Being a Yes

Okay, I've had some more time to process this yoga teacher training business. I've also had time to throw out my hip again, burn the fuck out of my hand, develop a series of migraines, and I may have broken two toes, which is pretty typical in a week of being Ashley.

I went from sheer, insomniatic (spellcheck says I made that word up, which is awesome of me. I can't think of a better word and I like how it sounds) panic to devastating, soul-crushing defeat to fuck it, let's do this shit. I waver a bit on the fuck it, let's do this shit but I'm kind of committed now, having signed my life away, taken on a part-time job in which I won't get paid for to pay for it, and experienced the encouragement and support of all of these people that I don't want to annoy.

Here are the possibilities:

1. True enlightenment and mastery of yoga and personal self.
2. A physically painful but moderately amusing experience.
3. A physically and emotionally painful but empowering experience.
4. I die.

So, whatever.

I could write a book about any of those except dying (unless I was revived with no damage and then that would be one hell of a story about how I almost died doing yoga. It might be worth it.)

At this point, I'm more nervous about the work trade. I haven't done 300 hours of anything but sitting on the couch in a long time. I do like the work, I feel super fancy using the boutique's scanning gun and dressing the mannequin. Apparently I mop really wrong, though, as I am reminded and re-taught frequently and there is some baffled sighing and exchanging of glances that I can't do it the way they like. (It's a highly coordinated process). I'm working on it but I'm not sure if we should add mop mastery to the list of pros or cons; it's a lot more important than I realized before beginning this journey of enlightenment.

I do love the people involved (even if they don't like my mopping). There are several people taking the teacher training class that I truly like or am intrigued by, and I want to be just like all of the teachers when I grow up. Not that I want to be a teacher, necessarily, I just want to be cool like them.

So, I'm going in for brainwashing starting on Friday. I'm a little bit worried that they'll wash the sarcastic away but they couldn't do that, right? I don't think they could do that.

 Unless I die.