Muse of the Day: Frustration

I woke up frustrated this morning.

I'm frustrated because of my job-free situation, and even more baffled that no one is willing to take a chance on a hungry, semi-experienced reporter. I'm frustrated by my horrible financial state. I'm frustrated from living in Chicago--possibly the most expensive city in the country--tax-wise--and I can't enjoy it nearly as much as I'd like to. I'm frustrated I can't see my East and West coast pals more--I miss them dearly.

I'm frustrated because I have absolutely nothing to show for my life. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Zero.

During breakfast this morning, this frustration was not helping my digestion. In fact, it made my stomach hurt. Tums didn't help and neither did the forced, loud belches that shook the walls and caused foundation cracks. As I was squeezing my sore ass into my dry, but stank-ass yoga clothes this morning, excuses to not go to Bikram ran through what's left of my mind: My clothes stink. My stomach hurts. I'll probably end up farting real loud during class and everyone will turn, point and laugh at me. I don't feel like sweating. My ass is too big. I fucking hate my hair. I look like shit. I mulled over every excuse but couldn't pick a good one. I know that if I had missed class, I'd really be pissing guilt all over myself. Nope. I didn't have the stomach for it, natch. So, I gathered up my yoga gear, waved bye to the WGN Morning News Team, got into my mold-ridden shit car and drove to the studio.

Great. Class was crowded as fuck today. Super. John was teaching and I LOVE him. He's great--patient, explains everything clearly and it's obvious he loves to teach. Today I noticed that he looks like a young, James Caan--but cuter and not as hairy. 'Tis something you want in a male Bikram instructor who's half-nekkid in class. Trust me on this one folks.

During the opening breathing exercise, frustration left me for a bit and from what I could tell, was giving one of my fellow classmates one hell of a time. She looked pissed--I caught her gaze in the mirror and flashed her a small "I feel your pain" smile. She smiled back then relaxed a bit.

Everything was fine until this pose. The most important thing to remember about this pose is you're supposed to keep your standing leg straight--no bend in the knee, no nothing. If you can't keep your solid, standing leg from wobbling or bending, you're not supposed to move onto the next part of the posture. Today, I noticed that so many of my fellow classmates were not keeping their standing leg straight. Yes, Bikram Police,  I'm aware that you're not supposed to pay attention to your fellow yogis/yoginis during class, but I sat out the first round because of my frustrated stomach. Even when John explained, in plain language, the importance of keeping your standing leg uber-straight, the concept was still lost on some folks.

Whatever.

I did it the correct way the second time and that's all that matters. If these folks want to screw up their spines, then go right ahead.

For the rest of the class, frustration made a few more appearances but was gone by the final Savasana. I let it all go as I gazed at the pale-blue ceiling, and felt my body relax into my mat. Class was over. It wasn't one of my more productive ones, but the fact that I even showed up counts for something.

My little victory was tarnished when I arrived home to two job rejections. That's five for the week. Aannnd there's that frustration again--coming in through the bathroom window. Sigh.