Last night I went to yoga.

It's weird because I was really trying to get into the yoga mindset, or at least what I imagine it to be, which is some sort of crazy mind over matter thing where you're balancing on your big toe and holding your left foot above your ear while breathing slowly and thinking about relaxing, serene vistas. I kind of suck at that. I mean, I'm actually quite good at the beginning now, which I didn't think I would be. My brain is very active, and I don't mean that in the sense of my intelligence. My brain is perpetually occupied with extremely trivial things. Mostly they revolve around being self conscious, my fat, hypothetical karaoke performances and food I shouldn't eat. Thrillingly intellectual.

So I succeed for the beginning part of yoga in turning my brain off. I tend to concentrate on colors, because I like colors. Who doesn't? My thoughts tend to manifest in both words and images, so colors are a fairly easy thing to focus on. Strangely enough it seems to be a combination of purple and green. Specifically, I imagine inhaling as a lavender/purple mist with flecks of gold whirling around me. Exhaling is the same idea, but a darker seafoam green with silver shimmer. In my mind it's rather like color bath powder or snow, only without the cold frozen water or harsh chemicals. Rather, the mist of the colors is like cushy pillows. It's really quite nice. Occasionally I toss some sky blue mist in there but otherwise good system.

Unfortunately this usually lasts for about the first five minutes of class. After that it's a struggle with poses that make me feel like the fattest girl in the room (upon objective judgment, I think I was actually the fattest girl in the room last night. There was only one other contender and we were close. Honestly, I really wish there was a morbidly obese person in every room I was in. Being the fattest person in a room or even possibly being the fattest person in a room really makes me anxious. If there's someone that's clearly bigger than me, my brain is relieved, since it thinks all the hateful people will automatically start judging that person, and perhaps I'll be swept under the rug. In the case that there is such a person, I don't usually judge them harshly, though. I'm actually kind of thankful for their presence. Takes the heat off me. ). Exercise is not pleasant. I'm covered in sweat and I feel like there's all sorts of bugles and odors about my person that may range from embarassing to out and out disgusting. Never am I more aware of my physical failings. The weird thing is, though, when I can shut that awareness off a bit, I really quite enjoy it. Time goes quickly, I end up feeling like I got a good workout, there's music, and frankly everyone is probably too busy contorting to pay attention to my myriad flaws. So anyway, even though the whole serenity thing doesn't really last, I like it. It's good.

Three paragraphs later, I have concluded, yoga is good. Even though I suck at it and may be the fattest girl in the room.

New year nonsense

So blog. This has pretty much been abandoned and stepped away from its original idea and etc etc. Turns out I'm not really that thoughtful and don't have a lot of time to read Shakespeare and tend to spend my leisure time on other things, like the pursuit of nail polish, and currently ,spending my last day of mini vacation watching The Return of the King (extended. duh.)

The purpose of this blog is going to change a bit. No one is reading this anyway, nor likely will they ever, so I'm basically just putting this down because someday I'd like to track my easily abandoned ideas by date, so it will be helpful to note that January, 2010, was the month that I stopped troubling myself about my intellectual capacity and went back to bitching about my weight.

tl;dr - Dear diary, I got fat.

I've never really felt good about my weight. I'm not obese, but I've ranged from thin (once for about six months. If you're curious, it was awesome.) to average-y to not so average. Over the past year and a half, I've stopped working on my feet all day and started sitting in front of a desk for long hours. I'd like to say I've become aerodynamically curvaceous but sadly there's very little about me that's aerodynamic.

I really want to get my weight under control and healthily. Being twenty-five snuck up on me, somehow, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life constantly dissatisfied with my body. I like clothes and shopping, I want to be able to enjoy those again, but worse yet, my body just feels like it's full of foreign mass. My arms, my thights, my stomach... all constantly surprising me with squishy areas that feel like I'm me, just constantly in a puffy down bodysuit.

I'm hoping having a place to vent will help. I'm hoping I go to yoga and the gym 4x a week and don't eat take out quesadillas. I'm hoping I get a pony for my birthday after twenty-five years of waiting. These things may or may not happen, but that is what I hope and plan.

