Last week the IT department at work got their shit together and Blocked the Blogs. I can’t get to my favorites. Given that having my husband hack into the plant’s server and open up the floodgates would get me a) fired and b) prosecuted, I’ve asked Kiki for some assistance in keeping Confessions alive. Until I can figure out another way, I’ll be posting through her, and I won’t be able to get to Letters and the Caravan (or Go Fug Yourself, or Shakes’ place, or the Rude Pundit.) For some reason I can still get to Yogamum’s site, Waiterrant, and the Huffington Post. Most other sites (money and food, thank God) are still open, but anything that looks remotely like a blog (including, damn their eyes, the Dark Wraith’s shadowy corner of cyberspace) is off-limits.
What about home access, Andi? you might ask.
Well, honestly, it’s another fifty bucks that we just don’t have. So I’m prevailing upon Kiki’s good will and fast fingers to cut-and-paste for me, at least until IT screws up and unblocks all my favorite sites. She will also be moderating comments.
I can’t tell you how much this pisses me off – to log into my own freaking blog account and see nothing but a big blue-and-red window with the company logo and “ACCESS DENIED.” Oh yeah? Blow me. (I suppose I could be more articulate and less profane, but it’s Monday and I haven’t got the energy.)
And of course, the next time I can get to an open computer elsewhere, I’ll figure out how to work a site-feed to download updates from my favorite blogs directly into email, if I can. I haven’t a clue how that will work, though.
On to other news.
New yoga class on Saturday. Anusara this time – light-hearted, fun, level 1-2 type stuff, not much I couldn’t handle, with a couple of exceptions that mostly had to do with my short little arms. And partnering.
I was just telling Brian Thursday night over dinner that I wouldn’t be broken-hearted to miss a certain workshop in the summer because it specifically mentions “partner yoga” in the description. The whole concept terrifies me – not because touching other people creeps me out – it’s the idea of having to find a partner in a class full of strangers. Dealing with self-esteem and self-confidence issues from childhood that have never quite been put to rest.
They popped up Saturday, though, like whiteheads on the day of the prom. "We'll be doing some partner work..." Joe started, and my brain short-circuited. I have to find a partner? It took me long enough to find one in life, and I'm supposed to find one here? This is bullshit! I paid money for this?
There was a chick with long dreadlocks who happened to be facing me, right at my eye level. I tried to catch her eye, because after all, we were supposed to be partnering up, right? And at the same time, I didn’t want to count the number of people in the class (is it odd? even?) for fear that I would be exposed as totally lame.
Although I don’t know what was going on in Dreadlocks’ head at the time, my internal monologue had regressed back to the tortured years of early adolescence.
Oh crap. I’m so fat. I’m such a geek. The least she could do is smile, you know? That would be enough. It’s a fucking anusara yoga class, damn it, aren’t you supposed to be friendly? I hate her. What’s wrong with me? I"m not that sweaty. I haven’t farted even once. I brushed my teeth right before class. Why won’t she make eye contact? I’m gonna be the only person here without a partner. I suck.
Oddly enough, I ended up partnering with the big beefy guy next to me. I’m not even sure how it happened – I think he may have taken me under his sizeable wing out of pity.
It was my first time. So, yeah, I’m no longer a virgin. Bring on the jokes, y’all, I’m ready.
We did full backbends and I had to work hard to even make a dent in his established pose, but I was able to do something, anyway, even if I wasn’t sure what it was. And after the backbends we went into downward dog, with the partner leaning into the back of… oh never mind, I can’t begin to explain it without illustrations. Suffice to say that for me to make any difference at all for this guy, I had to put all my weight into it. On some level it reminded me of the wee bit of shiatsu I learned in – where you use your body weight to lean, instead of push, and you share the rhythm of breath with your partner.
I’m pretty sure I was a little too vocal in my appreciation of the adjustment. I’ll have to work on discretion. (No, this was not a Harry-met-Sally moment, but it did feel so good.)
Anyway. Fun stuff. A good alternative to Cat’s Saturday class (the level 2-3) if I’m not feeling up to it.