I kid.

A lovely person by the name of Dawn gave me a blog award yesterday.

Her reason for giving it pretty much made my week.  I found it especially delightful when looking at her glowing recommendations of other bloggers she gave the award to.  Mine is short, but oh so sweet. (Go look.  Now.  I’ll wait.)

In the spirit of blog awardishness, I will do as I am told and tell you 7 things about me.

• At the age of four, I was kidnapped.  No really.  A couple of punk teenagers grabbed me from our backyard and ran into the woods.  Want more of the story?  Maybe I’ll blog about it later.
• I am of Italian and Cuban descent.  And my Italian grandfather claims we are part Jewish because he was nursed by a Jewish woman.  Apparently that passes through the breast milk.  Who knew?
• I am the least funny kid in a group of five siblings.  I am not being humble.  It is a plain and simple truth.  I am the comparatively quiet and unfunny middle child.
• I won the “Slacker of the Year” award from the National Honor Society in high school.  I was honored, although it’s possible that I was supposed to be insulted.
• I am not the neatest person in the world, yet I practically fold my laundry BEFORE I wash it.  During the sorting process.  I think I have some rare form of selective OCD.
• Since I was fairly young, I thought that there were cameras watching me when I was by myself.  If I was pretending, dancing, singing, I would stop abruptly and scan the walls and ceiling trying to figure out where the camera was so I could hide from it.  Now that I am grown and there is a webcam sitting on my desk, my fear is that it is secretly on, broadcasting to some mystery audience.  Somewhere, there is a group of people critiquing my singing of Showtunes, hair unkempt, sporting sweatpants.
• I have conversations in my head.  A lot.  With other people.  This is why I write.  I might go crazy in there otherwise.

There you have it.  Aren’t you glad you stuck around for that?

At this point, I am supposed to pass this award along.  I’ll be honest, I get anxiety whenever I am supposed to be doing a Follow Friday on Twitter.  Who did I forget? Who is going to hate me after this?  Giving this award out may very well kill me.

Since I have a lot to do and an anxiety attack doesn’t quite fit into the schedule, I am going to take the opportunity to send some blog love to just two places today.  You can also count this as a bonus bullet point.  Meet the two most amazing friends and roommates a girl could have:

Girl Parker – My first Seattle roommate.  Took me in without ever meeting me, and became one my very best friends ever.  Give out hugs and butt kickings as needed.  As an added bonus, she is a writer, too, so she understands my madness.

PTY to SEA – Girl Parker and I moved into a bigger apartment with this wonderful lady (the long time best friend of GP) and somehow, I gained another amazing friend.  Even with one bathroom.  A friend you can comfortably sit in silence with and just read or knit is a very special kind of friend.  And a friend you can travel with and not hate by the end of the trip is even more special.  (TOPE!)

The only thing I don’t have in my large family is a big sister.  I was fortunate enough to find TWO.

So, my passing of a “blog award” (ew…that sounds painful) is more of an award for awesomeness and friendship and everything else there ever was.

Ok.  That’s a bit much.  But really, these are too incredible people.  And, did I mention, entertaining bloggers?

Currently Listening to: Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

I’ve always enjoyed listening to people who have a distinct way of speaking.  It could be their tone, cadence, phrases they use, an accent; anything that makes their words a little more memorable.

Not to say that what they choose to say doesn’t have to be interesting.  But have you ever heard something hilarious when one person delivers it, but delivered by someone else you find it rather dull?

(Example: Richard Kind reading Vanna White’s autobiography is hilarious.  Vanna White reading it, I would imagine, not so much.)

I love engaging dialogue.  When my attention span is lacking (often) I’ve been known to “read” a book by skipping from one set of dialogue to the next.  If you aren’t catching on, good dialogue is important to me (and likely, to any reader).

I enjoy writing dialogue as much as I like reading it.  Actually, even more.  I love seeing and hearing the characters in my mind go back and forth.  It’s less about writing a scene as it is about watching one and then transcribing it.

For that process to go smoothly, for the dialogue to feel natural and not forced, it’s important for each character to have a voice.  A literal voice.  If I can’t hear them, then it just feels like words on a page rather than a conversation.

