Om My God

The latest ideas in the job search have involved the fitness world:

• I'd get the daily exercise in that I'm always meaning to do AND I'd get paid for it
• Talking is limited
• I'd get to wear comfortable clothes

So, I've been researching places around town where I can get my yoga teacher training certification and decided to check out this one place with a training session at the end of this month. The yoga I'm used to usually involves soothing music and poses at varying speeds/flows, depending on the type of yoga you're doing and an instructor that speaks very little. We'll call this Ohio yoga.

I believe in the mind/body thing with yoga, you know? But this place I went to yesterday? We literally chanted "om."

And then we had to roar like lions.

And I'm not kidding.

It wasn't the instruction that scared me so much as the other students. I mean, it's downright shocking how loud fellow yogis will roar or om or exhale. The instructor never stopped talking (albeit soothingly) about our auras, colors, third eyes, and higher gods. I'm all for quiet visualization, but when you ask for a response from the yogis, it's a scary look into how seriously people take this. I was waiting for someone to start passing out kool-aid, dousing themselves with gasoline, and setting the place on fire. That's just the "mind" part of this class. I won't even go into the Good Will Hunting moment.

Now for the physical part: all the rage in California is yoga in rooms heated to 120 degrees F just as this one was. I don't know about you, but the first thing I think when I walk into a sauna is, why isn't anyone exercising? Here, naked guy, take this parka. My only explanation for this is that native southern Californians have different blood than everyone else. 70 degrees is chilly to them. Or it's just a very bulimic way of sweating off the pounds. All I know is that I had to lie down three times because I started to faint. Lucky for me on the third time down, we started the floor exercise portion of the 1.5 hour class. You know how saunas have that sign posted where you're not supposed to be in it for longer than 15 minutes? That's just another thought to consider.

Unless I can find an Ohio speed of yoga out here, I guess idea #5938 for a job is out. Wet, hot, lion yoga might work for some people, but it's not for me.

Idea #5939: I might try pilates next. Less spiritual. I think.

It's a Midwest Superbowl

I feel like I'm seven years old again. I miss "The Fridge."

Task #10: Bowling

Go bowling with Ryan, whether he likes it or not. :) Take a picture of him holding a bowling ball (he'd better be smiling).

I talked to Marhs a long while ago, discussing what it's like to be jobless and in a foreign country. Most of the conversation revolved around the difficulty and lows of feeling like I have no purpose. How I desperately needed an object and a goal even if it was as simple and short-term as throwing a bowling ball down a lane to knock down some pins...perhaps, unsurprisingly, a similar conversation I had with Ryan. He promised we'd go bowling, but you know how it is: after a long day of work you just want to crash on the couch. Meanwhile the chinchilla in me would be bouncing off the walls, ready to go. Other times Ryan would feign disinterest in sports as an excuse. Hrrumph. Needless to say I finally got him to go, reasoning that bowling is like a baseball game: you don't go for the sport! You go to drink beer, eat deluxe nachos, and laugh. After this night, I believe I've cured him of his disinterest in bowling, at least.

Next we'll try the German version of bowling: Kegelbahn.