I think writers, by nature, tend to be observers. Well, okay, I can’t really speak for the rest of the writing community, but it seems a common trait among my friends. And it’s definitely true for me. I pay attention and often catch things most other people miss.
Like nuances of speech, the way strangers (or acquaintances) react to things people thoughtlessly spout (be they positive or negative in nature), and the possible differences in a sports team when they come out of the locker room after halftime. Maybe they’re pumped up again, or maybe they’re down and out. It all depends on the coaches’ mood, the words they used, and how those words were delivered.
I notice, for instance, the way people look away from one another when they’re telling a lie, or how they plead with their eyes when they’re telling a painful truth. And while I believe what other people think of me is none of my business, it’s sometimes hard to miss an emotion or thought when it travels across their faces and into their body language.
Once someone forms an opinion of another, it’s not an easy thing to change. Out of those formed opinions come misconceptions that turn into rumors, and rumors turn into stories, and stories into actions that may, or may not, be warranted.
This is the stuff of interest we read about in novels, be they fiction or nonfiction. In many instances, it’s the beginning of conflict. The catalyst, if you will.
Luckily, fiction and real life are two totally different things. The question is where will we allow our misconceptions, our preconceived judgments, or our unnoticed observations to lead us? Will we be the spreaders of rumors? The instigators of unwarranted arguments? The pot-stirrers in the mix?
Or will we find it in us to take a step back and observe the truth for what it is? People for who they truly are rather than what we (or others) have made them out to be? What will be the ending to our personal stories, and who will ultimately decide?
Do we become the person other people think they see, or do we try to correct their misconception? Or do we continue on with our own lives, ignoring the untruths and allowing those people to live as they choose?
For once, my above questions are rhetorical. I don’t know that anyone truly has all the answers. But I am curious. Have you ever felt labeled for reasons you couldn’t name?
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
World's Most Rockin Writer's Conference & a Contest! (Last day to enter)
Did you get that part? Last day to enter! That means you have until midnight on February 28th to get this done, so pay attention.
What?
First, register for the LDStorymakers Writer's Conference. (To do this, click here.)
Second, check out this blog, where you'll find information about a contest in which you can earn a 30 page manuscript critique from esteemed agent Sara Megibow, and/or a seat at a table with other highly respected agents, editors, and bestselling authors. I don't need to tell you what a fab opportunity this is. So go, register, enter. Quick! It may be the last minute, but it's still not too late--yet.
Hurry, hurry, hurry!
That is all. Carry on.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thanks. A Lot.
I have a question. When’s the last time someone did something nice for you, and how did you show your thanks?
I’m not talking about when someone—ya know—gives you a Valentine, or tells you your purple hair looks cool (although, these things should also be appreciated). No. What I mean is, has someone gone above and beyond, out of their way, bent over backward (and a zillion other clichéd phrases) to do something you may or may not have recognized as a service at the time? And did you recognize it as a service or did you pass it over as being something that person owed to you? An opportunity for them to grow (a process you yourself facilitated)?
Or did you thank them? And if you did, was it sincere or did it have a qualifier attached?
Here’s an example: “Thank you so much for canceling your weekend plans to help me move, but I wish you hadn’t handled that box so roughly—it’s your fault my vase was broken.”
Or this: “Thanks for staying behind and watching my kids while I did something fun, but I wish you hadn’t fed them cotton candy and bubble gum for dinner.”
One more: “Thank you for the considerable amount of trouble you went through to be here for me, but I wish someone else had come instead—they would have done things differently.”
In situations that don’t turn out the way we hoped, is it possible to just be grateful for the people who show up for us?
In my experience, people don’t usually do nice things so others will thank them, but maybe that’s a good reason why we should. And if I’m going to offer my thanks to someone, I hope I’m smart enough to keep any and all “buts” to myself. Because really, a thank you with a but attached, isn’t really thanks at all. Is it?
Do you agree? Disagree? Think I’m nuts? Sick of me publicly spilling my guts about everything that comes to mind? Feel free to say so in your comments.
