yoga practice of any sort indicates quite a strong commitment on my part.

The funny thing is that David and I recently talked about this - about the danger of an individual yoga practice becoming teacher-centric - and now it's beginning to happen.. but there are two people here... and I'm going to take advantage of the fact that I've recognized this pattern in my life and try to change it.

This time next month I will be practicing yoga in the sunny Mediterranean! I got some of these just for the occasion.

In the mean time, I haven't had much to post about. I have a few friends that will be passing through town this month. Yoga, tunes, work. That's my life, for what it's worth.

Model Material?

Not exactly. But I read today that the average (if they can be called that) high-fashion designer prefers a model whose upper thighs, together, measure about 35'' around.

So, because I'm a masochist, I measured mine - 35.25''

I'm not about to change careers, but still, that made me very happy.

Potentially Disastrous Results

With the brawny member of the family in northern Michigan fishing and consistently warmer weather approaching, I was left to install my window AC unit all by myself... and let me tell you, it was not fun. I live on the sixth floor, and all I could imagine was the unit just falling, gracefully and silently to it's death on the driveway below. That would so suck.

And there were a few close calls, when the thing tipped dangerously out of the window, me still shaky from yoga with one arm trying to steady it and the other fumbling for the window itself... but after only about 15 minutes I am able to say that it is done, and done well.

I Haven't Even Taken This Year's Trip Yet..

... but I think I know where I'm going next year.

Sweden! Stockholm, then north, for the Midnight Sun.

Evolutionary Perversion?

I'm been spending some of the afternoon watching the Discovery Channel's Planet Earth series. It occurs to me that, in nature, it's often the case that the male species goes to great lengths to impress a would-be mate. It's the male peacock that displays his plume, the male bird-of-paradise who dances. In primate species, males will battle each other, the victor being he who wins mating privileges with the eligible female.

It makes sense for the female to be the chooser and for the male to meet certain standards of strength, for the longevity of the species.

In our society, though, we've perverted this: sure, some guys will maybe find themselves in a drunken bar brawl over a chick, but mostly it's the women who wear makeup and get cosmetic surgery, who style their hair and put lots of thought (and cash) into their wardrobes, mostly for the sake of being attractive to men.

Just an observation.

Sign for Faith

I had a nice Greek dinner with a friend last night, and then we realized that it would be silly to run off to yoga classes and different studios, so she just came to mine!

Apparently at her studio before class everyone is talking and laughing. My studio is all business. Purist. Serious! Mostly. And my friend J, who is a sign language interpreter, felt a little intimidated and insisted on continuing our conversation in sign language for fear of making bad first impression.

People at my studio aren't pedantic about silence. You can talk or whatever while the class before is finishing up. It's just that people don't.

It felt so good to sign... I am a little out of practice... and my yoga teacher, who is about to leave to practice in India for three months, learned that there is a sign (two, actually), for her name. Faith.

Dish

Okay, Matt, since you asked, I will provide the background to John's and my comments.

Back when I first moved to DC in 2003, a lot of us were still playing music at Nanny's in Cleveland Park. The session was on Monday nights, and it was where I met most, if not all, of my current Irish music community. The session had a few structural problems, most notably the lack of a dedicated (and paid) session 'leader' who would be responsible for enforcing basic session etiquette and generally ensuring good quality of music.

So, without the presence of a leader, the session slowly became taken over by wankers. From what I've heard, the wanker take-over began just before I started showing up, so I basically missed the Nanny's heyday, but by the time I had been in town a few months, I noticed a marked degeneration in music quality.

Unfortunately, the wanker take-over can be traced to one or two wankers. I say unfortunately because it really sucks that a few people can be responsible for the dismantling of such a cool scene.

So, most of us have abandoned the Nanny's session altogether in favor of more organized pub sessions. I'll be honest, at times the atmosphere at these sessions can be a bit staid, but that is more than made up for by the quality of music, which is consistently high.

At the McGinty's session the other week, I ended up sitting in between one of the Nanny's wankers and one other musician who used to play at Nanny's and who I don't know well but don't consider to be a wanker. Others might, but I have no problem with this guy.

So the wanker starts schmoozing in the way that makes me want to take a shower with a sandblaster to get the dirty off. He says hi to the other guy, and I become an unfortunate witness to the following exchange:

Wanker: Hi Other Guy, how have you been?
Other Guy: You're the reason I stopped going to Nanny's.
Wanker: Sorry?
Other Guy (louder): You're the reason I stopped going to Nanny's.
Wanker: Oh, is this something else I'm getting blamed for that I have nothing to do with? That seems to happen a lot.
Other Guy: If you really want to know why you get the reactions from people that you do, you should start looking in here (taps head) instead of out there (gestures to the world).
Wanker: That's really interesting. I'd love to buy you a drink sometime and talk about this.
Other Guy: No thanks, I really have nothing else to say.

