Yoga Mat = Life

Tuesday night at yoga the room was packed. Like, move your mat over so some jerk who is 5 minutes late can squeeze in kind of packed. I was squished between one middle aged lady with a huge engagement ring and an older lady wearing a Wheatsville Co-Op shirt.

For those of you who do not know, yoga involves extending your body far beyond the reaches of your allotted mat space. So, when the room is packed you encroach on other people's space. Usually everyone will adjust a little to give the folks around them the maximum space. Not on Tuesday.

I am uber socially conscious and restricted my movements so I didn't even get close to Ring Lady and Wheatsville Chick. I didn't fully extend, I didn't fully twist, and I certainly didn't reach my potential. They however, had their feet on my mat at some points and their heads uncomfortably close to my crotch. My arms were bent and awkward to not interrupt them as they fully extended swan dove to the floor like angels. My leg extensions were at 25% so they had room for 100%.

I went into savasana (basically quiet time) annoyed that they didn't make room. Then, I thought, I didn't make them. I gave up so much of myself that I let them take what they wanted to make them comfortable. Then I thought, this room is not big enough for everyone to have their own space for everything. Some other person in this room did the same thing I did and was laying there unsatisfied. And, we had to. We had to sacrifice so that other people could do their thing. If we had all taken all the space we wanted, people would have gotten hurt. The world needs people who sacrifice their own happiness and potential so that others can be comfortable.

But next time, it's my turn to swan dive and stretch and push myself. Ring Lady and Wheatsville Chick take note, I won't always let you have your space. Sometimes, just sometimes, I take what I need.

Herndon 113

Eight years ago, I was getting ready to go to college. I was packing up my stuff, generally freaking out, and feeling like a real grown up. I knew I was living in Herndon 113 with a girl from Highland Park, TX. My suite-mates were exotic. They were from Georgia and California. Whoa. I was ready to take on the world with my coordinated comforter, sheets, art, lamps, and towels.

Last weekend, I visited Herndon 113. The room that I moved into eight years at Trinity University with a group of strangers. It looked even smaller than I remember it. The paint was new, the furniture updated, but, still the same. It was still an incubator for college freshman to grow in. Grow indeed.

My dad moved me in and out of that room. My lost my first meaningful relationship in that room. I learned that friends are not always friends in that room. I learned about failing and winning in that room. Seeing it with fresh eyes, reminded me just how far I've come from that 18 year old wearing khaki shorts and a pink t-shirt with a freshly broken heart and endless possibilities on move-in day.

And sometimes, I miss her. And Herndon 113.

Do as I say, not as I do

A year or so ago, I was feeling very future focused. I thought for sure that I knew everything so I wrote down rules for my future daughter(s). (Creepy? Potentially). I came across the list a few weeks ago whilst cleaning out my old purse.

I thought I'd put them on the internet airwaves so one day, she'll have them. Or so everyone can think I'm a psycho. Either way.

1. Don't worry about squeezing the toothpaste from the bottom up. It's just not worth the effort.

2. You are prettier without makeup.

3. Don't do Kamkazi shots, ever.

4. Make him wait. A little.

5. Don't apologize for things that have nothing to do with you.

6. Don't qualify what you say with "I think or maybe I don't understand, but..." Just say it.

7. Have dessert. Then, work it off.

8. Learn to make one dish really, really well. Then, only make it if you love him. Only you'll know what it means.

9. Send cards not emails. Or texts. Or whatever you have by then.

10. If everyone else is drinking beer, don't order a margarita.

11. Get your pets from the pound. They are better animals.

12. Always carry some trail mix, Advil, and a tampon. Always.

13. Don't put the email address in the To: box until you are ready to send.

14. If you think he's lying; he probably is.

15. Don't play all your cards.

16. Don't slam your seat back on the airplane. It's so rude.

17. Always choose dare.

18. When someone asks what you do, don't say your job title. Make it interesting.

19. Keep a flashlight in your bedside table.

20. Wear whatever you want. Don't worry about it.

21. Don't be afraid to cut your hair. It's fine.

22. Get really good at Scrabble.

23. Don't cry at work. Ever.

24. Calculate the cost of clothing by cost per wear. If you wear it a lot, it's ok to spend more.

25. Have nice perfume.

26. Throw our underwear that aren't pretty. Only buy one's that are.

27. Check the weather.

28. It doesn't matter what you major in in college. It's all about ambition, baby.

29. Only buy art you love.

30. Buy the expensive olive oil. It's worth it.

31. If he doesn't get your jokes; leave.

32. Remember what it felt like to get asked to your first dance.

33. Forget what your first dance was like.

34. You are more than your job.

35. Don't put your mother in a gross nursing home that smells like urine.

36. Learn to hover and pee.

37. Get your oil changed regularly.

38. Learn to say no. And mean it.

Rainbow Hunters

Not too long ago, I would make my little sister sit in the game room and be the student while I played teacher. I'd put saran wrap on the window and pretend it was an overhead machine. I'd give her quizzes and generally torture her. Not too long before that, we'd run around the house playing rainbow hunters with a little plastic prism. We'd find places the sun leaked in and use our magic prism to make rainbows.

Since then, we've watched each other fall in love and get our our hearts broken. We've both been through serious health crisis (I mean, lungs collapsing and everything). We've buried our Dad. We've been rocks and bowls of jello, but never at the same time.

Last week I watched her graduate from college and on Monday we'll travel together to Utah for a grown up girls vacation. We are both adults with educations and plans and dreams for our own lives. One day, sooner than later, we'll have our own new families.