I’m not talking about when someone—ya know—gives you a Valentine, or tells you your purple hair looks cool (although, these things should also be appreciated). No. What I mean is, has someone gone above and beyond, out of their way, bent over backward (and a zillion other clichéd phrases) to do something you may or may not have recognized as a service at the time? And did you recognize it as a service or did you pass it over as being something that person owed to you? An opportunity for them to grow (a process you yourself facilitated)?
Or did you thank them? And if you did, was it sincere or did it have a qualifier attached?
Here’s an example: “Thank you so much for canceling your weekend plans to help me move, but I wish you hadn’t handled that box so roughly—it’s your fault my vase was broken.”
Or this: “Thanks for staying behind and watching my kids while I did something fun, but I wish you hadn’t fed them cotton candy and bubble gum for dinner.”
One more: “Thank you for the considerable amount of trouble you went through to be here for me, but I wish someone else had come instead—they would have done things differently.”
In situations that don’t turn out the way we hoped, is it possible to just be grateful for the people who show up for us?
In my experience, people don’t usually do nice things so others will thank them, but maybe that’s a good reason why we should. And if I’m going to offer my thanks to someone, I hope I’m smart enough to keep any and all “buts” to myself. Because really, a thank you with a but attached, isn’t really thanks at all. Is it?
Do you agree? Disagree? Think I’m nuts? Sick of me publicly spilling my guts about everything that comes to mind? Feel free to say so in your comments.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Books that Leave You Breathless
Okay, I'm so behind the times. I've been meaning to tell you all about my visit to the Breathless Reads tour for almost two weeks. *frowns*
This tour included Ally Condie (Matched), Brenna Yavanoff (The Replacements), Andrea Cremer (Nightshade), Beth Revis (Across the Universe), and Kirsten Miller (The Eternal Ones). These lovely ladies were kind enough to do an hour-long Q&A for the audience, during which the wise and ever-classy Ally likened having a book published to being struck by lightning. In order for this to happen, you have to be standing in the rain. (I just adore Ally. She is 100% frawsome.)
I hung with my awesome friends Windy, Elana, and Sheralyn, and ran into many others, including the lovely Heather Gardener, the fantastic photographer who took these shots. (Aren't they fab?)
Yes, it was as much fun as it looks. No, I didn't write down enough of their quotes, but I did love much of what they had to say. If any of these authors happen to stop in your area (together or by themselves) it's worth your time to go.
If you haven't heard about the following books, you should check them out. Seriously. I've only finished reading Matched so far (um, uber busy working on some important sekrit projects *winks*) but am so very excited to move on to the next four. I just love a great book that leaves me...well, breathless.
Check out this trailer:
If you've finished any of these books or had a great experience meeting one of these authors, I'd love to hear about it. Do share!
This tour included Ally Condie (Matched), Brenna Yavanoff (The Replacements), Andrea Cremer (Nightshade), Beth Revis (Across the Universe), and Kirsten Miller (The Eternal Ones). These lovely ladies were kind enough to do an hour-long Q&A for the audience, during which the wise and ever-classy Ally likened having a book published to being struck by lightning. In order for this to happen, you have to be standing in the rain. (I just adore Ally. She is 100% frawsome.)
I hung with my awesome friends Windy, Elana, and Sheralyn, and ran into many others, including the lovely Heather Gardener, the fantastic photographer who took these shots. (Aren't they fab?)
Yes, it was as much fun as it looks. No, I didn't write down enough of their quotes, but I did love much of what they had to say. If any of these authors happen to stop in your area (together or by themselves) it's worth your time to go.
If you haven't heard about the following books, you should check them out. Seriously. I've only finished reading Matched so far (um, uber busy working on some important sekrit projects *winks*) but am so very excited to move on to the next four. I just love a great book that leaves me...well, breathless.
Check out this trailer:
If you've finished any of these books or had a great experience meeting one of these authors, I'd love to hear about it. Do share!
Monday, February 21, 2011
Prejudice? Who Are You Really?
