Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Realizing...
That I never should have stopped blogging. I wonder what it will take for me to get going again...
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
My thoughts on growing up...
#1- Nightmares aren't all about boogie men anymore...
I've had two intensely horrifying dreams recently. The first developed around me missing a flight out to LA where I was to have a meeting that would inevitably launch my entire career. No such meeting, or flight, exists but I woke up panicked and panting.
The second was about me adopting a three month old baby... and quickly coming to realize that a) I can't afford it (why is Simalac SO expensive?), b) I suddenly had no time for myself and c) I just wasn't ready to be responsible for the likelihood of someone other than myself. I looked on the adoption papers for a return policy, there wasn't one, and I awoke totally freaked out and wondering if there was a crib beside my bed. Luckily, there wasn't.
What do the dreams mean? Who knows ... but I guess me obsessing over the direction of my career vs. starting to turn the gears on creating a family, may have something to do with it.
#2- Christmas just isn't the same...
Guess what I asked for this Christmas season- a digital thermostat (to help cut the cost of my outrageous heating bills) and Crest Premium White Strips ( I want pearly whites!). How boring is that? But, when your 25, killing your credit cards, and running around like a maniac, stopping to figure out what you'd like for a gift is just too time consuming. So, you just think about what would save you money. (Ok, the strips aren't going to save me money, but they'll save me from insecure bouts of faulty dental stains.)
#3- Relationships...
Whether it's the one you share with your parents, or the one you share with a significant other, it doesn't come as easily as it once did under the veil of naivety you once wore. Now you "read" your parents, they are going through their own shit that comes with age and you have to find ways to tipey toe around it. Dating isn't what it was in high school. No one says "want to be my girlfriend/boyfriend?" It's never that simple. You're left to figure out where you stand on your own and no matter how many times you tell yourself to live for the moment, you immediately place a newcomer into the game board that is your life and wonder how they will fit in now and ten years from now.
Where did my childhood go?
I've had two intensely horrifying dreams recently. The first developed around me missing a flight out to LA where I was to have a meeting that would inevitably launch my entire career. No such meeting, or flight, exists but I woke up panicked and panting.
The second was about me adopting a three month old baby... and quickly coming to realize that a) I can't afford it (why is Simalac SO expensive?), b) I suddenly had no time for myself and c) I just wasn't ready to be responsible for the likelihood of someone other than myself. I looked on the adoption papers for a return policy, there wasn't one, and I awoke totally freaked out and wondering if there was a crib beside my bed. Luckily, there wasn't.
What do the dreams mean? Who knows ... but I guess me obsessing over the direction of my career vs. starting to turn the gears on creating a family, may have something to do with it.
#2- Christmas just isn't the same...
Guess what I asked for this Christmas season- a digital thermostat (to help cut the cost of my outrageous heating bills) and Crest Premium White Strips ( I want pearly whites!). How boring is that? But, when your 25, killing your credit cards, and running around like a maniac, stopping to figure out what you'd like for a gift is just too time consuming. So, you just think about what would save you money. (Ok, the strips aren't going to save me money, but they'll save me from insecure bouts of faulty dental stains.)
#3- Relationships...
Whether it's the one you share with your parents, or the one you share with a significant other, it doesn't come as easily as it once did under the veil of naivety you once wore. Now you "read" your parents, they are going through their own shit that comes with age and you have to find ways to tipey toe around it. Dating isn't what it was in high school. No one says "want to be my girlfriend/boyfriend?" It's never that simple. You're left to figure out where you stand on your own and no matter how many times you tell yourself to live for the moment, you immediately place a newcomer into the game board that is your life and wonder how they will fit in now and ten years from now.
Where did my childhood go?
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
All in a day's work
I don't DO Mondays.
Sometimes I believe people should just be happy I showed up, let alone think I'll be at all approachable, more like grumpy and disheveled. So, like any other Monday, yesterday was no different. I arrived on my floor a mess, and yapping on my cell phone. My boss and I share something like an executive suite, so there is a waiting room beyond my cube (but it's not a cube b/c I have a huge window behind me- yay!). As I passed the waiting area I did a double take and stopped my conversation mid-sentence. Glenn Close was sitting in one of the two chairs speaking to a man about her something I couldn't comprehend... Fatal Attraction 2? Didn't she die? I must have heard wrong.
