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september 26, 2007
My Favorite Homeless People
"Stubbs"
I christened this man "Stubbs" because he is a fingerless torso of a man.
Without fail he can be found on the corner of 60th & Madison during the rush of
the early morning work week with his trusty tip can. Not only does he hustle
the working class for dollars, he's also the President and founder of his own
record label, Sky's the Limit Records. No joke.
"The Poor Man's Blair Underwood"
The Poor Man's Blair Underwood is probably not homeless, but still worth a
metion nonetheless. This suave, debonair gentleman can usually be found in
touristy Times Square playing his saxophone for tips. His resemblance to the
original is uncanny. Although the original presumably doesn't have to beg the
visiting Midwesterners for a few bucks.
"The Asian Lady"
There is an old Asian lady who lives at the bottom of the escalators of the
Times Square station with her many boxes of belongings. She is quite
territorial to her spot and can usually be recognized by her footwear of red
crocs (like yours truly). Sometimes she sleeps with a plastic bag over her head
and boxes. Other times, she jams with the Poor Man's Blair Underwood with her
magical rainstick of harmony.
"Crazy Jesus"
Crazy Jesus can usually be found on subway platforms maniacally strumming his
guitar to the beat of his own drum. His long wiry hair resembles the coif of a
troll doll only with slightly more shine and manageability and his scraggly
beard is the mark of someone who worships either Jesus or Al Qeada. He's always
clad in stained jeans and grey t-shirt, but his most fascinating characteristic
is his firm stance against footwear of any kind. He plays his 2 chords on the
guitar while constantly engaging in a wacky, barefooted 2 step. Sometimes on
cardboard usually on bare subway platform earth. There are lyrics to his tunes,
but they are undecipherable. Probably because they are the words from God
himself.
"Circle & Kitten Dude"
Circle and Kitten dude has the soul of an artist. He is always making elaborate
circle drawings like he was denied a magna doodle in his childhood. As if to
rebel against the 'rents, he's angrily taken to the streets and subways with
his markers and at least 3 spunky kittens in tow.
I always wonder about the homeless and their pets? How do they get them to
prefer a few scraps and nights on the street rather than life on a comfy sofa
and a steady diet of Fancy Feast and Snausages? In all of the years that I've
seen this man these kittens never age. Either this man knows the way to the
Ponce De Leon Everlasting Youth Center or he eats them for fun. I just don't
know. If ever the cops come after him, he simply picks up his markers and dumps
the kittens in his T-shirt and moves on to the next spot. Fascinating indeed.
My Favorite Homeless People
"Stubbs"
I christened this man "Stubbs" because he is a fingerless torso of a man.
Without fail he can be found on the corner of 60th & Madison during the rush of
the early morning work week with his trusty tip can. Not only does he hustle
the working class for dollars, he's also the President and founder of his own
record label, Sky's the Limit Records. No joke.
"The Poor Man's Blair Underwood"
The Poor Man's Blair Underwood is probably not homeless, but still worth a
metion nonetheless. This suave, debonair gentleman can usually be found in
touristy Times Square playing his saxophone for tips. His resemblance to the
original is uncanny. Although the original presumably doesn't have to beg the
visiting Midwesterners for a few bucks.
"The Asian Lady"
There is an old Asian lady who lives at the bottom of the escalators of the
Times Square station with her many boxes of belongings. She is quite
territorial to her spot and can usually be recognized by her footwear of red
crocs (like yours truly). Sometimes she sleeps with a plastic bag over her head
and boxes. Other times, she jams with the Poor Man's Blair Underwood with her
magical rainstick of harmony.
"Crazy Jesus"
Crazy Jesus can usually be found on subway platforms maniacally strumming his
guitar to the beat of his own drum. His long wiry hair resembles the coif of a
troll doll only with slightly more shine and manageability and his scraggly
beard is the mark of someone who worships either Jesus or Al Qeada. He's always
clad in stained jeans and grey t-shirt, but his most fascinating characteristic
is his firm stance against footwear of any kind. He plays his 2 chords on the
guitar while constantly engaging in a wacky, barefooted 2 step. Sometimes on
cardboard usually on bare subway platform earth. There are lyrics to his tunes,
but they are undecipherable. Probably because they are the words from God
himself.