If this post is live, then it's official. I'm out of town with my daughter's soccer team and didn't have time (or Internet connection) to schedule my blog posts for the week. It's entirely possible that I'm soaking in rays of sun while the rest of you are dealing with winter weather. It's also entirely possible that I'm freezing my tail off watching soccer in the rain. Depends on Mother Nature's mood, I suppose.
*crosses fingers and pays homage to the sun goddesses* Pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease!
But rather than leave you all hanging (since I know you live and die by my every post--not) I'm going to leave you with a question, which you may feel free to answer and discuss. (I will join in as possible--probably when I get home.)
For the sake of plotting (or not, if you want) let's talk about prejudices of a personal nature. What kind of preconceived prejudices have you (or someone you know) experienced and how did you overcome the long term effects of this not-so-accurate portrayal of what others think of you, in juxtaposition to who you really are?
*swirls fingers in a circle* Discuss. Enjoy. Contemplate.
*crosses fingers and pays homage to the sun goddesses* Pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease!
For the sake of plotting (or not, if you want) let's talk about prejudices of a personal nature. What kind of preconceived prejudices have you (or someone you know) experienced and how did you overcome the long term effects of this not-so-accurate portrayal of what others think of you, in juxtaposition to who you really are?
*swirls fingers in a circle* Discuss. Enjoy. Contemplate.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Change It? No Thanks.
Change? No Thanks.
Sometimes I think the world is an exhausting place to be. I hear myself vent or complain about my teenagers and how they know just how to schedule out my time to their liking, and how tiring it is to be the parent. How I don’t know when I can possibly fit one more thing into my daily life.
But then, I think back to my teenage years. And I remember.
Being a teenager is exhausting too.
And painful.
And huge. So huge.
Whether they understand it or not, my teens are at the baseline of life, where they make some of their most crucial decisions, learn some of their hardest lessons, and where they become the people they will be as adults.
And even though I have three teens, an almost-teen, a crazy-busy husband, and my own life, I realize that there will never be a time more confusing and full of angst, than the one my kids are currently experiencing.
The ups. Are high.
The downs. Are low.
The disappointments devastating. And at the same time freeing.
There are certain things that I—the mother—can make better. But there are others—will always be others—that I cannot. Would I keep it from them? Some days, I wish I could. But then I look at who they are now, and how they got here, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
Even on the days when I’m exhausted. After all, that’s what naps are for.
Sometimes I think the world is an exhausting place to be. I hear myself vent or complain about my teenagers and how they know just how to schedule out my time to their liking, and how tiring it is to be the parent. How I don’t know when I can possibly fit one more thing into my daily life.
But then, I think back to my teenage years. And I remember.
Being a teenager is exhausting too.
And painful.
And huge. So huge.
Whether they understand it or not, my teens are at the baseline of life, where they make some of their most crucial decisions, learn some of their hardest lessons, and where they become the people they will be as adults.
And even though I have three teens, an almost-teen, a crazy-busy husband, and my own life, I realize that there will never be a time more confusing and full of angst, than the one my kids are currently experiencing.
The ups. Are high.
The downs. Are low.
The disappointments devastating. And at the same time freeing.
There are certain things that I—the mother—can make better. But there are others—will always be others—that I cannot. Would I keep it from them? Some days, I wish I could. But then I look at who they are now, and how they got here, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
Even on the days when I’m exhausted. After all, that’s what naps are for.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Smokin Hot Date
**Oh, and don't forget to pop over to Star Crossed and check out my review of Dearly Departed, by Tristi Pinkston. Such a fun book!
Last weekend, I had a hot date with a younger man. Seventeen-years-old, just about six-feet tall, spiky brown hair, light blue eyes, plays the guitar, and also an amazing artist. Total babe.
Well, okay. He’s totally my babe. As in, my son.
Here’s how the date came to be: he came home from school one day and says, “Mom, guess what?”
Me *going through the mail and somewhat distracted*: “Hm?”
Him: “You know how you really wanted to see Phantom of the Opera at the school, but it’s sold out?”
Me *looking up*: “Yeah.”
Him *holding up two tickets*: “Look what I got?”
Me: *eyebrows raised* “How’d you get those?”
Him: “I have my ways. I know you really wanted to see it, so I’m going to take you. Wanna go with me?”