Awkward for me to be sitting in the middle of this show-down! So anyway, Matt, there you have it. It's probably not as interesting as you thought it would be, just given that part of the drama is in knowing the history and personalities of the people involved. But it definitely made for some excitement.

Aside from all that, let me reassure you, pretty good tunes were had that night.

Not That I Want To

... But I guess I'll join the discussion.

Anyone with half a brain can agree to the logic that fewer guns = fewer gun crimes. But since I'm in the half of my field that practices (as opposed to theorizes), I'd like to know how to translate all this discussion into real reform.

Real reform that takes into account all kinds of things... like... how to handle the supply and demand and black market when restrictions are put into place, how to handle the increase in incarceration (and, inevitably, reentry) that comes with stricter laws, what happens to already disadvantaged communities when more people are going to jail, and what some of the social and biological causes that may predispose a person to want to use a gun to hurt another person? There must be way spot and prevent this before it even remotely gets to the point where the person obtains the firearm.

Talk is great, but as a person who deals with gun crimes every day in a city that has a ban on guns, I'd like to call on anyone who has a good idea about what to do to please, let us hear it. Because what we have isn't working, on either end of the spectrum.

Flaked Out

I had a cruel day at work today and was looking forward to a nice hard yoga class. I fell asleep after work and woke up at 5:30pm, not enough time to shake off torpor, get dressed, and hoof it to Tenleytown, but in my confused sleepy flurry, I tried. It never occurred to me to just chill out and attend the 7:15 class.

I scarfed down some whole wheat corn chips, got dressed, threw my hair into a ponytail, and ran out the door.

I took the elevator down to the basement, stepped off, and checked my watch. 5:44pm. I would be late.

I took the elevator back up to my floor and went back to my apartment. Stood in the middle of the room, felt how much I really wanted to sweat and breathe, and went back to the elevator. Stood in front of it, berating myself simultaneously for either choice - showing up late or skipping class altogether.

Realized that I was creating a far too anxiety-inducing situation for myself, returned to my apartment, took a nice hot shower, and now my only choice for the evening is whether to have tea or wine and what my next book will be.

Potentially Awkward Situation

This afternoon I was scheduled for my monthly massage. I had a few errands to run first and ended up in Tenleytown a bit early, so I decided to go to Starbucks and get a cup of tea to warm up this cold, windy, rainy day. As I was walking past a store of some kind, a few doors down from the coffee shop, a man sitting inside caught my eye. I thought for a moment that I recognized him, so when he smiled, I smiled back. Then I realized that I had just caught the eye and returned the smile of a strange man. Great.

Standing in line at Starbucks a few seconds later, I saw the guy come in, glance around, and take a seat by the window. Eeep!! I really didn't have anywhere else to go and of course he sat right by the door so I would have to walk past him to leave, so I took a seat at a small table with a free-standing sign placed strategically between he and I. In this picture, you can see the sign taking up almost the whole frame, and then the tiny shadow of his head on the wall.

I don't think the guy saw me the entire time I was sitting there and I was able to make an inconspicuous exit. Whew!

Catpix: YogaKitten

Mental Block

Lately I have been having a really hard time posting anything of substance.

Since I've been out of school I've fallen out of the habit of expressing myself through writing; it is a habit and something one must practice. I feel expressive in my thoughts and in speaking, but not in writing. So it's frustrating to try to sit and transcribe complex thoughts; I'm never happy with the outcome, no matter how often I return to my writing and revise.

Maybe my life is just routine right now. I take great satisfaction in working hard, which entails matters I cannot write about here. My personal life follows a fairly predictable pattern.

So... I don't know. How to open up?

Weekend Take Two!

Okay, I was really looking forward to last weekend but now I am really looking forward to this weekend. Being bed-ridden is not the same as getting rest, and I am still sort of worn out from fighting my awful cold.

But now I feel much better and have a three-day weekend to look forward to! The DC Government gave us Monday off for Emancipation Day. Whatever, I'll take it.

So now I am settled down to my new favorite show, the Take Home Chef (yes I am in love with Curtis) and I have a half bottle of a lovely Cotes du Rhone and a long empty weekend of shopping and yoga and naps.

Let it begin!

On The Mend

Two days of bed-rest and I am officially on the upswing. First hint: since about 1pm I've been eating non-stop. I discovered soy yogurt!

I will be back at work tomorrow and hope to be at a yoga class on Thursday. Friday for sure. It will be nice to feel back to normal for the upcoming three-day weekend.

I Need A New Body

One that's infection- and congestion-free. This cold hit me hard and fast. I felt fine all day Friday, felt fine at my yoga class, felt fine during the ten-minute walk home... and then... almost immediately upon returning home I was totally floored. I didn't even have a chance to fight it off.

