Next Time, Fewer Bodily Fluids

Today was my first hot yoga session. I went with my awesome friend Karla. She belongs to the studio and today was the first pay-what-you-will hot yoga class so she invited me to join her. I hadn't been to a yoga class in years. And even then it was at the Y and not at a studio. I prefer a studio to the Y because of the overall atmosphere and approach to the study. All of that aside, I still had never done a hot yoga class. And I was a little nervous.

Hot yoga is a kind of yoga where the room is, well, hot. There's no special technique or anything. It's just that the temperature of the room is hotter than your normal room. When I registered for the class online yesterday there were only ten people out of a possible thirty. When I got there today, later than planned, there were already twenty people in there. And the room isn't that big. Karla and I had to squeeze our way to find some floorspace making me closer than I like to other people. I'm afraid of contact. I don't mind contact with strangers, I just don't like said stranger's feet in my face.

So what do I think about hot yoga? I like it. But then again, I like yoga. I don't know if I need my yoga to be hot. The temperature didn't really enhance my experience. There's a lot of sweating and smelling. The dude next to me sweat a lot on the floor right in front of his mat. No biggie except when we were supposed to extend our arm on the floor to our side, I plopped my arm right into the small puddle of sweat. It was... sticky. If there was another chance for me to go, I would. Only that time, I'll pee beforehand. I thought I would sweat so much that the pee would reabsorb so I didn't rush out to pee right at the beginning of class. Instead, I couldn't to certain poses really well for fear of my bladder exploding out of my bellybutton. You think I'd know better. But I don't.

Irony for Sure

After all the soul searching about changing careers and industries I ended up with a full-time position in the one I was aiming for in the first place. I got a promotion at one of the two part time jobs I had for the past year and I'm now in a full-time position, with job security and a retirement plan, in theatre. I love it. I love the job. I love the people. I am really, really lucky. I don't know how much longer I could take the schedule and not feeling like I really belonged anywhere.

This doesn't mean my dream of a bookstore is over. It means it's a longer term goal than before. After all the conversations I was having with banking type people, the economy taking a second nosedive into a shallow pool, and Borders closing my business plan- as solid as it is- isn't going to find support. I need more assets to put up against a bank loan. And not just any asset. I need a house. That's a long time coming as is. Though Borders closing opens opportunities for smaller businesses- such as mine- bankers are looking at the industry as a whole, not that Borders had a terrible modern business model and CEOs who didn't know anything about the industry, and saying- the book business is not a good investment. And when I walk in starry eyed and eager with no collateral, I'm not what they're looking for. Yet.

For now, please enjoy my new motivational speaker.