Exceeds Expectations

Woah! Another morning post! Maybe I really am more than just a lazy, unmotivated, irresponsible artist-slacker! Just kidding. Everyone knows artists are the epitome of lazy. It's just FACT.

So as I sit here, trying to finish revisions on Where the Wild Berries Grow, I can't help but daydream. As summer speeds away to its demise, things like auditions, casting, rehearsals, and eventual performance are leaping closer and closer. And I can't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, this year will be way better than last year.

This script will require more from me as a director. It requires bigger, better lighting. It requires dance choreography, music direction, and fight choreography. It requires a set. It requires costumes and make-up. It requires flashback, costume changes, set changes, and more than just a 17-year-old tossing whatever she can find together.

This play requires better acting. The characters are much more real, much more subtle. The drama is intense. The comedy is often less blatant. Many scenes will require very specific blocking and choreography.

I wanted to push myself, I wanted to push the program, and I wanted to push the kids. Without Direction set expectations, and now the goal is to exceed every one of those. Bigger and better.

But it all starts with the script. As much as I'd like to just jump right into production, I have to use the final week and a half I have left to make the script as amazing as possible. Without a more-than-just-good script, we can't have a more-than-just-good production. And since I'm aiming for an absolutely incredible production, I guess I'm going to have to write an absolutely incredible script.

Goodbye, blog procrastination; hello, revision!

England, Zubetube, and Other Spontaneity

And then, after I was so excited about Dance Hour, I didn't have time. Two days in a row. It's been a hectic two days in a row. Full of lots of not very much.

I jest, of course. I woke up Saturday with this strange urge to be important. I threw on the flashiest clothes I had (literally the flashiest; my shirt was covered in sequins. Yeeeaaah.), put on some make-up (hard to believe, I know), and topped it off with new shoes. Nose in the air, I walked to a yard sale near my house, looked at the items with disdain, and walked away, muttering about "Community Outreach." I'm sure everyone there was QUITE impressed with my apparent fame, fortune, and sheer importance. And British accent too, of course.

That, of course, was not enough. I grabbed my phone, called a few friends (they never answer their phones, bastards!), and eventually reached my friend Frank. "Okay, so I know this sounds weird, but I want to walk around and pretend to be famous." I was met with the expected amusement, but he agreed to fake importance with me, and we ended up wandering the outdoor mall/Old Town in our (not so) little Los Angeles suburb, British accents and everything.

Funniest. Day. Ever. We had full-on characters. I was quite the famous figure in England apparently, and Frank was apparently a rather uninformed underwear model. My publicist sent me to America and instructed me to act like a common person, the nerve! "The English have the right of way in America!" I exclaimed once, crossing the street and yelling about the terrible driving in this country.

And then we wandered into the music store. (Yeah, that one that's underground! It's awesome.) Frank the underwear model, apparently, knew nothing of music, and Elizabeth the super rich and famous knew everything and had done everything.

And then we found, wait for it . . . the ZUBETUBE!!! Coolest instrument EVER. "The ultimate cosmic sound machine." No kidding. After debating about totally how awesome it would be for our "space album" (more to come on that later!), we asked the price (under $15!), decided to split the cost, and bought the coolest instrument ever. I think I'll just have to do an entire post on the ZubeTube soon. It's amazing.

After that, I didn't get home until the AM, just running around, acting silly (boy do I have stories too!), and then I spent today doing all sorts of mundane things like copying CD after CD first onto the computer and then onto my phone. Check out the band Simply Red. Old 80s band; I just found their CD and decided I love them.

Even without Dance Hour, I managed to dance around a whole lot this weekend, from tap dancing to street musicians, to ridiculous dance offs, to jumping around the kitchen with my little brother.

Dance Hour

When I promised a whole HOUR of dancing a day, I thought to myself, "Backspace! Backspace! Backspace!!! That's crazy talk!" I was right. Dancing for a whole hour on a daily basis is crazy. But crazy is not synonymous with bad.

My first official "Dance Hour" (as I am henceforth referring to it as) was crazy. I turned on the TV, found the wonderful music channels (which I discovered when my family was running around in Italy or Germany or Spain or whatever cool place I couldn't go), turned up the volume, and set to work moving all the furniture out of my way. Couches, chairs, beanbags, tables, little brother's junk, etc. At last, I had a big open area to dance in. I grabbed my phone, started the stopwatch, and danced.

Within fifteen minutes, I was ready to be done. I was tired, out of breath, sweaty, and embarrassed by my own dancing. But I had promised an hour. So I kept dancing, looking like a very exhausted, stinky, untalented fool.

I don't know when it happened, but I stopped caring about the time. I was having way too much fun dancing and listening to all the music, and I was starting to like how sweaty I was getting. The hour was up, but I didn't bother to check my phone to see. I danced for more than just an hour, and when I finally had to move all the furniture back, I wished I could just keep dancing. It was crazy fun.

I woke up sore today. And not the ache-y back, cramped neck, body full of some serious tension sore. It was the worked hard, had some fun, body rejoicing sore. With some old aches and cramps mixed in, but not as prevalent. Less tension and restless sleep, more relaxation and comfortable sleep.

I love dancing.

P.S. I have some video clips, but my brother has the cord somewhere, and I've no idea where. If/when I find it, I'll put up some embarrassing video.

So You Think You Can Blog

This blogging daily thing won't be so hard if things like BEING ON THE SEASON SEVEN SEASON FINALE happen more often.

"You were on SYTYCD, say WHAT???" Yeah, I know. Okay, I'll explain. I am not a super mega awesome dancer, nor was I cool enough to be in the audience either. But I was on the show. For like two seconds. Yes, I leapt out of my seat (in this case, a rather comfy couch), tossed and/or hugged rather tightly the pillow I was clinging onto for the entirety of the episode, grabbed my brother, and excitedly pointed out my non-HD self. I rewound, replayed, and rewound again. I paused it and looked at myself on TV. It was exciting.

So how, you ask! Well, see, I partook in a wonderful thing called a flash mob on National Dance Day. We danced; it was exciting! National Dance Day was definitely one of the most enjoyable days I've had in quite some time, and I have enjoyable days nearly all the time. Video was sent to the wonderful people at SYTYCD, and they threw in a clip with me and other near me dancing in their "National Dance Day is cool" montage midway through the show.

Watch for me on Oprah next week. I'll be in a montage of bloggers who stare at their computers all day and develop extreme sensitivity to sunlight as a result. Yeeaaah.

But in all seriousness, the point of National Dance Day and the clips of regular people (like me!) dancing up on SYTYCD, along with Ellen DeGeneres, DANCE LEGEND, getting to dance on that incredible stage is that anyone can dance. In fact, anyone should dance. Whether you dance incredibly or incredibly bad doesn't matter; it's just about dancing for the sake of dancing.

Ah, dance, one of the many, many fields I want to get into more. I think I'll start dancing more often. (Because whilst driving isn't usually the best time.) Yeah, I know I've been saying that for nearly a year, but I mean! Look, just to prove my point, I am going to dance for at least 1 hour a day for the rest of summer vacation! HA! Take that, doubters!

I think I can blog, by the way.