inner yogi conquers sigh

My inner yogi is a contemplative.  She's not prone to competition, contortion, or consumerism.  Not that I've ever heard her talk, but these are facts I've gleaned over the years.

Her inhibition set in on her maiden yoga class in the Student Recreation Center at the college we were attending.  The instructor and I got off on the wrong foot because I asked, "What are your sit bones?" The instructor sighed her disdain, and my friend mouthed to me, "YOUR BUTT."  That was just the beginning.

The instructor circulated like a dedicated mall security guard.  It was intense, and I heard her sigh every time she came by me.  She attempted to give me hints, but stopped trying.  Finally, these words escaped her lips, "You're not even trying."  I was sweating from my attempt at all the insanity, but my bones would crack and my muscles snap before I could pull off some of these feats.  I've never been flexible on any plane of existence.  I've been able to touch my toes with straight legs approximately twice in my life.  From then one, she merely sighed while passing me and my aching body.

But there's no such thing as a mere sigh when it comes to her. Yoga instructors are masters of le sigh: sighing as art form and weapon.  It's all the breathing exercises. There may be an entire class devoted to sighing with a part one and two. It's two-fold power is: 1) it wilts your soul with disdain and disgust and 2) creates smug cloud that affects your oxygen levels much like hiking just the peaks in the Himalayas (if that were possible).  I can't breathe; I'm getting light-headed. Furthermore, le sigh connotes spiritual enlightenment (the instructor's not yours), which is the nail in the coffin of doom.

Perhaps, your defeat is supposed to lead to limpness, which translates into flexibility.  Not so in my case.  I got frustrated-- one might even say "angry", and my inner yogi curled up in the fetal position to die.  Turns out, inner yogi is no feminist.  Inner yogis are not to be confused with pet spider monkeys who aim to please and adore learning tricks.

My inner yogi remained curled up in the fetal position, and I continued making jokes about how much I hate yoga until... OLD LADY YOGA at my local Y.  We're talking roughly a decade. So,  I went to the class because of my weird work schedule, and I was so stiff from sitting so much that I was willing to try anything... even yoga with a defeated inner yogi.

Maybe it was the sweat pants and white tube socks in lieu of lulelemon uniforms.  Maybe the instructor had abandoned the art of the sigh due to all the hearing aids.  Maybe it was my desperation.  But, my inner yogi uncurled herself and lay on the floor and even joined me for sitting crisscross applesauce (even though she did ask, "She means indian style, right?")  She really didn't mind any of the low-key exercises.  Turns out, she's a minimalist who isn't prone to exhibitionism in any form and allergic to sighs.

5 books and nothing

So as I continue to hunt jobs to no avail, I need income. People aren't interested in my teaching services, so I had to think about what I have that somebody else might find valuable. Books. More precisely, some of my books. I went through my books and chose ones that I could part with and checked if they have any value on Amazon. A lot of them had no value, but some of them were worth over $50.

On Wednesday, I sold five books! I got really excited because one was a text book at $45, which made all the 4-5 buck books feel more worthwhile. I think I could definitely get into selling books, but I'm not sure it's the equivalent to a job. It's more in line with a hobby. I love to buy (and read) books. So, I've made arrangements to get my books out of storage and see if how many of them I would want to and could sell.

Today and yesterday have been rough. I'm realizing I don't have a really close friend and Charlotte with whom I could share. The last time I talked with someone about being unemployed, she asked me for a loan within two weeks of the conversation. It felt wrong on so many levels.

People are great at giving out vague encouragement and giving me ideas for jobs. I'm not substituting because that is hell on earth-- maybe for $1000/day. But, that's not the going rate. And, people talk about adjunct positions. I really need to know somebody at the schools. It's disheartening to apply to a job for several hours and not even get a response.

There's a part of me that really wants to start a business, which the posting-books-on-Amazon thing has really tapped into. My sister the marketer told me that I'm right on trend with selling my stuff; she even sent me an article. I've been thinking of different ideas. I like books, clothes, teaching and Christian spirituality. I'd really like to get some kind of online co-op/rental local thing going. I'm thinking with fancy clothes, juicers, tents, etc. People could list them and other people could rent them. Somewhere between Craig's List and Zilok and retalicand even Etsy and blog on 30 plus online clothing rental. Or, a clearing house for teachers who want to tutor and parents who need tutors. I would charge a small fee to the teachers, but it would allow them to make a lot more money (probably twice) than working for a tutoring company. So, I need to research all the different businesses and see the feasibility for me and this area. I need to look at structures and business models and figure out possible problems, the proper audience, marketing, fundraising, etc. My sister is good to remind me to use the down/hard times for tough reflection and motivation.

And, I've made two more resolutions on becoming self sufficient and simplifying. One, I want to buy no more than 3 new pieces of clothing for a year. I started in September; I'm already a month into this resolution. I can shop at second-hand stores or swap clothes. So, I'm excited about this proposition. Two, I'm going to stop dating for a while-- at least a month but maybe until the New Year. We shall see. I need to focus on my professional status and identity. I need just straight up friends to offer laughter, fun and a reality outside this little bubble of trouble in order to keep me grounded.

computer hospice

My five year-old computer is shuddering through her last breaths. So, sorry for the absence of posts. Plus, the janitor was locking up the school at 4:30 instead of 5:30-- so there went another opportunity.

