Is it telling that I slept on the car ride from Bangalore to Mysore? The last two times, I was wide-eyed, heck, WILD-eyed, sitting on the edge of my seat. Not unlike my dear pooch Sebastian with his head out the window, I couldn’t help but marvel. Everything was so foreign! I had never seen anything like, well, anything I was seeing. It was all so new. It was all so different.
How had some of it become a bit… pass the salt?
I’ve brought a plethora of books to read. Unfortunately, other than a 30 page smattering on the Mirror of Yoga, the only thing I got a really good read of on this trip was the back of my own eyelids.
If all of that extra in-transit sleep hadn’t done me in for a rough morning patch, perhaps my little proto-binary system saw all the zeros, manifested as zzzzz’s, and knew that it was time to send the clatter call buzzer of “1” in short order. I just wish the jarring break in zero’d out bliss hadn’t come at 2:30am, Mysore time.
All things technical, the new registration cycle seems as though it will make things easier on Sharath. Though the que was lengthy, in the long run, I think the threat of no-rolling admissions did a neat trick. That said, I’ve never seen so many folks here to register for practice at once. This seems to have benefited my start times, too. 8am, 7:30, 7:30. I’ve never had this much consistency. Fabulous.
For now, it’ll be a bit of criminal practice on the hotel floor, followed by breakfast. I’ve managed to arrive in time to register and enjoy an immediate moonday. That’s either incredibly auspicious or incredible telling of my own ne’er-do-well ways.
Either way, it’s damn time for a dosa.