See? See? Atkins is CRAP. Take in fewer calories than you burn up, guys. It’s really, really that simple.

Either Jeannine is taking it easier on us every week, or I’m getting far stronger and more flexible than I thought I was. I can tell that I’ve come a long way since April, but coming a long way since last month is news. Of course, I’m a little achy today in my calves, but it’s not very bad. I held nearly all the poses for as long as she wanted us to yesterday, and I did the “final” versions of nearly everything too. She did sort of a Bikram-esque class, doing his sequence of poses twice through, although the room was not hot. This was the first class I’d taken in the new studio, and although Kathleen and Jeannine and everybody else were all very enthusiastic about it, I have to say I liked it a lot less. It was a TINY room compared to what we had before – which meant everyone in class was all squashed together, which in truth was less upsetting than I thought, but it was still not the way I’d like to have been - there was a drop ceiling instead of a nice high one with fans, and there were no windows at all. I was also somewhat conscious of being at the West Street/Solomons Island intersection, a busy and retail-filled one, rather than in a pleasant, quiet neighborhood with trees and people walking dogs. Yet I could hear Jeannine a lot better in the small room, and the walls were painted a very pleasant green with a large “om” symbol on the front wall.

I talked to a person whom I’ve previously called Icy New Lady, and I officially retract that title and will refer to her as Friendly Petite Lady (FPL). She and I were both browsing the clothes, and I asked her about the fact that I overheard last week that she used to teach. She said yes, and explained that she had taken a hiatus and was beginning teaching again in July at a new studio that was opening. We talked about it a bit more, and she said “So are you thinking of teaching?” I hesitated, because I’ve only talked to BF and this blog about seeeecretly wanting to maybe think about teaching one day, and then I thought oh what the hell, and I said I would really like to but I don’t think I’m at all ready, and it makes me nervous to think about it because I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough. We had a conversation about it which I am not remembering well enough to recreate - this is the most interaction I’ve had with a stranger in a long time and I was nervous – but she said 1) I’m passionate about it, which is 90%, 2) if you wait until you have all the knowledge about it you’ll never do it at all, 3) I shouldn’t worry so much about whether I can do the postures perfectly or my hamstrings are stretched out. I explained about the paralegal training and that BF and I might move, so I said I still thought I was a couple of years away, and she said she saw where I was coming from, but encouraged me not to let fears stop me. (The most interesting part about it is how unseriously she took it – as if teaching were similar to taking classes. Maybe this is an attitude I should invest in?)

I gave this a lot of thought over the weekend and talked to BF about it. I still feel a number of different things when I think about being a yoga instructor – I worry about whether or not I’ll be able to do the teaching part well at all, I think about the fact that I’ll probably still have to have an office job, I feel really excited about the idea that I could actually do this – but the most intense feeling I have is “Oh, please. That’s crazy.” And also the worry that this is like anything else – writing, knitting, cooking – it could brighten and dim in the constellation of my interests, and never be enough to really be a passion.

I compare it to writing particularly, because last year was the writing year, where that was what I focused on and dreamed of and placed all my hopes in. It is far easier to be successful at becoming a yoga teacher than it is to become a professional writer, in my opinion, and trying to write on the side when it was earning me nothing was too stressful. If I were paid for teaching yoga on the side, I would probably be able to do part-time work instead and I wouldn’t have to drop the interest as I did writing. The Mean Brain is saying that I’m wrong, and that I’m simply a dilettante and the yoga will fall off as everything else has. I am being strong and resisting the Mean Brain because I just don’t think it’s true this time. And I get real pleasure out of envisioning myself as a yoga teacher. Like I haven’t with anything else since I wanted to be a film restorer.

Still. It’s a long way away. Certainly I can’t think about it until May 2009, and hopefully by then I’ll have learned a lot more about yoga and my body and gained a lot more peace, and maybe even a friend.

…<ding>

This is a crisitunity.

I get it. Cool. I am seeing it far more as an opportunity at this time, but the crisis is interior – can I do it? Should I do it? I am afraid! – and I will be able to overcome it, I just know I will.

ANYWAY. I watched Sahara with BF this weekend, and I can’t believe how much I enjoyed it. It was silly beyond reckoning and supremely entertaining. We also watched X-Men, which I’d seen before, a couple of years ago. I didn’t think it was especially wonderful when I saw it the first time and I still didn’t think it was so good, although I was less hard on it than before. Very uneven in quality, as if two different sets of directors and screenwriters, one good and one bad, were making two different movies that they patched together.

MB’s graduation party…yipe. A few teachers from our high school were there, which was both good and bad. My horrid previous boss was there and I successfully avoided him for the entire party. I suspect I got too tipsy, but I’m 90% sure I didn’t embarrass myself…and anyway I don’t care if I did, it was almost all MP’s friends and/or MB’s friends – which was a WEIRD split, I have to say – so it’s not like it much matters what they thought of me. I keep trying to tell myself that, but I’m really actively fighting down the anxiety. The food was surprisingly awful, for being catered and done by a BBQ expert; there was an entire pig, but they created ONLY pulled pork from this pig. No ribs, no bacon, no belly, just pulled pork with a BBQ sauce that tasted like it was mostly ketchup. And there was a “roasted corn salad” that had, um, raw corn, which had never seen heat in its life as far as I could tell. The chicken (which is what I had) was OK. Overall it was just…this is what they paid for?

Last night BF and I went out with the family for MM’s birthday. We got her a last-minute gift at Target but it went over well. I spent some time talking with MB, and this once again reminded me that I really, really like the guy. He’s such a set of contradictions, and so fun to talk to, and it’s just really very easy, and wonderful, to think of him as my brother too.

Pretty much nothing has happened at work today. I’m not sure if I should continue to sit here cautiously or start working on the stuff that’s left over from…well, the last few months of leftovers are still mostly undone, I guess. Naturally I feel lazy. I still don’t dislike going to this job per se, no more than I dislike going to the grocery store or doing laundry, but it is a chore and not a pleasure, which makes it inferior to sitting outside with a cool drink and a good book.

Laterz.