But, the weather is gorgeous. It's in the best and most fleeting part of spring. It's that two-three week window of flowers and the lively, new green and perfect temperature. It's glorious to walk outside-- everything around you is magical. It's like being in a fairytale. Finding a little fairy perched on a toadstool wouldn't feel that uncanny right now. Or a little gnome digging in the dirt.

Yesterday, the 7th grade went to Old Salem in Winston-Salem, NC. It was a fantastic field trip-- my only regret was that we didn't stay longer. I was in charge of 9 students who behaved beautifully. I took all the brats because I wasn't going to dump them on the parent volunteers. So, I was dreading it a little. But, the kids were fascinated with all the tours and guns and ideas. I bought them hot cross buns and we chatted about Easter symbolism and moravian baking. I think it helped that I thouroughly enjoyed myself-- it's a good reminder. Kids are like horses; they smell emotion.

Then last night after attending to business (faxing and mailing applications), I went to my new favorite restaurant and had a portabello sandwich and went to a GK Chesterton lecture. The lecture was phenomenal. A professor dressed up as GK Chesterton and gave the lecture from his perspective. It was delightful and thought-provoking. Chesterton was such a witty guy that it was a brilliant idea. Then, this morning after pilates, my book club discussed his Orthodoxy-- how providential was that?

One more week of Lent to go! I'm ready for some meat and bread. I've lost about ten pounds and feeling really good. It's been a really good experience and reminder.

After much angst, I've decided to attend one of the thirty singles sunday school class. For some reason, this has been a really tough decision. Clearly, it represents a lot of unresolved issues in my psyche and heart. It feels like admitting defeat-- a lot like resignation. Plus, I get fairly annoyed in these kinds of set ups; a down side of studying theology. But, clearly, I need something if I went through so much angst. I'm just so completely opposed to categorizing.

I'm applying to some jobs and programs. I hate waiting.

forecast sunny

Things got better. Don't know how. Don't know why. My job doesn't feel like a ton imposition on me. I'm slowly getting situated in the sea of students and learning that I get through one fewer activity with a class of 34 then with a class of 28. It has something to do with how many times the same question gets asked. One day, I answered the same question over twenty times. PAY ATTENTION, why dontcha. But, my lesson on Islam went fantastically today. We talked about OT ethics and human rights. One of my biggest punks told me "that was really interesting" after class, which floored me. They kept asking me, "How do you know that?" And, I'd say, "Because I'm a genius" or "I paid attention in school." Plus, we're supposed to get the new teacher Monday. I'll be down to 28 students a class and one prep! More pandemonium, but good pandemonium.

I can tell I'm feeling better because I met the Chief for dinner and, on a whim, decided to go to Charlotte and by a skirt. And I bought some other pieces as well. It felt like illicit fun. The Chief is more fun than a lot of people I know my age. I got some clothes to wear to the Vancouver wedding-- it's a 10 shindig in North Vancouver at a lodge, which is kind of an odd style thing. This marriage makes me happy.

My uncle sent me the playlist for U2 today. No "Cedars of Lebanon" but I'll probably live. Now I need to read a chapter titled "Motivation" in my learning theory. Oh, but if it could teach me how to do that. But, although the path devious keeps winding, there is a light.

sick, oh

I left school at noon yesterday. I felt like crap, and when people asked me what's wrong I said my throat. But, it was this ambiguous, tight, raw, ache feeling through the majority of my body. (This feeling scares me because when I was in Japan I got this kind of sick and had 104 fever for about a week-- it was horrible and I was frightened out of my mind.)

I drove directly to the Minute Clinic about an eighth of a mile from my house and waited for 90 minutes. And, there were kids running around like heathens; I felt like handcuffing them to their ineffective parents. If a kid won't listen to you when she's two, God help all of us when she's thirteen.

Then, they ran some tests: strep, flu, blood. Strep and flu were negative, but my white blood cell count was extremely elevated-- over twice what most people have with strep. I felt somewhat vindicated that I wasn't a complete woos, which was what I was thinking when the other tests came back negative. They took lung x-rays. There's a little something in my right lung, but nothing worthy of the white cell count. He forgot about me a while, then when I reminded him that I was still there, he chatted with me and gave me a prescription and doctor's excuse. He was apologetic he couldn't pinpoint it, but said there was something (probably bacterial) going on. He went on to say this differentiated me from most of the his patients for whom he prescribed a sugar pill. All and all I spent three hours at the minute clinic. Good thing I wasn't dying.

Yesterday, I felt too crappy to do anything. I couldn't read, sleep, eat. I lay in my bed and hurt. I moved to the sofa when the Chief came home so that I'd have some company as I ached. I did scrounge up lesson plans that took over an hour.

