Science!

I love science. Today, after a tough-but-good day at school that involved finally giving assigned seats to one of my tougher classes (staking my territory, you know), I got to talk about science for an hour with one of my colleagues (now friend). Evolutionary theory, cancer research. I love this stuff. I love talking about it. I forget that sometimes.

During yoga this evening, I came up with an alternate history for the origin of hot yoga. If you didn't know, hot yoga is yoga in a room that is heated to 105 degrees. I don't know why I do it. It's terrible in a somehow refreshing sort of way. It's like cleaning the apartment. It isn't so bad, but I'll put it off forever, and hate doing it, but feel really accomplished afterwards.

I imagine the history is as follows: Some old Indian yogi was teaching yoga to some American guys in the northeast, maybe Connecticut. Let's say it was Bridgeport. This was back when yoga was first coming to this country. At the end of the first lesson, the yogi was very unhappy. See, where he comes from, it is India. It is always blindingly hot and sweaty. Here in Bridgeport, it was cold. He was not used to it, and it made his muscles ache. So, he turns to the two tired, hot, and sweaty Americans and says, "Screw this, we need heat in here. Bridgeport is too cold for yoga." And the Americans, exhausted and with sweat dripping from their chins, stared at the yogi incredulously. Thus, hot yoga was born.

Nah, it's not really that bad.