Yoga instructor vs. Pilates instructor

I've been teaching at a shitty gym in Brooklyn for a month now. I'm upping my class load, starting to get a small following of devoted beginner yogis and am about ready to roll up my sleeves and come down on the pilates instructor's dome, with fists.

She's a crazy, bipolar, retarded bitch. The first day I taught at the gym, I had an icy interaction with her over the room set up. She wasn't outright rude, but I could tell there was a territorial situation formulating, as she taught the bulk of classes at the gym. Her name is "Fauziya" and she wears ridiculous work-out attire, like really low cut bra tops that show off her low hanging ape tits and short spandex unitards in unorthodox colors, such as all white. I think she wears a wig too. She's busted looking.

The problems with Fauziya began when her classes started to run a little longer than they were supposed to. I teach yoga at 12 p.m. Fauziya teaches a cardio/aerobics class at 10:30 a.m. Her class ends at "11:30 a.m." There are quotes around 11:30 because she rarely ends at 11:30. She usually goes until 11:45 a.m. Sometimes even 11:55 a.m. I usually don't care, except for the time I walked in and the room stunk to high hell like armpit. There wasn't adequate time for the room to air out before my class, so my student's walked into a B.O. sauna. It hit you like a wave. I'd never smelled anything like that. A formidable scent indeed. Stung the nostrils. It annoyed me, but I never said anything to her. I let it slide. Even when she would barge into my class mid session to get something, and make a racket in the process, I wouldn't say anything. I let it go. I figured, as long as she didn't go into my class time it was fine. Then I started going over my class time too. I figured if she could do it, why couldn't I? So I would end class at 1:05 p.m. Sometimes 1:10 p.m. Problem was her pilates class started at 1 p.m. There was no 30 minute gap between. Fauziya started to lose her shit a little. She had words with the front desk boy. She sent him in to do her dirty work.

Sam, the guy who runs the front desk on weekends, let me know she demanded I end class on time. He said she was "very upset" that I went into her class time. She didn't want to tell me herself, so she asked Sam to do it. I was surprised. I never fancied Fauziya a passive aggressive type, but I guess her bark is pretty loud and likely worse than her bite. Meanwhile, she just continued ignoring me when we would pass each other in the gym. So I did the same. And because I'm a decent human being, I was more cautious about ending class on time.

But then sometimes life happens. This past weekend I was running late. To make matters worse the L train was running "express," which is horse shit because the L train never runs express. It skipped my stop and went in two more. I was shitting myself because the trains also happened to be running every 12 minutes as opposed to every 4 minutes. I was already about 10 minutes late. I couldn't wait for another train. I left the subway station in search of a cab. By some grace of God, there happened to be a cab in Brooklyn and I managed to hail it. There are never cabs in Brooklyn. I must stress how miraculous this was. So I got to class about 15 minutes late. All my students waited for me, and I still managed to end the class about 1 p.m., 1:05 p.m. to be exact. I even apologized to Fauziya for my lateness, told her I was sorry I went over a little. She said, "ohh no problem" and walked away. I figured we were on decent terms at that point.

Well today was the first day I taught a Monday class. I gave pretty short notice to all parties involved regarding the change in schedule. So when I approached the aerobics room, I was not surprised to find Fauziya inside, still conducting a class. My students and I waited outside the room patiently until about 8:20 p.m. It didn't look like she was trying to end the class. We wondered whether she knew I was teaching a class 20 minutes ago. Then one thing led to another and we started to discuss her colorful (slutty) wardrobe choices, how she rudely walked into our class every single week, how she was a lousy loud motherfucker, etc. The clock ticked on. 8:25 p.m. One of the students asked if she should alert the front desk. I says, "Sure." Fauziya clearly needed to know the score.

Well Fauziya did not react favorably. Mind you I hadn't said a word to her, but as soon as the front desk guy stepped into her room to ask about her ending time, she flung the door open, stepped outside and looked at me.

"You need to stop having side conversations. I don't appreciate you having your side conversations outside my class. You run your class late every week and I don't ever bother you about it. Do not interrupt me while I'm instructing. You need to respect my class please THANK YOU!"

And with that she slammed the door behind her and went back to teaching pilates. I stood there in amazement. Everything she had just said was just plain crazy.

I didn't run my class late every week. I had not interrupted her class, as she had mine, week after week, when she would walk into my class while it was in session to pick up some weights, or a cardio ball, or some other shit she "forgot." It was obvious this woman was disturbed.

Jason (front desk guy) became incensed and went to call the manager and report what happened. The manager tells him to kick Fauziya out of the room, which I was wary of doing, for we didn't know what she was capable of. Well, Fauziya then flew into a rage, directing the bulk of it at yours truly. She needed little reason to openly hate me.

