Posts Tagged ‘yoga studio’

Wanted Woman

April 5, 2017

I got a text today after coming out of my second therapy session, went great, thanks, in regards to some services that someone wanted.

Specifically.

My former employer wanted to know if I could be available to cook for them every few Sundays.

Um.

Uh.

No.

Then my head was like, but it would be great to see the boys and I could make some extra money, and…

Fuck off head.

You are not working on your day off.

NO.

NOPE.

Not going to do it, there really is nothing that I could ask for that would compensate me enough to go into work on a Sunday.

I work 35 hours a week.

Go to graduate school full-time.

Meet with three people on a weekly basis for doing the deal.

Go to do the deal 6-7 times a week.

Plus.

In May I’ll star an internship that will be an additional 15 hours.

May is next month.

The last thing I want to do is spoil the few remaining Sundays I do have off.

And when my internship starts, I will only have Sundays off.

For a year.

One day off a week.

That’s it.

I’m not going to go to my former bosses house and make food.

Not going to do it.

Just saying.

Although, truth be told, I was hella flattered.

It’s nice to know that you are wanted.

I have actually said no a lot lately.

No to some baby sitting gigs.

Two specifically that come to mind, no to this idea of working on my day off and cooking.

No, thank you for thinking of me, but no.

Funny thing too, is how often I get this, “I know you’re busy, I know this is a long shot, but….”

Yup.

I am busy.

And yes, it is a long shot, and nope, still can’t do it.

I have also been asked by three different people to read their writing.

I know I write a blog every day and I write morning pages and I want to be able to read every thing that is sent to me, because that’s what good writers do, they also read, but I’ve got so much reading for school I haven’t even touched the two pieces that were sent to me an there’s a third heading towards my mailbox.

Maybe I’ll read them next year.

Bwahahahaha.

What I am recognizing though, is that I am sought after for my skills and as such, I’m really flattered, it’s nice to be thought of, it’s nice that people want me to weigh in on their writing.

I believe it means that folks think I might have some skills and something to offer.

I was asked last week about writing a blog and what tips I had.

I gave loads of tips.

But basically it comes down to, just write it.

Sit down.

Do the work.

There is, however, only so much work I can do, and as I am on day 9 in a row of working with out a day off, I might have an idea of how precious my time off is.

I have two days coming up, April 10th and 11th, next Monday and Tuesday.

I have to get through two more days of work and three days of school.

Then.

Freedom.

I couldn’t fathom picking up more work right now.

There was a time when I would have, the allure of the extra money is big, but really, I want to have a full rounded life.

I want to have some fun and I want to have a tiny little bit of social life.

I also want to have rest and I want to be able to do yoga.

I have to keep tabs on myself and my self-care, I can’t show up to work or school or my soon to be happening internship if I’m not taking care of myself.

It’s an ethical issue.

It really is.

So I was proud of myself for saying I was unavailable.

I responded with kindness and acumen.

I was nice, I’m saying.

And that felt good too.

People will ask for what they want, and they’re allowed to ask, but I don’t have to people please and say yes to everything that is offered.

I believe that something better than money will happen for me on my Sunday if I’m not busy literally slaving over a hot stove.

God wants more for me than that.

Dating.

Friends.

Life.

Adventures.

Rest.

Recuperation.

All the things.

Not cooking all the things.

Anyway.

I am looking forward to school this weekend, even though my school days are long days, longer than my work days, they are days filled with thinking and showing up and learning and friends.

I am really excited to see my friends.

I have missed them.

I have some catching up to do.

Yes, I do.

The only thing I get bummed about, who would have thought it, is missing yoga on Saturday and Sunday.

Although I may try to sneak in a restorative yoga class Sunday after I get out of classes.

That is a good possibility.

I’m sad to miss my favorite teachers class on Saturday, but so be it.

As long as I can try to get into a Monday class in the morning, I will be making up for the loss of class on Saturday.

I get a head of myself

Let me stay in this week, where, yes, it is full, but there’s wiggle room here and there.

A coffee with a friend.

Catching up with my fellows tomorrow night.

Wrapping up the last bits and pieces of my school preparations.

Doing a little laundry.

And yes.

Chilling out a bit.

