An Interlude

This week marks the beginning of my yoga teacher training, the end of the acceptance period of the lit mag I work at, and the emergence of my love of blue lipstick.

Basically, things are shifting. I’m getting busier, and trying to juggle everything I have taken on — at times, I sit back and think to myself, What have I done? I’m not this person—this person who… who… DOES THINGS.

But then I stop and think about it.

Why can’t I be that kind of person?

Short answer: no reason at all. I can be, will be, am currently doing things.

First of all, yoga books are heavy. Second of all, yoga class takes legit ALL day and then we do physical classes and observations throughout the week. I’m a little confused on my first paper and I’m staring at the amount of reading I have to do like damn, ain’t nobody got time for that.

But at the same time, I’m listening to what my teacher’s saying and it makes me feel like there’s hope for me.

One of the things that’s great about my rediscovery of yoga — besides my fantastic ass — is the realization that you can do anything at any time. Seriously, you can just start shit and say to yourself, Well, guess I’ll be this now. And that’s it. You’re it.

I’m also trying to balance in my writing which is, as always, more of a struggle with the self than time. I find myself looking at my Google doc with a little less than contempt but not much. Really, I’m just ready for a breath of fresh air, I think. I’ve been working on this one for a long time (and yes, the post about it will be coming up soon) and it’d be nice to do something else for a bit — maybe short storying but no concrete promises, just an ethereal want.

And it’s not that I’ve fallen out of love with the story. It means something to me, the characters mean something to me, but in true Robynian fashion, I do struggle with ending longer works. Never had such a problem with short stories, but eh, there you go. My hope for this one is that it can see the light of day. It’s not perfect but it’s super surrealist, Southern, and rapey, which of course are staples of mine.

I can often be found making some headway at the local cafe by the yoga studio. My life is encapsulated in about 10 square blocks.

This is going to have to be shoved into my new mantra of I want this, I am this.

I want to write regularly. I WRITE REGULARLY DAMMIT.

And finally, if you don’t follow me on my various social medias (accessible through this website, plug plug ((fuck, is it a plug if I own the damn site? I don’t know))), you’ll be happy to know I regularly participate in makeup experimentation, which is becoming more and more fun. And also more and more expensive, but don’t tell my husband.

I like the colors on my face, for a change. I remember when I was younger I thought certain colors—blue, for example—made me look fat. HA. Man, was that dumb. Someone should have staged an intervention because I look incredible.