Bleh

Ah, New Year's...

The actual event I find a huge relief; it signifies one more year survived, another chance at...whatever I'm pretending to pursue.

The festivities surrounding the event, however, are as abhorrent as Halloween to me but in a totally different way. At Halloween, people dress in trashy costumes, drink too much, and act crazy and stupid on the streets of Manhattan. On New Year's...wait a minute. Well, the major differences are that everyone congregates in. my. neighborhood. AND every single one of those people is part of a couple. I considered having people over but remembered that 1) I hate not being able to leave a party, and 2) I have no single friends. Not happening.

I just watched the movie Once, a modern day musical you must see. Very touching, well written and acted, good cinema, and great music. And by all that I mean, I sobbed all the way through, but that could have something to do with my PMS.

In the spirit of feeling like I had any right to write about yoga, I took a class today. And by 'take a class' I mean: 'I unwittingly waltzed into a yoga studio thinking I knew anything about the practice and/or my body, and calmly had my ass handed to me as I slid out the door on my (considerable) belly after 90 minutes of abuse.' My friend Rafi pointed out that what I had read as Flow 1/2 clearly stood for 1+2 to the 30th power. Noted. I literally laughed at one point, I was so lost. The teacher kicks ass but was leading using only sanskrit for stretches at a time. HA!

If I can move tomorrow, bring on the new year. If I can't, I'm gonna push it back a few weeks. Wish me luck.

come ON

I think we all know I'm a card-carrying union member who has supported both, devastating strikes this year (Local One, the stagehand's union here on Broadway whose strike was resolved weeks ago, and the WGA, Writer's Guild of America represented from coast to coast and still picketing today). I am the first one to say The Man is trying to screw artists out of royalties and is making bazillions of dollars in internet and DVD viewings that the writers never see. These strikes have also caused tremendous losses of: revenue for anyone involved in the TV industry, morale in those same factions, and, most importantly this evening...a tremendous drop in watchable programs on television. Mercy!

I have 250 channels and am literally drinking one glass of wine after the other hoping that something will appeal. I was just forced to watch John Tucker Must Die, a teen flick about a basketball player that dates many girls at once. Not only does this movie have girl on girl action, there's red lingerie, a ton of cleavage, and Jenny McCarthy playing a mom (and not a silly one, an earnest, single one).

The real issue, however, was when they busted out these two gems of emo rock, "Dirty Little Secret" and "I'm Not a Perfect Person" - both of which could be subtitled "I've Got A Y-Chromosome, Deal With It". Both bands have hired directors for their videos that, perhaps to someone with an IQ of 65, camouflage the real meaning of the song to appear somewhat deep or mysterious. Make no mistake, the actual thrust of the songs are, quite clearly, "I'm an asshole but I'm not responsible for my actions because...just cause." Ah, boys.

There are not one but two tv's in the cafeteria at the hotel I'm working in. One is the size of Texas, the other slightly smaller. When I'm not being subjected to horrible news or Jerry Springer, I'm forced to bury my face in my rice and beans while something like American Wedding takes the stage. There's nothing like a pubic hair joke flying around (pun intended) while you are in a room of co-workers! No issues there. I'm writing a letter ASAP. WTF.

On that note, I'm going to pass out. If there is a God, the strike will end soon and my people will not only be back on the small screen, they'll have their cotton pickin' mitts off of our theatre gigs. Yeesh.

Woof!

Well, now I apparently get enough of blogging.

So, crisis averted, I had a friend who lives close by pick up the keys to the studio for me. I, of course, haven't had a second to actually take class recently but I am, as we speak, facilitating the mental and physical health of some hard core yogis desperate to practice on Christmas Eve.

In truly top form, the Universe heard my whingeing this morning and has sent me a sign that there is Truth and Beauty in the world. One of the participants of class tonight has introduced me to an amazing website. I'm not sure how I lived without it before now.

My Third Eye Itches is a site dedicated to the true practice of yoga...making sure you never become such an obnoxious practicioner that your pretention creates a kill zone with a radius of 10 feet (if only there were a similar site for the Jovan Musk wearers of the world).

From Yoga Dawg's Yogatude:
"As you walk into the practice area, do not acknowledge or say anything to any student if one happens to be there. Additionally, don’t talk or look around while setting your mat up. Keep a centered look as if you possess great Yogic knowledge. With your “Yogatude” and a top of the line Yoga mat from the GreatTranscendentalYoga Superstore, you might even have some of the students fooled into thinking that you indeed, possess great Yogic knowledge. "

Not since hearing Bryan Kest say, "notice how your matching yoga outfit doesn't help you with this pose" and "as you slowly lower down into chaturangha, engage your pectorals...those are the muscles underneath the implants" has the gong of truth rung so clearly in my head.

Please, please, please take the Yoga Quiz. Any multiple choice quiz that has "F'in-A!!" as an option on almost every question is close to my heart.

