Off my chest

Pun, pathetically intended...I mean, this is what happens after you've seen every single Sex and The City episode, ever. You start to say things like, "It all kind of made me wonder..." And you start to play at wordplay. Except, really, you're just punning.

Anyway, self-criticism aside, getting all of that nasty fear out into the open left me feeling quite relieved. I'm also quite happy that my parents aren't anywhere near a computer to see what I wrote because it would really, really bother them. Thankfully, my parents are quite happily somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle right about now, on some really gigantic cruise ship, probably eating like pigs. Which is fine because that's what makes them happy. Wouldn't make me happy, but I'm not the one on the cruise ship. I prefer more athletic venues which do not revolve around eating and which permit one to move about freely. I also do prefer not to put myself into situations in which I might have to hurl.

Bebe would interject here and remind me that I almost never hurl unintentionally. I even made it from the coast of Ireland to the white cliffs of Dover without nary a stomach churn, even as almost every one of the others on the boat were laid low with nausea. And hurling. It was not a happy boat ride.

Anyway.

I woke up and went to practice, did my whole practice, was once again told to not do Pasasana on my mat since I had already done it three times with my butt leaning against the wall. Something about it being enough that I bound it the way I did, and besides, it's Tuesday. I don't think that's really fair. And I don't quite understand why some people are allowed to do whatever the hell they want in that room. It's as if one day, Val will tear her face off and reveal that she is really Sir. But whatever. Mysore teachers get to run their room the way they like. And that's final.

It was an interesting practice, one which I would like to recall to mind when I wake up stiff and sore because, as stiff and sore as I imagined myself, I still got into every pose with relative ease. So, what is this stiffness and soreness then? Does it really not have all that much to do with how the body will behave?

Oh, there was one exception to this - my backbends were not all that great. Not terrible. They never are really terrible anymore. They just weren't anything to write home about. Later on, after a hot bath, I did some more backbends, and they felt better. What is interesting about this isn't my obsessiveness; that is nothing new. What is interesting about this to me is that I am now CAPABLE of obsessing about backbends.

In the past, once I did my my backbends in class, or my imitation of a backbend in class, that was it for the day. I might be sitting around later, twisting and doing R&D for Mari C or D, or maybe I would be doing all sorts of contortions to try to get my legs behind my head. But rarely, if ever, would I be interested in, or capable of, any more backbending. Now, I am R&Ding the backbends all the time.

And now I am boring myself.

That's all.

P.S. Word to my homie at Eddie's whose email I just received. Will definitely talk soon...:)