Me *heart melts cuz my son is so thoughtful*: “Um, YEAH!”
So he took the evening off work and we went to see a sold-out showing of Phantom of the Opera at the local high school. (BTW, the cast was Am.Az.Ing. Those kids can SING!) And then we got ice cream at Sonic, because that’s the only way to end a great date with such a studly man.
Proof positive that some teenagers still enjoy spending time with their parents. And also, that they can be conscious of our needs and desires and make them a priority, even if the occasions are rare.
My son only has the rest of this school year, and then one more before he graduates. I can only hope I’ll have more moments like that before he does.
Have you witnessed a teenager going out of his or her way to do something thoughtful for his or her parents lately? I’d love to hear about it.
**Oh, and don't forget to pop over to Star Crossed and check out my review of Dearly Departed, by Tristi Pinkston. Such a fun book!
Last weekend, I had a hot date with a younger man. Seventeen-years-old, just about six-feet tall, spiky brown hair, light blue eyes, plays the guitar, and also an amazing artist. Total babe.
Well, okay. He’s totally my babe. As in, my son.
Here’s how the date came to be: he came home from school one day and says, “Mom, guess what?”
Me *going through the mail and somewhat distracted*: “Hm?”
Him: “You know how you really wanted to see Phantom of the Opera at the school, but it’s sold out?”
Me *looking up*: “Yeah.”
Him *holding up two tickets*: “Look what I got?”
Me: *eyebrows raised* “How’d you get those?”
Him: “I have my ways. I know you really wanted to see it, so I’m going to take you. Wanna go with me?”
Me *heart melts cuz my son is so thoughtful*: “Um, YEAH!”
So he took the evening off work and we went to see a sold-out showing of Phantom of the Opera at the local high school. (BTW, the cast was Am.Az.Ing. Those kids can SING!) And then we got ice cream at Sonic, because that’s the only way to end a great date with such a studly man.
Proof positive that some teenagers still enjoy spending time with their parents. And also, that they can be conscious of our needs and desires and make them a priority, even if the occasions are rare.
My son only has the rest of this school year, and then one more before he graduates. I can only hope I’ll have more moments like that before he does.
Have you witnessed a teenager going out of his or her way to do something thoughtful for his or her parents lately? I’d love to hear about it.
**Oh, and don't forget to pop over to Star Crossed and check out my review of Dearly Departed, by Tristi Pinkston. Such a fun book!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Blogfest: Love at First Sight...or Not So Much.
Okay, I admit I'm not big on blog fests of this sort. I'm not all that comfortable posting portions of my works-in-progress online. Especially ones I'm currently querying.However, in honor of Valentines Day, and because I've had a couple requests for this particular scene, I'm going to make an exception. The following excerpt is from a finished manuscript, currently titled GIFTED. The characters, Kye and Abby, are on a bus, on a trip with a large group of kids from school.They don't know each other well, but are extremely comfortable with each other--a phenomenon which is explained later in the story. (Sorry, kids. You only get 450 words!)Abby has fallen asleep on Kye.
My dreams are riddled with Kye and Eric fighting, Kye and me kissing, more kissing, and various other activities that make my heart race and my blood run hot. The strangest part is that it all feels more like distant memories than dreams. I have mixed senses of peace and dread, happiness, and deep, profound sorrow. Then an awful laugh breaks through, rough and mean. Frightening.
When I jerk awake, Kye rubs my arm and smoothes my hair. “Shhh. Just a dream.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks as I lift my head to meet his gaze. Something in his eyes makes me long to stay right here, wrapped in his arms and staring into the endless pools of blue, for the rest of forever.
I tear my eyes away, feeling silly, and glance at his watch. After only an hour, my crush has developed into something far more dangerous. The full moon bounces above the mountains like a glowing eye, a bright ball in the darkening sky, gilding the edges of the distant cliffs. Kye traces circles up and down my arm, and my chest tightens when his hand slides under my chin and tips it up.
