Saturday, July 31, 2010

So this old world must still be spinning ' round - And I still love you.

I've done practiced yoga 5 times in the past 3 days. This clearly makes me an expert, so now I will share what I know with you.

1) I don't like Kundalini Yoga because it appears to be everything non-yogis use to make fun of yoga. I dunno. "Fire breathing" doesn't really make me feel like I've accomplished anything in my day, or workout.

2) Yoga by candlelight? Awesome idea right before bed. I fell right asleep without my usual wandering mind, slept soundly up to my alarm, and woke up easily and well rested with good intentions for the day.

3) Do people have good bodies because they do yoga, or do people do yoga because they have good bodies? I mean, even though I sweated and shook the whole time and I'm sore afterwards...did I get a workout? Is this going to work?

4) Apparently, all I needed for motivation was a hot pink yoga mat with lotus flowers. Observe.  Why in the world does this pretty thing excite me so?

 5) Post yoga, I have the flexibility, durability, capability and desire to sit entirely still and reflect for up to 10 minutes.  And I think 10 minutes of Alison-time is easily like 30 of most other peoples'. 

But really what I mostly know and like about yoga is that you practice it.  Everyone, every time.  Whether you've been a yogi for 30 years, or 3 days, you practice yoga.  You're not doing yoga, running to yoga, stressing over yoga, working out with yoga, taking care of yoga or any other verb which suggests something difficult is being done.  You're just..practicing.  So you can't fail.  It's almost entirely foolproof, which makes it like a big comfortable hammock, begging for company, ready to sway and surround you.  I wish I could practice more things in my life.  I wish if I messed up at work I could say "that's ok - just practicing!" or if I accidentally offended someone I could respond "sorry!  practicing!" or if (when) I made myself look like an ass I could soothe me with "it's ok!  you're only practicing!"  Because everyone knows when you're practicing something, you're allowed to make mistakes.

And though it sounds entirely hokey, my other favorite part of yoga is a message I've read many times and ways in the past week - be compassionate with yourself.
 (Which I am currently practicing.)

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I'm in the wrong story.

Something that makes me giggle...

Megan and I name articles of clothing after the foods and beverages we spill on them. (Even long after we've washed and de-stained them.)
Actual conversations in our apartment go a little something like this:
"What should I wear tonight?"
"Sweet tea vodka dress? Or soy sauce shorts?"
"Hmm. Maybe. Are you going to wear your pizza pants?"
"Only if my cacciatore top is clean."

This post has no point or relevance. But it sure beats the whiny, is anybody ever going to love me and am I ever going to change my abundance of flaws? post that's been simmering between my brain and fingertips for days now...

I think I'm about to start investing in yoga classes because I need balance and a relatively secure location to spend a couple hours a week not being a spazz. Except I'm terrified to actually go take yoga, because what if I accidentally fart while in downward facing dog? It's a truly logical phobia.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven't got a clue.

Earlier this week, John Mayer posted a blog.  My darling friend Jenn read the blog, thought me of, and brightened my day with it and some kind words.  And it got me thinking, so now I’m going to blab to you.  Well, first I’ll let Mr. Mayer babble and then I’ll take over.

I wish that when I was younger I could have met my current self. We would have sat down at a coffee shop so that I could explain life to young me in terms that only we would understand. It would have saved me a lot of hardship…

People want to be liked. We all crave attention and affection and we all reject shame. When we get embarrassed we send a thug version of ourselves to the forefront to do our fighting for us. We’re at the top of the food chain just under fear.  We don’t want to be in a relationship to hear the words “I love you,” we want to be in a relationship to say the words “I love you.” We want to feel needed, and exceptional and we hate feeling insignificant. We want to ace a hearing test. We are binary creatures; if we’re the plaintiff, we want to win every dollar. If we’re the defendant, we want guard every penny. We want to make more money than last year. We don’t want to get cancer or die in our cars and we want the same for our loved ones. We go out on weekends to try and have sex while trying not to get punched in the face. We drink so we can be ourselves and not mind it so much. We’re desperate to be understood. We want to know someone else has felt it, too. We hate being judged unfairly. We want to make the person we heard wasn’t all that into us change their minds and admit they had us wrong. We want sunny skies with a chance of killer tornadoes, just to keep music sounding good. We take hours upon hours to admit to self consciousness. We don’t know exactly how to pleasure each other. We just want love. In any and every form.