"I will end my class when I want to end my class! Do not interrupt my class with your side conversations ever again! Respect my class! You do NOT do that to another instructor..."

"I didn't say a WORD to you..."

"You end your classes late every week and I don't bother you about it. You were 20 minutes late last week and I didn't say anything, so I'm gonna end my class when I feel like it. If you don't like it too bad. You can WAIT!"

And with that she re-enters her class where all her students (and mine) have just witnessed the spectacle she put on. I was a little embarrassed for her. She made herself look really stupid, not to mention unprofessional. Not only did she cause an unwarranted and unnecessary scene, but she created a divide between her students and mine, like there's some kind of rivalry between the pilates and yoga people. When her students filed out of the room, there was a couple looks of contempt cast my way, as I was "the enemy." At this point I'm thinking, "Fauziya is middle finger dipped in monster. She's been sent here to destroy me."

I didn't say much to her after that. She seems pretty unstable. Picking a fight with her may not be worth it. She'd be likely to throw a brick through a window in a fit of rage, or slash someones tires; a definite contender for keeping it so real it goes wrong and she lands herself in jail. I don't want any of that. I choose my battles. This one doesn't seem so savory.

As I entered the aerobics room I heard her bellowing at the poor front desk guy, "Jaaaason! GET over here NOW!"

I felt sorry for that guy and he also felt sorry for me. He later confessed she often harassed him sexually, touching him and coming up behind him and loudly saying things that made him feel gross inside. Many of the other employees and members at the gym also expressed a sentiment of disdain toward Fauziya, where they complained of being able to hear her shouting over their headphones, from across the gym. Her aggressive, primitive behaviors are not sitting well with many. She's clearly a problem at Absolute Power Fitness. And now, I have no choice but to destroy her. Her ass is grass...

Going on 4 Months

So I just bought my fourth metro card today.  As I come into being a "New Yorker," albeit a transplant New Yorker, the only logical way to commute is with the monthly unlimited metro card.  I've also starting using my purchase of the monthly metro card as a marker for my time spent here.  I figure I can't throw in the towel on my New York life, at least until I get full use out of my metro card.  Then another month goes by.  And with each new card, the utter lack of familiarity to everything around me in conjunction with the fear surrounding it continues to fade.

When I reflect back on my mindset when I bought my first metro card, I have to smile to myself.  I'd felt like someone had forced me come to this city, while fully aware I was the one who had done so.  There was no one else to blame.  I knew I had no choice but to move here, yet I wasn't exactly enjoying the consequences of my decision.  I was homeless, alone, disoriented, afraid and I did not like it.  I felt like the new girl at school, being kicked out of the bus onto school grounds while crying for her mommy.  For someone who has major issues with assimilating and being the "new girl," this was a big fucking problem.

So I'm not surprised I spent my first day in New York almost entirely indoors.  I didn't want to go outside, to confront the harsh reality of my new world.  I hid in my friend's apartment, beaching myself on her couch, wallowing in fear of what was to come, wishing to avoid it all for as long as possible.  I asked myself why I was there again.  By taking myself out of my comfortable and familiar domain, I came into a new self.  A needy, paralyzed by insecurity and grappled by fear self.  Yucky business.  As a severely proud human being, I was disgusted with the person I had stepped into for that initial period.  It was like a tug of war between the two ensued; completely opposite dimensions to my personality battling it out for ultimate supremacy.  The disparity between who I wanted to believe I was and who I was becoming, really tore me up inside.  Internal conflict is no easy feat.  

I understood this was all part of the process but enduring it is a whole other matter.  Who would win?  Fear or bravery?  At the time I hadn't realized bravery had already won because I was here.  I was uncomfortable and I had single handedly decided to make myself so.  And I stuck around, so far for 4 months.  

Now I understand this was the best decision I could have ever made.  It makes sense being here.  Despite all the miserable aspects to this city, the coldness, the strangeness, the rudeness, I love it.  I don't have much here, in terms of a home of my own or a career.  Never have I been more uncertain of how I would make it, or whom I would eventually become.  And yet, ironically, never have I been more happy.     

Me Me Me

Sometimes adjectives are proportionately interdependent.  Like, older and wiser.  Fast and cheap.  Simple and obvious.  Long and hard.  Quick and dirty.  Mature and selfish as shit?

No.  That one doesn't quite work.  Then why is that the case for me?  Will someone explain this one to my selfish ass?

Once upon a time, as an ignorant, insecure little fuckette, I once dreamt of having a family, and what that would be like.  What names would I give my offspring?  Whom would I marry?  Would I have boys or girls?  Would they look just like me?  Would they act like me?