Like right now.

A cup of tea.

A video.

A snack.

And bed.

Sounds just about perfect.

No more cooking today.

No soup for you!

I Did Not Write My Paper

November 13, 2016

I stressed out about writing it though.

That was fun.

I burst into tears in the parking lot of a church this evening when I was invited to go get noodles in Japan Town.

It was too much.

“Honey, I was just inviting you to fellowship,” he said and gave me a big hug.

I was not going to leave the house this evening.

I was going to get the fucking paper done.

Although.

Let me be honest.

I didn’t actually think I was going to write it today.

I spent a lot of time wondering exactly when I was going to write it and started to be honest about my schedule and what I could do when and I did some negotiating with myself and decided that I needed to do certain things before I wrote the paper.

OH.

And FYI.

I did do a lot of work on the paper.

Just because it’s not in paper form doesn’t mean I didn’t do work.

In fact.

I have done more work on this paper than I do on most.

I have read all the material.

And re-read some of it.

I have outlined and noted, and post-it noted things.

I have organized my material.

And I have a title.

The paper is writing itself and has been writing itself all weekend.

I haven’t spent this much time thinking about a paper in a while.

But.

That being said.

Yes.

It’s not written.

I did a lot of self-care today that needed to be done.

The weekend before the weekend of school for me is often the busiest of the month.

I went to yoga.

YOGA!

I’m back baby.

It felt a little like coming out of a cave yesterday.

It just opened up, the window and I realized that I needed to be there this morning, I really did, I set my alarm early and got up and made my bed, said my daily prayers, and got into my yoga clothes.

Hello old friends.

I went over to the studio early.

I was the first one there.

I talked the woman at the desk and got signed up again and did the monthly plan, where I pay a set amount, they pull it from my bank account, and I go to class whenever I want.

And.

She remembered me and though they, the studio, had raised its rates, she grandfathered me in at my previous amount and included my student discount.

Thank you, my grad school pocket-book thanks you Yoga Beach.

And yes.

I’ll be up early tomorrow to go in and do it again.

Because.

It felt good.

I mean, I’ve lost some flexibility in the weeks I have missed and I am a little sore, although not as bad as I thought I would be, but it felt so good to be there.

To be in my body.

To not be in my head.

Just to stretch and move and get a good sweat on.

And.

OH.

I cried.

I got a nice big fat, unexpected, emotional release at the end of the class.

It felt cleansing and good and letting go and walked out of the studio thanking God and into the light of a brand new day.

It was fucking fabulous.

Why didn’t I want to do this?

Probably because it’s so damn good for me.

Story of my life.

If it’s good for me I don’t want to do it.

Eventually I come around to it.

After yoga.

A good hot shower, a good hot breakfast, hot coffee, and some writing.

Then a scooter ride up to the Inner Sunset to do the deal with my person at Tart to Tart.

After we reconnected I went next door to the nail salon and got a mani/pedi and my eyebrows waxed.

Paper or no paper I like to be groomed and this is the week in the month that I could squeeze it in and so I did.

Read some trashy magazines, chilled out, tried to not think about my paper, thought about it anyway, and then took myself out to a nice lunch.

Because I decided the thing to do at that point, it was after 3 p.m. was to go grocery shopping and I know better than to do that on an empty stomach.

I shopped extra for the week.

Anything that I might need or want for the week and next weekend of school I made sure to get and be stocked up on, extra tea, coffee, all my staples, and stuff to cook, plus all my household stuff that I didn’t want to have to think about.

I ran into a few people at the Safe Way out by Ocean Beach and caught the eye of a cute guy in the store, but didn’t think about it twice.

Then as I was loading up my basket on my scooter and juggling my bags and keys and purse, he walked by and looked at me, “you are very pretty,” he said and smiled.

I am surprised I didn’t drop my keys, “thanks,” I replied.

“Have a good one,” he said and walked off.

Wait.

What?

I was a little flustered, very complimented, it rather made my day it was so unexpected, but then I was like, isn’t this where one asks the other out to coffee?

He just walked away.

Oh well.

I was flattered though and it put a nice little pop of joy in my afternoon.

I zoomed home, unloaded my groceries and then headed up to co-op on the corner that I am a member of to get the rest of my basics for the week.