Last weekend, I went down to Birmingham for my 10-year high school reunion.  I’ve been planning on going to my reunion since before I even graduated from good old Mountain Brook.  Somehow, I knew I’d be a better Alison with some age and wisdom, wardrobe tips and makeup tricks.  I realized a couple years ago that my friends and I had all begun to magically grow into who we always were and just didn’t quite know how to be during those awkward teen years.

I wish that when I was younger I could have met my current self.  I probably would have slapped myself silly.  Reminded me that there really is something to that whole “life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans” talk.  I would have tough loved the crap out of myself.  Buck up, little chippy.  It’s not so bad.  STOP POUTING.  BE HAPPY.  I think one of the absolute truths about life and the world and people is that misery, shame, unhappiness, and things bad, dirty and grungy all manifest from self-loathing and doubt.  I wish that when I was younger I could have met my current self because that’s the one major lesson younger me could have stood to learn much earlier in life.  Those boys weren’t making fun of my weight; they were burying their own flaws.  Those girls weren’t picking on my clothes; they were apologizing for their own inabilities to find looks not spoon-fed from magazines and billboards.  Those people weren’t being cruel because I was an awful person; they were being cruel because they were afraid they might be awful people. 

I wish that when I was younger, I could have met my current self.  Current me could have reminded younger me that if someone is being mean, they probably just need a hug.  (Or some chocolate milk.  Maybe a nap.)  Current me could have reminded younger me that the hardest but most worthwhile thing to do is love someone through the flaws and in spite of the pain.  Current me could have reminded younger me that broken hearts do in fact heal and are often times stronger and more capable than they were before.  Current me could have reminded younger me that energy is best spent living life instead of planning it.  (Because plans do fall apart, but life typically keeps on moving.)

But perhaps it’s best that younger me had to muddle through on her own because we all know that no one actually listens to their elders and lessons are best when experienced instead of taught.  The funny thing about life is you can’t ever really go back; you’re here, and eventually, you’ll get there.  And if you’re lucky like me, you’ll get there with an abundance of friends and some really funny stories sprinkled in.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

So here I go with all my thoughts I've been saving. So here I go with all my fears, weighing on me

So here we are.  27 coming to a close, 28 ready to begin.

For the past few weeks, I've been mourning the change from a "mid-twenty-something" (shut up, I'm on a cusp) to a very official "late twenty-something"and I can't say I've been coping with anything that resembles grace.  I just didn't feel ready.  Frankly, I don't feel like I accomplished much of anything as a 27 year old, so I didn't find it all that fair to be pushed to the next phase with neither medal nor merit.  And until about 3 hours ago, I had banned the use of the words "Happy Birthday" or "28" from my friends' vocabulary on or around July 2nd.  They were to call it Alison Appreciation Day and they could celebrate my existence but not my birth.  (Because let's face it - when am I ever going to give up an opportunity to be center of attention??)

And then today it hit me.  What in the world am I clinging to 27 for?  It wasn't exactly a stellar year.  Why not give it up, move on, embrace 28 and the hope and change it will certainly bring?  Let's review.
While 27 years of age, I did NOT:
Fall in or out of love (or have my heart broken)
Receive a promotion (though I did get way better at my current position)
Pull myself out of my continuing financial black hole (though I didn't make it worse, either)
Visit Birmingham (yet there was time for ATL, CLT, and Italy and Paris)
Lose anyone especially close to me (but rest in peace, Cami-dog)
Audition enough (but I did get cast in one thing!)
Get any smaller, healthier, or into better shape (at least I didn't gain much, either)
Make any major life decisions or changes (seriously.  I did well to get out of bed some days)
Or learn, grow or create enough.  (That's what 28 will be for)

Ok, so the year was a bit blah and mundane.  Great.  That much easier to move on and say, HEY, LIFE.  SPICIER, PLEASE.  MARINATE MY SOUL IN AMAZING THINGS.  And for some reason I'm actually still crazy enough to believe, just like every year, that this time next year things will actually be different.