Change. Transform. Breathe. Live.
I’ve been thinking about this thing I want to do for the past 7 months or so. This ‘thing’ that I want to do WILL cost me money [oodles and poodles of it], time [9 weeks to be exact], travel [to Palm Springs, California] and leaving a workplace / industry whereby late nights are a norm, drinking and smoking up in search of ‘creativity’ is to be expected.
Basically, I’m sick of feeling sick. I am sick of feeling even more tired when I wake up. I hate it when my carpal tunnel rears its ugly head again whilst I try to quickly churn out copy after copy for clients, I hate staying up till 2,3,4am in an attempt to hopefully sell the client our idea, which will then be used to sell their products to you, my fellow reader. I have had enough of being called crap by my boss. I am disheartened that some people think that staying late into the night at the office is a cool thing to do [“I stayed till 5am dude!”]. I fear for the young talents who come joining this industry expecting glitz and glamour and get nothing of that.
I want to be a Bikram Yoga instructor.
I can hear someone incredulously screeching “WHAT?!”, maybe someone else is spitting coffee / whisky all over the monitor.
I now hear “Why’d you want to leave an industry that you’ve only been working in for THREE years? Maybe you should go work somewhere else; maybe your current boss can’t teach you anything; maybe your boss is just a jerk, you’ll meet nicer people along the way”.
Yes, I’ve only been a copywriter for 3 years [and won an award or two along the way, but really, it’s icing on the cake].
Yes, maybe I should join a bigger agency and learn a few tricks of the writing trade along the way.
Yes, maybe my boss is a jerk who deserves to hold Awkward 2nd part for 3 minutes.
But I still remain disillusioned. Jaded even, if you will. Only after 3 years.
It was last year when I found myself in the hot room. I’ve been practicing yoga for 4 years, and I expected to do the same old same old postures in a heated room. Boy oh boy was I sorely mistaken. In my very first class, I fell on my ass once [during Standing Separate Leg], wobbled and toppled out of postures plenty of times and gaped like a fish for fresh air.
And I loved it.
If copywriting fed my body [copywriting = get a pay check = buy food = feed the hungry writer!], then Bikram Yoga certainly nourished my soul. Within a few months, I had no more Carpal Tunnel. Sinus? So long, sucker! Weak / wobbly ankles [a by-product of being too flexible is that you tend to have weaker ankles, no thanks to over-flexible tendons and ligaments and what not. Shar Mayne my physio friend, please correct me!], goodbye! Along the way, I’ve also learnt to be more patient [I’m still working on my anger management issues] and not to mention, my tolerance level has shot up. Though driving on Malaysian roads is another matter…
It was September last year that the stray thought of attending Teacher Training [at that time in Mexico] took place in a vacant spot in my head. Pretty easy, really, since I’m such a blonde … Till I got wind of how much it’ll cost me [I calculated a kidney, plus surrogacy for 1.42 couples]. The good news is that Teacher Training has been relocated to California, meaning I’ll pay less for flight, but probably more for food. And I won’t get to habla espaNol.
7 months on, and I’m even more determined to go. If I can’t get a loan from a bank [since I’m going to be jobless in 8 days], and the parental units won’t want to sponsor me [which I’ll pay back, naturally], the last option would be either
a – fundraising.
b – social escort ‘cept that I don’t have the looks, tits, or ass going for me. Although I could probably astound them with a backward bend or an elbow twist …
c – sell my left kidney
d – surrogacy HEEELOOOO stretchmarks and 6 months of no Bikram Yoga.
e – sell my eggs Hello, would you like the genes of a linguist who so happens to be a writer? Blondeness mandatory, blonde hair optional
Here’s hoping that I make it to Palm Springs for Fall 2009 Bikram Yoga Teacher Training. It’ll be 9 weeks in good ol’ USA [I hope visa application won’t be a pain in the nuts], twice a day practising with 300 over yogi/nis from every nook and cranny of the 3rd rock from the sun, and I heard Bikram himself loves to keep students up till the wee hours watching Hindi movies.
*IF* someone decides to fund at least a portion of TT, I’ll name my first child after you. Regardless of gender I can’t imagine a girl named say, Raymond …
p/s : The shitty part about copywriting, may I add, is that I’ve been wrapped up being too many ‘voices’ in one day that I’m starting to lose my sense of identity as a writer…