I came home, balanced my check book, put all my groceries away, started a pot of brown rice and threw a chicken in the oven to roast.

There is just something about having a homey smell in my house when I’m doing school work really makes me feel grounded and it’s nice to have good self-care around my own diet and needs.

While the chicken roasted I did more prep work on my paper.

I organized it, I re-read some more stuff, I got a general idea of where I was going with it, I made a plan.

Then.

I got a text asking what I was doing tonight.

I replied.

And before you know it I am off.

I went to do the deal, it’s my commitment on Saturday’s and my friend was unexpectedly in town and wanted to meet me there.

I haven’t seen her in months.

Of course I’m going.

And.

I’m going out afterwards to fellowship, because sometimes the best way to write a paper is to give yourself some fucking down time with your best girl friend in the city.

Well, she doesn’t live in the city anymore, so I really had to do it and I am so grateful I did.

And yes.

I will crank out the paper tomorrow.

It will get done.

They always do.

I have time.

I will make time.

It will happen.

And truly, the big heavy lifting, the research and reading and organizing, that’s all done.

Yoga in the morning, doing the deal with a couple of ladies, a tea date in the afternoon, then home again, home again, jiggedy jig.

The paper will get written and all will be fine.

Because.

It already is.

Despite the fear factory in my brain.

The paper will be written.

And life will go on.

Just like it always does.

 

Things You Don’t Want To Hear

February 21, 2016

On a first date.

And I’m not talking about impressions, because I was unimpressed when my date showed up looking ten years older than his profile.

Motherfucker.

You are so NOT 46.

56.

Sure.

46?

Come on.

And no fair using old photos.

I call foul.

I also deleted the damn app again.

I’m not really interested in meeting people that way.

I have better luck in the grocery store.

It didn’t help that it was the second attempt at the first failed date of the day.

I should have known better than to even give the guy a second chance.

Being late is one thing.

Texting me to tell me that he is going to be another fifteen minutes late because he is cleaning the cat box is something else entirely.

DUDE.

I should have called it quits at that point.

And in fact, when he did call, after delaying the date three times, when it was meet at two became meet at three became it’s 3:45p.m. and now he’s got a flat tire.

I was done with it.

And pissed.

I’d wasted a couple of hours in my day.

But truly.

I did not waste them.

I read.

I got a lot of reading done in one of my classes and so was productive and I also gave myself a little down time at the cafe, I did go down to Java Beach this afternoon and treat myself to an iced coffee and an hour of leisure time reading in the sunshine while it was still warm out.

It got super chilly this evening.

I bundled up to go back out to try and meet up with this guy again.

I decided when he texted me a photo of the flat tire on his motorcycle to give him the benefit of the doubt and since I had successfully powered through so much of my reading, I thought, what the heck, it’s Saturday night, I can go down to the cafe for a little while, have a cup of tea and try again.

Then the things got funny.

Mutual friends walk in and I am sitting there dishing to my girl friend about how this is not the date I thought and how there was someone else I was much more interested in and I shared a tid bit or two with her and we talked yoga and maybe she would come out to the studio and check out a class with me, and then, she and her beau went off and left me with the date that said all the wrong things.

Note to single male readers out there.

Just in case you didn’t know.

Things you don’t want to tell a date.

Things that are not sexy.

“I haven’t had a job in three years.”

“I am $100,000 in debt to credit cards.”

“If I don’t find work soon I’m going to be homeless.”

“I have ADHD.”

“I have sleep apnea.”

Dude.

STAWP.

Please.

My heart broke a little for the sad sack’ness of it all.

I don’t think he had a clue.

I stuck it out for an hour and a half and he wasn’t a bad person, just not my person, and just gah, no chemistry.

When you’ve had chemistry with someone and then this, well, it just made it such a stark contrast.  I know what I want and it was not mister dirty house full of dirty dishes, dirty laundry, credit card debt, dirty cat box, no job, snores a lot man.

I know what I want and that is good information to have.

I also know that I was just doing it for practice.

It’s good to put myself out there and as my girlfriend said, sometimes dates like these are to help us see what we want, because when it happens, you know it.

I know what it looks like and I know what it feels like when I connect with someone.

