Carpe Diem: Finding Yourself in Yoga Pants

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t menus, and then staying up half the night — usually somewhere past midnight — to finish editing, recording, and uploading my videos to the course site. During those first weeks of quarantine, I lost all sense of a regular schedule or any program.Fast forward thirteen weeks later, and I became a professional zombie instructor. I may have looked a bit outlandish, but all tasks got masterfully accomplished. Yoga pants were a necessity, but showers were not. Brushing my teeth was a necessity, but makeup was not.I got pretty good at believing my delusion of conquering self-imposed, although government-regulated, social isolation. After about two and a half months, I decided that quarantine would not be an occupational menace but a chosen way of life. I started making plans for how I would go about improving myself — the 2020s version of a modern renaissance woman and romantic heroine who magically keeps her weight down, with her skin dewy fresh, reads books, takes afternoon naps, and sips tea.<blockquote id="ea3c">B.S. Total B.S.</blockquote>After a while, I started sleeping in my yoga pants, surfing online food delivery menus, and barely walking fifty steps a day. But in the strangeness of it all, and without my wannabe-heroine virtuousness of female-exiled beauty, I not

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iced that I was becoming someone I could respect, and perhaps, even admire. I was more honest about who I was — shortcomings and triumphs. I begin paying attention to the news in a more meaningful way, weighing people’s intent more than their avarice. “Even shallow people have feelings,” I thought. And I forgive, but I don’t forget<blockquote id="ac2b">What people say matters. And what people do… matters more.</blockquote>Having that time of social distancing and self-isolation allowed me to think about what mattered to me and why I do what I do. The truth is that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m in New York because it’s where I chose to be. I can pretend that coming to this city was my only option, but the truth is that I had a desire to leave behind a painful past in which I denied myself the chance to be a person, without makeup, fluff, or pretense.I listen more to what people have to say. People speak more plainly and honestly than they did before.We all know this pain.Now, there is something refreshing about the woman whose reflection I see staring back at me in the screen of my ever dirty laptop, waiting patiently for this mandatory Zoom spectacle — and every other virtual meeting, here and after that — to be over.</article></body>

What I really learned about being quarantined in a city of millions.

When I first went into mandatory quarantine, or whatever you’d like to call it, I was happy. I’ll admit it: I was content to take some time off from my hectic schedule, demanding vocation, and from people who made life more challenging than it needed to be. However, at first, everything was a bit nightmarish. Once I started remote teaching, I promptly stopped getting any rest, particularly regarding falling asleep at a standard time.

And you would think having asynchronous lectures would have made things more manageable, but it did not. In fact, recording my workshops for students left me more time to procrastinate during the day via watching Netflix, researching loungewear, looking over online take-out menus, and then staying up half the night — usually somewhere past midnight — to finish editing, recording, and uploading my videos to the course site. During those first weeks of quarantine, I lost all sense of a regular schedule or any program.

Fast forward thirteen weeks later, and I became a professional zombie instructor. I may have looked a bit outlandish, but all tasks got masterfully accomplished. Yoga pants were a necessity, but showers were not. Brushing my teeth was a necessity, but makeup was not.

I got pretty good at believing my delusion of conquering self-imposed, although government-regulated, social isolation. After about two and a half months, I decided that quarantine would not be an occupational menace but a chosen way of life. I started making plans for how I would go about improving myself — the 2020s version of a modern renaissance woman and romantic heroine who magically keeps her weight down, with her skin dewy fresh, reads books, takes afternoon naps, and sips tea.

B.S. Total B.S.

After a while, I started sleeping in my yoga pants, surfing online food delivery menus, and barely walking fifty steps a day. But in the strangeness of it all, and without my wannabe-heroine virtuousness of female-exiled beauty, I noticed that I was becoming someone I could respect, and perhaps, even admire. I was more honest about who I was — shortcomings and triumphs. I begin paying attention to the news in a more meaningful way, weighing people’s intent more than their avarice. “Even shallow people have feelings,” I thought. And I forgive, but I don’t forget

What people say matters. And what people do… matters more.

Having that time of social distancing and self-isolation allowed me to think about what mattered to me and why I do what I do. The truth is that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m in New York because it’s where I chose to be. I can pretend that coming to this city was my only option, but the truth is that I had a desire to leave behind a painful past in which I denied myself the chance to be a person, without makeup, fluff, or pretense.

I listen more to what people have to say. People speak more plainly and honestly than they did before.

We all know this pain.

Now, there is something refreshing about the woman whose reflection I see staring back at me in the screen of my ever dirty laptop, waiting patiently for this mandatory Zoom spectacle — and every other virtual meeting, here and after that — to be over.