36 and all is well...

Well, another new dawn has arrived in my world, and with it the beginning of a new stage: age 36.  I have to say that, in the history of birthdays, this has definitely been one of the better ones.  I'm stuffed full of good food right now (carnitas and other Mexican-y goodness) and should be sleeping, but I've got a book I want to read, some tv I want to watch, and birthday memories to roll around in my mind.

Plus, Gatsby is chasing a mosquito and it's hella cute.

Here we go:  closing out age 35 and pushing headfirst into 36!

Balancing yoga with business

I'm coming up on my one year anniversary of being a certified yoga instructor. In that time, I've taught over 200 classes and private sessions. I've gone from teaching one class a week to teaching eight...currently at five. And, as with many aspects of my life, the issue I struggle with is balance.

I just looked at the websites of three friends who are all "yoga friends". They began in the same place I did--teacher training at CorePower--but seem to be doing more with their yoga profession than I am. As I type that statement, the proverbial angel and devil are perched on my shoulders:

Angel: Don't compare yourself to others--yoga is your journey and you're doing everything you can. It's not about them, it's about you.

Devil: Look at how much they're doing--look at their websites! Look at their organized pricing! You could do so much more if you just applied yourself.

Ugh. So, I'm needing to find the balance. Teaching full time, teaching yoga for 10 hours a week...it's enough. And, in the summer, I'll be able to pick up more in a reasonable way. I think I'm lacking a specific goal, and that's what I'm picking up on. When I began teacher training, I set goals. When I was finishing and embarking on my career, I set goals. Somewhere along the way I met, forgot, or abandoned my goals.

NEW GOAL: In June of 2010, I will have a designed, live yoga website for my yoga instructor career.

There--now the angel and devil can pipe down :-)

Happy anniversary to 'I am who I am'

Five years ago today I sat down and decided to start myself a blog. Didn't really know how often I'd write or what I'd say--and I *knew* no one would read it! Now, five years later, I'm older, wiser, and I'm still sure no one reads it ;-)

Blogging is a form of writing I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with. It's hard to write every day, which needs to be done, really, with a blog. Sometimes I have really boring days. And sometimes there are things going on that are completely interesting, but I can't talk about them. Other times, there's sad stuff, happy stuff, profound stuff, and just plain random stuff.

If you're a reader--thank you! Thanks for sticking by me in my recent hiatus. My blog is out of toddler stage...it's going to be starting kindergarten soon! And, who knows, a change may be on the horizon...

Today I opened spring by celebrating with my fellow yogis and doing my first 108 sun salutations with the beautifuls Lisa Bloom and Sarah Goble at CorePower Yoga. It was fabulous. They ran it in quarters. I tried to keep count but lost it after probably 4 or so. The first quarter went by in a breeze--the second I thought would never end. The third, also, because very challenging. I started to modify my chaturangas. The fourth I'm pretty sure I put out the ugliest sun salutations known to yoga, but I did them! The energy in the room was awesome--and I know the next time I do it I'll get that blissed out feeling people talk about. I rarely allow myself to bliss out the first time I do something--way too concerned about the overall picture to allow myself to let go.

So, to anniversaries and to the first days of spring, Yay! Beauty and love to all of you! :-)

Huh

A list of random things:

1. Spring break begins tomorrow at 3:01pm. Huzzah.

2. Saturday is the five year anniversary of 'I am who I am'. Not even sure quite what to say about that.

3. My NCAA bracket is pretty much shot to hell. This irritates me because, since I am so blindingly busy even though I have a student teacher full time, I didn't have time to actually create my own bracket. So, I copied the brackets of two sportsy-type men on the internet who touted something like a 90% accuracy rate on last year's bracket. So far, they both suck.

4. FIVE YEARS!??!

5. I would really like my tax return now please.

Never have Christ and I been mentioned so many times in the same sentence.

Three days ago I celebrated my 33rd birthday. It was exactly the way I wanted it to be--spent the day doing various enjoyable activities: lunch with Erica, teaching summer school, etc. I did not do yoga or take a nap, but, well, there are only 24 hours in a day.

Last night I had a party, where a lengthy conversation took place about Jesus Christ, and how he was crucified when he was 33 years old. I knew this already, largely because of my Catholic friend Jessie who told me this detail on her 33rd birthday. My hope is that my year turns out better than his did. Seriously.

So, here's to 33: brought in with a good solid whibang (not a whimper, not a bang)...may it be an absolutely outstanding year full of more publications, more yoga, and more teaching. And, maybe, just MAYBE, I'll figure out where and how I want to spend my 34th year.

Important Anniversary

Today is my 100th day without smoking.

Need I say more?

Probably not, but I will. First of all, I did have a slipup. When Jessie was in town in January I smoked, but I got right back on my quit and maintained. BUT, I think that considering the astronomical amount of stress I've been under since I quit, combined with the fact that this is my longest quit ever, it deserves a pat on the back.

Yay me :-)


PS: Do I still think about cigarettes and want to smoke them? Yep. All the time.