There was no connection tonight.

But it just didn’t help with all the other stuff on top of it.

Still.

I tried.

Speaking of trying.

I was back at the yoga studio today.

Day two, second class, go!

It was harder than yesterday, much harder, but the teacher was amazing.

I’m not sure I would have committed to the studio if I had gone through the physical work out that I went through today, it was far more challenging.

So it was good that I went yesterday and committed.

It could also be that my body was sore from yesterday too, but there were a lot of very challenging poses.

What was different though, was also the emphasis on breath work, setting an intention, the getting into my body felt more like a meditation, a deepening experiencing and spiritual grounding.

I was not expecting that.

In fact.

The teacher spoke about the culture of yoga in the U.S. and how it has become a kind of vanity about the body, how it looks, what it can do, and less of an emphasis on the spiritual, on the meditation, on the power of being grounded in the body and connected to the Earth.

She was speaking my language.

That was one of my big fears.

The mechanism of beauty and idealization of the culture for the body it provides.

I can’t be all about the body, I have to be grounded in the spiritual as well.

That’s just how I am.

I need the interconnection.

She had us meditate and do all sorts of breath work before moving into the poses.

I also got a lot more narrative about the poses, where to place my hands, how to align my body, and when it got to be too much, I just dropped into child’s pose or breathed through it.

I was always in the moment and that was special.

It was hard.

It was challenging.

But.

I left elated.

And I went and bought my own personal yoga mat and returned my housemates to her.

Tomorrow, new yoga work out clothes, I am committing to three times a week and suffice to say the one outfit I have is going to need some supplementation.

I don’t want to waste water running a load of laundry every day so that I can have fresh yoga clothes.

I just signed up for another class for tomorrow–same teacher, she’s only with them on the weekends–I’ll be getting my yoga on with her as much as possible.

Plus.

When I called attention to the fact that my monthly unlimited was charged to my card as well as the first time student class rate, she said, “let me take care of that,” and handed me ten dollars cash.

It feels right being at the studio.

And.

Well.

Ha.

It is awful handy, being that it’s just a half block away from home.

Tomorrow is my last day of freedom before returning to the work and normal school routine, I’ve got more reading planned, some grocery shopping, some doing the deal, some cooking for work, and now, yoga.

It’s not bad.

This sweet little life I have.

In fact.

It’s pretty fucking amazing.

I am.

The luckiest girl in the world.

No goof ball bad date is going to change that.

Not now.

Not.

Ever.

 

 

This Is Change

February 20, 2016

Change is coming.

What’s that they say, the infamous “they,” there’s no change without change.

Yeah.

I think that’s the one.

So.

Change.

I got up and changed into my yoga pants (which really, let me tell the truth, they never were yoga pants before, they played yoga pants on tv, they were pajama pants, no longer, on no, they have officially graduated to prime time) and a tank top and a loose top over that.

Too much clothing in hindsight, but I wore what I felt comfortable with.

I pulled my hair up into a top knot.

I did my morning routine and did my breakfast and coffee and writing.

I outed myself all the fuck over social media.

I was feeling ridiculous with the fear.

Upset bowels and all.

REALLY?

It’s like my tummy can’t take anxiety, there is a reaction.

I was dressed, fed, coffee’d up and I knew it was time to get online and register for the class.

The minute I finished filling out the fields and was about to put my credit card info in to charge for the first class today, my stomach went into knots and I had to fly to the bathroom.

Good gravy.

My body does not tolerate fear.

AT ALL.

Purged and ready to go.

Jesus fuck.

Anyway.

Got that out of the way.

Sat back down, finished the payment and breathed.

I got a supportive text from my person, then a phone call check in and then, ok, I’m doing this.

I grabbed my yoga mat.

Which is not mine, it’s my housemates, I’ll be purchasing one here tomorrow, just up the street at the co-op I’m a member of.

Ah.

Yeah.

Heh.

I’m a California girl.

Want to know the really funny part?

I wanted a kale salad after the work out.

I mean.

I was really craving kale.

I almost trotted up to the market, but the sudden down pour got my ass back to my house and happy with what was in the fridge to eat, which was lovely too (homemade brown rice, turkey with brussels sprouts and asparagus, a super succulent apple, good tea and fabulous company–my best girl came into the city from Castro Valley) and to a hot shower.