I stumbled, said "Good Morning" and walked over to my desk. I asked myself twice if I could still possibly be sleeping, or maybe drunk and hallucinating. I was neither. Glenn Close, Academy Award nominated actress, was sitting 5 feet from me, and I wasn't dreaming it. I acted nonchalant for as long as I could, but finally a production/casting crew rescued me from my own anxiety to jump up and say something to her. She and the crew piled into the conference room connected to my office and I was then approached by one of the members. He was aware I had not known they would be holding a casting session and asked if I thought it would be a problem. "No way!" I smiled, while simultaneously picturing a line of my co-workers forming for autographs.
A few moments later, I was asked by the same guy, we'll call him Mr. T, if there would be any way to have breakfast delivered. "Delivery? No need, I'll get it." I took a bagel and coffee order for 5 (including Ms. Close, thank you very much), and recruited my coworker friend, Beth, to help me out. Beth, like me, constantly has her nose buried in Us Weekly and People magazines, I knew she'd be honored. We ran to the cafeteria and she made the coffees (I suck at that) while I gathered the bagels. I tried my best to wrap the bagels in a way that looked professional, but they ended up in a mess of wax paper. We hustled back upstairs and handed out the order (Glenn said thanks), and left the conference room.
"I just made Glenn Close's coffee," Beth whispered.
I put my hand on her shoulder. "That you did, comrade. And you did it well."
Over the course of the next few hours there were whispers in the hall and people who rarely come to visit me suddenly had so much to talk to me about. I was being used for a glimpse of the action, and I loved it.
I was asked by Mr. T to put up signs near the elevator directing the auditionees toward the conference room. I did so and soon thereafter was approached by an actress that looked familiar, but who I couldn't name. "Is this where the casting is being held?" I told her yes, asked her if she wanted water and invited her to sit in the waiting area. She was a beautiful young woman with dark brown hair and light brown eyes and her name was Carly. We'll leave it at that. She was sweet and spoke of the weird weather we're experiencing in NY. Soon, she was called in and I was once again alone.
Two more actresses followed. One, my personal favorite, had a face that I knew I had seen before, I kept picturing her crying, but couldn't place her. She was the most talkative, telling me about her lunch at the Guggenheim Museum. I wanted to ask her where I knew her from, but feared asking such could embarrass her since I clearly DIDN'T know where I should know her from. She was called into the casting and that's when it hit me. She had played a character on one of the most popular TV shows around, having been killed off at the end of the 2nd season (I think). She played her character SO well that when she exited the casting I had to let her know.
I pipped up and said, "By the way, I died when you cried on ____".
She smiled at me. "You died? No way!"
We laughed together. Why do I do that? 25 years of speaking and I still don't have it down pact. Jesus.
The third actress sounded British and was named Rose, so sweet and down to earth as well, but I didn't get to talk to her much. At that point I was too caught up running errands for the casting team which now included several of our LA coworkers who had flown in as part of the entourage.
By six p.m. I was exhausted having had to work for both my boss and the casting team. Not that I was complaining, this is the type of work I enjoy, but a stiff drink at the end of the day would have been welcomed.
"You made some new friends," my boss smiled at me.
"Ya think?"
This morning I jumped on the elevator, became quickly aware of 3 large men standing in a semi-circle around a much smaller person. I glanced over and recognized the small person as Bow Wow. He smiled, I smiled. Round two at helping celebrities for a day?
Nah! I left the elevator and dashed for my office.
Sometimes I believe people should just be happy I showed up, let alone think I'll be at all approachable, more like grumpy and disheveled. So, like any other Monday, yesterday was no different. I arrived on my floor a mess, and yapping on my cell phone. My boss and I share something like an executive suite, so there is a waiting room beyond my cube (but it's not a cube b/c I have a huge window behind me- yay!). As I passed the waiting area I did a double take and stopped my conversation mid-sentence. Glenn Close was sitting in one of the two chairs speaking to a man about her something I couldn't comprehend... Fatal Attraction 2? Didn't she die? I must have heard wrong.
