Day 306 of 365: Soft and Unassuming

I've been talking with one of my friends about the harsh realities of the dating world. I know I lucked out tremendously, in that I haven't had to deal with those rocky waters for going on nearly a decade. But that doesn't mean I'll refrain from calling bullshit when I see what's going on with my single friends.


My friend's biggest problem right now is guys are intimidated by her. She's a bit of a rocker chick, she's smart, and she can outsmart you in hockey Q&A any day of the week. She's had guys tell her a whole list of reasons why they aren't going to make their dating more "official" -- I believe I ranted about this a while ago with my "too sexy" post. Lately guys have been telling her to tone down her overall personality, because guys don't want a smart-aleck chick who can banter with the best of them. They want "soft and unassuming".


And in case I haven't said it before, I'll say it now: if you want soft and unassuming, get a puppy.


Like I told my friend, it's good when guys who feel that way say what they're thinking out loud. It lets you know right off the bat that this isn't a guy who is looking for his partner in crime; he's looking for someone to smile and nod and stroke his ego (among other things). And what type of relationship is that?


I've been told I'm intimidating my entire life. It might be why, for the first 24+ years of it, I did everything in my power to be as soft and unassuming to the outside world as possible (constantly downplaying yourself does wonders for your self esteem, by the way). When I was a retail slave, it was always my job to confront shoplifters, because what's more intimidating than a 5'11" girl with broad shoulders hovering over you?


Then I started getting to yoga, tai chi, and martial arts in general. Suddenly my shoulders grew even broader because of all my chatarungas. I could imagine what Alternative Universe Unmarried Me would be dealing with in the dating world, being tall as all getout, with muscular legs and defined shoulders. I could hear the guys making jokes about being in the WWE, or maybe a wisecrack or two about being able to beat them up. Enough to make you want to dress like a flower child with long skirts and peasant shirts.


And what does my husband say when I point out how big my shoulders have become? "Well, better do some bicep and tricep exercises to keep the amount of strength balanced in your arms."


So -- surprise, motherfuckers -- this post is now about me gushing about my husband. Because not once has my husband ever wished I "toned down" my intellect, or "toned down" what others would find intimidating. In fact, he would routinely call me out when I would play down whatever it is I was trying to play down, telling me point-blank that those are all traits I should be proud of instead.


That's what you need. You need someone who sees what you bring to the table and, instead of asking you to dial it back, matches it without blinking an eye. This obviously excludes things like emotional manipulation or lashing out or anything within that realm of behavior. But a smart chick shouldn't be told to act dumb; she should find a smart guy that she can riff with. A strong woman shouldn't be told to be more "soft"; she should find a strong man who respects what she can do, physically or otherwise.


It's exhausting to see the dating world filled with so many egocentric narcissists who would have the gall to say, "No, what you are is wrong -- and I know this because I'm not attracted to it." But hey, they're looking for soft and unassuming, and if they can't get that in a terrier or retriever, they'll get it in their girlfriend.

Day 305 of 365: The Very Last Chapter

After trudging through paragraph after paragraph, wondering how in the world I could ever get this book done during this millennia, I have somehow made it to the very last chapter of this manuscript.


My goal was to finish the novel around the same time as I finished my teacher training (so, August). It was originally three chapters in three months, which was about the rate I was writing this daggone book. But now I am with a little under a chapter to go.


From conception to realization, this is easiest my quickest manuscript to date. The first manuscript stayed swirled in my head for nearly 2 or 3 years before I finally used a writing workshop class to flesh (at least some of) it out. Not including editing (which is still going on to this day), I'd say the first manuscript took about 5 years to complete. The idea for the second manuscript came halfway through my first year of teaching, but didn't get past the 5,000-word mark until November of 2012, when I went balls to the wall and turned 5,000 words into 80,000 by the end of December.