"Circle & Kitten Dude"
Circle and Kitten dude has the soul of an artist. He is always making elaborate
circle drawings like he was denied a magna doodle in his childhood. As if to
rebel against the 'rents, he's angrily taken to the streets and subways with
his markers and at least 3 spunky kittens in tow.
I always wonder about the homeless and their pets? How do they get them to
prefer a few scraps and nights on the street rather than life on a comfy sofa
and a steady diet of Fancy Feast and Snausages? In all of the years that I've
seen this man these kittens never age. Either this man knows the way to the
Ponce De Leon Everlasting Youth Center or he eats them for fun. I just don't
know. If ever the cops come after him, he simply picks up his markers and dumps
the kittens in his T-shirt and moves on to the next spot. Fascinating indeed.
october 24, 2007
the vanilla cake conspiracy
When did vanilla cake stop tasting like vanilla cake? These days when you try
to enjoy a delicious vanilla cupcake slathered in chocolate frosting, you bite
into the luscious sweetness only to discover the confection tastes not like
Duncan Hines, but suspiciously like cornbread. Mutton dressed as lamb I say.
I first noticed this conspiracy back in August. The Economist was celebrating
his birthday/going away party. Since he's known as quite the gourmand, his lady
friend aptly chose a delightful chocolate, chocolate mousse, vanilla cake
confection. Something tells me I was first in line for a slice. As delicious as
the cake was after my first bite I swore that I tasted the country southern
goodness that is cornbread. I learned that the cake was purchased at the Whole
Foods Bowery, so I figured maybe it was some sort of new hippie-vegan
combination. I shared my observations with the Economist and other guests.
They chewed thoughtfully and agreed that the vanilla layer definitely tasted
like cornbread. Hmm.
I quickly dismissed the curious cornbread cake as a fluke experience. However,
weeks later in San Francisco, I discovered a small bakery that specialized in
my favorite cupcake combination. It's hard to believe but vanilla cupcakes with
chocolate frosting is not so easy to find. Usually it's the more popular
chocolate cupcake with vanilla frosting. Needless to say, these black and white
goodies must be snatched immediately when possible. I bought two delicious
specimens and a grade school-esque carton of milk. I copped a squat, opened my
GQ magazine, and prepared to enjoy my sweet treat.
There is a particular way one must eat a black and white cupcake. Similar to
the Oreo cookie method, one must eat the chocolate frosting first using only
fingers. The chocolate quickly arouses the taste buds. When a thin veneer of
chocolate frosting is left, you must slice the cupcake in half and then in
small sections to make the dessert last for as long as possible. If a knife is
not available, then and only then is it permissible to eat the cupcake as a
whole entity. The remaining layer of chocolate frosting blends perfectly with
the subtle sweetness of the vanilla cake creating a pleasing gastronomic
experience.
I eagerly anticipate my cupcake experience. Each lick of frosting off my
fingers brings me closer to the ulitmate cupcake experience. Finally everything
was in place. Xanadu! The chocolate and vanilla flavors swirled around my
mouth. I swallowed. My reaction...Cornbread! Again?!
One time can be a fluke. The second makes me leery, but a third time means
something must be up. To celebrate a co-workers birthday today, the bookkeeper
specially ordered a variety of cupcakes with pretty flowers iced on top.
Coincidentally being in the right place at the right time I was offered to take
one. Spying my favorite flavor, I grabbed one before anyone could change their
mind. The chocolate frosting is light, milky, and delicious. Extremely
gratifying as I have been running downtown and back all day. Tired, hungry, and
embarking on my third cab ride of the day, I settle into the back seat
preparing in enjoy a few minutes of peace. The chocolate frosting licked away,
I gratefully bite into the sweet nourishment. Once again, tastes just like
cornbread!
