Feel the flow

It was 19-NAUGHTY-5 on my drive in to work today. I was feelin the flow, clappin my hands, holdin my shorty, and thinking about how I got accepted into massage therapy school yesterday.

Granted, getting "accepted" into an institution whose application includes the question "Name as you'd like it to appear on your diploma" is not exactly a hard thing to do (though I hear Harvard's contains a similar question), there is a bit more to it than holding up a mirror for signs of breath (which is what my brother-in-law supposed was their method of screening). It was more like this: after they put the mirror away, I had to read a paragraph about muscles and how they work and answer questions about it. FIVE questions. Based on that and other questions about why I want to pursue bodywork, etc they accepted me on the spot into their program (whew!). Classes begin this evening.

So I bought twin bed sized flannel sheets for the practice sessions, cut my fingernails, and got my anatomy coloring book (which seems like a lot of fun until you see that it weighs about ten pounds and provides way less diagrams of genitalia than you'd hoped for). Nonetheless, I am super excited about it. It's a four month program, part-time, and will not interfere with my full-time gig.

Driving in to said full-time gig and singing "feel the flow" it occurred to me that that's what I was going to get to do in massage therapy, which is really all about energy flow and healing. Plus, this program teaches tai-chi as the basis of movement while giving a massage...you can't get much more flowy than that. My life will be one of peace and harmony and--if I keep up with the Naughty by Nature--lots more singing about poontang, tang for e'erbody!