I woke up at 6am hungry. I went to bed without having had dinner, and I prepared a salad with four eggs I had boiled over the weekend. I would have eaten something more convenient, but that's the secret to my leanness, inconvenience sets the bar higher for hunger to overcome inconvenience so I have nothing convenient to eat at home (though sometimes—like my mother—I rely on fruit to satisfy my hunger.

My mother and my sister are coming to visit in two weeks. In Spain, if you receive visitors from your country and they're staying home, you're supposed to go to the police office and ask for a permission. The problem is that appointment required me to change my address with the government first, since I am registered as living with V. (from the two weeks she hosted me when I arrived to Madrid, and I needed to be registered in order to start working). It's this first appointment where, for several weeks, I attempted to book one without success. Even having a proper address, the paperwork from the police would take two months. It's so ridiculous and I feel no shame in writing I will produce a false hotel reservation to circumvent this requirement.

My mother will be staying all of December. I'm a bit concerned I'll be at work during much of the time, but my mother holds work sacred and she will be understanding, it's her restlessness that I'm concerned about. Surely she will get lost at least once, the fortunate thing is that I live near good reference points and by asking people on the street it will be easy to reach a reference point from where she can trace back her way home, since she doesn't use maps (yet).

This morning I debated whether to go to Mysore class, it starts at 6:45am and the class is instructed by one of my favorite teachers, an unassuming small guy which hides a fit body under his clothes and has a great practice. Mysore classes are different in that they are self-practice and everyone begins their practice at different times, the teacher walks around the room adjusting whatever the practitioner is doing. In theory I should like this kind of practice, self-directed yet assisted, but in practice I don't flow as well as in a led class. Since I chose not to go, I chose to sit down to write instead.

Yesterday they updated the schedule at my yoga studio. Three of my regular classes were rescheduled earlier, at a time when it's impossible for me to leave work. I wrote the studio that I wanted to cancel because of this, an unlimited subscription where I can only practice three or four times per weeks is not worth it. But beyond this I'm also eager to change studios. I feel compelled to shake things enough as to make them interesting again, and I also want to break out of my shell. I guess I must pass for a very serious person, I go almost every day yet only in exceptional circumstances do I speak with anyone. Almost every day I make intentions of striking up conversation with whomever is next to me, but very rarely do I initiate conversation. And half the time people seem to be startled, as if it were out of place. I can guess people think I'm a devoted student, since I'm there almost every day and I have a very good practice.

René one time said something that struck like a deep truth: there is no sadder place in the world than the men's locker room of a yoga studio. It's a silent place but heavy with existential thoughts. Men don't go to yoga because they want to be more strong, flexible or whatever, they go out of misery and hope yoga will alleviate it. Or to look at the hot chicks. One does not preclude the other.

In five minutes I must begin my preparations for work, and this entry has no head or tail. I hope that one day my autobiographical narration falls into the background and I can come to write again about the things that are important, to write for me rather than about me. There are many things that I need to tell myself, yet when I sit down to write this is what comes out. The good thing about doing something everyday—for me—is that instead of reinforcing a habit it makes me bored, so I seek new ways to stimulate my interest. I like to work at the edge of my comfort zone.