What gives?
the vanilla cake conspiracy
When did vanilla cake stop tasting like vanilla cake? These days when you try
to enjoy a delicious vanilla cupcake slathered in chocolate frosting, you bite
into the luscious sweetness only to discover the confection tastes not like
Duncan Hines, but suspiciously like cornbread. Mutton dressed as lamb I say.
I first noticed this conspiracy back in August. The Economist was celebrating
his birthday/going away party. Since he's known as quite the gourmand, his lady
friend aptly chose a delightful chocolate, chocolate mousse, vanilla cake
confection. Something tells me I was first in line for a slice. As delicious as
the cake was after my first bite I swore that I tasted the country southern
goodness that is cornbread. I learned that the cake was purchased at the Whole
Foods Bowery, so I figured maybe it was some sort of new hippie-vegan
combination. I shared my observations with the Economist and other guests.
They chewed thoughtfully and agreed that the vanilla layer definitely tasted
like cornbread. Hmm.
I quickly dismissed the curious cornbread cake as a fluke experience. However,
weeks later in San Francisco, I discovered a small bakery that specialized in
my favorite cupcake combination. It's hard to believe but vanilla cupcakes with
chocolate frosting is not so easy to find. Usually it's the more popular
chocolate cupcake with vanilla frosting. Needless to say, these black and white
goodies must be snatched immediately when possible. I bought two delicious
specimens and a grade school-esque carton of milk. I copped a squat, opened my
GQ magazine, and prepared to enjoy my sweet treat.
There is a particular way one must eat a black and white cupcake. Similar to
the Oreo cookie method, one must eat the chocolate frosting first using only
fingers. The chocolate quickly arouses the taste buds. When a thin veneer of
chocolate frosting is left, you must slice the cupcake in half and then in
small sections to make the dessert last for as long as possible. If a knife is
not available, then and only then is it permissible to eat the cupcake as a
whole entity. The remaining layer of chocolate frosting blends perfectly with
the subtle sweetness of the vanilla cake creating a pleasing gastronomic
experience.
I eagerly anticipate my cupcake experience. Each lick of frosting off my
fingers brings me closer to the ulitmate cupcake experience. Finally everything
was in place. Xanadu! The chocolate and vanilla flavors swirled around my
mouth. I swallowed. My reaction...Cornbread! Again?!
One time can be a fluke. The second makes me leery, but a third time means
something must be up. To celebrate a co-workers birthday today, the bookkeeper
specially ordered a variety of cupcakes with pretty flowers iced on top.
Coincidentally being in the right place at the right time I was offered to take
one. Spying my favorite flavor, I grabbed one before anyone could change their
mind. The chocolate frosting is light, milky, and delicious. Extremely
gratifying as I have been running downtown and back all day. Tired, hungry, and
embarking on my third cab ride of the day, I settle into the back seat
preparing in enjoy a few minutes of peace. The chocolate frosting licked away,
I gratefully bite into the sweet nourishment. Once again, tastes just like
cornbread!
What gives?
october 26, 2007
google-able
My writing is featured on this very site and my myspace page.My
following is strictly word of mouth and fluke. I don't advertise or
spread the word as much as I should, but I do receive a steady stream
of readers nonetheless. Including a Mr. Gregory Norman Smallwood who
sent me a wonderful yet backhanded fan letter. I appreciate the love.
I encourage more people to do the same.
Anyway, every once in a while I will get my $13 worth of hosting
services and check to see how people find out about my site. The
answer is Google. Inexplicably the following phrases have enlightened
complete strangers to my rantings about nothing.
"Signs your friend has joined a cult"
"Because we promised you a hot Mercedes guy"
"She is wearing spiderman costume or spider-man costume or spiderman
suit or spider-man suit"
"Mountain Climbing catch phrases"
"Rodney Yee penis"
"Muscles grow bust out of clothes rip"
Napa Valley Fellatio classes"
"Eleven Limited snowboard pant"
"Expired vanilla extract"
"Single men & pinky rings"
Interesting, no?
google-able
My writing is featured on this very site and my myspace page.My
following is strictly word of mouth and fluke. I don't advertise or
spread the word as much as I should, but I do receive a steady stream
of readers nonetheless. Including a Mr. Gregory Norman Smallwood who
sent me a wonderful yet backhanded fan letter. I appreciate the love.