I needed it, the shower, and the company and the food.

And.

The yoga.

I had a wash of intense gratitude come over me at one point.

This is where I am supposed to be.

It was such a sure feeling.

So positive and affirming.

And.

I had moments of what the fuck am I doing, I can’t do this, I look like an idiot, I can’t hold that pose, who can hold this fucking pose, holy shit, she can hold this pose, I can’t do this.

And.

Then I would push through and just try again.

Even when I fell on my ass.

Yes.

I fell on my ass trying to do side plank.

And I just “oofed” and then I collapsed in child’s pose and laughed.

I full on belly laughed.

Even the instructor giggled.

It was great.

I don’t have to take myself so damn seriously, nobody else does, why the hell should I?

I learned a lot though, I learned I’m not as bad as I thought and that there is always something new to learn, another place to grow, another place to experience change and movement.

“I think it’s going to crack you wide open,” my friend said tonight after dropping me off at home.

We had the best date ever!

So good to have a girl friend date.

She came over to my place and kept me company while I ate my lunch, we had tea, caught the fuck up, commiserated about work and school and life, then we headed over to a movie at the Balboa Theater.

We saw Hail Cesar, the new Coen Brother movie.

It was great.

The company, of course, was fantastic and it was such a pleasure to hang with my friend.

We had dinner after at House of Shanghai, you know if Patricia Unterman gives it the thumbs up is has to be good.

It was phenomenal.

Then after a latte at the cafe down the block and we headed over to the Outer Sunset to do the deal.

Just such goodness.

It was a cozy, sweet, loving, lovely day.

Oh.

And yes.

I signed up for classes.

I am doing the Frequent “Flow’er” which is unlimited yoga, for $99 a month.

Which is actually $84 a month since they give a student discount and well, I am a student!

I committed to my person that I would work out three times a week and the price was right.  I will go at the three times a week and when I can, if I want to, which I have been told I will, I can go more often.

I signed up for tomorrow’s class at 10:30 a.m.

The class runs an hour and fifteen minutes.

It’s pretty perfect, get into my gear and walk a half block to the studio, come back home, toss my clothes in the laundry, shower, and get on with my day.

The classes that work for me happen on Mondays, Thursdays, Saturday, and Sunday.

I won’t be doing classes on the weekends I am in school, but aside from that I can and will be committing to the three times a week, and I don’t doubt when my body gets more used to it, or my brain relaxes enough to enjoy being in my body, I will go the fourth class.

I reminded myself too, while I was in the class trying to regulate my breathing and keep my hips aligned and my spine straight, and just ease into it all, that it was just for today.

Just today.

This is how it works.

One fucking day at a time.

I show up.

I showed up today and it was a miracle, at least for me, it was, it’s a life changer.

I can tell.

And I can’t foresee the exact change that it will illicit, but I know, it’s time.

I’m in.

You try until you can.

I’m going to try.

I am.

I am.

Maybe I Need to Do It

September 25, 2013

Backwards.

I just had this thought as I was scrolling through the pages of the Ocean Beach Yoga schedule.

A yoga studio that is a block away from my house.

So, let me count all the wonderful things that are within blocks of where I live.

Number 1 and the big one really, Ocean Beach, namely, uh yeah, the Pacific Ocean–three blocks away.

Number 2 a Muni line, the N-Judah–half block away.

Number 3 Golden Gate Park, two blocks away.

Number 4 a whole foods community co-op–one point five blocks away.

Number 5 and it could be six as well, Trouble Coffee and Java Beach Cafe–half block and two blocks away, respectively.

Number 7, lucky number seven? A yoga studio.

I have all my urban needs met–coffee, organic food market, train (if I am not on my bike the N-Judah is fantastically handy), and a yoga studio.

I have a lot, if not all my nature needs met–the ocean, the beach, the park.

I really have it all.

So, I am going to start acting like it.

The job interview for another nanny gig does not hurt either.

I got a referral from a friend for a friend, who happened to do graduate studies at UW Madison!

We spoke today and her family’s needs may not be a great match for my availabilities, but it pointed out to me real fast, that I won’t have a challenging time finding work.