I stumbled, said "Good Morning" and walked over to my desk. I asked myself twice if I could still possibly be sleeping, or maybe drunk and hallucinating. I was neither. Glenn Close, Academy Award nominated actress, was sitting 5 feet from me, and I wasn't dreaming it. I acted nonchalant for as long as I could, but finally a production/casting crew rescued me from my own anxiety to jump up and say something to her. She and the crew piled into the conference room connected to my office and I was then approached by one of the members. He was aware I had not known they would be holding a casting session and asked if I thought it would be a problem. "No way!" I smiled, while simultaneously picturing a line of my co-workers forming for autographs.
A few moments later, I was asked by the same guy, we'll call him Mr. T, if there would be any way to have breakfast delivered. "Delivery? No need, I'll get it." I took a bagel and coffee order for 5 (including Ms. Close, thank you very much), and recruited my coworker friend, Beth, to help me out. Beth, like me, constantly has her nose buried in Us Weekly and People magazines, I knew she'd be honored. We ran to the cafeteria and she made the coffees (I suck at that) while I gathered the bagels. I tried my best to wrap the bagels in a way that looked professional, but they ended up in a mess of wax paper. We hustled back upstairs and handed out the order (Glenn said thanks), and left the conference room.
"I just made Glenn Close's coffee," Beth whispered.
I put my hand on her shoulder. "That you did, comrade. And you did it well."
Over the course of the next few hours there were whispers in the hall and people who rarely come to visit me suddenly had so much to talk to me about. I was being used for a glimpse of the action, and I loved it.
I was asked by Mr. T to put up signs near the elevator directing the auditionees toward the conference room. I did so and soon thereafter was approached by an actress that looked familiar, but who I couldn't name. "Is this where the casting is being held?" I told her yes, asked her if she wanted water and invited her to sit in the waiting area. She was a beautiful young woman with dark brown hair and light brown eyes and her name was Carly. We'll leave it at that. She was sweet and spoke of the weird weather we're experiencing in NY. Soon, she was called in and I was once again alone.
Two more actresses followed. One, my personal favorite, had a face that I knew I had seen before, I kept picturing her crying, but couldn't place her. She was the most talkative, telling me about her lunch at the Guggenheim Museum. I wanted to ask her where I knew her from, but feared asking such could embarrass her since I clearly DIDN'T know where I should know her from. She was called into the casting and that's when it hit me. She had played a character on one of the most popular TV shows around, having been killed off at the end of the 2nd season (I think). She played her character SO well that when she exited the casting I had to let her know.
I pipped up and said, "By the way, I died when you cried on ____".
She smiled at me. "You died? No way!"
We laughed together. Why do I do that? 25 years of speaking and I still don't have it down pact. Jesus.
The third actress sounded British and was named Rose, so sweet and down to earth as well, but I didn't get to talk to her much. At that point I was too caught up running errands for the casting team which now included several of our LA coworkers who had flown in as part of the entourage.
By six p.m. I was exhausted having had to work for both my boss and the casting team. Not that I was complaining, this is the type of work I enjoy, but a stiff drink at the end of the day would have been welcomed.
"You made some new friends," my boss smiled at me.
"Ya think?"
This morning I jumped on the elevator, became quickly aware of 3 large men standing in a semi-circle around a much smaller person. I glanced over and recognized the small person as Bow Wow. He smiled, I smiled. Round two at helping celebrities for a day?
Nah! I left the elevator and dashed for my office.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
You want some Salsa with that?
I'm convinced that a treadmill will never help me shed pounds. I stare it down at the gym and it stares right back. We take a walk together and after five minutes I'm ready to jump ship and haul my ass over to Dunkin Donuts. Absolute boredom drives me to food. It's inevitable.
Because of my allergic reaction to anything stationary, I started a mission which I had contemplated months ago, to try new forms of exercise. You already know about the Yoga experience (read prior entry), so this time around I went for something a little more lively and a little less stretchy. Dancing. I love it, it seems to love me, how could it not work?
