Carolyn Creative

I have not gotten sucked into the current Vampire craze yet.  I tried Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but it didn’t work out.  I have neither read nor rented Twilight, despite my adoration for other Tween genres.  However, during a housesitting stint this week, I started watching “True Blood” and I’m a little hooked.  It’s very original with a little dose of dark humor.  Sometimes, the vampires move really quickly, which is both scary and awesome.  Plus, I learned that a vampire can’t come into your house unless you invite him, which makes me feel a lot better, especially since it is very difficult for a human or vampire to get into our condo complex.  Seriously, it’s like Fort Knox.

My beef with True Blood?  The accents!  Bad.  Set in a fictional small town in Louisiana, the characters seem to be attempting a combination of a drawl and redneck twang.  Now, I am sympathetic to the actors; I realize that several of them are international, so they are dropping their native accents and adapting foreign ones.  That seems like quite a challenge.  My frustration lies with Hollywood.  Producers fail to realize that there are thousands of different accents in the South.  Someone from Hickory, North Carolina, will sound a lot different than someone from Oxford, Mississippi.  Just as there are an estimated 2000 different dialects in India, there are oodles of nuances in the Southern accent.  Hollywood producers seem to only recognize the sharp twang a la My Name is Earl (and kudos to Jaime Pressley for hers) and the Steel Magnolias drawl.  Frankly, it’s distracting.  And aren’t some vampires 1000 years old?  That is plenty of time to work on your accent.

Not to end on a negative note, I’d now like to salute some accents done well on both the small screen and big one.  Here’s to you, Dixie Carter as Julia Sugarbaker, Amy Adams in “Junebug” and Matthew McConnaughey as the legendary Wooderson in “Dazed and Confused.”  Well done.

My friend Andrea and I recently joined a tap dancing class in Plaza Midwood.  While Andrea has solid experience — a childhood of classes and recitals — my only exposure included high school choreography for notable productions, Anything Goes and Guys and Dolls. The class was advertised as “all levels.”  And my dedicated viewing of “So You Think You Could Dance” convinced me to get in touch with my inner badass dancer?  How bad could we suck?

The answer: a lot.  But here are some other things I’ve learned along the journey.

1. In grown-up classes dance classes, they don’t give you any sequined headbands or tutus.  Nor are there any photo shoots where you line up with cool props and strike a pose.  Whatevs.
2. Tap dancing is frickin’ hard.  Our tiny and patient teacher, Audrey, will break down steps and explain each movement and timing before the class tries it with music.  Her sprightly demonstration is a stark contrast to my version; catching my reflection in the mirror, I’m flailing around like my pants are on fire.
3. I like the steps where you make a loud noise.
4. If you have trouble walking in high heels, chances are good that dancing might be a bit of a challenge as well.
5. There are still showoffs.  Even when you are 32.  In our class, I’ll call her Hot Pants.  Not only did Hot Pants almost run me over several times when I was innocently sucking in my own dance space, she used the bar in between lines to practice ballet moves. Not cool, Hot Pants.
6. Dancing is a meditation.  Even though my shuffle-ball-change is not particularly graceful (yet), I spent an hour trying something new.  I wasn’t worrying about my job, my bills, or my relationships.  I was just concentrating on making noise with my feet.  That’s a wonderful thing.

I love this post about having it all by Erin Doland on the blog, Unclutter.  I am specifically trying to work on Step 6: Say no to what doesn’t matter.  Why does this seem so hard?  Every time my defenses are down, I’ll agree to do seven thousand things I don’t have time for.  Well.  The buck stops here, people.  No more over-promising for this chiquita.

My mother, an avid reader, specializes in what I call  ”repressed Asian woman literature.”  I kid, I kid.  She also reads books about repressed women from other continents.  But I can’t really blame her for her penchant for this genre.  There’s something about the super combo of ancient rituals and male domination–so different from our experience–that provides the background for such moving stories, rich with details.

I just finished her last recommendation, John Burnham Schwartz’s The Commoner.  It was interesting and beautifully written. Haruko, a girl from a nice, yet not quite Imperial family, survives the bombing of Japan and eventually finds herself engaged to the Crown Prince.  Her adjustment to the traditions and imprisonment within the royal palace and the public eye as a “commoner” is both fascinating and heartbreaking.  Later, as Empress, she finds herself in position to influence the future of her daughter-in-law, an accomplished and independent woman (who I assume is not so loosely based on current Crown Princess Misako.)  A sad and lovely book.

Has anybody read anything spectacular lately?  If so, let me know!   I am always looking for lunch break goodies.

