One Last Pike!

Last week, our Physical Education teacher Pilates instrucThor took advantage of his last chance to make us go through hell experience the most agonizing positions he could think of, and he really outdid himself in his sadism.

Tuesday had him grinning like a mad scientist witnessing his very own Frankenstein-inspired creations students perform what was probably the most intense workout he had devised. Come Thursday, his low, rumbling laughter was all but ready to spill out as the poor students carried, tugged, or dragged each other across the floor and slid along without stepping out of the boundaries of three separate paper plates. I couldn’t resist that second serving of strawberry ice cream, but I shouldn’t have had those two butterscotch bars.

How’s that for a closing party?

Those last two sessions actually pretty much characterized all of the thirty-two hour-long sessions we had – perpetual sadism from our instructor as we go through the warm ups until the cool downs, interspersed with encouragements and constructive criticism, grunts of effort, and echoing cries as we tortured ourselves and strengthened our muscles. Staying awake during the relaxation part of our cool down exercises take conscious effort. And the following day, good luck with getting out of bed and going through the day without screaming in pain.

It isn’t even a week since our last class, but I find that I miss it already. Yes, I’m a masochist. I know. I am planning to continue with Pilates even after the class has finished as soon as I get to swim out of the papers I find myself drowning in, but doing it on your own and doing it with a class are still different. There’s a certain sense of solidarity when you hear others struggling with you, and a bigger feeling of satisfaction when you, as a group, succeed in doing a pose or survive three minutes’ worth of Prayer Planks – which is basically bracing your forearms against the ground for support and holding your whole body in a stiff diagonal position and not letting your body sag to the ground, with a leg up for a variation of the torture.

This class was also the reason I put up this blog in the first place. Don’t worry though, I plan to continue messing with your sanity and keep this collection of my musings, anecdotes, fanfiction, and most other things that pass through my head and survive the night.

Though if you continue reading this, I can’t guarantee that your sanity will.

 

 

 

All Pepped Up

Another entry for Pilates class though it has absolutely no relation to the exercise whatsoever.

So no, this isn’t the fanfic update that I’ve been talking about for so long. I hope nobody tortures me for this.

Just this Monday, we attended our university pep rally to show our support to the various varsity teams for the upcoming season. It was an event in which we could rally together and cheer on the athletes, and see them perform amazing numbers onstage for us. Because the students were talented like that. The event started sometime after 3PM, and lasted somewhere around an hour and a half to two hours. And let me tell you: The ticket was well worth it.

Held at the University Film Center, the lighting and other effects were superb as expected. There were times when the audio failed, possibly due to the overexcited athletes tripping over the wires (which, if you think about it, is rather ironic considering how graceful and skilled they move in their respective fields) as they scurried from one end of the stage to another without trying to be seen.

I’ll be completely honest and say that I didn’t really expect the quality of performances this year; having seen last year’s pep rally — which consisted mostly of line dances and other similar mass performances that looked almost impromptu I’m so mean — I was expecting something along those lines. Also, taking into account the limited time they were able to practice (classes started on the thirteenth of June), I can’t help but be surprised at how well their performances went.

Scratch that. My jaw was hanging open by the time the Fencing Team was done with their performance.

I think you would too, if a whole team of lean yet muscled fencers complete with hot girls was in front of you and you started seeing a band of black showing above a steadily lowering  pure white garter line.

The other performances were amazing too. UP Street, which is said to be competing in a worldwide street dance competition sometime this year, was downright amazing. The movements were executed cleanly and precisely, blending well with the mix of music used. Together with the lights and the fog, the whole pep rally was really a sight to behold and a wonder to listen to.

And damn, I just realized how much I really miss dancing.

An Introduction to Pilates

All right. I just realized that I skipped the introduction of Pilates and skipped right to the not-so-formal-and-rule-abiding essay. To further familiarize my victims readers with the torture joy that is Pilates, here’s a little background information of the art, as imparted to us by our instructor, as well as a little unnecessary information about how I ended up giving myself this torture with my current PE.

