Believe it or not, I just deleted all my unwatched episodes of The Real Housewives of Orange County. I’ve been a fan of the original Housewives franchise since season 1 but, this season (season 8 if you can believe it) I just can’t work up enough energy to give a shit.

In the beginning, it was interesting and almost relatable—it was more about families, friends, kids. But not long after the show started, the financial meltdown happened and it became depressing–bankruptcy, divorce, foreclosures. Somewhere in there, the cast decided that all of that wasn’t dramatic enough so they upped the ante, creating bullshit drama that stresses me out. That’s why I stopped watching The Real Housewives of New York a couple of seasons ago. After Jill’s meltdown with Bethenny, the show took a darker turn and got uncomfortable.

I can’t deal with that amount of negativity anymore. Unless it’s the Homeland kind of edge-of-your-seat tension, I’m just not interested.

Hu. Maybe I’m finally growing up.

**********

Meanwhile, Miley Cyrus was just voted #1 on Maxim Magazine’s Hot 100 list.

Who cares, right?

I actually sort of do. I’m not a fan of her music or her acting, and I suspect she’s sort of a spoiled brat. But I like the risks she takes with her fashion and beauty. It takes balls to chop off your long hair, bleach it out and style it into a punky mohawk.

Miley Cyrus

I think it’s awesome when women don’t make traditional fashion choices. Like this whacked-out jumper. It works on her.

Could I pull it off? Not a snowball’s chance in hell. But I don’t feel as though I make traditional choices all the time—I’ve changed my hair color about four times this year alone—so I appreciate someone who takes risks, who doesn’t do what’s popular.

Last year’s #1 spot went to Bar Rafaeli. Maybe our definition of beauty is changing. Or at least getting broader. That’s not a bad thing.

**********

If you’re friends with me on Facebook you know I’m seriously addicted to Candy Crush Saga. I make no effort to hide my addiction with stupid posts like this:

Honest to God. I have no idea how I started playing this game, but I’m inexplicably unable to stop. Each level is different and I have made it my life’s mission to solve each and every level. I have resorted to begging for lives on Facebook and asking for additional moves. I’ve even been so frustrated that I’ve ponied up and purchased additional lives. It’s horrific the time suck this game has become.

But what’s worse, almost everyone on my Facebook news feed is doing the same damn thing.

At one point, I posted this:

The response was overwhelming. I think I’m going to call Dr. Drew and see if he’s up to the task.

However, I did see a beacon of hope today. My friend Issa announced she deleted the game off Facebook and her phone.

I wonder how that’s working out for her.

I think we’ve established that I’m not always the most calm person on the planet. I’m your typical Type A (“A” is for “asshole”) person, who strives for perfection, annoying the shit out of everyone around me. Truth be told I kind of annoy myself. I hate being tense and in my head because I’m missing out on a lot. And I can’t sleep.

I’ve found that meditation helps, but it’s never come easy to me.

I still struggle with shutting up that yammering voice in my head—the one that has to process every single thing ad infinitum. The voice that reminds me of my ever-growing to-do list, the one that rehashes a craptacular day over and over, the one that gets overwhelmed by the stress.

So this month I’m going to see if I can change all of that. I’m going to make time to mediate every day.

Yesterday I sat down for 5 minutes and shut my eyes and tried to do nothing except breathe. Those five minutes felt like 5 hours.

But at least I tried.

I haven’t figured out how or when I’m going to do this every day. There’s a spot under a gazebo in our back yard that I’ve been eyeing since the weather turned nice. It’s the perfect place to set up a yoga mat, and maybe a mediation cushion. It’s right next to a fountain—but equally close to the dog run, which could be gross—which is quite lovely.

Every day this month I’m going to try to sit still and find silence and see what happens.

Worst case scenario, I get a few minutes of quiet each day. Best case scenario? I slow down, enjoy life more, find calm and maybe even a sleep a little better.

It’s been an interesting week to say the least. Work has been challenging for reasons totally unrelated to actual work. Plus, on Wednesday night I did a practice teach with my mentor group. While I may not have exactly commanded the room, I wasn’t swallowed up either. Progress, people. I spent last weekend away with my husband but it was a work retreat of sorts so it wasn’t exactly relaxing. It was fun, but definitely not restful.

Needless to say, I’m hoping to chill out and get some rest this weekend. My DVR is full—I’m a week behind on Mad Men, and I have a shit ton of Real Housewives of various cities to catch up with.