At my sweet 16 I was caught on tape trying to dance to salsa music with my uncle, instead I was actually a mess of flailing arms and legs. A few years later while in college, I dated a salsero... Thank the Lord Almighty for bringing him into my life, who knows what kind of fool I would be on the dance floor were it not for him. With many private dance lessons under the belt, I've sharpened the skills and can say I'm pretty good. However, I had no idea what to expect from a dance class so I decided enrolling in a beginner's course would be best.
By word of mouth, I came across this dance school www.eddietorres.com and on Tuesday made it a point to at least try. On 54th street I came to the building marked on the site and jumped into an elevator with a woman that happened to be the instructor, Maria. I followed her and a student to the studio where 3 or 4 other women awaited us.
Great! There's hardly anyone here, and on top of that no men! How will I learn to be lead?
I waited outside for some time to pass and with it (to my relief) arrived a ton of people, both male and female. I paid my $15 fee (quite a bargain for 2 hours), eyed a guy that I SWEAR I know from somewhere and took my place in the back of the class. Within the first 15 minutes the room filled to at least 50 people. Ages ranged from 20s to 40s and there were enough ethnicities to make up a mock UN.
Maria wiggled her way to the front of the room and belted out, "To all my newbies, welcome! To all my regulars, you better not let me down show them I know how to teach!" And so she began leading us into a 1-2-3-(pause) 5-6-7 , immediately I was thrown off because I never COUNT when I dance, I just ...dance (gasp!) After tripping over myself, I regained my composure and repeatedly reminded myself that I knew how to do this.
When I learned to ignore the awkwardness of counting, I was able to get the hang of the steps and quickly caught on to everything that followed. My eyes fluttered sideways to a man who couldn't grasp the concept of not moving both of your feet at the same time. I wanted to help him but Maria shouted, "Turn p'alla! (i can't spell spanish). Which means... p'alla!" No, I didn't hear her wrong, Maria had no intention of translating everything for us. While, I'm lucky enough to know some basic Spanish (p'alla translates into "over there"), there were some people who didn't have a clue and, missing the command to turn bumped squarely into their neighbors, ouch.
After spending an hour on learning a short routine, my heart was racing and the sweat was reaching the surface. I smiled at my aching thighs and knew I'd made the right exercise decision. Until I realized there was still an hour to go. How would I be able to walk after this?
The second hour was dedicated to partner work. Everyone was pretty open to sharing any partners they had come with so we formed a "musical partners" assembly line of sorts where the women stayed put and the men rotated. The level of dancing talent these men possessed varied so greatly that I was either running the risk of falling over and cracking my head from their inability to keep a beat, or I was turning beet red from the embarrassment of not being able to keep up.
I was twirled and tossed until my hair was a mess, but I loved every minute of it. There was not one man who I danced perfectly with and I saw this as a blessing, it made me dance harder. The one dude I swear I knew finally rotated into my partnership and I asked him if he had gone to Rutgers, "cause I swear I know you from somewhere." "Nope, I didn't. Are you Dominican?" I'm not sure how that was going to narrow down where we knew each other from, but we had to rotate again before finding out.
At 10 p.m. (30 mins after we were scheduled to end), Maria finally began to close down shop. I collected my stuff, and sashayed outta there like Jennifer Beals with a sweatshirt cutoff. Ain't not stopping me now, I'm on the move! As I walked to my train I took each step with a 1,2,3(pause) 5,6,7 .. and never tripped once..
Maybe this counting thing isn't so bad after all...
Because of my allergic reaction to anything stationary, I started a mission which I had contemplated months ago, to try new forms of exercise. You already know about the Yoga experience (read prior entry), so this time around I went for something a little more lively and a little less stretchy. Dancing. I love it, it seems to love me, how could it not work?
At my sweet 16 I was caught on tape trying to dance to salsa music with my uncle, instead I was actually a mess of flailing arms and legs. A few years later while in college, I dated a salsero... Thank the Lord Almighty for bringing him into my life, who knows what kind of fool I would be on the dance floor were it not for him. With many private dance lessons under the belt, I've sharpened the skills and can say I'm pretty good. However, I had no idea what to expect from a dance class so I decided enrolling in a beginner's course would be best.