I can't remember the last time I took two days in a row off of work. Well, technically I went in for an hour this morning, but I'm counting that as a day off.

Ungh... just kill me...

Weekend

Good God do I need this weekend. I'm burned out. It's going to be cold all weekend and I look forward to hours of coccooning - books, tea, blankets, thick socks, a heating pad, kittens. No people. No work. A bit of yoga. Maybe a brief foray into Adams Morgan on Saturday night to see a few friends. But in general, as little as possible. I may even shut off my computer and cell phone.

Yeah, I really need this weekend.

Hardcore (literally)!!

Somewhere near the end of the Ashtanga primary series, after we're good and sweaty and our muscles are burning and our joints have melted, comes one of the most dreaded poses: Navasana. This pose is held for five sloooow breaths, then you pull the knees into the chest - feet never touch the floor - place the hands next to the hips, and LIFT everything up. Then the legs extend into Navasana again - feet never touching the floor - for five more breaths. This is repeated five times before we move into backbends and then inversions to finish out the practice.

This evening in my class we were especially struggling with keeping straight legs in the posture. My instructor, encouraging us to relax into the posture (yeah, right) said, "If you can't keep straight legs, maybe you should take an easier class - at a different studio." On one hand, he was providing a bit of comic relief to a room full of burning muscles. On the other hand, he was inserting a thread of Ashtanga philosophy into the pose. Rigor is important.

I love it.

Metro Weirdness

So lately I have noticed a lot of people missing their Metro stops or realizing that they are on the wrong train. Unfortunately, I find this hilarious (in the most harmless possible way, of course). This happened on my train as I was heading home both yesterday and today. Could it be an ominous omen of what's to come this tourist season?

Also, a large, hand-written sign taped to the faregates caught my attention this afternoon. It said:

NOTICE - ABSOLUTELY NO STROLLERS ON THE ESCALATOR!

Heh.

That Time of Year

It's about time for my annual rant.

The weather is getting warmer and sometimes people (read: women) lose their minds a little. So let me just set a few things straight:

1. Tight clothes do not make you look thinner. In fact, tight clothes on even a very thin person can create rolls where there really aren't any, hence making you look chubbier than you are. Buy clothes that fit. Do not squeeze into the size you think you are for some deluded sense of self-worth; buy clothes that fit. Fitted and tight are not the same thing. Learn it.

2. Parasols, if pulled off properly, can be elegant and mysterious. Do not substitute a plain umbrella for a parasol in sunny weather. You look idiotic carrying an umbrella, especially one witha design, in blazing heat. I understand your wish to stay pale - SPF 45 and a cute hat should do the trick.

I am dreading the beginning of summer as people try to bind themselves into their clothes from last season that may not fit after the winter hibernation. I'm sure this rant will be continued...

Decision and Breakthrough

Today after my yoga class two of my instructors encouraged me to attend the Sunday morning Mysore class. First I will tell you what Mysore class is, then I will tell you why this is awesome!

To understand why Mysore practice is the pinnacle of Ashtanga, you should first understand one thing that makes Ashtanga different than other systems of yoga. Ashtanga is a practice involving synchronizing the breath with progressive series' of postures. A student begins with the primary series (which starts with approximately 55 postures and is taught in several chunks) and builds slowly from there. The series never changes; each Ashtanga class is the same. It happens to be one of the most physically demanding systems of yoga and the practice produces a profuse, purifying sweat that detoxifies the body and just feels really good.

The Mysore practice, named for the city in India in which the founder of Ashtanga lives, is self-led, as opposed to a normal class which is guided by the instructor. Students drop in sometime during the prescribed time, unroll their mat, and start flowing with the breath. They move at the pace of their own breath, finish at different times, and hold poses for teacher assistance if need be. This requires that the student have memorized the primary series up to their individual point, which is really important because the practice really begins to deepen only when each breath is synchronized with a movement and no energy is wasted in standing still trying to think of or be explained the next posture.

One thing I noticed in my practice tonight is that I am not very adventurous in my yoga. I have a pretty rigidly defined comfort zone (surprise surprise). So when I explained to my instructors why, for this reason, I thought Mysore to be a bit of a risk simply because of the self-led element, they both took dissenting opinions and told me that it's in Mysore that a student can really get the most focused assistance from a teacher to break through their limits because the teacher is not focused on bringing everyone out of the posture at the same time, or trying to run around adjusting every student who is holding the same pose, as they would be in a class. So the bottom line is that I'm going to Mysore on Sunday morning! The Mysore practices during the week conflict with my start time at work, so it'll be once a week for me and normal classes in the evening the rest of the time.

What I took away from all this encouragement is that they find me a dedicated student with potential to open up my practice to deeper levels given the right environment. Holla!