Hopefully, your weekend will be relaxing, too. In case you have some downtime, I’ve curated some pretty awesome stuff to read. It’s a wildly diverse list of articles that hit me over the head for one reason or another.

Have a great weekend!

*********

This. “…be willing to scrap your to-do list. To toss your best-made plans. To let go of an idea of yourself you’ve been gripping to. Even to receive the most opposed and terrifying news. It will reveal to you your best self, and it will open the possibility for you to impact the world from a source of grace. And we could use more of that.”

“Twitter does its best work in the first five minutes after a disaster, and its worst in the twelve hours after that.” via Wired.

In case you were wondering what my days are like, the fun fact on first entry sums it up nicely.

Because if we don’t advocate for ourselves, who will?

Finding Your Purpose in Life, by Kludgy Mom.

25 Things You Should Remember to Do Every Day. I particularly like #8:
Take a moment to just be aware of exactly what you’re doing. Count your steps while you’re walking, actually look around you and pay attention to your breaths. Practice mindfulness and awareness of the present moment. Remember to be in the now.

Even The New York Times thinks failure is a good thing.

This was written about food blogging, but there are so many fantastic tips in this post no matter what kind of blogging you do.

I have no idea how I came across this post, but as someone who uses the word “frustrated” when what I mean to say is “I’m fucking pissed off,” this hit me over the head:

“I’m learning that the hard feelings are simply another facet in my ability to love and feel joy and cry when someone puts just the right words to music. Sometimes dealing with the rough stuff is cathartic and sometimes it feels like sliding face first down the cheese grater of life without anesthetic. But every time I dig up another feeling and release it into the ether, my life gets a little better.”

Measuring Your Worth by Anissa Mayhew

Little-known fact about me: I love sports writing. Correction: I love fucking great sports writing. Tom Verducci, who writes for Sports Illustrated is in my Writers Hall of Fame. If you’ve ever read I Was A Toronto Blue Jay you know what I mean. However, this article about the Iditarod by Brian Phillips is amazing. Do yourself a favor and read it on a computer, not a hand-held device because the graphics are amazing.

I love stories like this photographer. Fascinating. I can’t wait to see the documentary.

And because we need a little light and laughter around here: Corgis! 140 of them! I dare you not to smile.

Last week I wrote that post about why I still blog and then…I stopped blogging.

And therein lies my problem. Or at least one of them. Inconsistency. (Others include, oh, I don’t know, laziness, distraction, disorganization, um, did I say distraction?).

Anyway, it has been a busy week and I just haven’t been able to sit down and focus in front of this screen.

At work I’ve been tasked with establishing reviving our social media presence, so I’ve been updating our Pinterest, blog, Twitter, Facebook and YouTube accounts, and I’ve even bullied my bosses into redesigning our website. That, in my opinion is the most crucial part of the whole makeover—designing a website that fully showcases our work, and the work we do for our clients.

Naturally, my own blogging, Facebook-ing, Tweeting and Pintersting has all but ceased.

Meanwhile, I have a huge “test” of sorts tonight. I’ve been preparing to teach to my fellow apprentices and all of the mentor teachers in my training. And this is the big night. I have to instruct a large portion of a sequence, and I think I’m prepared. I say “think” because I know this stuff inside and out and I know what I want to say, but I have this problem that when I stand in front of the room, I have no idea what will actually come out of my mouth. Not surprisingly this is an issue I have in real life. Also, not surprisingly, this gets me into a lot of trouble. My luck I’ll be like the news anchor in North Dakota who gets fired after his first time on-air for dropping the F-bomb, a word that flows freely from my mouth.

Anyway, hopefully, I will get through tonight “fuck” free so to speak. If not, it’ll  make a great blog post.

And now I can’t get the word out of my head.

I’m screwed.

I started blogging in the summer of 2008. I had no idea what I was doing, but that was part of the fun.

And it WAS fun! I wanted to write, so I did. Period. I didn’t care about stats—it was a good day if I saw that five people (none of whom were me or my husband) stopped by my blog. I didn’t care about branding, niches, advertising, monetizing, publicizing or any other “izing.” I wrote for me and hoped others would like it.

In that first year, I developed a small but loyal community of people. We would stop by each other’s blogs on a daily basis and comment and e-mail each other to check in. This was in the days of blogrolls. Do you even know what those are?  *Sigh* I miss blogrolls. I loved them. When I found a blog I adored, I immediately searched through their blogroll to find other hidden gems. My blogroll was a constantly evolving list of sites I loved. It was like curating awesome content that I couldn’t wait to share with others. Now I can’t even remember the last time I came across a blogroll and on the rare occasion I do, it’s ridiculously outdated.