By word of mouth, I came across this dance school www.eddietorres.com and on Tuesday made it a point to at least try. On 54th street I came to the building marked on the site and jumped into an elevator with a woman that happened to be the instructor, Maria. I followed her and a student to the studio where 3 or 4 other women awaited us.
Great! There's hardly anyone here, and on top of that no men! How will I learn to be lead?
I waited outside for some time to pass and with it (to my relief) arrived a ton of people, both male and female. I paid my $15 fee (quite a bargain for 2 hours), eyed a guy that I SWEAR I know from somewhere and took my place in the back of the class. Within the first 15 minutes the room filled to at least 50 people. Ages ranged from 20s to 40s and there were enough ethnicities to make up a mock UN.
Maria wiggled her way to the front of the room and belted out, "To all my newbies, welcome! To all my regulars, you better not let me down show them I know how to teach!" And so she began leading us into a 1-2-3-(pause) 5-6-7 , immediately I was thrown off because I never COUNT when I dance, I just ...dance (gasp!) After tripping over myself, I regained my composure and repeatedly reminded myself that I knew how to do this.
When I learned to ignore the awkwardness of counting, I was able to get the hang of the steps and quickly caught on to everything that followed. My eyes fluttered sideways to a man who couldn't grasp the concept of not moving both of your feet at the same time. I wanted to help him but Maria shouted, "Turn p'alla! (i can't spell spanish). Which means... p'alla!" No, I didn't hear her wrong, Maria had no intention of translating everything for us. While, I'm lucky enough to know some basic Spanish (p'alla translates into "over there"), there were some people who didn't have a clue and, missing the command to turn bumped squarely into their neighbors, ouch.
After spending an hour on learning a short routine, my heart was racing and the sweat was reaching the surface. I smiled at my aching thighs and knew I'd made the right exercise decision. Until I realized there was still an hour to go. How would I be able to walk after this?
The second hour was dedicated to partner work. Everyone was pretty open to sharing any partners they had come with so we formed a "musical partners" assembly line of sorts where the women stayed put and the men rotated. The level of dancing talent these men possessed varied so greatly that I was either running the risk of falling over and cracking my head from their inability to keep a beat, or I was turning beet red from the embarrassment of not being able to keep up.
I was twirled and tossed until my hair was a mess, but I loved every minute of it. There was not one man who I danced perfectly with and I saw this as a blessing, it made me dance harder. The one dude I swear I knew finally rotated into my partnership and I asked him if he had gone to Rutgers, "cause I swear I know you from somewhere." "Nope, I didn't. Are you Dominican?" I'm not sure how that was going to narrow down where we knew each other from, but we had to rotate again before finding out.
At 10 p.m. (30 mins after we were scheduled to end), Maria finally began to close down shop. I collected my stuff, and sashayed outta there like Jennifer Beals with a sweatshirt cutoff. Ain't not stopping me now, I'm on the move! As I walked to my train I took each step with a 1,2,3(pause) 5,6,7 .. and never tripped once..
Maybe this counting thing isn't so bad after all...
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Ay yo! Yogie!
For the past few weeks I've been awaiting a date with my boss. Trying to catch her for dinner is as easy as trying to have a sit down with the President. All weekend prior I went over my speech about the possibility of moving and when it came to it, Monday morning I was all systems go, awaiting my fate. That is until she emailed me to tell me her daughter would be joining us. Damn! On any other day I would have welcomed the addition, but I couldn't imagine speaking to my boss with her adorable 13 year old staring at me in disbelief.
Oh and there would be a Yoga class prior to our dinner. Yes, Yoga. The artistic form of working out which I had never before experienced. I became fearful. I am in no way flexible nor do I have good balance. I'm a walking klutz. This was going to be disasterous! When I met up with my boss's daughter, Jane, at the office she too expressed her nervousness.
"I'm not going to have a clue as to what I'm doing," she said.
