And the last shall be first

Tuesday, November 16, 2010 at 8:46 am (Writing by Ear)
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I got up the gumption last night to attend a new yoga class, since my regular class is on hiatus until January. I had never been to our local Y before, and was surprised when someone from my regular class told me I could take classes at the Y without being a member. It’s a bustling place (tons of kids and tweens), and I managed to buy my pass and make my way through the circuitous route to the aerobics room where yoga would be held (down the hall, down the stairs, through the women’s locker room [with a keycode lock I couldn’t open], and there you are).

I was about 10 minutes early, and 3 or 4 people were already there. So I found a spot out of the way (didn’t want to take anyone’s “favorite” spot; funny how you always have one) and started warming up. Then more and more people filed in, 8, 10, 12, probably 15 or more by the time class started (and even after it did) in a very small room. As more and more people arrived and everyone squeezed in, I, who was 10 minutes early, ended up in a very awkward spot, diagonally in the corner, next to the exercise bikes.

Now, I know yoga is all about love and light and calm and rejuvenation, but as I was living in the moment, I was pretty darn annoyed that the latecomers were rewarded with a better spot than my ever-prepared, almost-always-early, non-disruptive self.

But hey, what did I expect for a $4.00 class? I got a good workout (it’s faster paced and less meditative and instructive than my regular class), so I can’t complain. Because they let anyone (like me) drop in, they never know how many people to expect, and I’m sure class space is hard to come by.

But still. Don’t you hate it when you’ve carefully chosen your seat at the movies or an auditorium, and then someone rushes in at the last minute and expects you to make room? Sure, it’s what nice people do, and if you’re the late one, you’re grateful when they do. But there oughta be a rule: Nobody sit in these 2 (undesirable) rows, and anyone coming in 2 minutes before or anytime after a production starts has to sit there. No fuss, there’s always a seat available, and nobody gets displaced who shouldn’t have to be.

Remind me to make that happen when I rule the world.

In the meantime…Oooooommmmm. Namaste. Have a nice day.

Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.
~ Anonymous

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A room with a view

Tuesday, October 26, 2010 at 3:10 pm (Cottage Industry, Hack for Hire, Writing by Ear)
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With my office feng shui still in process, I have temporarily relocated to our third floor. (I’m managing quite nicely on a small desk with a couple file bins and reference books — why did I need a better office again?) I love it up here because it’s bright (from 2 skylights and an opaque arched stained glass window) and warm (so far, anyway). I hate it up here because it’s a cluttered mess, complete with cast-off furniture, unpacked boxes from our move 5 years ago, and 4 bulky unfinished cubby doors waiting to be installed. Oh, and occasionally a mousetrap or two in the eeves that need to be…emptied.

It does have a charming, though amusing, view out the one small window:

Who put that pole there? And does anyone know a good pole climber? I’d love to tack a pretty little decorative doodad or an inspirational message smack in the middle of it.

What no wife of a writer can ever understand is that
a writer is working when he’s staring out of the window.
~ Burton Rascoe

 

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I read a book

Wednesday, October 20, 2010 at 9:26 pm (Writing by Ear)
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I say that like it’s an accomplishment. I read a book. I read my first book at about age 5; it was an accomplishment then.

But today, today still I feel like I did something grand, because the last time I read a book was, I dunno, last year maybe? Maybe just a couple books that whole year.

It’s crazy.

I am a reader. I am who I am because I am a reader. I do what I do for a living because I am a reader. I breathe. I sleep. I eat. I read. All with about equal ease and agility.

How can it be that I ever stopped reading?

I can blame it on moving to fixer-upperhood. I can blame it on failing eyesight and never having my glasses handy. I can blame it on the closest library having nowhere to park. I can blame it on HGTV. I can blame it on the 4 or 5 magazines I subscribe to. I can blame it on sitting in front of a computer all day and just wanting to turn my brain off at night. I can blame it on feeling like I’ll never find another book I love as much as the ones I already love.

I can blame it on a lot of things, but I can’t make sense of it. It appalls me. Scares me. I am a reader, dammit.

Except, sadly, I’m not anymore.

But maybe I will be again.

Last night I read a whole book.

Mike was out for the evening. I turned off the computer. I didn’t turn on the TV. I just curled up on the couch. Pulled a blanket over me. And read. And all the while, I thought, “I’m reading a book!” Like I had just discovered penicillin or something. It made me giddy.

I liked the book so much that today I mailed it to my sister. She’ll probably think, “Why did she send me this? It’s OK, but…”

She won’t understand that in it I discovered a long lost friend. No, more like a twin. Or a child. Or some part of me that I lost.

I had forgotten how good it felt. How wonderful it was to be carried away by someone else’s words…to live in their world for a while instead of my own.

It’s a feeling I won’t forget.

I am a reader…again.

This nice and subtle happiness of reading, this joy not chilled by age,
this polite and unpunished vice, this selfish, serene life-long intoxication.
~ Logan Pearsall Smith

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