Waaaaaay back in the beginning of this blog, I mentioned a series of possible career paths. One of which was yoga instructor, which I had tossed out for a variety of reasons. #1 was really that I'd have to spend a month in training, and how was that going to work exactly. I thought about it more, and I talked to the husband about it some, and he was all "You mean, I can live the dream of being married to a yoga instructor? Where do I sign?" So in July I'll be in Toronto attempting to survive Moksha's training program.
It's pretty intensive, 6:30am until 8pm daily. There are two hot yoga classes per day. At the moment, I can barely find time to go to one per week. I may shrivel into nonexistence. I've also got a bunch of books to read.
These books are a bit of an issue. They're a little on the hippie dippy side. Ok ok, I am a little bit hippie - but seriously I'm more on the munchies and free love side of the hippie spectrum. Not so much on the achieving nirvana, weaving flowers in my hair and no longer eating bacon side. The first book wasn't so bad, mostly on paying more attention to your body when doing yoga and not straining or autopiloting. The second one is about daily meditations and affirmations. I don't see myself sitting in the middle of the floor and telling myself "There is no spoon" or whatever (I left the book in the bathroom ok??).
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Return of the Mack
Or something. Haha.
The prof for Cognitive let us do a bonus assignment online to help make up for our collectively crappy marks on the midterm. It was only worth 2%, but I snapped them up. Every point counts, yo. The final was somewhat intimidating as it was in the ginormous gym at the U. There were tons of people there, and I hung my coat on the back of my chair which probably had me under intense scrutiny the whole time. I got to fill in bubbles for the first time in forever. Either I studied harder, understood the content better or the test was just easier. I finished a lot earlier than I had expected considering I was still scrambling as the timer went out on the midterm. I don't have the actual score I received on the exam, but overall I got an A- in the class. Yay.
I've started my next class, it's far more interesting, and we haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet. We're still reading about the history of psychology and it's various (humourously horrifying) approaches to diagnosis and treatment. Every time I imagine that poor Little Albert kid trying to play with his lab rat and some old dude sneaking up behind him with a pair of cymbals I crack up. I wonder how he managed to aquire this kid in the first place.
Friend of Watson's: Honey, I'm going to bring the boy with me over to Watson's for a beer and stuff.
Wife: That's guy's a nutjob. What sort of stuff we talkin' 'bout here?
Friend: Uhh...just playing with rats.
Wife: Rats?? WTF?
Friend: No worries, we're just going to make him deathly afraid of them. Besides, it's the 1920's. Get in the kitchen and make me a pie.
The prof for Cognitive let us do a bonus assignment online to help make up for our collectively crappy marks on the midterm. It was only worth 2%, but I snapped them up. Every point counts, yo. The final was somewhat intimidating as it was in the ginormous gym at the U. There were tons of people there, and I hung my coat on the back of my chair which probably had me under intense scrutiny the whole time. I got to fill in bubbles for the first time in forever. Either I studied harder, understood the content better or the test was just easier. I finished a lot earlier than I had expected considering I was still scrambling as the timer went out on the midterm. I don't have the actual score I received on the exam, but overall I got an A- in the class. Yay.
I've started my next class, it's far more interesting, and we haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet. We're still reading about the history of psychology and it's various (humourously horrifying) approaches to diagnosis and treatment. Every time I imagine that poor Little Albert kid trying to play with his lab rat and some old dude sneaking up behind him with a pair of cymbals I crack up. I wonder how he managed to aquire this kid in the first place.
Friend of Watson's: Honey, I'm going to bring the boy with me over to Watson's for a beer and stuff.
Wife: That's guy's a nutjob. What sort of stuff we talkin' 'bout here?
Friend: Uhh...just playing with rats.
Wife: Rats?? WTF?
Friend: No worries, we're just going to make him deathly afraid of them. Besides, it's the 1920's. Get in the kitchen and make me a pie.
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