The idea for this book came roughly around the same time as NaNoWriMo of 2012 -- but I didn't start writing it until the summer of 2013. I added in a sweet 30,000 words during NaNoWriMo 2013 and then hit the skids immediately after. For three months, the manuscript was not so much as looked at, let alone added to. Granted, I was devoting my time to getting my first manuscript ready for the ABNA and finishing my modeling essay project for Thought Catalog, but, still: excuses, excuses.


So now I have a new goal: finish this book before I go off to DC/NYC, which is in a little over three weeks. Three weeks for three-fourths of a chapter? It's harder than you'd realize.


But I'm ready for it. One of the things preventing me from just finding any office assistant job that would have me was this driving feeling that I need to use this time to write. Finishing this manuscript means having yet another story idea finally fleshed out. Finishing this manuscript means I can finally go back to my first manuscript and try at it again, this time with a much more impressive writing résumé under my belt.


And finishing this manuscript means I might just have more time to devote to this whole "yoga teaching" thing, which I'm praying will take off once training finishes up and September hits.


As I say way too often: we shall see.

Day 304 of 365: Hey Notice the Numbers?

So something happened in the last few days that I hadn't really paid attention to until now: I'm finally in the 300s with this project.


I guess that's what happens when you actually have things to write about. But here we are, so much into the final stretch that the first number is starting to look like the second.


I know I should save the full retrospection for the last entry, but I can't help but indulge a little bit: roughly this time last year (save for two months), I decided to kick my butt and do something about writing, combining one professor's assignment of a blog post a day for 90 days and the 365 projects that photographers do. It's been arduous (incredibly arduous) at times, especially when we first moved into the house and we had absolutely no internet -- or during NaNoWriMo, when there were some days where just the sheer thought of writing one more word drove me to exhaustion.


I'm happy that this is the year I decided to try this project. It's been a transformative year, to say the least: I was only two months out from leaving the teaching world, I had just moved into our very first house, and I was trying to figure out just WTF I was doing. I finally began teaching tai chi (after a year of goading by my own instructor), I had my first (e)book published, and I started yoga teacher training. Before this project is done, this blog will also document my anniversary trip to DC and my friend's wedding in NYC/Long Island. It should also document finishing training and possibly -- possibly -- a trip to Montreal (because, FFS, I am only a five-hour drive to the city) but that plan is as up in the air as the possibly teaching yoga to teachers, so we shall see.


So obviously this post is a bit of a cop-out, and I'm okay with that. With 61 more entries to go, I think I earned/deserve a freebie post or two.

Day 303 of 365: What Makes You Different

So I'm rounding out the last few months of my training, which means I need to start thinking about life outside of "Yoga School". They were right in saying that yoga teacher training is transformative in and of itself, and there's a part of me that really will miss the classes. But I'm also anxious to start getting ready to actually teach.


The training ends at a great time: in August, just as the summer ends and people are heading back to school -- and the gym. I've been in talks about potentially doing yoga for teachers (which is so much in the earliest phases of development that I almost don't feel right talking about it as a viable plan. Almost). I also plan to hit the ground running again, talking with martial art studios -- only instead of trying to hawk my tai chi class, I'll be trying to hawk yoga for martial artists.


There are so many yoga teachers in this world -- way more than there are full-time positions available (which is why the majority of us are independent contractors). And the current trend really is, "I'll just quit my job and become a yoga teacher!" Which, to be honest, is about as foolhardy as, "I'll just quit my job and become a writer!" Granted, I essentially did both, but I'm also in a financial situation where I can do whimsical shit like this without worrying (too much, at least) about how I'm going to pay the bills.


The thing that should be on every aspiring teacher or writer's mind should be, "How do I set myself apart?" There are a million wannabe yogis and a million-plus wannabe writers. Everyone claims they are great, but very few have the chops to back it up (and even fewer outside people have the patience to verify your claims). What can you do to make you noticeable?


While my staggeringly meager four-year tenure as a teacher turned out to be an abysmal failure and my time as a tai chi instructor has been a frustrating situation in terms of gaining regular students, this background gives me something over the typical college kiddo who dives into yoga training to avoid the real world: I can offer classes tailored for those frenzied, overworked teachers and I can offer classes tailored for martial artists. I have the background to understand exactly where those teachers are coming from and I have the background to know what would and wouldn't work in a class set for martial artists.