Our eyes meet again, and a spark of recognition passes between us, something undeniably strong, and just as unexplainable, and I can’t look away. Can’t break the spell. Conversations buzz around us, but we float in our own little bubble, focused and unmoving for eons of time. His hand moves down my arm until his fingers lace with mine.
He shifts, pulls me closer. His heart beats a quick, irregular thrum under my free hand. “I can feel your heart,” I whisper.
He breathes deep. “Did you feel it skip a beat just now?”
“Your heart didn’t skip.” I try to smile, lighten the mood. Something is happening and I don’t understand what, exactly. “It sped up, but it didn’t skip.”
His expression is serious. “It practically stopped. So did yours, I felt it.” He closes the distance between our faces, and his lips touch mine, soft, experimental.
This time our hearts stutter together. Kye smiles against my lips, because he knows I felt it too. He takes a breath and leans in again, this time harder, more demanding. We melt together like chocolate and caramel. My mind screams for me to stop, that it’s too soon for this. I don’t know him, not really. But my heart has a different idea, and so do my lips.
When we break apart, I’m trembling. Time feels quick, racing. I have a surge of panic that makes me keep my eyes on him, like I only have so much time to drink him in before he leaves me forever. The idea becomes unbearable, and I catch myself clutching his arms around me.
“You okay?” His voice is breathless.
“Okay?” I shake my head. I’ve completely lost my mind.
To read more entries from the Love at First Sight...Or Not So Much blogfest, check out the full list here.
Have a fab Valentines Day!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Oh the Tragedy!
Sadly, I don’t go to movies all that often. Not that I don’t love them—I do. But I’m a busy mom, who has lots of schedules to keep up with, and it’s difficult to get out and see the newest films that interest me while they’re still in theaters. (Oh, the beauty of DVD’s.)
When I do go to movies, I hope they’re done well enough to take me out of my own life for the moment and hopefully make me laugh and/or leave me with a warm sensation in my chest left from the experience of numerous emotions. Suspense is good, and action, too.
But I have certain expectations. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s walking out of a theater completely disappointed in the outcome of a show. It happens from time to time.
Consider the movie The Perfect Storm. (Spoiler alert!) Everyone dies! And I’m sorry, but that show felt like a huge waste of time for me. Because how could it possibly be based on a true story when no one survived to tell about it?
Maybe I just hate tragedies. No, because I love the story of Romeo and Juliet—sad as it is. Seems like there was a lesson in that though. And also, Shakespeare wrote that like, a gazillion years ago, and he was pretty well brilliant, so he’s kind of excused. A little.
So, here’s a question. What movie’s have you seen that had a tragic ending you felt was excusable, and which ones just left you feeling angry? I’m curious.
When I do go to movies, I hope they’re done well enough to take me out of my own life for the moment and hopefully make me laugh and/or leave me with a warm sensation in my chest left from the experience of numerous emotions. Suspense is good, and action, too.
But I have certain expectations. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s walking out of a theater completely disappointed in the outcome of a show. It happens from time to time.
Consider the movie The Perfect Storm. (Spoiler alert!) Everyone dies! And I’m sorry, but that show felt like a huge waste of time for me. Because how could it possibly be based on a true story when no one survived to tell about it?
Maybe I just hate tragedies. No, because I love the story of Romeo and Juliet—sad as it is. Seems like there was a lesson in that though. And also, Shakespeare wrote that like, a gazillion years ago, and he was pretty well brilliant, so he’s kind of excused. A little.
So, here’s a question. What movie’s have you seen that had a tragic ending you felt was excusable, and which ones just left you feeling angry? I’m curious.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Who We Are
For all my ranting about love and how terrible it is to watch the hearts of our children break when they’re let down (probably a number of times throughout their childhood), I also have to admit that these experiences tend to be defining moments—the ones that make us who we are or will grow up to be. Yes?
Heartache tends to make the strong stronger, and the weak, well, weaker. And it’s not so much about how our hearts are broken or by whom, so much as how we handle it and what we choose to do with the experience.
