Saturday, October 29, 2005

People Like Doing Things That They Do Well

It's a fact. And also, 30 Helens agree.

After over a month of avoiding hot yoga (monkey yoga!) due to not digging the teaching style of the instructor that's been teaching the only session that I could work into my schedule, I headed back yesterday to try out a session with a new instructor. And, goddamit, she ruled.

I kind of love the yoga because I'm preternaturally flexible. It also works all kinds of stress out of my body and lets my head get all quiet inside for a good 90 minutes. And I've been sad and stressed with missing weeks of classes, but, quite seriously, for me, a worthwhile class means an instructor that corrects your positioning, pushes you to your limits in a pose, and mixes in new postures amoungst the traditional parts of the session. And damn if that didn't happen yesterday. I'm hoping that she'll take over the session for good, or at least teach it on a regular basis.

On the flipside of liking things that we do well, I may have cried at work this week because a client isn't allowing me to do my work well. I like my work. I'm good at it. And it is just so frustrating and infuriating (and, apparently, tear inducing due to the frustration and fury) when they demand that you do things that you patently know is horrid and wrong. I am happy to say, however, that the tears didn't start until I was outside of the building, on my way to the car, and outside of the view of, oh, anyone at all. I hate crying in public because I'm a seriously ugly crier. The snot and the red eyes and the flushed skin? Yes, indeed.

But the yoga? It helped me sweep all the anger away, and get back to my monkey-loving stupidity. As usual.

The end.

2 comments:

lu, mildly an artist said...

I'm the same. I'll never get out of a ticket cuz I look wretched when I'm crying. Minnie Driver is my actress hero ... only b/c she's a terrible crier too :)

Melissa said...

I always wished that I could look serene and tragic while crying. I make do with blubbery mess who feels serene and tragic on the inside.