Monday morning I attended yoga for the first time in a long time. Unfortunately, I let my ego get the best of me. Instead of going to Yin, the slower, deep stretching class, I took my full-of-shit self to Vinyasa Flow, certain that my body maintained its elasticity and strength despite a sedentary summer spent writing.
Tuesday morning, my shoulders were so sore I couldn’t lift my arms.
Wednesday morning, I dragged my butt to Restorative Yoga and felt much better.
Sometimes, I need to remember I’m 39.
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Later this morning, I’m heading to the post office to mail off my two graduate school applications. I finished them last week, but decided to hold on to them for one more week just in case I came up with anything extra-inspiring to add to my incredibly dull sounding “Statements of Purpose.”
I hate the word “I” — it’s the reason why I write fiction in the third person. But for my Statements of Purpose I vomited “I” all over the place. So I have not only succeeded in finishing my applications, I’ve also succeeding in getting sick of myself. (Wait…my blog posts are full of “I” as well. But for some reason, these “I”s don’t bother me as much.)
I hope to hear something back from the schools in about a month. Wish me luck.
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If you’re looking for something short to read (as opposed to a full-length novel), I have two great recommendations for you. The first is Soniah Kamal‘s Runaway Truck Ramp, a short story about the agony of grief and the surprising passion that evolves from it, and Lee Wright’s award-winning Haint Blue, which can best be described as a play as haunting, sinister, and ultimately as surprising as Gillian Flynn’s novel Gone Girl. Both can be purchased on Kindle for peanuts, though they are worth far more.
Have a great weekend.