The way most of us keep up with blogs has changed. I’m a Google Reader devote—or I will be until July when it goes away. Some people prefer to subscribe via e-mail and others follow their favorite blogs on Facebook. For me, it was easier to keep up on a reader because I can’t have a bunch of blogs up on my screen at work. The reader is a more subtle way to keep track. And, I admit, it’s easier because you can see right away if there’s a new post without having to click on the site.

But it doesn’t mean I don’t miss the blogroll.

These days, instead of commenting directly on the blog itself (which seems to be irrelevant these days—the blog, not the comments), discussions are happening more and more on Facebook and Twitter. I do follow some blogs on Facebook but I don’t link The Daily Snark with my Facebook page—mostly for professional reasons (I try to get some separation between church and state so to speak), but also because I’m selfish. If I write something here, I guess I want the discussion to happen here.

Which doesn’t mean I’m not in need of intervention for my Facebook addiction.

I used to have that same kind of fanaticism for Twitter, but in the past year or so, Twitter and I have taken a break. The endless chatter, general bitchiness and clique-y bullshit turned me off for a long time. Every day there was a new drama, or someone was trying to insert themselves into drama in an attempt to make themselves relevant (no, not me!) and it was exhausting. (Then there are days like today when I’m reminded how awesome and powerful Twitter can be and I fall in love all over again.) To combat that, I’ve started culling my follow list, removing people I was told I “should” follow and started to cultivate a community that more accurately reflects who and where I am today.

At some point blogging started to feel less fun because there was so much pressure to have a niche—and if you read through my archives, it’s pretty clear there is no niche here (notice my tagline?). Over the years I’ve written more openly about stupid shit in my life and marriage, I’ve written endlessly about my dogs, dog shows, reality TV and other nonsensical stuff. Then there was my angst period where I got all meta about blogging. In the past year I’ve written about my journey with yoga teacher training (Can I just tell you—I hate when people talk about their “journey” with whatever. Like, when someone gets booted off of Dancing With Stars and they talk about what an amazing journey it was? Anyway, I digress.)

So why am I taking a walk down memory lane today? This morning I saw a post on Neil Kramer’s (from Citizen of the Month) Facebook page. He asked:

Blogging. Facebook. Twitter. I do not judge. No platitudes or BS.

Talk with other friends? Why not just call them up? Ease your isolation? Get emotional support? Get attention? Change the world? Network with those who can help you in some way? Hide from the children? Goof off at work? Bare your soul? Writing? If so, clearly being online is more procrastination than writing? Or is there some sort of career plan attached — like growing your platform or marketing yourself?

The question got me thinking about why I’ve kept this blog all these years (nearly five years in bloggy life makes me approximately 102 years old). What started as a fun hobby became something more. It became important for me to write here, and the reasons have come full circle. At first it was just a fun way to continue writing after I left my magazine job. I needed a creative outlet and thought it would be a fun way to keep writing and I fell in I love with the community of bloggers. Eventually, I got sucked into all the bullshit about The Business of Blogging and tried too hard to mold this blog to become something that I had no passion for. And then I all but abandoned this space for the better part of year because I wasn’t sure I had a place in the blogosphere if I didn’t have a niche or a brand. When I went through my yoga teacher training this became a place for me to chronicle that experience, and I thought I would make this a more yoga-ish blog, but even that didn’t feel totally authentic either.

The reality is, this blog is ALL of those things. I am a cocktail-swilling, f-word abusing, dog-loving, yogi. I am hopelessly addicted to reality TV, I re-watch the entire West Wing series every year, I carry my Kindle everywhere and read whenever I can (everything from books about yoga, to chick lit and a healthy dose of police fiction), and I absolutely cannot function without my coffee.

So I’m back to where I started—no niche, no brand, just me. I’m back to writing about what’s moving me at any given moment whether it’s books, yoga, crappy reality TV, my dogs eating their own poop, or my obsession with shoes and bags. I want to get back to writing about the more personal things that matter to me.

As far as the rest of it? I’m trying to embrace the social media aspects of blogging again without taking all so personally. I’m going to comment more on the blogs I read regularly to show them support and let them know I’m still reading, and I may even go old-school and resurrect my beloved blogroll to publicly proclaim my love for the blogs I read regularly. And I’m even dipping my toes back into the waters of Twitter ever so slowly.

