...or, better known as the last unmarried thirty-something renter in Southie...
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Wait for it. Really.
Tonight I'm sure I failed the BHI class. (Even though it's against class rules to say or think negatively when a positive will do.) I was negative on the instructor's platitudes to the point of scowling, even as she smiled. After scoring (negatively) high on 6 of the 10 irrational beliefs in the Beliefs Inventory, I suggested I didn't buy it, which elicted someone's suggestion that my attitude towards the test was overly negative, which did little but make me me resent the "work" I'll need to do to change those irrational beliefs. During Guided Imagery Meditation I struggled to ascend the mountain in my mind to find Wisdom because I was counting the minutes until we were called out; when I offered that Wisdom had appeared as a tall, bearded man who didn't share any Wisdom, it was suggested I had forced an ideal to appear, rather than letting it come to me in due time. Oy. (Harsh crowd?) But then. After class I introduced myself to the young Indian engineer who, earlier in the evening, said the high point of his day had been his morning marathon training run. I had just wanted to ask what race he was doing. I had no idea he'd want to talk animatedly at the exit for 45 minutes, illustrating calf stretches, outlining speed workouts and mental states at past Mile 20s, or shake my hand twice and say he can't wait until next week to hear how my training went over the weekend. He seemed as surprised as me that he had made a friend at BHI class. Of course, I thought, as the bike and I sped back across town to Sarah Vaughan's rip of "From This Moment On" on the iPod, giddy with the energy of the music and the exchange and the city at sunset. I had indeed been working too hard. When I made the tall bearded man appear I hadn't thought a lanky Indian engineer would take me out of my head and into ease without him (or me) trying. I hadn't wanted to wait for it. But I learned maybe I should more often. (Does that mean I didn't really fail the evening?)
She rents an apartment in a neighborhood of trendy condos.
Her bike is vintage Raleigh. Her car is from 1991.
The cat's litter box is next to her bed and she doesn't own a dresser.
She likes to make fun of herself.
Occasionally she runs marathons.
And yes, she has to wear glasses. Contacts are not an option.