So that's what I'm hoping for when it comes to officially register myself as a yoga instructor. The world might be filled to the brim with enough yoga instructors to fill every gym in the tri-city area, but maybe there's a place for yoga instructors who have a keen eye and kind heart for the overworked teacher and the devoted martial artist.


We shall see.

Day 302 of 365: How Improper Yoga is Making You More Inflexible

This is the part where I should start breaking down why, scientifically, improper yoga is leading to a decrease in physical mobility. Well, sorry: no can do. If you need something scientific or else you're ready to yell, "Click bait!", then here you go: here's a fascinating article on the science behind flexibility, which points out that fast, abrupt stretches will actually hinder your ability to gain flexibility.


Well, now that we have that out of the way, let's get to the meat of this essay: let's talk about how improper yoga is making you inflexible.


When it comes to increasing physical mobility, yoga cannot be beat. From the balance of strength-building and stretching to the long, slow movements paired with long, slow breaths, to the repetitive postures and a keen eye for alignment, yoga has the potential to transform you from the inside out.


But the key word, here, is "potential". It's time to pay attention to the classes your taking, the attitude of your teachers, and -- most importantly -- your own attitude, because improper yoga can lead to an increase in mental inflexibility.


We've all taken that class before: the one where the instructor immediately jumps into the hardest possible poses without taking any time to show the modifications. You can downfeel feel the air of competition in the room, and all you can do is think, "If I could only get my leg to do this... if I could only make my arms to this..." Without even knowing it, we put a value on the fullest expression and berate ourselves for not getting there.


I once heard a yoga instructor talk about people with enough bendy-stretchy going on that they could join Cirque du Soleil, but with a mind that was as rigid and immobile as a plank of wood. How easy it is to get into the habit of pushing ourselves past our means, purely because we feel like yoga is supposed to "look" a certain way.


I mean, if we can't gracefully flow into dancer's pose without a hint of imbalance, what are we doing there, am I right?


A proper yoga class is for the mind and spirit as much as it is for the body. This includes allowing your brain to be flexible, accepting your limits without judgment. This means letting go of competition -- especially that competition with yourself -- and modifying a pose until it suits you best. Maybe that's the fullest expression of the pose. Maybe not. Maybe some days one variation works and some days it doesn't. A common saying is, "Yoga without breathing is just kalisthenics." I'd go one step further and say, "Yoga without the right mindset is just a set up for injury."


So look around you -- at the class, at the video on your laptop or TV screen, at the teacher leading the sequence, and at yourself. Is there anything going on that is making you lock up your brain, feeling like you must get into bakasana or else your practice isn't "real" yoga? It might be time to see if we can let go of more than just the tension in our body as we go into our stretching postures.

Day 301 of 365: Better Than That

Any professional fiction writer will tell you that you need to invest as much time to reading as you do to writing -- if not more so. As Stephen King so bluntly points out, if you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time to write. But sometimes, reading can be the biggest roadblock to writing.


I have read a string of really, really bad books. Granted, there were a few gems interspersed, but I'd say for every good book I've read in the last year, I've read about 3 or 4 absolute crap ones.


I've been trying to read within the genre that I am currently writing in -- "intelligent chick literature", for lack of a better term -- and that has been a colossal failure. And that was somewhat to be expected: sometimes you can't tell intelligent chick literature from the standard crap beach read until you're already 100 pages in. But what got me was when I was picking up critically acclaimed books -- or books that had won international contests -- and was still sighing at the weak storyline and poor characters.


Shitty books will make you want to stop reading -- but how could they make you want to stop writing as well? Especially when you are reading the drivel in front of you and going, "I can do better than that"?


Because of that very reason: you can do better than that, and yet your books are digital files in a folder instead of in paperback at Barnes & Noble.