Watching my kids has taught me a lot about life. Say I’m teaching them to roller skate. They fall down and get hurt, skin their knee or something and most of the time, all they need is a kiss from their mom or dad to take the pain away (and okay, maybe a doctor visit on extreme occasions). And then, once they’re healed, they get back up and work twice as hard to figure out those dang shoes with wheels. They don’t forget about their hurt or what caused it, but instead choose to learn from it. Sometimes they’re able to avoid or prevent similar situations, and sometimes they aren’t. But at least they know how to deal with whatever comes. And so do I.
Or, okay, if we don’t know how to deal with it, we know how NOT to deal with it. Yeah?
Guess I have something in common with Forrest Gump's mother, who said, "Don't ever let anyone tell you they're better than you, Forrest. If God wanted us all to be the same, he'd have given us all braces on our legs."
I understand that this might even be an unusual way to look at life’s ups and downs. But I’m an optimist, an idealist even. And I believe that learning how to deal with heartache is half of life’s biggest battle. (The other half being that we learn how to deal with love.)
Do you agree? Not agree? Am I off my rocker?
Heartache tends to make the strong stronger, and the weak, well, weaker. And it’s not so much about how our hearts are broken or by whom, so much as how we handle it and what we choose to do with the experience.
Watching my kids has taught me a lot about life. Say I’m teaching them to roller skate. They fall down and get hurt, skin their knee or something and most of the time, all they need is a kiss from their mom or dad to take the pain away (and okay, maybe a doctor visit on extreme occasions). And then, once they’re healed, they get back up and work twice as hard to figure out those dang shoes with wheels. They don’t forget about their hurt or what caused it, but instead choose to learn from it. Sometimes they’re able to avoid or prevent similar situations, and sometimes they aren’t. But at least they know how to deal with whatever comes. And so do I.
Or, okay, if we don’t know how to deal with it, we know how NOT to deal with it. Yeah?
Guess I have something in common with Forrest Gump's mother, who said, "Don't ever let anyone tell you they're better than you, Forrest. If God wanted us all to be the same, he'd have given us all braces on our legs."
I understand that this might even be an unusual way to look at life’s ups and downs. But I’m an optimist, an idealist even. And I believe that learning how to deal with heartache is half of life’s biggest battle. (The other half being that we learn how to deal with love.)
Do you agree? Not agree? Am I off my rocker?
Monday, February 7, 2011
What a Fortune (also, a must-read book)
Check out this Facebook fortune cookie I got the other day:
Never lose the ability to find beauty in ordinary things.
I love this cookie so much I had to share. What are some of the ordinary, yet beautiful things you’ve seen lately?
A while back, I stopped doing book reviews on this site because, well, I started to feel like book reviews were overtaking my posts. But I didn’t want to stop discussing books, so I started a book blog called Star Crossed, where I periodically—with apparently no real sense of schedule—post thoughts and discussions about books I’ve read and loved. Today, we’re talking about The Peasant Queen by Cheri Chesley. Here’s the short blurb:
After running away from home, Krystal is transported to a faraway kingdom where an evil tyrant is bent on taking the crown - and Krystal's hand in marriage. But when she falls in love with the rightful heir to the throne, she must make an impossible choice: sacrifice her one chance at happiness or face the destruction of an entire kingdom.
Come on by and see what I thought. Don't forget to leave a comment to be entered into this way cool contest.
Friday, February 4, 2011
A Post of Randomness (Not about love--for once)
1. Last weekend I was watching the SAG awards on TV. I was struck by how different every one of those actors looks. Yeah, I know. Life isn’t all about how people look, but in that profession, look actually matters. Okay, so my profession is totally different. But it made me think. Do I look like an author? Does anyone? For that matter, what do authors look like?
2. Also, I wonder why that statue guy they give out at the SAG’s doesn’t wear any clothes. Neither does the giant one they show in every segue. And why are they all male? Not that I’m complaining, but seriously, how about some clothing and a little equality? #Kthxbai. (Translation: Okay, thanks. Goodbye.)
3. Speaking of actors, my kids don’t know what a Smurf is. Or who is Rainbow Brite, or He-man or She-ra. I think they’ve actually heard of the Care Bears, but it’s been years. YEARS. They’re so spoiled with high-tech, fast-paced animations that they’d probably be completely bored by my old favorites. I sometimes wish their lives could be so innocent as those cartoons.