The challenge is to not live my life as though things are not happening.

To keep my pennies to myself like some miser.

There is that idea that I was writing about last night, the why would I want more if I don’t want what I have?  But this, this is slightly different.

If I continue to hold onto the idea that I live an impoverished life and there are certain things, like yoga, I can’t afford, than I will continue to live a life of deprivation.

Instead, I can drop that idea, open myself to the obvious abundance that is surrounding me and have some faith that if I take a month’s worth of yoga classes I won’t not be able to afford rent.

A month of unlimited yoga is $130.

I can so afford that.

I absolutely can.

In fact, I am absolutely going to.

I don’t even have to start out that crazy, try a week and see if I like it.

I have some ulterior motives, as this week has shown me that I do have some qualms about my body shape and size.

Not so much my weight, just more that I could use some toning and sculpting and I would like to knock off that last bit of weight I put on before I get naked with someone.

I am guessing that will eventually happen with the Mister.

He moves slow, but I don’t believe that will be for much longer.

When his work lightens up I want to be there.

And this is more for me than for him, if it’s for him at all, which it rather isn’t.

See, he likes me, he’s attracted to me, I have evidence, he’s told me and nobody kisses someone like the way he has kissed me without being attracted to that person.

The man has braces on, not bifocals.

He can clearly see what I look like.

In fact, he’s known me for years, so he’s seen me at some pretty unhappy sizes.

What I look like is not going to be some surprise.

How I feel about myself will just be for myself and will boost my confidence, make me feel better about being a nanny, being physical fit to deal with the babies is actually a good deal of my work, my body has been sore and I could use some work.

Yoga.

Yoga.

Yoga.

And I love how a yoga body looks.

I have always wanted one.

So, why in the world should I not go and get one.

I can’t afford to deprive myself of something that will make me happy.

Plus, despite the beautiful weather, there will come a time, and it is in the not too distant future, when the rains will come.

November.

I can feel you sneaking in, the fall equinox just happened, I noticed the day today was shorter, and the rains, they do come.

Grey, wet, no sun.

Seattle, quit ya bitchin, San Francisco gets as much if not more rainfall.

I remember one year it was unusually bad and it was something like 43 or 44 days in a row of non-stop rain.

Even a light rain season, is still a rainy season.

And for a lady with clinically diagnosed depression, seasonal depression, and clinical anxiety, exercise is the only way to keep me off antidepressants.

I have been off meds now for just about two years.

I want to stay that way.

So, yoga, I think so.

I also said yes to meeting someone for tea next week Tuesday, although I said no, uh, I am busy, er, yeah.

Then I went to the bathroom, admonished myself, came back and said, “yes, of course I will be happy to have tea with you next week,” I have known her in an acquaintance kind of way for years, but now that I am in the neighborhood, well, damn it, I need to get to know the people.

It is a challenge.

Life.

Love.

Being myself, it is all a challenge.

But there are moments, like earlier, when I was sitting on the bench in the Panhandle with an 8 month old baby sleeping on my chest and a 16 1/2 month older toddler happily playing with leaves and acorns and a sand bucket.

The wind pushed my hair off my face, I could smell the invigorating smell of Eucalyptus, the sun was warm, the bite of autumn just a nibble and not a gnaw, the green of the grass, righteous.

I looked up at the trees and breathed in the smell deep and full.

I looked down at the baby and knew I was lucky and blessed to be trusted with his small self.

I looked at the toddler who was happy and busy and smiling and chatting with me and the dogs and giggling and squeaking (he has “squeakers,” they are retarded cute, making a little rubber ball squeak noise every time he walks.  I seriously want to do a Flash Dance Montage of him stomping his little feet in the shoes, I die every time I think about it) and know I am loved.

“Up, up,” he says to me and cuddles on me now.

I became his person at Burning Man, no going back now.

I looked inward and saw I was at peace, content, serene.

The taking care of me part looks a lot like  doing the opposite of what I tell myself.

“You can’t afford that!”

I can’t afford not to.

So, yoga, here I come.

Trying, one day at a little time to do it different.

If my brain tells me no you can’t.

My action will be yes, yes, you can.

 

 


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