And, had I not been gifted this URL, I never would have seen the ad or clicked on the link to Yahweh Yoga! Now, listen, y'all know I'm a Christian...a super liberal one...and if you think I'm not buying one of these DVDs yer crazy. It may be just to see how on EARTH they do yoga with that amount of hair, mascara, and nail polish (scroll down for pix)...but check out the guns, yo, sign me UP. I told you JC was a great skiier, did you think it stopped there? Come. On.

Thanks to The Dawg himself, who fought his way through the drifts of snow and hordes of shoppers (okay, it's 40 degrees out and a ghost town here in Hell's Kitchen but...ya know), to take class.

Oy

Have you ever made a conscious, well thought out decision and then spent the entirety of the execution of said decision resenting the hell out of everything and everyone involved in it, not least of all yourself? (not unlike how you started to read that last sentence thinking it might be a cogent thought and lost 2 minutes of your life deciphering what it was actually saying...)

I am not travelling this Christmas. I have a fairly hard and fast rule that I don't travel more than 30-45 minutes away on Thanksgiving, the most hellish travel holiday on earth, but this is newish. There have been gigs that have prevented it, etc., but this was a choice.

I love my family madly, and I prefer a slightly less stressful, emotionally packed setting for my bonding. I just can't take all of us in the same house for 4 days straight. I become a raging bitch. I'm single, I have a lot of alone time and am used to making the majority of my decisions based on what is best for moi. I miss seeing the kiddos, and I know everyone has time off...but I can't do it. I think it might be a lot different if I had a boyfriend with me who could help diffuse my bs...getting laid is like Valium...from what I remember. I have a friend whose hairdresser gave her some Clonopin to take home with her...'nuff said.

So, I'm working at the spa and picking up shifts at the yoga studio. I have SIX massages back to back tomorrow starting at 8 am. I'm sorry? I'm 100% irritated at the universe for answering my prayer for financial abundance, how dare You?! I'm also working with people I never work with and who drive me crazy. I'm currently tapped in the office with the manager who talks non-stop about how hard his life is. Seriously, just a low-volume monologue, always. Awesome.

I also realized last night at about midnight that I hadn't picked up my keys for the yoga studio and was screwed. I got about 2 hours of sleep in between trying to chill and freaking out before I had to get up to be at work at 8.

Sorry this isn't one of my more light and airy posts. I'll get over myself soon. Sending you lots of love and joy (and patience, and vodka) this time with your loved ones.

Yo

I got a friendly nudge today to return to the cyber world (thanks J!). After about 10 full days of being disgustingly sick, I'm just now returning to the land of the living.

Today I helped a friend paint her apartment. We had such a good time! What is it about helping someone else around their house that's so liberating? I am never happier than when I can help someone else get stuff like this done (put in dimmer switches, do the dishes) but cannot even force myself to sweep my floor. It's a little ridiculous.

I'm super tired but just wanted to check in - I'm alive!

Ladeez and Gentlemen...

(and I use those terms loosely)

Having a hard time motivating yourself to clean? Or just anxious to support the objectification of some fine, fine beefcake?

Git yerself to the model home of Xtra-Pine to visit Brian, Jason and the Original Cleaning Hunk.

Don't say I didn't get you anything for Christmas, yo.

Perspective 101

If you are feeling at all cynical about life, go to my friend Erik's blog and watch this video of his daughter on a carousel.

It will remind you how we can choose to approach life.

Bodily function update

Just what you've been waiting for!

I get sick maybe once a year. Happy Anniversary, sinuses!

This has been a banner week on the physical front. This may be a bit of TMI, but I get terrible cramps about 7 times a year. I have medication for them but if I don't catch it right in time, it's ugly for a bit. Friday, I missed my window and endured 2 of the worst hours I've experienced in a long time.

I like to consider myself a strong person. Redheads are even supposed to have a higher pain threshold than the average joe. Not me. I have the utmost respect for anyone who has ever given birth. A few hours of crying, writhing in pain, throwing up and praying to The Big Guy to make it all better (or just let it end) is humbling...and there's no payoff. Is this my body's way of punishing me for not having had kids?

This insanity must have lowered my immune system. I got home from rehearsal on Saturday night, walked in the door and had instant sore throat. By the end of Sunday, toast. I was in bed all day yesterday until I had to go to work and massage four people in a row. Good times.

I'm doing this holiday concert thing and there's just no way I'm going to sing tonight. I sound like a baritone and I'm just in the chorus (of 75)...I'm not gonna be missed.

The only thing saving me is that I have no sense of taste because my sinuses are so blocked. I don't know how I would tolerate the cabbage-garlic-parsley-carrot-celery juice I've been drinking otherwise.

If you don't, btw, have a neti pot and suffer from allergies or sinus issues, get on it. It's an amazing way to irrigate your sinuses. If you don't take advantage of this, you're just creating more pain in the world, not only for you, but the people who have to hear you complain. Here is a pretty good instructional video (and by 'good' I mean very clear but totally creepy and a little bit hysterical).