Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Out of practice
I read somewhere that you don’t necessarily notice the benefits of yoga while you do it; the benefits are more noticeable when you don’t do it. I’ve found that it’s true. Or rather, I’ve found that you notice the benefits once you’ve stopped doing it and then pick it up again.
I went from a daily practice of thirty to ninety minutes to about one half-hour practice per week. It happened because I started spending weekends away and then got too lazy to start practicing again. Spending fun weekends away also made me perhaps more resentful of my work, and I’ve gotten extremely lazy at school. This meant that I stopped getting up early to do yoga; instead, I was getting up early just to get my lesson plans done for the day. I got used to this, and then I stopped getting up early at all. These days I sometimes get up at 8 to scramble something together for my first classes of the day, which start at 9, and then I use my breakfast break at school to plan my later classes.
Since Monday I have been doing a practice every day. That makes only three days in a row, but that is a big deal for me right now. I can’t make myself get up early anymore, but I make time in the afternoon after the adult classes (and before my telenovela) to do a practice.
This is what I have noticed: that while I don’t practice, I don’t really pay much attention to what I do. For instance, I don’t eat very healthily, or I waste lots of time playing solitaire or minesweeper on the computer while watching telenovelas all afternoon. Of course, I don’t do my work on time. I get tired easily. Also, my body becomes much more tense. This seems obvious, but I didn’t notice it until I started doing yoga again. Putting your body in all those different positions simply must be good for it. Imagine your body only in the positions of sitting in a chair or standing up or lying down to sleep; it seems you really should get the juices flowing making your body do other things, because they must get stagnant in only those few positions.
This week I started going to classes for Hawaiian dance. The fourth-grade teacher is giving cheap classes three days a week. I went yesterday for the first time, not realizing that it would be more like aerobics than anything—aerobics for the hips, that is. I got tired after the first ten minutes. I plan to keep going, though, because I need some exercise!
I’m also going to find out about memberships to the acuaclub where I take swimming classes on Saturday mornings, so that I can use the pool to practice during the week. I hope to bring Rocio with me, because the doctor told her that she should swim to help her scoliosis.
This past weekend we went to Atotonilco, which is about a half-hour away, for the 15th birthday party (quinceanera) of the niece of a few of the teachers. Rocio and I took the bus after my swimming class. Sandra (the 2nd-grade teacher) had invited us to her house for lunch saying, “You’d better not leave me with all the food I’m going to prepare, so you’d better come!” Well, we arrived at her house and she had not prepared a thing; she seemed to have forgotten all about the invitation. We sat around talking for a while, and then we watched the Mexico-France game. Then at half-time, Adriana (the 3rd-grade teacher) finally said, “Let’s go eat pozole at my house.” Sandra said, “What do you guys want to do? I have some chicken here that we could make for lunch, or you can go with Ady to eat pozole.” What a dilemma. Rocio and I said one of us would go with Adriana and the other would stay with Sandra. So I went with Adriana, because I like her better, and we bought pozole from a señora near her house and ate while watching the end of the game, which Mexico lost. Then I said I would go take a nap, but instead I ended up watching cooking shows on cable in the guest room. We got ready for the party and went to mass.
When girls reach 15 years of age, they have a mass that is like being baptized again or something. Then some have a big party afterwards. This mass we went to Saturday was the worst one I have been to in Mexico so far. The priest was really old and confused. Every few minutes he would have to consult someone to make sure what came next, so it went on for a really long time. Then at the end he spent a while scolding everyone—once for wishing others peace as if they were engaged in a “social act” and another time for clapping at the end of the service.
At the fiesta, the band was terrible, the singers were pretty out of tune, and the food was several hours late (and they also didn’t have any salsa to go with the meat—can you believe it?), but we had fun nevertheless. Rocio and I danced a lot, because the band played cumbia a good deal. The tequila with Squirt may have helped. Later, the birthday girl (in her big puffy pink dress) and her friends put on a cheesy show, and then we ate meat, beans, rice, and cake. Rocio and I continued to dance together, until near the end two boys came up to ask us to dance. I think they were about 17 years old. The one who danced with me didn’t dance very well, and he kept asking me if I was going to keep coming to Atotonilco to visit. He started annoying me because he wanted to keep talking with me and then he came over asking me to dance again. I tried to refuse as politely as possible, but being polite doesn’t often work. In the end he finally left, and Sandra laughed and said, “You made him go all red!”
Rocio and I went home with Sandra and stayed in her extra room. The next morning, we had menudo for breakfast. I had never had menudo before, but I knew that it had stomach and other bits that I don’t normally eat. I approached the soup with a positive attitude, but I didn’t really enjoy it. I got a piece that I thought was meat, but it was more the consistency of coagulated blood (which I have had in Taiwan). It was a really big piece, and I didn’t like it. I ate everything in my bowl, though—stomach pieces and all.
We decided to go for a walk and thus missed our 2:30 bus. We had to wait until 5:40, so we went to a park and played with the kids until we had to leave.
I learned a lot chatting with the teachers that weekend. I had already been disillusioned about our principal, but I had not known what a terrible gossip she is. Apparently she had told other teachers about personal problems I had previously confided in her. She also said to Rocio after I had cried in her office about the visa, “Tell Jeanne that she needs to provide some more papers, and don’t let her get all sentimental like she always does, because I won’t believe it anymore.”
