The great thing about being young is the lack of responsibilty one has when partying hard. As inhibitions are thrown out the window, recklessness...es...ity is welcomed. Because when you don't really think about the consequences of your actions, you're much more likely to have fun, fall in love, relax, have an adventure, or at the very least, laugh. But the bad thing about being young? The lack of funds.
Friday morning, I got a call from a Mexican tile company asking if I was interested in a sales posistion with their company. The truth was, I was a bit cash-poor, and since man can not live on credit alone, I went in for an interview. When I got there, I found out my assistance was not needed, as they had already hired the first candidate they interviewed. Depressed, I went to the mall to buy myself a little happy, and ended up at a party.
That night, in a hotel room by the freeway, I was ready to forget my gruesome day and so I toasted the night away with an assortment drinks and an assortment of friends. Everyone was bumpin' and grindin' to Nelly Furtado's Promiscuous, and having a really good time. No drama or drunken devotions of love...just highly intoxicating-induced fun. And for me, one drink turned into many, and before I knew it, I was sprawled out on a synthetic-fabric down comforter, with a bong in one hand and a shot glass in the other. I was drunkity-drunk-drunk. And high. And starving.
And so I did what any intoxicated-induced individual, in my situation would do...I went shopping for food. A half hour later, with my confident cooking skills (thanks to my blog friend Alicat), my friend Miguel and I were in the hotel kitchen, preparing to make the world's best tuna-fish pasta salad ever. It was yellow. It was smelly. And it was so good. Or at least I remember it being good. The morning after, my stomach told me a different story, and I had to agree that the contents of the cuisine from the previous night was not agreeable. I was sick, and still depressed about the whole interview thing.
So Miguel called me up and asked if I would be interested in attending a Hasya Yoga class with him and our friend Blake. I wasnt exactly sure if my friends were speaking English, or if they were sober, so I went along to find out. It turns out Hasya Yoga, or as it's more commonly known, Laughing Yoga, was a form of exercise that helped to improve your health and well-being, by laughing. According to the instructor, Mrs. Christine, the average child laughs at almost anything and everything, up to 300-400 times a day while the average adult only laughs about 15 times, if that. It's been proven that laughter is a cure for many things, like depression, aches and pains, stress, suicidal tendencies, mood swings and even loss of sexual drive. I wasnt so sure how laughter would help with my depression or the person who was sexually incompetent, (because when you think about it, isnt laughter, the last thing they need?) or how the class would manage with a broken AC, but I figured it was all worth a shot.
Twenty two beads of sweat on my mat later, I was laughing with my new friend Doris in our Hasya-turned-Bikrim-Yoga class. The heat had opened my pores and an entire night of mixed drinks began to seep out of me! Which would have been embarassing, had it been only me, but thanks to Miguel and Blake who smelled like vodka stingers, and Doris, who smelled like gin martinis, it wasnt. As we stretched out and shared our Ho-Ho's and Ha-Ha's, Doris also shared with me that she was taking the class, in hopes that her new approach to a good life, would help her approach a good man. Her last three relationships were all disasters (incarcerated, gay, missing), but Doris was not gonna give up. She was a true life trooper and decided that it was better to laugh at life, than to be spend all her time hating it and mising it.
Which really was an inspiration to all. In life, there are certain events that are just beyond our control and out of our reach. As Mark Twain once said, "Everyone complains about the weather, but nobody does anything about it." True, we could just bitch and moan when life doesnt go our way, but maybe the best any of us can do is not give up, play the hand we've been dealt, and laugh with everything we've got.
Friday morning, I got a call from a Mexican tile company asking if I was interested in a sales posistion with their company. The truth was, I was a bit cash-poor, and since man can not live on credit alone, I went in for an interview. When I got there, I found out my assistance was not needed, as they had already hired the first candidate they interviewed. Depressed, I went to the mall to buy myself a little happy, and ended up at a party.
That night, in a hotel room by the freeway, I was ready to forget my gruesome day and so I toasted the night away with an assortment drinks and an assortment of friends. Everyone was bumpin' and grindin' to Nelly Furtado's Promiscuous, and having a really good time. No drama or drunken devotions of love...just highly intoxicating-induced fun. And for me, one drink turned into many, and before I knew it, I was sprawled out on a synthetic-fabric down comforter, with a bong in one hand and a shot glass in the other. I was drunkity-drunk-drunk. And high. And starving.
And so I did what any intoxicated-induced individual, in my situation would do...I went shopping for food. A half hour later, with my confident cooking skills (thanks to my blog friend Alicat), my friend Miguel and I were in the hotel kitchen, preparing to make the world's best tuna-fish pasta salad ever. It was yellow. It was smelly. And it was so good. Or at least I remember it being good. The morning after, my stomach told me a different story, and I had to agree that the contents of the cuisine from the previous night was not agreeable. I was sick, and still depressed about the whole interview thing.
So Miguel called me up and asked if I would be interested in attending a Hasya Yoga class with him and our friend Blake. I wasnt exactly sure if my friends were speaking English, or if they were sober, so I went along to find out. It turns out Hasya Yoga, or as it's more commonly known, Laughing Yoga, was a form of exercise that helped to improve your health and well-being, by laughing. According to the instructor, Mrs. Christine, the average child laughs at almost anything and everything, up to 300-400 times a day while the average adult only laughs about 15 times, if that. It's been proven that laughter is a cure for many things, like depression, aches and pains, stress, suicidal tendencies, mood swings and even loss of sexual drive. I wasnt so sure how laughter would help with my depression or the person who was sexually incompetent, (because when you think about it, isnt laughter, the last thing they need?) or how the class would manage with a broken AC, but I figured it was all worth a shot.
Twenty two beads of sweat on my mat later, I was laughing with my new friend Doris in our Hasya-turned-Bikrim-Yoga class. The heat had opened my pores and an entire night of mixed drinks began to seep out of me! Which would have been embarassing, had it been only me, but thanks to Miguel and Blake who smelled like vodka stingers, and Doris, who smelled like gin martinis, it wasnt. As we stretched out and shared our Ho-Ho's and Ha-Ha's, Doris also shared with me that she was taking the class, in hopes that her new approach to a good life, would help her approach a good man. Her last three relationships were all disasters (incarcerated, gay, missing), but Doris was not gonna give up. She was a true life trooper and decided that it was better to laugh at life, than to be spend all her time hating it and mising it.
Which really was an inspiration to all. In life, there are certain events that are just beyond our control and out of our reach. As Mark Twain once said, "Everyone complains about the weather, but nobody does anything about it." True, we could just bitch and moan when life doesnt go our way, but maybe the best any of us can do is not give up, play the hand we've been dealt, and laugh with everything we've got.
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