So if you like your yoga with liberal does of reality TV, and if you like personal stories with some swearing, a side of humor and a cocktail, then this your community.

This is who I am and THAT is why I blog.

1. A full night’s sleep WITHOUT the use of Tylenol PM or ZzzQuil. A first for me in a long time.

2. An amazing candle flow yoga class that brought peace and relief to my body (and obviously a good night’s sleep).

3. Unexpected opportunities.

I’m as uptight as they come.

I don’t sing in public. I certainly don’t dance in public. I’m too self-conscious for that. I’ll be the first to admit I am mortified at the thought of looking dumb.

Because everyone has to be looking at ME, right?

This weekend I had to drop all of those stupid inhibitions and play like a kid. I skipped, I danced with wild abandon, I played Simon Says and even Freeze Tag.

It was the best time I’ve had in a long time.

And? I’m so sore from skipping that I can barely walk straight.

This weekend I got certified to teach kids’ yoga and of all the training I’ve done over the last year, this one was probably the most fun.

I signed up for the class because for my final project I want to put together a program for teen girls—I think yoga is extremely beneficial for boosting self-esteem and helping body image issues. I didn’t think I’d be super interested in the part of the class for younger kids, but I had so much fun and even came close to “removing the stick from my ass” as my charming husband likes to say.

There’s a lot of power in play time. I relieves stress (I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time), it sparks creativity (you have to use your imagination), it teaches you about collaboration and cooperation (when you’re in teams you have to work it out) and it was just a shit ton of fun.

After a weekend of play time I felt happier, lighter and inspired.

I wonder why we don’t play more in our lives?

I spent the better part of my childhood and adolescence curled up on the couch, my bed or on a chaise lounge reading. In fact, you would almost find me with a book on me at any given time. It was my happy place.

Lately, though, I haven’t really made the time to read, except a few stolen chapters here and there on my Kindle on my lunch break. It’s been easier to blob out in front of the TV, watching The Real Housewives and My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding (Don’t judge. You know you have your own secret crappy TV habits). I’m trying to change that, though, carving out a little time here and there because there’s nothing more relaxing and fun than diving into a good book. Plus, I think my brain is starting to turn to mush.

I’ve been reading a lot of get-your-shit-together/wellness/yoga type books—some for class and some because I’ve been thinking a lot about the kind of life I want and the kind of person I want to be. I know—I have Mid-Life Crisis written all over me, don’t I?

Sunday night I started reading A Life Worth Breathing: A Yoga Master’s Handbook of Strength, Grace, and Healing by Max Strom. I don’t remember how I came across this book; it’s possible it was one of those “Since You Bought THIS You May Like This” recommendations on Amazon. I’m only a couple of chapters in but he wrote something that smacked me in the face. You know how some people can remember every single detail of their childhood or some random event (or non-event) on their lives? That’s not me. I’m astounded by the things I don’t remember. And not because I have some kind of mental block because something bad happened. In some ways it’s more tragic. Strom writes (and I’m paraphrasing) that most people don’t really remember the details of their past because they weren’t really present in their lives. Holy shitballs. No kidding. I have spent a large part of my life dwelling on the past or looking for what’s next in my life and not really living in the moment. It’s a well-written, thoughtful read.

I’m also reading The Yamas & Niyamas: Exploring Yoga’s Ethical Practice by Deborah Adele. If you aren’t familiar, the Yamas and Niyamas are the core of yoga. They’re sort of like the 10 Commandments of Yoga, ethical guidelines if you will (non-violence, truthfulness, non-stealing etc). We covered them in my 200-hour yoga training, but I’ll be honest, I didn’t really spent the amount of time exploring them that I should have. Now, as I work on my project for my 300-hour training, I’m focusing my program around them. This book breaks them down into easy-to-understand terms that are relevant to today. Even if you don’t practice yoga, this is a good read.

I admit I had zero interest in reading Hell-Bent: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for Something Like Transcendence in Competitive Yoga by Benjamin Lorr, because it’s about competitive yoga (who knew there was such a thing), but it’s weirdly fascinating to find out what crazy stuff people do their bodies. It’s also a fascinating insight into Bikram Yoga and the biography of Bikram Choudhury himself. I haven’t been able to put it down.

 I love Jane Green. I haven’t started Family Pictures yet, but it’s next in line on my Kindle. Here’s the summary (from Amazon):

I also can’t wait to read All You Could Ask For: A Novel by Mike Greenberg, cohost of ESPN’s Mike and Mike in the Morning. Yes, chick lit by a guy. All the reviews are full of praise, though. Here’s the description from Amazon:

A tender and insightful story of friendship and love, heartbreak and renewal, played out in the lives of three unforgettable women.