4. My family is newly addicted to The Game of Things. It’s like, the funnest board game I’ve played in years. Buy it, try it, love it. You’ll laugh your tail off, and your teens will want to stay home and play it instead of going out with their friends. It’s that fun. That is all.
5. My new favorite song is by Pink, and part of the title is Perfect. Great song. LOVE the clean version of it. But it begs to be asked. Why, why, why would she make an explicit version, that can never be played on the radio, or as a music video, or as a theme to any book, movie, or life and offer ONLY the bad version of it on the album? Also, why is the cleaner version not just titled Perfect? Why put the bleeped out bad word in the title? It doesn’t really make a statement, it just deters people from listening. Really. You can use the language if you want, but why cut down your fan base? Off my soapbox now.
Here's the clean version if you're curious:
That is all the randomness for today. Be sure to stop by on Monday to find out what’s on my mind next time.
2. Also, I wonder why that statue guy they give out at the SAG’s doesn’t wear any clothes. Neither does the giant one they show in every segue. And why are they all male? Not that I’m complaining, but seriously, how about some clothing and a little equality? #Kthxbai. (Translation: Okay, thanks. Goodbye.)
3. Speaking of actors, my kids don’t know what a Smurf is. Or who is Rainbow Brite, or He-man or She-ra. I think they’ve actually heard of the Care Bears, but it’s been years. YEARS. They’re so spoiled with high-tech, fast-paced animations that they’d probably be completely bored by my old favorites. I sometimes wish their lives could be so innocent as those cartoons.
4. My family is newly addicted to The Game of Things. It’s like, the funnest board game I’ve played in years. Buy it, try it, love it. You’ll laugh your tail off, and your teens will want to stay home and play it instead of going out with their friends. It’s that fun. That is all.
5. My new favorite song is by Pink, and part of the title is Perfect. Great song. LOVE the clean version of it. But it begs to be asked. Why, why, why would she make an explicit version, that can never be played on the radio, or as a music video, or as a theme to any book, movie, or life and offer ONLY the bad version of it on the album? Also, why is the cleaner version not just titled Perfect? Why put the bleeped out bad word in the title? It doesn’t really make a statement, it just deters people from listening. Really. You can use the language if you want, but why cut down your fan base? Off my soapbox now.
Here's the clean version if you're curious:
That is all the randomness for today. Be sure to stop by on Monday to find out what’s on my mind next time.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Challenge
*gasps, coughs, gasps again*
Believe it or not, for all my talk of love over the last couple weeks, I’m not completely obsessed with Valentine’s day. To be honest, I spend most years in the camp of this-is-a-media-hyped-holiday-invented-for-retailers-to-make-money.
*hides behind large item to avoid possible flying objects*
It’s not what you think. I (obviously) believe in love, and I feel that thoughtful gestures like flowers and candy and jewelry are completely romantic. But. Don’t you think it’s sad that so many of us need to have a holiday (or anniversary for a big occasion) to remind us to make those kinds of gestures?
Almost like we need an excuse to tell the important people in our lives that we love them. What’s wrong with us? And really. Do our kids need another excuse to eat candy?
Don’t get me wrong. I know that Valentine’s Day is supposed to be a celebration of love, rather than a reminder that we love people and should give them stuff. But sometimes it feels like February 14th is less about who loves us and why, and more about what someone gave you, and what you gave to them—or to someone else entirely. Doesn’t it? Is it just me? Really?
So, I’m issuing a challenge. Pick a day of the month, then find some way to quietly, sincerely express your love to the important people in your life. Children, spouse, parents, friends—whoever. (More than words, though. I’m talking about gestures.) Mark this day on your calendar. Then flip to March, and mark the same day there. Then April, May, June…you get the idea. And then, when those days come, be sure to follow through.
Maybe, if we get in the habit of regularly expressing our love, we’ll stop needing reminders. Or, I don’t know. Maybe not. It’s just an idea.
So, what do you say? Are you in?
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