I encourage more people to do the same.
Anyway, every once in a while I will get my $13 worth of hosting
services and check to see how people find out about my site. The
answer is Google. Inexplicably the following phrases have enlightened
complete strangers to my rantings about nothing.
"Signs your friend has joined a cult"
"Because we promised you a hot Mercedes guy"
"She is wearing spiderman costume or spider-man costume or spiderman
suit or spider-man suit"
"Mountain Climbing catch phrases"
"Rodney Yee penis"
"Muscles grow bust out of clothes rip"
Napa Valley Fellatio classes"
"Eleven Limited snowboard pant"
"Expired vanilla extract"
"Single men & pinky rings"
Interesting, no?
october 30, 2007
I know you are but what am I
For absolutely no logical reason at all I downloaded the score to "Pee
Wee's Big Adventure". While listening to the tune my way to my weekly
yoga study group, I was struck by the notion that if I was ever to get
married I would want the opening frenetic bars to be played during the
"welcome the parents/family" portion at the reception. For that reason
alone, I can see why marriage is probably not in the cards me. I accept
that.
The score progressed as I grew closer to the studio which brought back
the memory of the film's many climatic scenes. I realized that "Pee
Wee's Big Adventure" is one of the best movies ever. Amazing Larry
aside, what's not to love? This movie has something for everyone.
Seriously, it's directed by Tim Burton. We learn that the Alamo does
not have a basement. For the fashionistas, we see that Mr. Herman's
slim gray suit is probably the inspiration for Hedi Slimane's current
Dior Homme version. There's intense sexual tension between Dottie and
Pee Wee. A cameo by Dee Snider, Morgan Fairchild and Godzilla! GODZILLA
for crying out loud! Let's not forget the bikes either. Honestly, you
know that Amazing Larry is the most awesome tertiary character to come
along since Bobafet!
I know you are but what am I
For absolutely no logical reason at all I downloaded the score to "Pee
Wee's Big Adventure". While listening to the tune my way to my weekly
yoga study group, I was struck by the notion that if I was ever to get
married I would want the opening frenetic bars to be played during the
"welcome the parents/family" portion at the reception. For that reason
alone, I can see why marriage is probably not in the cards me. I accept
that.
The score progressed as I grew closer to the studio which brought back
the memory of the film's many climatic scenes. I realized that "Pee
Wee's Big Adventure" is one of the best movies ever. Amazing Larry
aside, what's not to love? This movie has something for everyone.
Seriously, it's directed by Tim Burton. We learn that the Alamo does
not have a basement. For the fashionistas, we see that Mr. Herman's
slim gray suit is probably the inspiration for Hedi Slimane's current
Dior Homme version. There's intense sexual tension between Dottie and
Pee Wee. A cameo by Dee Snider, Morgan Fairchild and Godzilla! GODZILLA
for crying out loud! Let's not forget the bikes either. Honestly, you
know that Amazing Larry is the most awesome tertiary character to come
along since Bobafet!
december 24, 2007
2007 - A Year in Review
With 2007 coming to a close, it's time to take stock of the year's highs and
lows. Was it a good year? You tell me.
Here's the year in review...
Attempted the "Master Cleanse" and failed within 19 hours resulting in
vomiting all over 23rd St.
Poisoned a date.
Only lost my luggage once, yet had a minimum of 6 flights cancelled.
Met my friend "James" who janitored by day but at night was on the lam from
the FBI and while giving mad props to his hero the Zodiac Killer & buddy
Charles Manson.
Danced like Flav Flav circa 1991 at the chola, rockabilly, hoodrat hangout in
Orange, CA.
Learned if you ever get lost in the O.C., you're most likely in Tustin
"Why? Because we promised you a Mercedes Benz that's why?'
Befriended the very awesome Early Times of Sirius Radio's Blues channel and
the super-fabulous actor Russ "Always, Always get cheese on your Bell Grande
Nachos" Marchand.