This is the way of things. You grow up and do things on your own. All those days you thought were boring, like the day you went to the nursery with your dad and sister and got a Christmas tree. Or the day you learned to water ski with your family cheering you on. Or the time she threw up green beans. Or that day you all sat around and watched football and drank Cokes, are the best days.

And I suspect that one day, when I have two kids and a job and a husband and a house to run, these will be the best days. The days when I had time to sit on my couch and drink tea and write a blog.

Every day is the best day. You just don't know it until they are gone.

now sit down

If you asked a random sampling of my closest friends what one word describes me, I'm sure that you'd get an equally as random group of responses. I expect they'd range from funny to annoying to totally ridiculous.

If you asked a random sampling of people whom I don't know particularly well to describe me in one word they'd probably say something along the spectrum of nice to ok. Which is fine.

Apparantly, if you asked one of my professors, he'd say, "Tough".

Today, we went to his house for class. We sat in the living room. We drank beer and Diet Dr. Pepper's. He rambled on about how basically he could do whatever because he was tenured. He talked about the injustices of our educational system. Then we moved to the kitchen to eat empanadas and gazpacho. After a while, I went to leave. I thanked him for having us and said it was nice. He said "I always want to talk to you. You're tough. I want to know why." I laughed and said I'd stop by office hours. I reminded him I've stopped by several times and he hasn't been there. He replied with "See, you are tough."

I'm not sure if tough is want I want to exude. I'm not even sure where tough comes from. I don't feel tough. I feel like the inside of a Valomilk.

That said, toughness isn't a real thing. It's an attitude. It's a philosophy. It's one that I subscribe to. The greatest gift I can give myself is toughness of mind, body, and spirit.

Not toughness like "Oh, hi, I'm Alix and I have an invisible shield of armor" tough but "Oh, hi, I'm Alix and I'm fine" tough. The sort of tough that speaks up when other people won't but knows when to not say a word. I'd like to be the sort of tough that doesn't let people off the hook for things that matter but lets unimportant things go.

I'd like to be the sort of tough that people call when family dies. I'd like to be the sort of tough that other soccer mom's (one day) are sort of intimidated by. "See, look at my awesome orange slices! Now sit down". I'd like to be tough enough to accept when I'm wrong and not back down when I'm not.

I'd like to be the sort of tough that knows how not to only cry alone. I'd like to be tough enough to walk away gracefully or in a blaze of glory. I'd like to be tough enough to challenge everyone always, even when they are challenging me.

And, from the comment today, it looks like I'm being tough without trying. Win.

Bring it on.

capacity reached

Somewhere between full time grad school, full time work, and volunteering I reached maximum capacity. Today.

I made an excel spreadsheet at 4am to manage everything I need to get done in the next two weeks. I actually made a column that was titled, "Things to think about while driving". As I wrote these ridiculous words I realized that being this busy is A.) my own effing fault and B.) pretty dumb.

Perhaps some of you know that I like to be busy. If I'm bored for 2 seconds I start googling everything from books to read to pictures of cute animals and ways to make change happen faster. I am an information junkie. I thrive off knowing and doing. So, I took on too much. I've learned my lesson. Quality over quantity. Why am I realizing this today?

I stopped by Central Market to get dinner around 8:00. I walked in and went to the prepared food section. There were two pastas I liked. One was penne with goat cheese and tomatoes and stuff. The other was the same, but, with chicken.

I stood there. I held one in each hand. I put the one without chicken back. I walked away. I got 4 steps away and I changed my mind. I went back. I started thinking about the chickens I saw in Food Inc. Then I got worried I was going to waste away for not eating enough protein. I stood there, staring. A lady with short hair and a puka shell necklace nudged past me and got her Peanut Noodle Vindaloo Bowl with no hesitation.

Then, I started tearing up. My throat got tight. I got sweaty. My eyes filled with warm, wet tears. My exact thought was "Am I about to have a nervous breakdown in Central Market?"My second thought was "Is this a panic attack, I thought it would be more dramatic!?"

Don't worry. I didn't and it wasn't. But, I did realize that just like everything else, you can't hold stress in. You have to have a release valve. Sometimes, that valve gets opened up by a coworker asking what's wrong, or having some down time, or a tiny thing pushing you over the edge. Things like a chicken pasta bowl.

I now know my limits in an actual real way.

I got a creme brulee...and the pasta with the chicken.

It wasn't that good.

circle of the same

Hours become days. Days become weeks. Weeks turn into years. Then you are almost 26.


Somewhere between the age of 9 and 11, Claire and I were babysat by a cool older girl in HIGH SCHOOL. She was awesome. She had sweatshirts that said her school's name. She had SERIOUS homework. I remember being fascinated with her graphing calculator. I thought I would never be old enough to learn to use one (which may actually still be true). She had grown up hair and knew things about music and boys and how to work the oven. She was a magical grown up fairy.


Last weekend I hung out with my little from Big Brothers Big Sisters and I begged her not to grow up. I told her graphing calculators SUCK and that she should enjoy being 14. Want to know what she said? "I want to be a grown up so I know how to deal with stuff as good as you. I want to know what to say and where to go."


Besides being again amazed at her clarity of voice, I realized that I was that babysitter. 16+ years later, the circle of life completes a round. To her, I'm a magical grown up fairy. Then we talked about Lady Gaga's egg and decided that we should probably get a Bedazzler and make tutu's and t-shirts for the concert.


It's good to be a kid. And an adult. All at the same time. I was right.