About Me

For the last week I’ve been trying to figure out what to write about. Questions like “ what do people want to read?” “what do they need to know about yoga?” popped into my head. I think I texted about 5 different people for their opinions.( Thank you, by the way. You all had great ideas) When I realized, the reason I started this whole thing was for me. But you know, I listen to an awesome podcast pretty much everyday about “branding yourself, finding your dream client” and all that jazz, so sometimes it’s hard for me to turn that business brain off. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that, but sometimes I can almost build a trap for myself.  This blog’s whole purpose is for me to have a creative outlet. That means that sometimes I will write meaningful, informative stuff and sometimes I might just be literally dumping my brain out so that I can make room for all the other shit that is floating around in my head.About Me

So for this post I’ll do my own version of an, “about me” post. First off, I hate writing about myself. Why? Because how I see me is not how you see me, so it feels silly to even write about me, since you have your own version of me. Get it? I also don’t like to post my accomplishments because part of me feels like I should also add my failures so you get the whole picture, and I’m not usually in the mood to talk about what didn’t work out. Yes, I know all the failures make you grow and all that, but I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve dealt with it and I’ve moved on. And anyway, why does it matter what I’ve done? Really shouldn’t I be more focused on who I am? If that’s the case than I don’t even know where to begin because each day I’m a different person. That may sound a little too “woo” to some of you, but it’s the truth.

So here is an about me for today:

I was a cleanly person.

I was a decently nice person.

I had an attitude.

I was a writer.

I wrote this blog. I deleted 3 others.

I was unsure of myself.

I was full of myself.

I planned out my week.

I erased my plan.

I texted my dad.

I didn’t call my mom.

I was happy.

I was sad.

I was confused.

I was grateful.

This post is dedicated to Christy, who reminded me that when you try to hold a fart in it just amplifies it.