Discovered I can drink 8 bottles of Fiji water in an 8 hour sitting.
Managed to rack up a $1200 car service bill, and still keep my job.
Spent an average Sunday night in the back seat of a pimped out Escalade limo,
guzzling champagne on y way to some gay club in Queens.
Had my fabulous 30th birthday party complete with Roberto Cavalli dress.
Paid an exorbitant sum for my life "Blueprint".
Began a yoga teachers training course.
Actually said "I need a hug" in a conscious listening group circle.
Discovered that broccoli and grapes are not such a bad combination, but my
lovely hostess made the worst sangria ever.
Lost at porno bingo. As a consolation I got to meet Haven & "AP" African
Prince stars of "Queensboro Plaza" & "Queensboro Plaza 2".
Sold my soul on Ebay.
2007 - A Year in Review
With 2007 coming to a close, it's time to take stock of the year's highs and
lows. Was it a good year? You tell me.
Here's the year in review...
Attempted the "Master Cleanse" and failed within 19 hours resulting in
vomiting all over 23rd St.
Poisoned a date.
Only lost my luggage once, yet had a minimum of 6 flights cancelled.
Met my friend "James" who janitored by day but at night was on the lam from
the FBI and while giving mad props to his hero the Zodiac Killer & buddy
Charles Manson.
Danced like Flav Flav circa 1991 at the chola, rockabilly, hoodrat hangout in
Orange, CA.
Learned if you ever get lost in the O.C., you're most likely in Tustin
"Why? Because we promised you a Mercedes Benz that's why?'
Befriended the very awesome Early Times of Sirius Radio's Blues channel and
the super-fabulous actor Russ "Always, Always get cheese on your Bell Grande
Nachos" Marchand.
Discovered I can drink 8 bottles of Fiji water in an 8 hour sitting.
Managed to rack up a $1200 car service bill, and still keep my job.
Spent an average Sunday night in the back seat of a pimped out Escalade limo,
guzzling champagne on y way to some gay club in Queens.
Had my fabulous 30th birthday party complete with Roberto Cavalli dress.
Paid an exorbitant sum for my life "Blueprint".
Began a yoga teachers training course.
Actually said "I need a hug" in a conscious listening group circle.
Discovered that broccoli and grapes are not such a bad combination, but my
lovely hostess made the worst sangria ever.
Lost at porno bingo. As a consolation I got to meet Haven & "AP" African
Prince stars of "Queensboro Plaza" & "Queensboro Plaza 2".
Sold my soul on Ebay.
january 2, 2008
The Sequel
Fade in:
[Ext. Montage of Buenos Aires, tango dancing, food, and Patagonia]
Movie Announcer
(voice booms)
It's time for the next challenge of mountain climbing greatness!
ACONCAGUA- This time it's serious
Imagine a journey....
1000 meters taller than Kilimanjaro
Fighting winds as strong as 70mph
Terrain that is colder, tougher, and wetter than any Black Diamond run
That climaxes at the tallest point in all of South America and the Southern Hemisphere.
And requires a peculiar device called a "crampon"
[Ext. Ominous shot of Aconcagua]
The Adventure Begins
1.24.09
Fade to black
The Sequel
Fade in:
[Ext. Montage of Buenos Aires, tango dancing, food, and Patagonia]
Movie Announcer
(voice booms)
It's time for the next challenge of mountain climbing greatness!
ACONCAGUA- This time it's serious
Imagine a journey....
1000 meters taller than Kilimanjaro
Fighting winds as strong as 70mph
Terrain that is colder, tougher, and wetter than any Black Diamond run
That climaxes at the tallest point in all of South America and the Southern Hemisphere.
And requires a peculiar device called a "crampon"
[Ext. Ominous shot of Aconcagua]
The Adventure Begins
1.24.09
Fade to black
february 18, 2008
The Horror
Today I committed an act so vile, so disgusting, I can barely look at myself in the mirror. Let alone
find the strength to accept the truth of what I've done. I spent $15 on three candy bars. Not just any
candy bar you see.