What a ^#*#$%*!!!!
I don’t think I’ll go to the stupid cursos diplomados this weekend.
I went from a daily practice of thirty to ninety minutes to about one half-hour practice per week. It happened because I started spending weekends away and then got too lazy to start practicing again. Spending fun weekends away also made me perhaps more resentful of my work, and I’ve gotten extremely lazy at school. This meant that I stopped getting up early to do yoga; instead, I was getting up early just to get my lesson plans done for the day. I got used to this, and then I stopped getting up early at all. These days I sometimes get up at 8 to scramble something together for my first classes of the day, which start at 9, and then I use my breakfast break at school to plan my later classes.
Since Monday I have been doing a practice every day. That makes only three days in a row, but that is a big deal for me right now. I can’t make myself get up early anymore, but I make time in the afternoon after the adult classes (and before my telenovela) to do a practice.
This is what I have noticed: that while I don’t practice, I don’t really pay much attention to what I do. For instance, I don’t eat very healthily, or I waste lots of time playing solitaire or minesweeper on the computer while watching telenovelas all afternoon. Of course, I don’t do my work on time. I get tired easily. Also, my body becomes much more tense. This seems obvious, but I didn’t notice it until I started doing yoga again. Putting your body in all those different positions simply must be good for it. Imagine your body only in the positions of sitting in a chair or standing up or lying down to sleep; it seems you really should get the juices flowing making your body do other things, because they must get stagnant in only those few positions.
This week I started going to classes for Hawaiian dance. The fourth-grade teacher is giving cheap classes three days a week. I went yesterday for the first time, not realizing that it would be more like aerobics than anything—aerobics for the hips, that is. I got tired after the first ten minutes. I plan to keep going, though, because I need some exercise!
I’m also going to find out about memberships to the acuaclub where I take swimming classes on Saturday mornings, so that I can use the pool to practice during the week. I hope to bring Rocio with me, because the doctor told her that she should swim to help her scoliosis.
This past weekend we went to Atotonilco, which is about a half-hour away, for the 15th birthday party (quinceanera) of the niece of a few of the teachers. Rocio and I took the bus after my swimming class. Sandra (the 2nd-grade teacher) had invited us to her house for lunch saying, “You’d better not leave me with all the food I’m going to prepare, so you’d better come!” Well, we arrived at her house and she had not prepared a thing; she seemed to have forgotten all about the invitation. We sat around talking for a while, and then we watched the Mexico-France game. Then at half-time, Adriana (the 3rd-grade teacher) finally said, “Let’s go eat pozole at my house.” Sandra said, “What do you guys want to do? I have some chicken here that we could make for lunch, or you can go with Ady to eat pozole.” What a dilemma. Rocio and I said one of us would go with Adriana and the other would stay with Sandra. So I went with Adriana, because I like her better, and we bought pozole from a señora near her house and ate while watching the end of the game, which Mexico lost. Then I said I would go take a nap, but instead I ended up watching cooking shows on cable in the guest room. We got ready for the party and went to mass.
When girls reach 15 years of age, they have a mass that is like being baptized again or something. Then some have a big party afterwards. This mass we went to Saturday was the worst one I have been to in Mexico so far. The priest was really old and confused. Every few minutes he would have to consult someone to make sure what came next, so it went on for a really long time. Then at the end he spent a while scolding everyone—once for wishing others peace as if they were engaged in a “social act” and another time for clapping at the end of the service.
At the fiesta, the band was terrible, the singers were pretty out of tune, and the food was several hours late (and they also didn’t have any salsa to go with the meat—can you believe it?), but we had fun nevertheless. Rocio and I danced a lot, because the band played cumbia a good deal. The tequila with Squirt may have helped. Later, the birthday girl (in her big puffy pink dress) and her friends put on a cheesy show, and then we ate meat, beans, rice, and cake. Rocio and I continued to dance together, until near the end two boys came up to ask us to dance. I think they were about 17 years old. The one who danced with me didn’t dance very well, and he kept asking me if I was going to keep coming to Atotonilco to visit. He started annoying me because he wanted to keep talking with me and then he came over asking me to dance again. I tried to refuse as politely as possible, but being polite doesn’t often work. In the end he finally left, and Sandra laughed and said, “You made him go all red!”
Rocio and I went home with Sandra and stayed in her extra room. The next morning, we had menudo for breakfast. I had never had menudo before, but I knew that it had stomach and other bits that I don’t normally eat. I approached the soup with a positive attitude, but I didn’t really enjoy it. I got a piece that I thought was meat, but it was more the consistency of coagulated blood (which I have had in Taiwan). It was a really big piece, and I didn’t like it. I ate everything in my bowl, though—stomach pieces and all.
We decided to go for a walk and thus missed our 2:30 bus. We had to wait until 5:40, so we went to a park and played with the kids until we had to leave.
I learned a lot chatting with the teachers that weekend. I had already been disillusioned about our principal, but I had not known what a terrible gossip she is. Apparently she had told other teachers about personal problems I had previously confided in her. She also said to Rocio after I had cried in her office about the visa, “Tell Jeanne that she needs to provide some more papers, and don’t let her get all sentimental like she always does, because I won’t believe it anymore.”
What a ^#*#$%*!!!!
I don’t think I’ll go to the stupid cursos diplomados this weekend.