For some reason, my electric blue nail polish makes me happy.

It almost balances out the unhappiness issues that I am currently dealing with related to 1. weight and 2. outright rebellion of body to behave in a non pain causing manner.

It's so good. AND INCREDIBLY METALLIC.

I wish I was still 13 and could wear this all the time.

I may be crazy

My brain is a food addict.

I was driving home from work and, as usual, my brain was like "You should just have ice cream for dinner. Get a pint, a spoon and some sweatpants and go to." (Seriously, this is a conversation that my brain and I have on a daily basis.) Its other idea, when I vetoed that, was to buy an entire packet of Vienna Fingers and dip them in milk and gorge myself on them. These are usual antics, and I have an internal dialogue with myself - we go through some options, I suggest a bowl of tuna fish and a diet coke, it counter offers with nachos and then maybe just some ice cream. I remind it gently of the drawer full of expensive jeans that don't fit; it points out that I'm probably getting my period so obviously I have free reign to order pizza.

This is a conversation we have EVERY DAY.

Finally, we compromise on toast with peanut butter and chocolate milk (sidebar - once I would have considered this a light meal. That was before I understood how calories worked or what they were). The peanut butter will be chunky style, and I don't have to go to the store, since the boyfriend bought some last night. I run this by the brain and it seems to meet with grudging approval. I calmly get home, politely ask the neighbor teens to move their car so it's not taking up three car parking spaces in front of our house, put on my lightening bolt sweatshirt, and.... no new peanut butter. There is the OLD peanut butter, which probably has enough to eat in it, but there is not a comforting surplus of dark blue Skippy.

This immediately triggers red flashing lights in my brain. All I can think is that I may not have the exact peanut butter experience I have anticipated. There may be slightly less. I may have to scrape the sides. What if I'm hungry and need another toasted peanut butter sandwich?

I take a deep breath, and call the boyfriend. Please understand that at 7:15pm my boyfriend has worked in the office then immediately made a 3 hour drive to oversee an installation that will prevent him from arriving home before 11:00pm. Obviously, I should be interrupting him to deal with my peanut butter related psychosis.

His explanation is brief - he forgot to tell me last night, but the store was out of crunchy peanut butter, and he didn't want to get the wrong kind, so he waited, since he knew we had peanut butter in the house. A very small part of my brain wants to shake him and scream "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!? THIS TRAGEDY COULD HAVE BEEN AVERTED!" Luckily, most of me knows that that bit of the brain is absolutely whack, so I tell him I love him and make my toast.

Crisis did not happen. I had more than enough peanut butter. I think I need to work on my emotional attachment to food.

Julia Kicks Ass

Surprisingly enough, the women in Two Gentlemen of Verona are actually awesome. I say surprisingly because the male characters, with the exception of one fucking douchebag, are fairly standard and flat. Valentine is a good guy and it’s cool that he decides to join a tribe of bandits and become Robin Hood, but he doesn’t stand out as a particularly deep character. The same goes for the general cast of the Duke of Milan, Thurio (the preferred rich suitor for Silvia’s hand), Antonio and the rest.

Our first introduction to Julia is not a shining one. She is, quite frankly, rather annoying in her first scene, where she harasses her Lucetta, her maid, protesting that she hates Proteus and has no interest in him or his letters. Immediately after Lucetta is driven away, she begins fawning over him to herself. It’s the sort of quick emotional change scene that actresses would probably enjoy and probably plays out well on a stage, but it’s tedious to the extreme to read. Like Proteus before her, Julia does at least express some awareness of her insanity, chalking it up to, of course, love. One interesting aspect of this scene, though, is the beginning – Julia begins listing off suitors, comparing their various advantages and flaws to Lucetta. The conversation itself isn’t remarkable, what is interesting is that Julia portrays an attitude here of being entirely in charge of her destiny. She is choosing which one of these men she wants. Unlike most Shakespearean women, there is no mention of parental leanings, there is no passivity – until her love for Proteus blossoms out of the letter, Julia seems to be going about the process in a very modern, independent frame of mind.