A carob bar. "Goldie's Premium Carob Bar Rice Crunch" to be exact.
No refined sugar
No perservatives
No choocolate
No cocoa
No caffeine
No hydrogenated oils
100% vegan
100% organic
Plus the all natural gourmet taste.
This is a hippie "Nestle Crunch". Looks like chocolate. Tastes like chocolate. But it's carob!
Ridiculously overpriced, healthy carob!
Who am I? Seriously what have I become? This was not an impulsive whim when checking out of Whole
Foods. I went there for the sole purpose of purchasing said carob bar.
You know what this means? I'm becoming one of them. You know who "they" are. They recycle. They chant
for harmony and clean air. They only buy products approved from the fair trade marketplace. At least
one article of the clothing they wear is made from hemp. They... are annoying.
Stop the insanity.
The Horror
Today I committed an act so vile, so disgusting, I can barely look at myself in the mirror. Let alone
find the strength to accept the truth of what I've done. I spent $15 on three candy bars. Not just any
candy bar you see.
A carob bar. "Goldie's Premium Carob Bar Rice Crunch" to be exact.
No refined sugar
No perservatives
No choocolate
No cocoa
No caffeine
No hydrogenated oils
100% vegan
100% organic
Plus the all natural gourmet taste.
This is a hippie "Nestle Crunch". Looks like chocolate. Tastes like chocolate. But it's carob!
Ridiculously overpriced, healthy carob!
Who am I? Seriously what have I become? This was not an impulsive whim when checking out of Whole
Foods. I went there for the sole purpose of purchasing said carob bar.
You know what this means? I'm becoming one of them. You know who "they" are. They recycle. They chant
for harmony and clean air. They only buy products approved from the fair trade marketplace. At least
one article of the clothing they wear is made from hemp. They... are annoying.
Stop the insanity.
march 30, 2008
8 Months to Yogi
Back in late winter 2007 I made a decision. Fuck it, I’m going to learn to teach
yoga. One weekend a month for 8 months. How hard could it be? Let’s just see
shall we?
(Mind you this is the abridged version.)
Month 1 Weekend 1
I’m given a stack of books so high it practically reaches my waist.
I have to get used to doing homework and keeping a log of all my yoga related
activities on a daily basis.
I encounter my first prayer circle and fear that I’ve made a horrible decision.
I learn that my fellow yogis are strict vegetarians that travel with their own
rice cookers. I pray no one discovers my meat eating ways.
I discover that 1-8:30pm on Saturday and Sunday is a long time.
After the first day, I have nightmares about the diaphragm.
I am humbled to discover that directing someone to raise their arms up over head
is a challenging task.
We select affirmation cards at the closing prayer circle. While everyone else’s
encourages courage, resilience, and dedication, mine is to be at peace with my
own sexuality.
Month 2 Weekend 2
We learn about purification techniques that require a straw and an anus
I stick a pot purposely in my nose to clear my sinuses.
I learned that breath play and cotton balls is akin to an acid trip.
Our ear candles set off the fire alarm waking the super who consumed 6 sleeping
pills.
Month 3 Weekend 3
Giving up an entire weekend pretty much sucks.
My brain and voice are two entirely seperate things. I cannot communicate the
simplest of instructions nor can I decipher between my right and my left.
We discover the joys of co-listening that leaves one girl in hysterics.
I worry that an emotional breakdown may be in my future.
Month 4 Weekend 4
Specialty Anatomy Weekend! Oy!
Meeting Adrienne- anatomist extordinaire - priceless!
Finally a weekend that flies by and does not feel like torture.
Partner exercises reveal that I have trust issues.
Closing circle results in bindis for everyone.
Month 5 Weekend 5
Ancient Ayurvedic Specialty Weekend!
Ayurvedic practioner reveals our inner mechanics.
My disease type of heat requires protein which allows me to eat meat without
fear of a PETA lecture.
