I haven't been writing in my blog very much lately because I'm afraid of what's going to come out. For instance, I have no idea what I was talking about in the last entry. As you can see (if you want to), it was written in a flurry of incoherence.

ANYWAY...
I "study" yoga with this really cool yoga teacher who I will call Lola (I can't imagine a yoga teacher named Lola, so it's a perfect pseudonym...apologies if your name happens to be Lola and you teach yoga). ANYWAY (again), "Lola" is the epitome of cool. For a while I thought she had to be putting on an act, because nobody with highlights THAT blond and toes THAT well manicured, and yoga outfits that match THAT perfectly, could really mean it when she talked about "taking off the masks we wea." (FYI: her class is sort of a yoga/self-esteem workshop/buddhist temple). But after three months, I'm starting to believe that she's truly a yoga warrior. And I think it's because, unlike many people who speak "self-help," she seems to actually believe her own words. Now, she's my guru. My high-lighted, manicured, guru. I feel like I'm in high school and she's the cool swim team star who never gets rattled by the odd guys who breathe too loudly. Whenever I'm confronted with some life problem, I think how would "Lola" handle this? Most likely she would say "go back to the breathe" and then rattle off a bunch of Indian words that are probably grossly mispronounced (she's not perfect, just very cool). For some reason, when I start talking about my "vinyasa" and "pranha," it sounds like I'm making fun of it.

Just for today, I'm studying to be a cool yoga person.