In act 2, scene 7, we start to see what Julia’s made of. The same ardor which drove her to her abusive treatment of Lucetta is better channeled into a scheme to dress up as a boy and travel to Milan, all to surprise Proteus. In this day and age, it doesn’t really seem like much, but for a woman of Julia’s age and position, it’s actually a very bold and dangerous idea. It is here that we become fully aware of Julia’s passion: unlike Proteus, her feelings do not change after a moment’s notice. Also, unlike Proteus, she is not tied to her home, and afraid to leave (because, no matter how much Proteus lingering in Verona is chalked up to his love for Julia, I really have to think that part of it was not being ready to grow up and venture into the world). Julia shows here her adventurous spirit, as well as a practical bent – she plans her journey, maps out a route, formulates a disguise (and even goes so far as to formulate a disguise which allows her to keep her long, feminine hair. I can respect that sort of prioritizing in a girl.) Her spirit here is more typical masculine than Proteus’ – her virtues are a bold nature, inventiveness, passion, and methodological nature; her flaws are the same passion, and an impatience which drives her to seek out Proteus. She is not content to sit about and let life happen to her; like it or not, Julia shows herself as a woman that is in charge of her own destiny.

In addition to her bravery, Julia’s actually quite witty and strong. She happens upon a circumstance that would crush a lesser woman – she arrives in Milan to find Proteus has completely abandoned her and is now head over heels in love with Silvia. This sucks for her. For whatever reason (probably to torture herself by being near him. That seems just about right for someone actually in love) Julia sticks around and enters into Proteus’ employ as her doppelganger, Sebastian. Even though she is crushed and dejected; even though she has risked her reputation on this journey, Julia still manages to be amusingly witty. I’ve been heartbroken a time or two, and I really respect a woman who can keep up on her quips and wordplay while she’s watching the guy she loves serenade some chick he just met.

Of course, it doesn’t end well. That’s one of the most frustrating things about this play – throughout this whole play, Julia is the strong, intelligent, passionate woman. Like most strong, intelligent, passionate people she can be a little bit obnoxious at times, but she seems like the kind of person you’d actually want to get to know. She chooses her destiny and she pursues it… but, then, once she realizes that Proteus is actually a total fucking douchebag, she does nothing. Moreover, she leaps back into his arms after he goes so far as to try and rape Silvia in front of her. It’s mind numbingly frustrating, but, even at that, somewhat realistic. Julia is the half of the couple where you’re constantly asking yourself, why is she with this guy? Does Shakespeare think that all strong, independent women deserve to end up with spineless douchebags? (In all seriousness, this is the idea that makes the most sense to me… in a twisted way, he might think that a woman who’s like a man deserves someone like the worst stereotype of a weak fickle woman).

In conclusion, Julia is the shit. She is a cool, strong, decisive woman who’s not afraid of dressing up in drag and going out into the forest. In a play full of otherwise flat characters, she is one of only a few standouts. Even though I have yet to complete my tour through the giant red book of complete Shakespeare, she’s already one of my favorite female characters (favorite meaning ones that I would like to go out for a drink with. I may think Goneril and Regan are well written, but I hardly want to have a margarita and dish with them.) It’s just a shame that she has to end up with captain idiot, but it could be worse. She could be a woman in a tragedy…

Two Gentlemen of Verona, or Why Proteus is a Douchebag (Summary)

I have never before read Two Gentleman of Verona. This will probably shock and appall most of you, since I'm clearly the type of hyper literate person who should have very definitive four syllable opinions about these plays before I even start reading. However, it had never come my way before, and in the event that anyone similarly ignorant (or anyone at all) is reading this, I'll give a quick rundown of the plot and move on to more detailed issues in my following posts.

1. There are two dudes, Proteus and Valentine. They are bffs and live in Verona. As we start the play, Valentine is going to Milan to serve the Duke and seek fortune. This is like the modern day equivalent of getting a job as some sort of junior analyst at Goldman Sachs - simultaneously impressive and exactly what's expected of the son of a presumably wealthy enough dude. Proteus has decided that he would rather stay about Verona and obsess over Julia. He's bright enough to admit to it, but in that sort of self satisfied way where you just know he's secretly proud of being the sixteenth century version of a whiny stoner living in his parents' basement.

