Anonymous Yogi

My shins sweat.

I was in what seemed like my millionth downward dog in yoga class today and noticed the tiny beads of sweat forming on my shins.  Okay, who am I kidding.  They were not tiny beads.  I've vowed to always be honest with you...  They were streams of glistening body juice running down my legs, arms and face.  I giggled to myself and thought... I need to blog about this.  

So here I am.  Returning to the warm feeling of keys beneath my fingers and the soft glow of the computer screen on my face.  It's like feeling the sun finally come out on what's been a cloudy morning.  It's a long, deep stretch down to your toes that you haven't done in ages.  It's a yawn big enough it can make you sneeze.

Existence as an actor is this weird thing where you're constantly in limbo... working day in and day out in a side job to pay the bills while waiting for your "real" job to take off.  You put a normal life, and it's normal milestones, on hold while you hustle after an elusive career.  You try to maintain hobbies and a social life so you can experience some semblance of normalcy, but sometimes it feels like you're just trying to keep yourself busy and distracted from that nagging inner worry that your break will never come.  It's a tough existence to maintain.  Sometimes the hustle takes over, sometimes the distractions do.  I don't know if that's just life, a normal cycle of waning and waxing of the internal drive, or if it's my own particular demon to battle.  Either way, I'm finally emerging from a waning period. 

Life has come at me hard over the last few months.  Struggles in my personal life, particularly the financial kind, robbed me of a significant amount of motivation.  I needed a little mental break, and I took it.  I've been operating at a kind of half-capacity for a few months.  But I needed it... and half-capacity is better than zero capacity.    

Another truth, readers... I went and got my heart broken.  Not the heart break of the constant rejection and brick walls of Hollywood.  That I'm used to and can take in stride and let roll off my back.  I mean the real, honest-to-goodness falling out of love kind.  You know what I mean, it happens to everyone at some point.  In the end, I'm grateful for it as it has lead me directly into the arms of what's turning out to be my next great love... the practice of yoga.  Yep...  I've turned into one of those cliche, mat-carrying, warrior-posing actresses that fill up little studios every morning all over this town.  

(Polite pause while you uncrinkle your nose at the thought.)

Give me some credit though!!  I don't wear makeup to class and dear god...  I vehemently refuse to pay $68 for a Lululemon tank top I'm just going to drench with sweat in ten minutes.  I also will not be caught dead saying things like, "OMG I had, like, six gummy bears this morning.  I'm sooo fat."  "You're so not!  Hey, by the way, did you ever hear back from that one producer-guy?"

Blech!  I hear that conversation happening around me every time I stand in line for coffee.

But guess what... I love the mat.  In yoga, we are taught to bring the focus back to our breath.  To slow down and focus on ourselves and our centers.  It could be just all that twisting and stretching, but my internal fire has been reignited.  Not only has it helped me and my sweaty shins deal with the lingering emotions at the end of a grand love affair, it's also getting this little booty into camera shape.  Which is excellent because I just filmed another commercial today, I signed with a new publicist who is bringing in film offers and I have two awards shows coming up in the next two months.  Things are heating up and getting sweaty here... and it ain't from my Chaturanga Dandasana.

Wanna come?  I'm bringing you with me.  Let's go give this town a little hell.