"Well your no clue is about five steps up from how I'll probably kill myself trying."
Six pm approached, my boss herded us and together we sped walked to Exhale Spa. From the moment I walked in I knew I was done for. Soft mediation music played, aromatherapy scents swam through the air, and surrounding Yoga participants spoke in what I call Yoganese (some language I don't get -- what is a chamarunga?). The place smelled expensive and when I saw my boss hand over her credit card for mine and Jane's entry I almost wanted to grab it and tell her not to bother. I was about to make a fool of her. Before I could say anything Jane grabbed my hand and rushed me to the women's locker room.
Women were changing into their yoga apparel and I silently pouted at the idea of having to display my fat ass not only in front of them but in front of my own boss... a woman I admire, a woman I respect, and the last woman I would ever want to see my cellulite. Eck! I had no choice, I stripped down to the tightie whities and jumped into my sweats as fast as I could. Luckily, the whole ordeal only took a few minutes and we were quickly on our way into the studio.
The three of us walked into the studio with our mats and my boss quickly made her way to the front of the room. I shot a worried look at Jane. "What is she doing? Come back here!" I shout-whispered. But, she didn't hear me and so we followed. Placing our mats in a row, we took our spots in the absolute front of the class. My boss turned to me, "Oh by the way, this is a 2-3 level class, but don't worry I won't know what I'm doing either." Somehow that only made me feel worse.
At least I had Jane. I looked over at her and saw her bending like a pretzel and standing on the tips of her toes ballerina style. SHIT! I had totally forgotten she's a dancer. My boss has experience and Jane has the credentials to learn. Me, I ain't got shit except fear! God help me!
The instructor, a tall muscular Asian man, came to the front of the class and sat Indian-style on a mat next to Jane. "Ok, everyone together let's release..."
On cue everyone surrounding me, except for my boss and Jane, began to moan together. Yea, moan like "ohhhhhmmmmmm". Oh come on! I can't keep serious through this! I started to cough because it was the only way I could mask the onslaught of laughs that were on their way up my throat. My coughing caused my boss to start coughing, but I knew her sudden attack was about as genuine as mine and so... I release a huge puff laugh, the kind where your lips vibrate as a burst of laugh air comes flying out. My boss started to cough louder and I was sure that as the instructor made his way over to us that he was ready to give us the softspoken direction to get the fuck out of his studio. Instead, he rubbed my boss's back and told her if she needed water there was a fountain outside of the studio. We were safe, as long as I could keep the gigglefest down.
The laughter quickly subsided as the instructor lead us into twists, turns, lunges and jumps that left me without my breath time and time again. This isn't relaxing, this is fucking torture! My boss struggled, but was semi used to the treatment and Jane, forget it! She was the star student, twisting her head under her leg while pulling her toe straight in front of her.. WHAT? With ever new position ("Ok, now turn into Warrior Stance 1" huh?), the instructor would come over, pull my hips, push my ass down and then walk away shaking his head. I was hopeless, but I refused to give up.
An hour later we were instructed to lie down on our mats and freestyle stretch. I raised my lower body into the air and laid my arms out to the side.
"What's that?" Jane asked.
"I call this the palm tree."
She frowned at me and went back to backward arch flippy things. Then the lights dimmed and we were instructed to lay down and rest. Finally, something I can do! Just when I was about to start snoring, the lights came back on and the class was over. We rolled up our mats and limped back to the locker room, or maybe it was just me limping.
All the way to dinner and most of the way through it we laughed about our experience and, not surprisingly, I was the butt of most jokes. No hard feelings, it was pretty damn funny. As I laughed with Jane and my boss, I kept shut about my original motives for the dinner. There was just never a time. I'm not sure when there will be...
A few days later we were leaving for Thanksgiving break and my boss emailed me "When I say what I'm thankful for tomorrow one of the things will be you." I told her "ditto" and I meant it. How do I leave a boss like this? How do I stay?
Oh and there would be a Yoga class prior to our dinner. Yes, Yoga. The artistic form of working out which I had never before experienced. I became fearful. I am in no way flexible nor do I have good balance. I'm a walking klutz. This was going to be disasterous! When I met up with my boss's daughter, Jane, at the office she too expressed her nervousness.