Brooke has been happily married to her college sweetheart for fifteen years. Even after the C-section, the dog poop, the stomach viruses and the coffee breath, Scott always winks at her in just the right moments. That is why, for her beloved, romantic, successful husband’s fortieth birthday, she is giving him pictures. Of herself. Naked.

Newlywed Samantha learns of her husband’s cheating heart when she finds the goods on his computer.

High-powered career woman Katherine works with heartbreaker Phillip, the man who hurt her early on in her career.

Brooke, Samantha, and Katherine don’t know each other, but their stories are about to intertwine in ways no one could have imagined.

And all three are about to discover the power of friendship to conquer adversity, the satisfaction of unexpected delights, the incredible difference one human being can have on other lives–and that they have all they could ask for, as long as they have each other.

What are you reading these days?

I thought doing gratitude posts would be easy but for some reason I have been struggling for things to be grateful for. Which, honestly? Makes me an asshole. Because in the scheme of things I have PLENTY to be grateful for. But I’ve fallen into a funk (existential crisis?) and can’t seem to see beyond my own bullshit. And believe me, it IS bullshit. It’ll pass. I just have to remind myself to focus on the good and let go of the not so good.

Here are the three things I’m grateful for today.

1. My new hair. I decided to forgo the blonde for a while and try out some brown. I like to change it up every so often. I’m kind of digging it. (What I’m NOT digging are the wrinkles and bags under my eyes!)

2. A glass of wine on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

3. This face:

I took a yoga class on Sunday at one of my favorite studios. It’s a bit of a trek—I have to drive down to Hollywood—but there are some amazing teachers there and it’s worth the trip. Although it’s labeled a flow class, it’s really not. It’s more of an Iyengar style class with lots of focus on alignment and holding poses.

The teacher is incredible. It didn’t matter that I haven’t been there in 4 months—she immediately remembered me (even with a different hair color), knew my name, asked me how my training is going and wondered where my husband was.

She started class in sukhasana. I knew my hips were tight so I sat up on two blankets, but my hips weren’t the only problem that day. Within seconds the teacher bee-lined for me, gently put her knee in my back and opened my shoulders. Then she announced to the class that we would be working on opening the chest and stretching the shoulders. As class continued on, my body betrayed me. Poses that used to be simple and comforting no longer felt good. I couldn’t seem to find stillness in my down dog because my elbows and shoulders ache. My back was tight and it hurt to keep my head in line with my neck. My chatarungas were chaotic and my updogs were crunched. Even child’s pose was uncomfortable. Finally, the teacher gently suggested that I stick with lowering down to the floor and sticking to low cobra for a while. She spent a lot of time helping me align myself, and I was alternately flattered and embarrassed that she spent so much time with me.

I was out late the night before so I chalked it up to being tired.

I decided to take a break on Monday and figured I’d be back to normal on Tuesday. But that practice was even worse. It’s an advanced vinyasa flow class (the class I normally assist) and within minutes I was already down in child’s pose, gulping for air, wondering what the hell was going on. My shoulders were fried, my neck and back were so tight I couldn’t really bring anything into alignment and I almost crashed face-first into my mat on my first chatarunga.

I tried to stick with the class, but I just couldn’t keep up. I spent a lot of time, face down on my mat just trying to breathe.

That teacher came up after class and asked if I was okay. I honestly didn’t know.

“Your job is pretty stressful, isn’t it?” She asked.

It usually is, but right now everything is quiet. In fact, everything screeched to a halt at once. The project I was working on at work came to an end. My mentor teacher interrupted our training for six weeks because she was invited to lead a teacher training in Norway. Other projects that I had been working on were finished or winding down.

The light bulb went off.

The adrenaline rush that had kept me going the past six months disappeared. And now my body is trying to get me to slow down, to recuperate.

When my teacher left I thought it would be a good time to start focusing on my own practice again. I’ve been taking a lot of classes and going to different studios, seeking out other teachers I’ve wanted to learn from. I’ve been contorting and forcing my body into poses, and I’ve been sweating and pushing and pulling. But the more I’ve pushed the more my body has resisted.

So I’m finally listening to my body. I’ve taken a few days off from classes, going home and relaxing, taking hot baths and going to bed early.

Because that’s yoga, too.