When I first signed up for the class, I had absolutely no knowledge of what Pilates was really about. It just so happened that I remembered my cousin mentioning that she taught yoga, which struck me as peculiar because I had known her to have back problems. I thought, “Wouldn’t those weird postures aggravate them?” Then I thought about Pilates, which even then, I thought to be a variant of yoga without the creepy twists and backbreaking postures.

Of Pilates and Ego

We come in a single, tightly bound package, Procrastination and I.

We’re twins, actually; I was born a handful of hours before he even poked out his highly appealing head. But I have this feeling that, though I’m older, he seems to be the more dominant one.

Take for example this post.

The Pilates-related articles from my class will officially start to be interspersed with my fanfics and other random posts. (To those of you waiting for it, I’ll post the first chapter of the one set in the HP-verse sometime next week. And it’ll be long. Honest.) Actually it — you guessed it — should have been seen with my other posts since a few days ago. But, oh, you know, my twin can be very persuasive when he wants to be — and he always is. He managed to convince me to stay in bed, oncoming flu notwithstanding. (I have been known to be more jittery than a ferret in heat even when my temperature reached thirty-nine degrees Celsius. Don’t look at me like that. I like Draco ferrets.)

So it’s been established that in this post, I have to write about flexibility enhancing, core muscle strengthening, generally enjoyable Pilates. Which is fine, by the way, as I find the experience a fine blend of frustrating and relaxing. But here’s the thing: aside from the deadline — which no thanks to lousy internet and trying to salvage several loaves of bread and turning them into pudding (yes, I can actually cook), has already passed for me — and having absolutely no idea what and how to write, I have a problem.

A Procrastinator’s Resolution

I’m such a procrastinator.

It took me twelve days after it was announced to actually create and maintain a blog site, in spite of how easy WordPress (ass kissing, anyone?) makes it for us amateur bloggers. See, I have this class. It’s a pretty fun class — yes, even the burning sensation of your core muscles after several sets of Pilates exercises (here too!) — that also required us to keep a blog. As I’m not exactly sure if said blog should contain posts exclusively related to that class, I’m also rather making use of the opportunity to my benefit. Or my (former — are there still any left after my three-year long hiatus?) readers’, if you look at it like that. Besides the Pilates-related things I shall be putting here, I shall also be posting several of my old works and hopefully continue from where I left off.

I’m such a bad author.

You see, I’m a frustrated fanfiction writer, and last time I posted a chapter, I promised my readers a two-month long hiatus for me to be able to fix the mess I have made of my story, at the same time leaving them with a cliffhanger. Oh gawd, I’m such a horrid author. After all, I couldn’t just keep putting in scenes that could not be borne from previous chapters, or putting in situations that are so out of context with no prior scenes backing their possibility of happening. I could only deal with seeing so many plot holes from my writing when I was in, say, fourth or sixth grade, and yet I have gotten too emotionally attached to my works to actually scrap them and start over. Which I ended up doing anyway. Yes, that’s how bad it was.

Or rather, they were. Plural.

Oh, my eyes. So many floating and flying scenes.

The shame.

But I digress.

Going back to my (utterly horrid) authorship of several long-since-been-updated works. Well, those two months ended up being two years, and then getting extended for another year. I swear, the zombie apocalypse won’t be brought about by any freak experiments; just attending college will do that to you. But now that I’m in the first semester of my second year, and I have (hopefully) and am adjusting quite well to the demands of the catalyst for a zombie apocalypse, I will start writing again.

Scratch that. I should. For my classes, for my readers, and for the sake of what’s left of my sanity. And hopefully, I can redirect some of my readers here and have them forgive me for being such a bloody creep twat swot procrastinating author. Ah well, I know my wonderful readers all have hearts as pure as snow and would easily pass off my three-year absence as a grossly enormous lack of sense of time. (And yet more ass kissing over here! I’m all for squeaky clean derrieres after all. Not. You do know I’m kidding, right?)

I am such a shameless bastard.