They look at me with jealousy because everyone would like to be in touch with themselves.

I’ve learned a lot since getting in touch with myself. Like I’ve learned that I lack flexibility. So instead of becoming destressed and relaxed I’ve become very stressed and unrelaxed. If I had never signed up for Yoga, I never would have learned that I’m incapable of doing a simple Downward Dog, nor would I know that my body refuses to do an appropriate Serpent.

I can’t even think about the failure that was Praying Possum.

My yoga teacher often comes up behind me, presses on various parts of my body, and says things like, “tell your calf muscle it’s safe and it’s ok to relax,” as if talking to my calf muscle will suddenly let me place it behind my ear. I mean, I definitely tried while the whole class looked on waiting to see how well I could communicate safety to my calf muscle. I haven’t been that embarrassed in front of a class since I confused organism with orgasm in 6th grade.

The only reason I go to the class is for the last five minutes. For the first 55 minutes we do positions that I think are made up as we go along. The teacher simply puts an adverb in front of an animal and, before you know it, I’m doing the Sleepy Bovine and Sad Chicken positions. But for the last five minutes she instructs us to lay back on the mat and let go of all our tensions, our stresses, and our heartaches.

I’m a college student taking a yoga class midday, so you can only imagine the kinds of tensions, stresses, and heartaches that I have.

But the lights are off and there’s some kind of Enya Remix playing in the background and it’s the only class where I’m encouraged to fall asleep. And the best part is that it’s not called falling asleep. It’s called getting in touch with yourself.

It seems like 2008 was the year of the psychiatric breakdown. After the Britney debacle the other night, there are now reports that claim that Justin Chambers (the Grey’s Anatomy bad boooy) has just been released from the UCLA Medical Center after checking in for “severe exhaustion.”

Whatever that means.

The good news is; Chambers did not need to be strapped to the gurney for his hospital visit. Due to a sleeping disorder, Karev entered the hospital voluntarily to get treatment. I am not quite sure how a man with five (yes, FIVE) children has any trouble falling asleep at night, but what do I know? I could fall asleep on the treadmill if I was on there long enough….or I was listening to Enya.

Britney, on the other hand, has been classified as “Gravely Disabled” by the staff at the very same hospital. (Looks like Hotel Marmont is out as the place to see and be seen be these days. Perhaps Ms. Lohan will be booking a room here soon?) What does that mean, exactly? It means that the lovely Ms. Spears is unable to take care of basic needs, “such as the acquisition of food, clothing or shelter.”

I find that diagnosis a little extreme. I mean, Britney has been doing a wonderful job taking care of her basic needs. She has been spotted shopping at Hustler numerous times (clothing), sleeping with random men in hotels all around California (shelter) and sucking down the Starbucks Fraps (food) for a year now. How can anyone, especially a medical professional, see anything wrong with that?

Let’s just hope that Britney’s recovery can be as speedy and successful as Karev’s. The paparazzi are twiddling their thumbs with nothing to do and it is about time she came out of her trance and realized how horrific those mid-calf boots really are.