Early morning yoga, growing up.

So Thursday was a day of firsts for me. Yep. My coworker invited me last weekend to try this yoga class that was/is right around the corner from our houses. I agreed. It meant waking up at 6am. It meant going to do yoga for 90 minutes in essentially a sauna, heated to 105 degrees.

I've done some yoga practices before, but not in a studio, not with a real, live person in front of me. There is something to be said about that experience, but I'm not sure what yet. Maybe that, I don't listen well (but I knew it) and need someone to actually do the poses so that I can see it. I have to see it.

I also know it was an interesting experience to look at yourself, full-bodied, in a mirror for 90 minutes. It felt good to sweat though, I love to sweat. It's interesting to watch yourself contort into the various poses, like standing on your right leg while you reach behind you for your left ankle, and you raise your right arm in the air and then charge your body forward and your left ankle towards the ceiling and you see, almost for the first time, the sole of your foot in the air, in the mirror.

Here I am, sitting on my couch, a bit sore, but proud of myself. I didn't know my body could do some of the things I asked it to do. I thanked it for bending my forehead to my knee, thanked it for bringing my hands, clasped around the ball of right my foot, raised in the air while my left leg stayed planted straight into the ground to hold me up. I went again today, and learned that I prefer yoga if there are less people, and already have made in my mind what kind of teacher I like...yesterday, the guy was talking too fast, today the woman was talking too much, too slow. It made the 90 minutes feel like 90 minutes, and what's interesting is that the one today was later, and I was more tired today than yesterday. Tomorrow I rest.

Another thing about growing up and doing things you never thought you'd do would have to be going to bars by yourself. Add on to that, going to bars by yourself in NYC. I set in my mind this week that I was going to go to a bar by myself. Tuesday, my friend was DJing around here and invited me. I agreed. He said he'd be unavailable to talk so I thought, perfect. So I went, his equipment wasn't working and so he was down in the lounge, and immediately I didn't want to be there anymore. I pulled out my moleskin and started writing. Some friends were eating dinner around the corner, and ended up meeting up with me so I wasn't really at the bar alone.

Thursday, after my yoga success, and after work, I decided to go to a bar, by myself. I was tempted to call people. I was, I'm not going to lie. But I wanted it to be a conscious decision that I go to the bar by myself, not for the situation to be that I was going because there was no one to go with. Anyways, I walked a good distance and went to three different places before I decided on a bar. It was a place I had gone to with a friend a few months back. I remember their happy hour being late and nice and so I said I could go there and do my alone bar time with some cheap drinks. And lo, the only seat in the bar available was next to this lone guy with dreadlocks down his back, and I thought, how ironic. I sat down and ordered my drink, and sat. Just sat. Then I was like, this is boring. And I looked at the guy next to me. And I didn't say anything. Secretely I wanted him to notice me and speak to me. He didn't. Finally, halfway into my Jameson, neat, I decided to speak up and say something. I spoke to him, asked him about his locks. We just went from there....I ended up staying in the bar for a couple of hours. It wasn't so bad afterall. I didn't die.