if wishes were horses

I have never so clearly seen exercise as allegorical as I did last night when I tried bikram yoga, or "hot" yoga, for the first time. Holy crap, it kicked my ass. Two words that immediately come to mind when I reflect on this experience are "excruciating" and "exhilarating."

So here I am in a 100+ degree room, sad little me with my vaso vagal syncope and my hives, and it is do or die. You have to breathe. You have to stretch. You have to push. You have to avoid slipping in your own sweat. You have to be fierce. You have to want it.

In my past experiences with yoga, which I was quite serious about at the time, there was always room for a little relaxing, or for a giggle with a friend. You could half-ass a pose if you weren't feeling it. You could overdo it on the next one if you wanted to make it up to yourself. But when it's 105 degrees and it takes a moderate amount of effort just to breathe and keep from running out of the room, the effort you give each posture must be more deliberate.

I believe the hype that there are immense mental and physical health benefits to this. However, it will be worth it to continue just for the self-satisfaction and sweet parallelism this brings to mind.

You make a difficult decision. You watch your life fall apart. You put it back together in the most reasonable, honorable way you can sort out. It's excruciating and exhilarating. It takes a moderate amount of effort to breathe and keep from running out of the room.

In yoga, and within a transitory period in life, it takes massive energy to have small successes. But then when you listen to the instructor, and internalize her commentary when she says that you're already doing the work if you're trying, the end results matter much less. And through the sweat and tears, your realize you can start to have control again. Not control in the way you would tighten your fist around something, but control in the sense that you know what you want and you feel like you can have it.

Life is beautiful.

it's a choo choo train

When you google the lyrics to "C'mon Ride the Train" an Amtrak schedule is within the first couple results. I think that's funny.

Rode the Amtrak for the first time with Tess this weekend to Chicago and to South Bend, Indiana, to pick up the car she bought on ebay. What an amazing weekend. I love trains. I love hot conductors. I love adventures. And I love Tess.

Please go to Diana's blog. One, because she's hilarious. Two, because she wrote a blog specifically about our Valentine's Day, which I can unabashedly say was the best one I have ever celebrated. I love bad movies. I love Balderdash. I love Valentine's Day. And I love Diana.

Oh, love.

if a song could be president

Am absolutely APPALLED by the number of people who did not vote in the Tennessee primaries last Tuesday. Appalled. My generation sucks.

Saw Over the Rhine in Memphis last night. Fabulous. And good for me and my medical woes, it was a seated show so I didn't have to worry about a vaso vagal episode. Twas also an early show so I didn't stay up late, but I am so tired today. Can't get over the tired.

The semester looms ahead of me, with next week being particularly ominous. Big frustrating paper to do on economics of all things. Anyone want to give me ideas on outsourcing? Anyone want to kill Michael Friedman for me? At least I know Karen's dad is on my side.

Got biopsy results back from the dermatologist today. The rash of nearly two months has turned out to be plain old-fashioned hives, or urticaria, for those of you needing a more official name. This is good because I don't have a horrible skin disease. This is bad because I have no-the-fuck-idea what I am reacting to. And this could literally be anything. So I have to keep a journal of everything I eat/drink/touch and try to Sherlock Holmes it out. Does anyone have experience with hives? Any clues or suggestions?

Last week a recurring flat tire on my car turned out to be dry-rotted, so my car was out of commission while this was being fixed. On Sunday my mom hit some monstrosity in the road that was like, a mini, overturned pothole cover with major spikes. It wrecked her whole tire and shook her up really badly. Now today my dad is having trouble with his inexplicably low tires and has to take his car in to the shop. He drives for a living, too. For the grand finale, a wheel flew off my work bag today, and despite making my honors ninth grade boys class help me look in the school yard for it, a part is still missing from the wheel housing so I cannot fix it. This makes me think of the Budweiser commercial played during the Super Bowl wherein the caveman has invented the wheel and all of his buddies are using it wrong. "Wheel sucks" indeed.

Here is a picture of some manatees:



Manatees are awesome, in case you didn't know.

there will be blog

Was anyone else surprised that movie ended with Daniel Day Lewis sputtering about milkshakes in a bowling alley? Didn't see that one coming.