2. Julia is kind of a bitch about a letter Proteus wrote her. Long story short, she's got an Anna Wintour sort of attitude with her maids, and, after a lot of attitude, loves Proteus.

3. Proteus' father, Antonio, becomes the first sensible character in this play since Valentine. Proteus so obviously embodies the modern day child who comes home from college and watches all his friends start leading adult lives while he cluelessly but happily moves back into his old bedroom, keeps his part time job at Radio Shack and falls obsessively in love with high school girls. At this conjecture, Antonio tells Proteus to cut the shit, and go to Milan. This is like when your parents finally set up an interview with some very important friend, put you in a suit and drive you to the office. Hilariously enough, this happens right as Proteus is about to show his dad evidence of Julia's love. He does not end up doing so, of course, because Proteus has no balls.

4. Upon arrival in Milan, Proteus meets up with Valentine. Valentine proceeds to tell Proteus that now HE has fallen in love with the Duke's daughter, Silvia, who is, of course, meant to marry a rich idiot. Valentine then confides in Proteus a Rapunzel like elopement plan involving Valentine, Silvia, a high tower and "corded ladder" (quoted for no other reason than I find the phrase "corded ladder" pleasing).

* This is a very important point in the plot. If you've been skimming, please skim a little slower for like 2.4 seconds*

It is now that Proteus casts off his mantle of kind of pathetic self indulgent loser, and proudly crosses the threshold into out and out cocksucker douchebag. Upon seeing Silvia for the first time, he forgets about Julia, Verona, his parents' basement and the tiny corner of his heart unsullied by whining and sulking. In short, he falls in love with Silvia, and without hesitation, tells her father of the elopement plan, screwing over Valentine.

If that all went by a little too fast, please read this explanation through one more time - upon meeting the girl his best friend from childhood on has fallen in love with, Proteus forgets entirely about the woman he's promised himself too (and wasted months mooning over), falls in love with this new chickadee, and proceeds to destroy not only his friend's happiness, but also any chance of growth of honor or position in the court of Milan for Valentine.

Proteus is a fucking douche.

Now let's fast forward a bit, since you're all probably getting sick of all these words.

Valentine is banished, joins a group of outlaws and stays in the forest. Julia dresses up like a boy to adventure to Proteus, and joins his employ, finding out his betrayal and his love for Silvia. In turn, Silvia proves herself a pretty awesome chick by staying true to Valentine and giving Proteus the crap he deserves.

Silvia tries to elope with Valentine, things get confused, she runs into the woods, and Proteus follows her, Julia (disguised as Proteus' faithful male page Sebastian) follows. Apparently, since he hasn't been enough of a prick, Proteus decides that he's sick of Silvia's crap, and starts to make the move to rape her. Or, I'm sorry, "force thee yield to me desire".

Of course, Valentine is lurking in the trees, jumps out and rescues Silvia. Julia reveals herself and Proteus realizes that he still loves her (or possibly that it's time to cut his losses), Silvia's father grants his approval to Valentine, and everyone gets married and lives next door to each other and names their children after each other.

It's a very neat ending, and far more than Proteus deserves. It's also far less than Julia, who turns out to be pretty awesome, deserves. Also, let's not forget that Silvia's probably going to be having dinner parties with the guy that stalked her into the woods and tried to rape her for the foreseeable future.

While everyone nominally gets what they want, you have to be a little relieved that the play stops where it does, because I really can't imagine Proteus being a good husband, or the friendship continuing, or Valentine not freaking out when it finally hits him that his best friend betrayed him and tried to rape his fiancee.

To follow: elaboration on the characters of Silvia and Julia and why they're even more awesome than the usually lauded Shakespearean females, discussion of what exactly Valentine sees in Proteus and how neatly this comedy mirrors the modern day coming of age experience for both men and women. Til then, fuck Proteus.