Friday, October 16, 2009

Yogi Me

Hey guys, sorry that I had gone missing for a few days with no word.  I was just hiding in the attic.  I mean the garage.  I mean a box in the attic in the garage. I did this for a show. No I didn't.

Ok, I got it out of my system.  I refuse to add one more you-know-what-boy link to the internet insanity (though I was totally sucked into it yesterday).  All I want to say is this: there is not a single reason I do not live in Fort Collins; there are quite a few. Yesterday I added one more. Oh Ft. Collins, your crazies carry guns on campus to stave off school shootings, wear sunglasses on the backs of their heads indoors, and send up UFO balloons with kids in them, or not, please send a helicopter.  As a town, you could probably use a little guidance. Boulder, on the other hand, knows exactly where it's going: Corepower Yoga, obvs.

Speaking of yoga, lately I have wondered what it would be like to go on a little yoga bender.  I have been at my current job for 15 months, in a row, and I'm already getting that old person swagger.  The one that comes from carrying way too much junk in your bag, so you don't get bored at your desk...err... on the bus.  The one that comes from uncomfortable shoes, unforgiving wool pants, and an ergonomic desk chair that is just not the right height for your desk and so you slouch all day.  I'm 23, but my hips are groaning and reminiscing of the days when Regan was in office (which I think is their way of saying I lean too far left for them. Zing!).

As some of you may know, I worked for the Yoga-store-to-remain-unnamed for about a year in college.  That little venture landed me free yoga classes at most of the local studios, and that is a lot.  Boulder must have the highest per capita yoga studios in a single town, someone google that.  At any rate, I really only have been able to commit to 1 maybe 2 classes a week, because it is a little out of my price range (while you're googling, look up Boulder's median income- and have a bucket near by) and I just don't think I've ever seen what yoga really can do.

(This little photo was in the paper, as alerted to me by one of my college professors at the time. There I am, in the gray, lunging across a gym with two of my managers from the yoga store.
One of the reasons I do not work there anymore.)

I am on a quest to get a studio to let me attend classes for 30 days straight, in exchange for me writing about what happens over that time.  Things such as:  if I notice any increases in my sleep patterns; joint mobility; stronger muscles; improved posture; or a need to dreadlock my hair and henna an apocalyptic dragon on my face. Wouldn't you read that blog? I would.

So far, I have had contact with a few studios and they all seem to kind of furrow their brows at me and stare blankly as if I have already henna-ed an apocalyptic dragon on my face.  I say "Guys, I'm awesome, you'll love me in your classes! You won't even know I'm here. Pretty please?"  And they are like, "Lady, please get off of my mat, I'm teaching right now."

Maybe yoga will help me with social boundaries. Fingers Crossed!

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