May the luck of the Irish be with ye!

A couple of years ago I had an experience on St. Patrick's Day that changed the entire way I live my life. There were lots of jokes about my unluckiness, given my Irish name and all, but looking back on the experience, the luck of my countrymen certainly was with me that night. It's interesting to think back to where I was exactly two years ago tonight, who I was with, and how different I was. Truly, it is our experiences that shape us.

Last year I ignored this "experience anniversary," but the year before, a few days after it happened, I alluded to it slightly. Kind of funny to read that now--how excited I was to be writing when I haven't written a word now in about six months. Hm. Of course, prior to that I hadn't written in nearly nine, so I guess it's sort of my M.O.

St. Patrick's Day used to be a day of national pride, drinking and partying. Now, it's a day of reflection and thankfulness that I am who I am and that I have the friends and family that I do. Two years ago I was standing outside a bar arguing with a future boyfriend about cigarettes. Now, well, I couldn't be further from that girl and that loss is only a giant gain in the end.

A year later

Last year my posts around this time were few and far between. Those that exist ring so artificial to me I can hardly stand to read them. There isn't a post for Sept. 23, 2006, because on this day last year I was on the phone all day with everyone I knew trying to figure out if my boyfriend was going to break up with me, why he might be doing that, and what I was going to do about it.

We went to see the Black Dalia, then went back to his house to end our relationship. He gave me bizarre reasons; the most interesting being that he wasn't sure he wanted to get married. Some people misinterpreted this as that he had thought about marrying me and had gotten freaked. I knew that he gave me that reason likely because it had been the reason that worked on the woman he had dated before me. I won't lie, I was bummed for a LONG time. My friends and family surrounded me, and they said and did all the right things.

A year later, I spent the day not on the phone but doing my normal weekend thing. I've got food on the grill, I'm grading papers, football is on, and the washer/dryer are heating the house. I lived. I'm still bummed if I let myself dwell too much. Michael Perry said (okay, wrote) that every time he had gotten his heart broken and thought he'd never be happy again, he always ended up being happy again, and it was himself that made it that way. This year has been that process: knowing that I am ultimately the only person who can make me happy and figuring out how exactly to do that.

Good news, peeps: I did it.

A friend said to me a few days ago while we were listening to Mozella's Amnesia "I bet you wish you could forget Greg." I don't. I enjoyed nearly every minute I spent with him and even though we didn't end up together, I wouldn't erase or want to forget any of that time. I do wish that we had been able to pull a friendship out of it...we were friends first and the biggest slap in the face was not the actual end of the dating but the denial of friendship afterward.

Well, my chicken is cooked. Jalapeno chicken on the grill--tastiest stuff ever. After I'm done with lunch I'm going to go back to grading papers, take Gatsby for a walk, go out for a run, and critique a story. I also need to write a poem and revise a story for my classes this week. Man, I've got shit to do. Happy anniversary.

September 11...six years later

Six years after the tragedy of 9/11, it seems impossible to say anything that hasn't been said. It also seems impossible to not acknowledge the day and give time and respect to those that lost their lives and thanks to those that saved as many people as they could.

After the 35W bridge collapsed I think I saw a sliver more of how it was on that day. Just a sliver, because no one who wasn't there will ever truly understand. But the panic of not knowing the extent of the damage, the extent of life lost, waiting to hear the names. That was the worst, I think...wondering if there was anyone that I knew on that bridge. I was lucky. Most of us were lucky.

So on this September 11 I have a renewed appreciation for the people who stepped in, who helped and made the death toll stay low in my own community. I value the television specials, the flags at half-mast, the pledges of allegiance, all of the ways that people show how they remember. I am so thankful that this has not been forgotten, that people still take time out of their days to reflect on what happened and what it means to those of us who are still here, who were not involved but are not unchanged.

Fargo, ND and Dante's Peak

Ten years ago (approximately) I was sitting at my friend Amy's house with her husband Jason. We were watching Dante's Peak. Because of this, we did not hear the initial announcement of Princess Diana's death.

But when the movie ended and we turned back to regular tv, life changed. We watched for awhile longer then I left, listening to the radio all the way from Fargo back to my parents' house in Fergus. I turned on the tv and watched it all night long. That was the first of my all-night-tragic-event watching (the second being 9/11 and the third being the 35W bridge collapse).

I watched Diana's wedding in my pajamas with popcorn and my mom when I was five years old. I watched her funeral from the front desk of the Archer House in Northfield where I was a clerk in college. Everywhere inbetween I kept track of what she was doing, her kids, her bulimia, her life. Her beauty was and is unparalleled, and in this age women like Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, who have been showing since they were 19 that they have no respect for anything, make me long for the innocence of a nineteen year old princess.

Diana died far too young, and apparently at a time when she was the happiest she had ever been. She showed that no one is immune from death's hand, and that it is so important to savor every moment and not dwell on unhappy times.

Diana, you are a princess and have always been one, regardless of whatever titles are given or taken away. Your impact on women of my generation was extraordinary; you taught us how a Lady should behave.