Yet every year that fantasy would become more and more distant.  And the feelings that came with it became less and less familiar.  I began to grow accustomed to the feeling of NOT being needed.  Not being in love.  Not loving.  It started becoming harder to find love, because the feelings elicited by "love" became less frequent and more difficult to encounter.  The feelings elicited by love weren't necessarily pleasant, I'd come to learn.  Most people weren't worthy of my love.  Most people weren't worth a shit.  And the relationships with those who were worth while, ironically, did not substantiate sincere feelings of love from my side, as evidenced by the previous torturous relationships I'd had.  It was like a cruel joke.  

The closest I started to feel to true love was "self love," which again, ironically, had begun to repair and grow immeasurably since I'd distanced myself from the need for physical feelings of fleeting romance with compromising individuals I'd learned weren't worth while.  So it goes...

This pattern became pretty comfortable.  Sure I felt lonely from time to time.  Sure I often longed for one's caress.  But I also knew what it was to feel lonely when in the company of others, which is lonelier than the number one or two for that matter, and Three Dog Night can go fuck themselves.  Until you lay next to someone and still feel empty and alone as hell, knowing they don't give a damn or can even start to comprehend how palpable your loneliness is, you will soon learn this is the epitome of loneliness.  And the need of having someone in spite of how miserable it is, begins to fade away.  When you grow to know every last dimension of this feeling, you become resistant to compromising it.  Why should you?  You've come this far...

Yet again, as I have encountered, the emotional detachment that comes with this sense of non-reliance can be a little off-putting as well.  The older I become, the more selfish I become.  These are two reciprocal ideas.  Am I not, in theory, supposed to become more giving as I become older?  Have I failed as an evolved human being?  Is this anything like saying I'm becoming older and more stupid, as opposed to wiser?  Or am I actually shrewder than most?  I see those with offspring around me and I can denote how much of their life is actually sacrificed.  Yet the most fascinating feature to this riddle is how these individuals react to the situation.  Some thrive in their role in "parenthood."  Others are broken by the pressures and fail miserably under such responsibility.  And still, there are the few that rise to the occasion, those that are transformed by their newly concocted role of moral citizenship.  People who feel like their creation gave them a new purpose, changed them, made want to be "better."

I theorize that the last subset of people had nothing more to offer to the world than the most base of human contribution; they can spread their legs and breed.  I know that sounds fucked up.  I know many people will become enraged at such a notion, or rather, accusation.  The reason?  It's likely true.  Fuck 'em.  

Is there any other reason we can generally say the population likely breeding at the highest rate is that which lacks the most formal education?  Those who are learned know better, and sadly, as a result are less susceptible to bringing offspring into such a a world.  Furthermore those who are in fact educated and do have children have admittedly expressed regret in doing so, have admonished me against engaging in the same sort of mistake they have.  Word.  Of course, this is but one example.  But it only helps prove my point.  And it is all about me, after all.

Yes, people who have no higher purpose revel the newly found role we call "parenthood" like a dog would in its own feces.  Why do I feel so strongly about this, to the possible point of contention?  Because I am embittered and romantically dead inside.  I admit this is worrisome.  I admit I am one selfish motherfucker.  I can't stand the notion of being needed, if there isn't something in it for me.  If you are not my family or friend and you want something from me, whether it be financial or physical or emotional, you can simply FUCK OFF.  You would then be the enemy, in my greedy little opinion.  Anything needy is thus considered a foe.  Included in this category would be children, pets or unwanted friendships.  My freedom is important to me.  I am resentful of anything or anyone who will impede my progress, anyone who wants to steal my precious time, because if I've learned anything, it's time is too precious.  Do not take this from me.  Or I will cut you.

Of course I am also concerned with the strength of my own violent opposition to neediness of others.  Did I fail to keep a sense of humanity with my growing wisdom?  When did selfishness ever become considered a desirable quality?  Perhaps it's this selfishness that serves to keep me alone.  Perhaps...

The problem with being overtly aware of every fucking misgiving is all my arguments become entirely too circular.  There is no resolution; I can play merry go round my failures all day and never figure it out.  The only conclusion that feels satisfactory because it appeases my ginormous goddamn ego is that I am far too superior, thus misunderstood and this is why I'm in this predicament.  Yet we all know that's a cop out.  But until I really figure my shit out, I'm sticking with it.  A lot of people I know are still there, and refuse to admit it.  Human nature tends to rely on admittance as being the first step in self upheaval, so it contends itself in rolling around in admittance for  a while, because it's unwilling or unable to do anything else.  Much like the dog rolling around in it's own shit, because that was previously such a stunning little visual to keep as a point of reference,  I'll go with it.