My job stresses me, I like to travel, and I probably won’t have kids. To hear
anymore enlightenment requires a $300 consultation (that’s with a discount) and a
$10 meditation CD that’s conveniently available at the end of class.
I proceed to diagnose all friends with the disease type of heat.
Month 5 Weekend 6
No more specialty weekends. Back to teaching.
Hip opening postures release emotions trapped in the body.
I spend the next 3 days in depression.
This weekend’s co-listening asks why do we like about ourselves.
Unable to think of anything, I like myself because I’m attractive.
Closing circle asks us what we need to hear in this present moment. We affirm
that everyone is good enough and smart enough.
I just need a hug....seriously
Month 6 Holiday Break
Attend $300 ayurvedic consultation.
Discover that my life’s work should be with the prisoner and possibly the shut-
ins.
My emotional path is the "Rebel" which clarifies why former San Quentin Death
Row inmates want to befriend me.
To be in harmony requires$60 worth of essential flower essences, a $200
personalized yantra, $150 follow-up consultation plus the sacrifice of all
things dairy.
I’m prescribed to chant for the next 120 days.
Month 6 Weekend 7
First weekend of 2008
Giving up an entire weekend still sucks.
We learn about balancing and backbends.
We learn that we will soon be teaching our own classes.
Panic all around.
Month 6 Weekend 8
Long awaited mediation weekend will be postponed so we will be ready to our
class.
It is decided I will teach the first class.
Month 7 Weekend 9
The amazing chakra weekend.
We play tug of war, bang on drums, and jump around like we’re 3 years old.
We scream at the top of our lungs "I have to right to act!"
We beat pillows to a bloody pulp and reenact painful childhood memories.
Finally, we color with markers.
Month 7 First Community Class
I send emails and post myspace bulletins.
Firmly believe that all friends will show up and give me love & support.
One friend shows up.
Entire class is advanced except for the one friend who’s never taken yoga before.
Immediately want to crawl under a rock and die after class ends.
Still love my yogi-novice friends to pieces!
Month 8 Weekend 10
Meditation weekend
Meditation is painful if held for 45 minutes at a time.
Staring at a candle without blinking is hard.
Eating mediation can potentially take 3 hours if not longer. Small meals are
highly recommended.
I learn I have forgiveness issues.
Month 8 Community Class 2
Friends actually show up and bring even more friends.
Discover the hard way that you cannot decide who walks through the door.
Improvement...Do not feel like crawling under a rock after the class is over.
Month 8 Exam Review
Details of the elusive final exam are finally revealed.
"Oh shits" can be heard all around.
Month 8 Community Class 3
Decide not to invite friends
Still have problems with spotting.
Intense feedback session results in tears and crushed spirit.
Month 8 Final Weekend 11
Written exam is 100 essay questions and takes 5 hours.
My shoulders and neck require intense physical therapy.
Final day is teaching practical.
I see "me"
We celebrate with vegan cake.
Certificates and mala beads are awarded.
I am a 200 hour certified yoga teacher. I can use the initials RYT after my name.
The journey is only just beginning.
8 Months to Yogi
Back in late winter 2007 I made a decision. Fuck it, I’m going to learn to teach
yoga. One weekend a month for 8 months. How hard could it be? Let’s just see
shall we?
(Mind you this is the abridged version.)
Month 1 Weekend 1
I’m given a stack of books so high it practically reaches my waist.
I have to get used to doing homework and keeping a log of all my yoga related
activities on a daily basis.
I encounter my first prayer circle and fear that I’ve made a horrible decision.
I learn that my fellow yogis are strict vegetarians that travel with their own
rice cookers. I pray no one discovers my meat eating ways.
I discover that 1-8:30pm on Saturday and Sunday is a long time.
After the first day, I have nightmares about the diaphragm.
I am humbled to discover that directing someone to raise their arms up over head
is a challenging task.
We select affirmation cards at the closing prayer circle. While everyone else’s
encourages courage, resilience, and dedication, mine is to be at peace with my
own sexuality.
Month 2 Weekend 2
We learn about purification techniques that require a straw and an anus
I stick a pot purposely in my nose to clear my sinuses.