Have been thinking constantly of food today but am not actually hungry. Was confronted with the climax of this wee conflict when I walk into the teacher's lounge and an obscenely large apple crumb muffin leapt onto my face. The muffin won.

This time, instead of obscene comments, which I do normally cherish, I would like for you to help me learn something. Why, pray tell, do people choose to be hateful? Is this not a colossal waste of energy? Does it really make them feel better about themselves?

Lemme know. I will consider all theories, especially those that are backed with evidence. If said evidence is from film referenced in blog title, that's fun, too.

minutae

In my classroom today there was a leftover bowl full of tuna on top of the bookcase. Had to have been left there yesterday afternoon. Sweet.

And speaking of "sweet"-ness, apparently Lake Superior State University created a list of overly used words to be banned. Although initially I thought LSSU was a made-up school (it isn't), I enjoyed the list. Thanks, mom. However, I absolutely have no intention of limiting my use of the word, "webinar." I'd hardly be able to carry on a conversation without it.

Finally recovering from a horrible bout with contact dermatitis. Yeah, merry fucking Christmas, right? My best guess is that I was reacting to some Burt's Bees soap I recently switched to. After a week plus of itching, a very expensive trip to the local minor med, various experiments with lotions and creams, and a trip to the UT Student Health Center, I look like a human being again. My life feels a lot bigger now that 95% of it is not devoted to scratching myself.

My students thought that contact dermatitis had something to do with contact lenses. Which I actually thought was very cute. I missed them. I really did. And I missed being on a schedule. Too much time to think about shit and miss people over the holidays.

Been missing some people that vanished from my life without warning. I was so angry about it that I didn't have time to feel sad. Now, I am sad. I will recover though. If anyone is worth having in my life, he or she will come around. This sudden vanishing has been a great opportunity to realize who is there for me and truly loves me enough to stick it out through the hard times. It has also been a good time to make new friends. You all know who you are. Thank you. You amaze me.

Also, my poor laptop has been on the fritz for almost a week now. Once again, merry fucking Christmas. I have had the thing for five years, so I really shouldn't be complaining. My problem is the blind faith I tend to inadvertently invest in electronics. I never want anything new or fancy, and it is beyond my comprehension that my cell phone, tv, computer, or coffee grinder should ever need repair or replacement. I love them as they are. They should last forever, right? Fortunately, Matt, the supernice computer guy at work, is taking a look at my laptop this week and may be able to salvage it for a little while longer. God does love me after all.

After all of that, I am saying goodbye to merry fucking Christmas and embracing a new year.

In other big news, I cannot stop thinking of what cilantro flavored gum would taste like. Gross, huh?

Also, I can't remember the other thing.

Virginia is for lovers (or the slums of Sperryville)

My early Christmas in Virginia has already come to an end and now I find myself with nothing to do on Christmas day. The trip was incredible, despite the fact that my parents and I drove approximately 24 hours to spend almost exactly 24 hours with my brother at his home in (Little) Washington, Virginia. There are too many things to say about the trip and the time with my family in a blog. It would be a four parter at least. Working on an essay to cover everything that happened. Hopefully by putting that out there I haven't jinxed myself not to write it. Writers are so fickle.

I've been filtering through some of my old journals. I initiated this process to find a soup recipe. Alas, the recipe has not surfaced. I did, however, get a kick out of seeing some of my old stuff and really old thoughts. In times past I would burn my old journals, or soak them with water until the ink ran. Silly. Here is an entry I found from September 26, 2000:

things i will never write about? NO

children's clothes
politics
illness (vaso vagal)
skincare
sunglasses
revolution
erosion
comedians
Bob Denver
cooking
bowling shoes
the Reagan administration
post modern dance

letter to memphis

My toes are not broken. When I was in the shower this morning a rude tilt, a shifting of the city, imperceptible seismic-style, caused me to drop the shower head on my left foot. And although it took a while for me to be able to move those two toes again, and although they were(/are) bloody and swollen, I never cried. And I shall not.

My heart is not broken. I may have cried, but I have kept my footing through many tilts and shifts. I am still standing, and I am still whole.