On the Playlist: I Don't Feel it Anymore (Song of the Sparrow) - William Fitzsimmons & Priscilla Ahn (My favourite song to dance to!)
If you’re anything like me, writing exhausts you. After you’ve put in your BIC time, you may feel the need to down a litre of Diet Coke, but today is the day to dance as a substitute for caffeine.
Nigel Lythgoe, executive producer of So You Think You Can Dance and co-founder of the Dizzy Feet Foundation, had declared today, July 31, as National Dance Day. The description of the day is as follows:
“As part of his commitment to support dance education and physical fitness in communities throughout the United States, Nigel Lythgoe is launching National Dance Day on "So You Think You Can Dance." National Dance Day will take place on July 31, 2010. National Dance Day will include a variety of dance themed activities for people of all ages. It will empower, challenge and inspire everyone to try various styles of dance ranging from hip-hop to ballroom to anything that moves. Above all, it will encourage everyone to DANCE as a means to stay fit and be healthy.”
So, get up and dance. It doesn’t matter if you’re a dancer or not; all that matters is that you move. You can learn the hip-hop choreography NappyTabs created for Dance Day, which was designed to be easy enough for anyone to learn. You can rescue your Dance Dance Revolution mat from your closet. You can do the Chicken Dance with your children. Just move!
Have fun!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Teaser Tuesday
Teaser time! In this one, Callie's having a conversation with Chase's mom, Linda, who doesn't like her because she inadvertently put her son in a wheelchair Plus, Linda knows Callie's aunt, Moira, and assumes that Callie as just as removed from reality as Moira is. Olivia and Lexi are Chase's sisters.
Again, it will take me awhile to read the teasers, but I definitely will.
---
Moira has a guy over.
He must’ve come last night, because I hear her say, “You didn’t have to get my breakfast,” on the other side of the wall. Then there’s some talk about how, yes, he did have to get her breakfast because she’s so amazing and beautiful and how she can’t possibly be forty (which is true because she’s forty-six.) Gag me.
But it’s kind of nice.
Moira says that he’s just the sweetest guy in the world and, “I can’t believe you walked in the snow for me.”
I get out off bed and run to the window so quickly that I nearly trip over my feet.
I see white.
I need to see Chase.
I run down the stairs to his apartment—in my infamous duck pajamas—and bounce as I wait for someone to answer the door since I’m now on a wow-there’s-white-crap-on-the-ground adrenaline rush.
Olivia, Lexi, or Chase could've answered the door, but of course Linda is the one who does. She says hi and how are you, I say I’m good and how are you and she says she’s fine.
Then, we stand there. I’m still bouncing a little. “I’m here to see Chase,” I say.
She nods which means nothing to me. “He’s asleep.”
“This is really important.”
She waits for an explanation, or for me to confess that I’m out to destroy her son’s life, I’m not really sure which. “It’s snowing,” is my explanation.
She waits some more.
What do I tell her? Chase and I need to dance in the snow because once we danced in the cold together and it made us both feel alive and he didn’t wear a shirt and you raised a really hot son, congratulations? “I need to see him,” is my makeshift answer. “Because this will make him happy. I promise.”
That does it. She tells me to come in and points me to Chase’s room.
Again, it will take me awhile to read the teasers, but I definitely will.
---
Moira has a guy over.
He must’ve come last night, because I hear her say, “You didn’t have to get my breakfast,” on the other side of the wall. Then there’s some talk about how, yes, he did have to get her breakfast because she’s so amazing and beautiful and how she can’t possibly be forty (which is true because she’s forty-six.) Gag me.
But it’s kind of nice.
Moira says that he’s just the sweetest guy in the world and, “I can’t believe you walked in the snow for me.”
I get out off bed and run to the window so quickly that I nearly trip over my feet.
I see white.
I need to see Chase.
I run down the stairs to his apartment—in my infamous duck pajamas—and bounce as I wait for someone to answer the door since I’m now on a wow-there’s-white-crap-on-the-ground adrenaline rush.
Olivia, Lexi, or Chase could've answered the door, but of course Linda is the one who does. She says hi and how are you, I say I’m good and how are you and she says she’s fine.