I learned that breath play and cotton balls is akin to an acid trip.
Our ear candles set off the fire alarm waking the super who consumed 6 sleeping
pills.
Month 3 Weekend 3
Giving up an entire weekend pretty much sucks.
My brain and voice are two entirely seperate things. I cannot communicate the
simplest of instructions nor can I decipher between my right and my left.
We discover the joys of co-listening that leaves one girl in hysterics.
I worry that an emotional breakdown may be in my future.
Month 4 Weekend 4
Specialty Anatomy Weekend! Oy!
Meeting Adrienne- anatomist extordinaire - priceless!
Finally a weekend that flies by and does not feel like torture.
Partner exercises reveal that I have trust issues.
Closing circle results in bindis for everyone.
Month 5 Weekend 5
Ancient Ayurvedic Specialty Weekend!
Ayurvedic practioner reveals our inner mechanics.
My disease type of heat requires protein which allows me to eat meat without
fear of a PETA lecture.
My job stresses me, I like to travel, and I probably won’t have kids. To hear
anymore enlightenment requires a $300 consultation (that’s with a discount) and a
$10 meditation CD that’s conveniently available at the end of class.
I proceed to diagnose all friends with the disease type of heat.
Month 5 Weekend 6
No more specialty weekends. Back to teaching.
Hip opening postures release emotions trapped in the body.
I spend the next 3 days in depression.
This weekend’s co-listening asks why do we like about ourselves.
Unable to think of anything, I like myself because I’m attractive.
Closing circle asks us what we need to hear in this present moment. We affirm
that everyone is good enough and smart enough.
I just need a hug....seriously
Month 6 Holiday Break
Attend $300 ayurvedic consultation.
Discover that my life’s work should be with the prisoner and possibly the shut-
ins.
My emotional path is the "Rebel" which clarifies why former San Quentin Death
Row inmates want to befriend me.
To be in harmony requires$60 worth of essential flower essences, a $200
personalized yantra, $150 follow-up consultation plus the sacrifice of all
things dairy.
I’m prescribed to chant for the next 120 days.
Month 6 Weekend 7
First weekend of 2008
Giving up an entire weekend still sucks.
We learn about balancing and backbends.
We learn that we will soon be teaching our own classes.
Panic all around.
Month 6 Weekend 8
Long awaited mediation weekend will be postponed so we will be ready to our
class.
It is decided I will teach the first class.
Month 7 Weekend 9
The amazing chakra weekend.
We play tug of war, bang on drums, and jump around like we’re 3 years old.
We scream at the top of our lungs "I have to right to act!"
We beat pillows to a bloody pulp and reenact painful childhood memories.
Finally, we color with markers.
Month 7 First Community Class
I send emails and post myspace bulletins.
Firmly believe that all friends will show up and give me love & support.
One friend shows up.
Entire class is advanced except for the one friend who’s never taken yoga before.
Immediately want to crawl under a rock and die after class ends.
Still love my yogi-novice friends to pieces!
Month 8 Weekend 10
Meditation weekend
Meditation is painful if held for 45 minutes at a time.
Staring at a candle without blinking is hard.
Eating mediation can potentially take 3 hours if not longer. Small meals are
highly recommended.
I learn I have forgiveness issues.
Month 8 Community Class 2
Friends actually show up and bring even more friends.
Discover the hard way that you cannot decide who walks through the door.
Improvement...Do not feel like crawling under a rock after the class is over.
Month 8 Exam Review
Details of the elusive final exam are finally revealed.
"Oh shits" can be heard all around.
Month 8 Community Class 3
Decide not to invite friends
Still have problems with spotting.
Intense feedback session results in tears and crushed spirit.
Month 8 Final Weekend 11
Written exam is 100 essay questions and takes 5 hours.
My shoulders and neck require intense physical therapy.
Final day is teaching practical.
I see "me"
We celebrate with vegan cake.
Certificates and mala beads are awarded.
I am a 200 hour certified yoga teacher. I can use the initials RYT after my name.
The journey is only just beginning.