So that was the breakthrough. And now for the decision.

Drum roll, please....

I have decided to give up running for a while. Like, six months to start, maybe longer, in an effort to see if I can open my hips and hamstrings a little bit more. Runners are notoriously tight in this area, and even though one of my yoga instructors routinely runs 50k and 100-mile trail runs, he's just a mutant - most of the time, running and yoga don't mix if you want to be improving in either.

So we'll see how this goes...

Catpix: Cozy Natasha

Making herself at home in the lid of a shoebox.

"El Duderino, if you're not into the whole brevity thing"

Haha. I spent the morning watching one of the most hilarious movies ever, The Big Lebowski. Cracks me up.

For the first time, yesterday, I sort of missed my car. It was cold and rainy and windy all day, but the walk to yoga class was okay. However, at some point (probably while I was standing on my head or something), the rain turned to sleet and the walk home was very tenuous. All downhill. Makes for a tough time keeping one's traction.

I've got a day of shoe-shopping ahead of me and then will be heading out to a home session tonight to play some tunes and celebrate St. Patrick's Day the right way - not in a pub.

Gross

It was still raining this morning when I left for work and there were worms all over the sidewalk, so many that it was impossible to become preoccupied with not stepping on any. It was like being in a nightmare. Unnnghh.

Quick Update

Brenda is here and we are already having a fabulous time. We cruised around town this morning and did some shopping at the Eastern Market, then checked out a new bookstore up on U St. Tonight we are having an Ethiopian feast and then will spend the rest of the evening planning out our shopping routine for the rest of her visit

The weather is amazing... let's hope it lasts!

I Have Nothing To Say

I know it's been a while since my last post. My mind is empty. It was so nice over the weekend that I actually lost track of time on my run and went for five miles instead of the three I had planned. Now it is in the twenties and forecasting snow overnight. Boo!

My amazing friend Brenda is coming to visit me this weekend! I hope to convince her to stay in DC. I am one for one when it comes to these sort of attempts (my brother), so my hopes are high. Brenda and I both have a high degree of appreciation for social nuance, and we can spend hours just talking about one interaction or encounter. We took the same psychology courses in college and love to rehash those old theories. I cannot wait to have her around - I miss her so much!

Even though the sun is out, do not be fooled: the wind is gusting and the air is freezing cold. I'm going to make another mug of tea and curl up with a book until bedtime.

Did I Mention Being Disturbed

For some reason this memory came back to me a few moments ago:

Several months ago I went shopping at Victoria's Secret in Union Station. I was leaving Bras and wandering through Panties when I became a bit disturbed by two of my fellow shoppers. Picture this: a white male, late 30's, tall, scrawny, with long stringy brown hair matted under a ratty baseball cap, thin lips with a thin mustache wearing a baggy Redskins t-shirt and faded, torn jeans with dirty white sneakers. A garden-variety redneck, holding hands with a girl who couldn't have been more than fifteen-years old. She was pretty but still had some baby fat, wearing a shapeless, solid-color t-shirt and loose jeans, with one-length red hair combed straight, no makeup. I realize that some people simply look young, but the way she carried herself, how she walked, how completely uncomfortable she looked in the store, staring at the floor while being led through the racks of lingerie by her - boyfriend? baby-daddy? person she's been chatting with online and finally agreed to meet? - indicated to me that this was a girl and not a woman.

For me this brings up the Kitty Genovese issue, of which I have thought about probably too much. Kitty Genovese was chased down and stabbed to death by her ex-husband on the street in New York City while dozens of people watched but not one person called 911 or attempted to intervene personally*. Her story has prompted many a social psychologist to study how ordinary citizens react when they encounter similar situations. The outcomes are terribly disturbing. People don't help even if a woman is screaming that she's about to be raped. In one I saw recently, a shocked 234 people walked right by a (fictional) boyfriend and girlfriend who were arguing in public, and even when the guy started threaning to kill her and trying to drag her off, and the girl was screaming that she was terrified and would someone help her, it took over 45-minutes for someone - a woman - to finally attempt to intervene.

Contradicting the actual outcomes of study after study, most people in surveys tend to believe that they would help someone if they saw them in trouble. And for most of us the decision, in our heads at least, is easy if we think that someone is in imminent physical danger. But how do we define the shades of gray? Do we attempt to intervene if a couple is arguing in public? If someone is being threatened? What if it escalates to minor physical contact - a grab of the elbow, a push - or worse? What, if anything, do you do if something just seems wrong but you can't put your finger on why?

*There's another similar story that's well-known if you've studied social psychology or sociology - a woman beaten to death by her husband in their front yard while five uniformed policemen who had responded to the call for service stood by and watched, none of them able to figure out if and when the threshhold had been crossed for them to intervene in a "private family dispute."