"I'm not going to have a clue as to what I'm doing," she said.
"Well your no clue is about five steps up from how I'll probably kill myself trying."
Six pm approached, my boss herded us and together we sped walked to Exhale Spa. From the moment I walked in I knew I was done for. Soft mediation music played, aromatherapy scents swam through the air, and surrounding Yoga participants spoke in what I call Yoganese (some language I don't get -- what is a chamarunga?). The place smelled expensive and when I saw my boss hand over her credit card for mine and Jane's entry I almost wanted to grab it and tell her not to bother. I was about to make a fool of her. Before I could say anything Jane grabbed my hand and rushed me to the women's locker room.
Women were changing into their yoga apparel and I silently pouted at the idea of having to display my fat ass not only in front of them but in front of my own boss... a woman I admire, a woman I respect, and the last woman I would ever want to see my cellulite. Eck! I had no choice, I stripped down to the tightie whities and jumped into my sweats as fast as I could. Luckily, the whole ordeal only took a few minutes and we were quickly on our way into the studio.
The three of us walked into the studio with our mats and my boss quickly made her way to the front of the room. I shot a worried look at Jane. "What is she doing? Come back here!" I shout-whispered. But, she didn't hear me and so we followed. Placing our mats in a row, we took our spots in the absolute front of the class. My boss turned to me, "Oh by the way, this is a 2-3 level class, but don't worry I won't know what I'm doing either." Somehow that only made me feel worse.
At least I had Jane. I looked over at her and saw her bending like a pretzel and standing on the tips of her toes ballerina style. SHIT! I had totally forgotten she's a dancer. My boss has experience and Jane has the credentials to learn. Me, I ain't got shit except fear! God help me!
The instructor, a tall muscular Asian man, came to the front of the class and sat Indian-style on a mat next to Jane. "Ok, everyone together let's release..."
On cue everyone surrounding me, except for my boss and Jane, began to moan together. Yea, moan like "ohhhhhmmmmmm". Oh come on! I can't keep serious through this! I started to cough because it was the only way I could mask the onslaught of laughs that were on their way up my throat. My coughing caused my boss to start coughing, but I knew her sudden attack was about as genuine as mine and so... I release a huge puff laugh, the kind where your lips vibrate as a burst of laugh air comes flying out. My boss started to cough louder and I was sure that as the instructor made his way over to us that he was ready to give us the softspoken direction to get the fuck out of his studio. Instead, he rubbed my boss's back and told her if she needed water there was a fountain outside of the studio. We were safe, as long as I could keep the gigglefest down.
The laughter quickly subsided as the instructor lead us into twists, turns, lunges and jumps that left me without my breath time and time again. This isn't relaxing, this is fucking torture! My boss struggled, but was semi used to the treatment and Jane, forget it! She was the star student, twisting her head under her leg while pulling her toe straight in front of her.. WHAT? With ever new position ("Ok, now turn into Warrior Stance 1" huh?), the instructor would come over, pull my hips, push my ass down and then walk away shaking his head. I was hopeless, but I refused to give up.
An hour later we were instructed to lie down on our mats and freestyle stretch. I raised my lower body into the air and laid my arms out to the side.
"What's that?" Jane asked.
"I call this the palm tree."
She frowned at me and went back to backward arch flippy things. Then the lights dimmed and we were instructed to lay down and rest. Finally, something I can do! Just when I was about to start snoring, the lights came back on and the class was over. We rolled up our mats and limped back to the locker room, or maybe it was just me limping.
All the way to dinner and most of the way through it we laughed about our experience and, not surprisingly, I was the butt of most jokes. No hard feelings, it was pretty damn funny. As I laughed with Jane and my boss, I kept shut about my original motives for the dinner. There was just never a time. I'm not sure when there will be...
A few days later we were leaving for Thanksgiving break and my boss emailed me "When I say what I'm thankful for tomorrow one of the things will be you." I told her "ditto" and I meant it. How do I leave a boss like this? How do I stay?
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Quarter-century my ass!
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