In yoga: Somehow, I’m up to Kapotasana in intermediate and doing fine. For a while, I was under the impression that D was waiting for something to happen in my primary practice–some kind of benchmark or gateway accomplishment–before he would start moving me through secondary, but I’m pretty sure nothing of the sort happened at all, yet here I am at Kapo. I still can’t wrist-bind in the twisty Marichys, I can’t bind at all in Supta K, I struggle through Navasana like a novice, and I drag my feet in jump-backs. I also stay in bed as long as I possibly can, timing the start of my practice so that I am the second-to-last person out of the shala every day. I can’t be the last person. That would just be sloppy.
In work: Work went from hard to harder. I just recruited, interviewed and hired two new student employees which is great, because now we have more coverage in the office with a total of six staff, but it means I have to train these people without the aid of the usual orientations, training workshops, etc. at a time when I can barely keep up with deleting garbage emails. I’m coordinating a community health and wellness fair that comes up in less than a month, I’m going back and forth with workshop instructors to try to put on a workshop in two weeks, I have an advisory board to answer to, volunteers to coordinate, a budget to balance, ridiculous bureaucratic paperwork to complete, and a general student survey to distribute, track, and bring on home, hopefully sometime before our annual budget begins in, um, March. And that’s the easy part. The hard part is this: part of my job is to confidentially provide a listening ear and helpful resource referrals to students who are in tough situations, and we’ve had a lot of tears and anxiety in the office lately. I want to HELP, but I know that all I can do is listen, offer a tissue, and give out a few phone numbers and say come back to talk anytime. I can’t fix America’s health insurance disaster, I can’t make abusers stop raping and beating their girlfriends, I can’t stop INS (or “Citizenship Services” or whatever the fuck euphemism they’re using) from terrorizing immigrants, I can’t stop employers (hospitals and schools come to mind) from being racist, self-interested monsters, and I can’t force privileged co-workers to open up their eyes and see how good they have it, much less to use that privilege for social change. And apparently I can’t qualify for health insurance or retirement either, and there’s little prospect here for career laddering. Which brings us to. . .
In education: Looking at master’s and doctorate entry programs in nursing. GRE’s, prerequisites, recommendation letters, scholarly writing samples, personal statements, interviews (if I’m lucky), loans. . . oh my. Or maybe I should just skip all that, go to Seattle Central, and become an RN. Same job, after all. Oh, but the lure of higher education and a self-directed career.
In life: Z started a blog about what else but FOOD–read it! The days are becoming just perceptibly longer and I’m becoming just perceptibly less S.A.D.-ish, hence my renewed motivation to write. A person was shot to death at a corner I pass most every day on my walk between home and the shala. There’s flowers and candles there now. I’ve been fantastically forgetful this week: it started out with losing my keys, progressed to misplacing my glasses, and culminated yesterday with me forgetting my car at work and taking the bus home. Seriously, something is very wrong here. I need my mind back. I need my car back too. Oh, and I forgot to do Navasana today, but that doesn’t really count, because I dislike that pose immensely, and probably subconsciously edited it out on purpose. And we’re hosting a big game night at our apartment this weekend, which means I need to start cleaning. . . right now. Before I forget.