Because this person got a book deal -- be it because they were a writer on a TV show or because they got Twitter famous or because they seriously looked out and snagged not only representation, but a deal -- and you have been querying agents for as long as you can remember. Because this person won a contest with their book and you can't even get past the first gate. Because you have poured your blood, sweat, tears, and talent into your writing and your manuscripts still go unread. Which makes you think about every time a website has rejected you, only to post "10 Things I Totally Wish My Crush Did" instead.


It can throw you into a serious tizzy. It reminds you we live in a world of Twilight and 50 Shades. We don't live in a Pride & Prejudice world anymore. We don't even live in a Life of Pi world anymore. We live in a world where the majority of the books that prosper are young adult, because people like "reading something at their level" (and I mean -- really, people? I get hating James Joyce -- I do, too -- but are you honestly shunning mainstream adult books in favor of books that can be read at a fourth grade reading level?).


It's enough to make you want to give up.


But the key here is going back to that first remark -- the "I can do better than that" -- and holding onto it for dear life. Trudging forward because you know that, while you might not exactly win a Pulitzer for your writer, it is damn better than a lot of the drivel that is published. You have a story to tell and you are not about to give up, especially since people are spending their time reading garbage that might actually be killing brain cells.


I feel like I say it a lot, but you realize that you just have to keep on keeping on. I might not have received any representation, but my ability to write queries has increased significantly and my writing résumé has been slowly building up. And maybe I end up self-publishing my first two manuscripts, but the world is shifting and more and more people are looking favorably to the self-publishing world. And maybe that will be just what I need to properly sell a book to a publisher.


Or maybe I never do and gain only the tiniest readership because of it. Or maybe that tiny audience reads my stuff and maybe -- just maybe -- they go, "Well, that was a breath of fresh air."

Day 300 of 365: What is Beautiful

There are a lot of things people don't normally tell you when you buy a home. They joke about mortgage people putting you through the ringer, but they don't tell you that the mortgage people will be monitoring your every move and asking for a formal letter every time you make a large deposit or withdrawal. People neglect to tell you that you will spend an arm, a leg, and four or five weekends at Home Depot, buying all the things you never even thought twice about when renting (like a long ladder, a shovel, a weed whacker...).


And sometimes there are things that no one -- not even those blogs dedicated to first-time homeownership -- will ever talk about: like when you experience springtime in your house for the first time and you genuinely do not know which plants are annuals, which plants are perennials, and which plants are weeds.


The previous owners of this house were avid gardeners. Which I am not complaining about: one of the things that drew me into this abode was the beautiful landscape. However, I spent most of April wonder which plants would stay dead and which plants would spring back to life like the phoenix. And after I figured that out, I had to figure out which plants would bloom into beautiful flowers and which plants were just weeds.


Then I had the task of removing the weeds from our walkway. In this case, a weed was anything that was attempting to grow in between the stonework. This included planned-out plants that had pollinated and were somehow able to spread into less hospitable regions.


This whole gardening experience made me think about what we consider to be beautiful. Here I was, looking at these plants, wondering to myself, "Should I consider you ugly?" Here I was, looking at plants that were considered beautiful under very set parameters, and going, "Sorry, but you make our house look unkempt if I don't kill you off."


It's the same way a kid loves to pick dandelions and genuinely cannot understand why their mom is less than thrilled to see them in their backyard. What is so bad about dandelions, aside from the fact that they proliferate at an absurdly high rate? Is their commonality that only thing keeping them from being adored like their lilac counterparts (practical vegetable gardening issues aside)?


I know this post is about two sentences away from telling everyone to link hands around the world and sing, "Kumbaya." But it's absolutely fascinating to stop and really think about what we consider beautiful. There are certain things our brains will biologically gravitate towards -- patterns, symmetry, the "golden ratio" -- but what about everything else? We certainly don't adore gardenias over dandelions because of symmetry.


Just something to ponder while you join hands and sing campfire songs. Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya... Hey, pass the granola my way.