What Does My Third Eye Look Like?

The first of the year brings new intentions, new goals, and new hangovers.

The beginning of this year has gifted me with some long lost MOTIVATION and an 'I'm gonna fucking do this' attitude.

WHAT TO DO?
A 30 Day Yoga Challenge.  At least one yoga practice a day for 30 days...NO EXCUSES.  Accompanied with my final farewell to the occasional, social, when I'm drinking, because they're there, killing time, killing myself cigarette.

It is worth mentioning that I am already a Yogi.  And for most of those who practice yoga on the regular, doing a practice a day for 30 days in a row 'ain't nuthin' but a thang.'  But this particular challenge is about more than figuring out how to stay in hand-stand and catch a few Om's.

It's a physical and mental preparation for myself, to accomplish as many goals as I can this year.  And  as the poster for the upcoming Sex and the City television pre-quel tells us, Be who you want to become.

Yesterday (January 1st),
A Yin class was offered at Zuda Yoga, one of my favorite heated power Vinyasa studio's.  What better way to experience a deep, slow stretch than in the same place I usually enjoy a sweaty aerobic flow accompanied by Florence and the Machine and the like.  Yin to the Yang indeed.

Today (January 2nd),
This morning I pushed the snooze button to the limit, and was in a bit of a rush for work.  Throughout the morning I looked forward to choosing a studio and practice for Day 2 of my yoga-venture.  When lunch arrived I decided to checkout the schedule for Yoga Shala, another favorite.  The 6:15 Kundalini practice was the winner.  Although I wasn't quite aware of what I was in for.

Kundalini yoga is heavily based in deep various breathing techniques to awaken the inner body.  The practice is still but powerful.  To be quite honest, afterward I felt as if I had earlier stooped marijuana in coffee.  Energy pumped through me but I am relaxed and at peace.
...Also I could use a burrito, but that I blame on an early lunch.

Have still not smoked...Self-Five.  

No Place Like Home 1Y-6M-7D

I left Ireland on January 7th 2009. A place where a California girl will destroy four pairs of heels on cobblestone and still call it 'home away from home'.

Dublin, 2008

It was my fifth and last visit to date - and time for a change.

Leaving Dublin that morning had never been more difficult...literally. It was snowing as I walked to the bus stop at six a.m.  I knew I'd have to spend at least $20 to mail the coat I wore back over the Atlantic to a friend who'd lent it, but it was worth it.  Irish weather doesn't fuck around.

Anyone who has been lucky enough to be caught in a snow "storm" in Ireland knows that the lightest drizzle of snowfall will shut down the entire country for a day or two. This being the case I should have been thankful the busses were still running and I would make it to the Aer Lingus gate on time. Yes, Lingus...giggle.

After I made it through customs, I knew it'd be a long time before I'd be on the other side again. As I tucked my passport back into it's charming leather cover, I told myself I would not leave the US until I had the means to relocate to Dublin or even London. Let me say, it hasn't been easy.

I would need:

$8,000 to be sure I could survive in either city (and still pay for drinks.)

A work visa.

A job. 

By June 2010 It had been six months of discomfort, readjusting to life in American society and trying to control the amount of "this one time in Europe" stories I told.

Three truths were concluded:
One: There were no jobs to be found in the UK or Ireland for an American who did not have the legal right to work and could not interview in person.
Two: The "best" option was to go back to school overseas. HA! I'm still paying off my degree from the US and would like to be able to pay rent and eat when I move.
Three: This was going to take much longer than anticipated.

At that juncture, I made the decision to enjoy being a Yank for a while.

It turns out, if you look around a bit, there is some pretty impressive stuff. Living in California allows for many freedoms. For instance, one may drink as much coffee and do as much yoga as one wishes with little consequence. There is art, and fashion and night-life. Wanderlust it seems, can't be cured - but it can be treated.

Which is why I've started this blog. To express  aspects of American culture that make it unique, stylish and even sexy.

Fuck, I'm out of coffee.