Then, we stand there. I’m still bouncing a little. “I’m here to see Chase,” I say.
She nods which means nothing to me. “He’s asleep.”
“This is really important.”
She waits for an explanation, or for me to confess that I’m out to destroy her son’s life, I’m not really sure which. “It’s snowing,” is my explanation.
She waits some more.
What do I tell her? Chase and I need to dance in the snow because once we danced in the cold together and it made us both feel alive and he didn’t wear a shirt and you raised a really hot son, congratulations? “I need to see him,” is my makeshift answer. “Because this will make him happy. I promise.”
That does it. She tells me to come in and points me to Chase’s room.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Shocker, I like to write
On the Playlist: Twenty-Four - Switchfoot
I’ve been M.I.A from the blogosphere for the past couple of weeks, thanks to a job that fills up eleven hours of my day (nine of work, two of commute). Between sleeping, eating, reading, dancing, spending time with family/friends, vegging (yeah, sometimes I just need to watch Boy Meets World for hours while downing Diet Coke) and of course, writing, there hasn’t been much time to blog.
So, sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I wasn’t a writer. I’d have so much more free time. Forget about the time I spend writing, what about the time I spend thinking? Outlining? Reading books? Reading blogs? Critiquing? It adds up.
I work at a daycare, generally with children who are around three years old. I’ve worked with children before, but rarely that young, and never thirteen of them for eight hours. On my first day, I was just so overwhelmed and exhausted, and by noon I was ready to cry. I just needed a break—not only from work, but from myself and my shortcomings.
So, I went on my lunch and put myself in my WIP’s world for an hour.
I don’t know, this may sound unhealthy to some, but I think it’s a great that as writers we can live in multiple words. I mean, we spend so much time in our real world that we’re bound to get sick of it. I’m glad to be a writer for that.
When I came back from my lunch, the kids were napping for another hour, meaning that I had nothing to do work-wise, but still had to supervise them. I have this free hour every day, and use it to write (which is slightly tricky in the dark, but whatever, I can’t read my handwriting as is.) I’m glad to be a writer because it means that I never really get bored. Even if I don’t have my notebook with me, I’ll still create scenes in my head.
Of course, there are other reasons I love being a writer, like how I love it when I can really touch someone. The aforementioned reasons are more why I’d write even if no one ever read my work.
For the record, I love my job now, and it’s so awesome to be surrounded by children who still use their imaginations. They’re all writers.
Why are you glad to be a writer?
I’ve been M.I.A from the blogosphere for the past couple of weeks, thanks to a job that fills up eleven hours of my day (nine of work, two of commute). Between sleeping, eating, reading, dancing, spending time with family/friends, vegging (yeah, sometimes I just need to watch Boy Meets World for hours while downing Diet Coke) and of course, writing, there hasn’t been much time to blog.
So, sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I wasn’t a writer. I’d have so much more free time. Forget about the time I spend writing, what about the time I spend thinking? Outlining? Reading books? Reading blogs? Critiquing? It adds up.
I work at a daycare, generally with children who are around three years old. I’ve worked with children before, but rarely that young, and never thirteen of them for eight hours. On my first day, I was just so overwhelmed and exhausted, and by noon I was ready to cry. I just needed a break—not only from work, but from myself and my shortcomings.
So, I went on my lunch and put myself in my WIP’s world for an hour.
I don’t know, this may sound unhealthy to some, but I think it’s a great that as writers we can live in multiple words. I mean, we spend so much time in our real world that we’re bound to get sick of it. I’m glad to be a writer for that.
When I came back from my lunch, the kids were napping for another hour, meaning that I had nothing to do work-wise, but still had to supervise them. I have this free hour every day, and use it to write (which is slightly tricky in the dark, but whatever, I can’t read my handwriting as is.) I’m glad to be a writer because it means that I never really get bored. Even if I don’t have my notebook with me, I’ll still create scenes in my head.
Of course, there are other reasons I love being a writer, like how I love it when I can really touch someone. The aforementioned reasons are more why I’d write even if no one ever read my work.
For the record, I love my job now, and it’s so awesome to be surrounded by children who still use their imaginations. They’re all writers.
Why are you glad to be a writer?
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