I thought I'd take advantage of this window of opportunity (dulled pain and energy) and blog.

excitement galore, running nerds

Today whirled by. I'm regularly smacked in the face with how long administrative tasks take me. I spent all day scoring the writing papers. They're supposed to take less than 10 minutes a piece, but that's for people who've been at this type of thing for twenty years. I was scoring conventions, content and form for 65 essays. I'm at the point where I have to look at an essay three times. It's easy to grade the really fantastic and the truly craptastic. The shades are gray are where it gets tricky. And, I probably graded harshly. Then, there was making the folders, filling out each form, and posting the grades in the state-wide network. Good times. I celebrated entering the last score by vacuuming. That's excitement, folks.

But, I did learn some things I want to target in my writing lessons. Few tackled the why and so what aspect of their solution. They are firmly grounded in the what and how. I'm reading a book about teaching complex thinking (that's the PC way of saying "higher-level thinking skills"-- you don't want to insult "knowledge" with calling "evaluation" better). Metacognition fascinates me, and I need to figure out how to get my kids to think. Most of them get agitated if a problem can't be solved instantaneously... if the answer isn't a direct quote from a book. I frustrate some of my kids. Of course, abstract thinking becomes possible around 11 years old, and most of my students are 12 and 13. I need to give them a break; they're new to this.

I'm loving what I'm teaching right now. It's fun and engaging. Yet, there's still a region of my soul that's panicky and weepy, nagging me with the question, "is this it?' So, I read, I pray, I write, I run. I think the ache stems from self-centeredness but something more fundamental too. We are made in the image of God; that's weighty, powerful stuff. And, here I am learning how to sew and engage 30 7th graders for 90 minute blocks. It's as if I'm geared to focus on the mundanity rather than the glory. "The world/ is a holy vision, had we clarity/ to see it-- a clarity that men/ depend on men to make" (Wendell Berry). It takes art and friends for me to renew the awe of the holy vision that rests in the routine moments.

All this rooting around in existential angst to say, I need to manufacture some adventure in my boring life. There's nothing wrong with the quotidian, but one can still drown in it. So, I'm planning my spring break (Washington, DC, I think) and my half marathon (edge to edge on Vancouver Island). The picture at the top is from my last visit to Tofino. I'm considering these two adventures my 30th birthday parties. One's a month before and one's a month after. Perfect parties. Since I have so few friends in this neck of the woods, the mountain will move to Mohammed.

My sister, a big fan of mental and physical toughness, never allows me to wallow for long. She asks me my plan and goals. So, ha, I beat you to your punch... kind of. On New Year's, she told me that I needed to start planning my birthday fete. These extravaganzas might even be big enough to impress her. Ha.

lunch

I ate chocolate covered pretzels for lunch. And, I wonder why I'm a little low on pep and having insommnia attacks.

with (lemon) zest

Today was a lemon-fresh downward spiral. All grade-level teachers trained for the writing assessment all day (and we still have more to go). It's fairly interesting-- lots of articles. Enough articles that there was conflicting data, which makes me happy. I'm the only person who noticed the conflict. I don't know if that shows that I'm the only one who read the articles or that I'm a natural contrarian. Either way, I was ready to gouge my eyes with a toothpick by the end of the session. I'd go into more detail but that would be whining.

What was this lemon fresh that you mentioned? Well, after getting some more craptastic news from the State in my box, I left school. I cried myself all the way home just like the olden days of August and September. I prayed some laments. I asked God for "just one thing to go right" or something like that. ( I pray it with some frequency, which is a different entry.) But after the annoying day topped with bad news, I got a call during dinner from a number I didn't recognize. They left a message, so I asked my companion if it were alright to check it. Turns out that it was lady I dogsit for, and she needs a dog sitter from Dec 26-Jan 4th. I'm very excited: the dogs are cute, the house is nice, the pay is good. It'll be like a paid getaway... with dogs. That's lemon fresh.

P.S. A friend hooked me up with the latest Tracy Chapman CD, which was today's soundtrack. It's witty and mellow.

exciting stuff

I ate Cajun Fillet Biscuits and drank Legendary Sweet Iced Tea with EB today. I got this call at 11:30 that kicked off, "Where are you?" She was driving from ATL to Duke for a wedding. It was a sweet surprise. The last time I saw her was in NYC in February. The last time I spent time with her in the Southland was in Atlanta in 2004.

Fireflies are the best. I think one of my night runs is going to inspire a fully-formed haiku. Today, there were fireflies, ducks and some kind of water fowl akin to the heron, but shorter and fatter. Oh, and I saw a robin chasing a cat: hilarious. Oh, divine friskiness, how you make me laugh.

I've been short runs every night in an effort to get in shape for the Nashville Marathon.

Last night, I went to Vespers at the Abbey then to chat with my Spiritual Director. But, vespers were super nifty because two guys joined the monastery: they got their robes and their new names. The ceremony moved me because we are new in Christ. And, the robes symbolized putting on the armor of Christ. It was powerful. I love liturgy. EB suggested I find an Anglican church plant.