Spring has officially sprung!  Well, it kinda sprung a while ago.  To celebrate, my growing guru Kaaren and I made a trip to Lowe’s to pick up some leafy things for our patio.  (Where, of course, we received cheerful and helpful customer service.  One might even say the employees responded with alacrity.)

 Behold:

It's fun to get your hands dirty. And your toes.

Now, Kev and I have a few blossoms to perk up our urban paradise.  And so far, I have not killed any of my them.  Yet.

Last week was kind of a bummer.  My favorite North American truck manager — my husband, Kev — got laid off.  Sigh.  Stupid economy.  At first, we were shocked: we need to sell our livers, condo, and guitars!  But then we settled back down to earth, my ballerina flats and Kevin’s old school Asics making contact with the ground.  Yes, it was a hiccup in our semi-plans.  But we’ll be okay.  I still have a job (if I don’t get fired for instant messaging about boobs.)  We have all of our limbs and each other.  Life is good.

I’ve been following a wonderful writer, Gretchen Rubin; she writes The Happiness Project on Slate, a blog exploring different concepts, myths, and experiments about happiness.  She has a nice piece about how to process a crisis.

Very sound advice.  Except that ice cream bit.  Everybody knows it totally helps.  Duh.

I must share two observations which delighted me yesterday:

1.  In Earthfare, when you swipe your debit or charge card on the electronic scanner, the screen runs out of room for the letters.  So instead of the machine instructing me to “Please swipe card,” it says: “Please swipe car.”  As my family and friends often call me, “Care,” it seems the machine has personalized instructions for me.  Well, all right.  Since you asked so nicely.

2.  On the drive home, I noticed three sets of signs advertising for a shipping store lined up along McDonald.  They promise, with one word for each sign:

“We”

“Ship”

“Aardvarks.”

In case you needed to do just that.

Happy Saturday, y’all!  I have just started writing for a style site called www.carrieanddanielle.com.  It is based in Vancouver, a city I’ve always wanted to visit ever since my Mulder and Scully obsession in the late nineties.  I’ll be posting over there, too, so feel free to visit both places!  And share your heart out

Is Happiness Contagious?  One study says yes!

Last week, there was a little sparkle in the paper. Nestled between dour pieces about the weak economy and more lay-offs was an article exploring the positive effects of happy people. A study following over 4700 people over a period of twenty years concluded: “happy people tend to have happy friends, and it’s contagious.”

Read the rest of the article here…

Good afternoon, radiant readers.  And happy new year!  

Listen up!  Whatever you are doing, you must pause.  Stop your treadmilling.  Put down the laundry.  Stop working, or pretending to work because it is a weird day after a holiday and not many people are in the office anyway.  Get off your yoga mat and roll it up.  (Unless you have only done one side in a pose, in which case, please do the other side so you aren’t unbalanced.)  Go to the movie theater and see Slumdog Millionaire!

Kev and I saw it last night — brilliant.  The story is so clever!  A boy from the slums of Mumbai gets an opportunity to play “Who Wants to Be A Millionaire.”  His story — heartbreaking, funny, and inspiring — unfold through each question on the game show.  The scenes are vibrant with the colors, sounds, and people in the best and worst parts of India.  And as a frustrated Bollywood dancer, I was delighted by the music and a brief dancing montage during the credits.  I cried.  A lot.  

Five sirsasanas from me!

I did it!  I finished my novel for National Novel Writing Month!  If you don’t believe me, check it out:

That’s right.  We also got a certificate we can download and insert our names.  Kaaren, my co-conspirator,  was a bit disappointed in our spoils.  Her husband  reminded her she didn’t do this for the money.  

 Satisfying and exhilarating, it also feels … a little weird.  I got used to writing 1600 words a day!  And I miss it a little bit.  This was one of the positive effects of the challenge.  Here are some other things I learned …

 1.  I use “and” quite a lot.  And then some.  And then some more.

 2.  I need to find more ways to describe voices.  If everyone had a “gravelly” timbre, things could get scary.  It would be a world populated with Al Pacinos and  Kathleen Turners.

 3.  Though I enjoy nature, I don’t dig describing it.  What if I pitched a book to a publisher that included postcards?  After finishing the book, you could mail them to your friends: “Hey, buddy.  Wish you read this book.”

4.  I tend to fast forward action.  Perhaps I should consider a sci-fi plot where people can be beamed places.

5.  Who cares about that stuff?  It feels wonderful to challenge myself!

Dream on, creative warriors!  Until next time …