Some characters develop a voice from people I’ve known that share traits.  Other times, I find myself seeing an actor “playing” the role.

This weekend was a busy one, so I didn’t find a whole lot of time to sit with my notebook.  I’m a scene or so away from introducing a new character, a character who has been in my head and has been assigned an actor’s voice already.  So, late in the evening, as I tried to fall asleep, I listened to interview clips (and a very lengthy podcast) to secure the voice.

Today, the scene is swirling around in my head, ready for me to watch and write.

I am sure that there might be criticism of this method, and I am sure for some it might be counterproductive to give a character created from your imagination an existing voice.

But, for me, it seems to be working out.

Currently Listening to:  Don’t Worry, Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin

It’s one of those days.  Just reminding myself that it’s ok.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

For a brief stint when living in Seattle, I taught at a private elementary school.

For the most part, I was the technology education teacher.  I worked with Kindergarten through Fifth grade.  I had been in adult education up until that point, and was excited at the change of working with children.

Some of the kids were adorable and funny and I wanted to take them home with me.  A few in particular even kept in touch with me.  (Want to feel old?  Read the status updates of the 5 year old that used to hug you and call you “Miss West”)

Other kids were not so much my favorites.

I know.  I probably shouldn’t have favorites.  But I did.

And there were some kids that drove me NUTS.  The stereotype of private school kids being stuck up brats is there because there is SOME truth in it.

One of my Kindergarten students was always talking about herself and putting other kids down.  She bragged all the time; about her house, “her” car, parties she was throwing and not inviting you to, her clothes, her blah blah blah.  And then she would tell you how whatever you had wasn’t nearly as good as what she did.

She was FIVE, ya’ll.  F I V E.

I don’t think I even knew what a nice car was when I was five.  I thought my Dad’s old powder blue Volkswagen Rabbit was awesome.

On a day where she was being particularly mean, I pulled her out of class into the hallway.  The technology room didn’t have a door, so I sat down with her on the couch just outside of the room, told her she would have to sit there for five minutes, and then we were going to talk about her behavior.

After five minutes, I came out of the room and sat with her on the couch.

“Do you know why we are sitting out here?”

She shrugged.

“You weren’t being very nice to the other kids.  It’s not nice to talk about yourself and everything you have all the time.  You can’t tell other people that you’re better than them, or that they are poor (yes, she told one of the kids they must be poor because their stuff wasn’t nice like hers).”

“But it’s true.  My stuff is better.”

What?  Really?  I took a deep breath.

“Sweetie, even if you think something is true, you don’t say things that hurt people.  You don’t want to hurt people, do you?”

She shrugged, looking right at me, and sighed, as if this was the most boring conversation ever.

“Can I go back to the computer and draw now?”

“No, you can’t.  We need to talk.  I need to know that you feel bad.  You almost made someone cry.  Don’t you feel sad that you made another person sad?”

She just stared at me, with a look on her face I am sure I didn’t even know how to give until I was 17.

And that, dear friends, is when I lost it.

“You know what’s going to happen when you grow up?  You’re going to have a nice car, and a nice house, and nice clothes, but you are going to have NO friends.  NOBODY is ever going to want to come to your parties.  NOBODY is going to like you.  You know, why?  Because you are a mean girl.”

I could see surprise on her face, but I wasn’t done.

“And you know what else?  Mean is ugly.  You might be pretty now, but as long as are mean, you are just going to get ugly.  Yup.  That’s right.  Ugly and mean.  Do you know who likes being around ugly and mean people?  Not me.  Not anybody else.”

Her little lip started to quiver.  The tears welled up.  She started to sniffle.

“Miss West, I don’t want people to hate me.  I’m sorry!  I don’t want to be mean!”

She was crying now, so I softened my tone.

“You don’t have to be.  You can start right now.  Be NICE to your friends.  Don’t talk about everything you have all the time.  Just be NICE.  Then you’ll have lots of friends.   You don’t have to be a mean girl.”

She was wiping her eyes and sniffling.  She leaned over and hugged me and apologized again.  I told her to come back into the classroom when she was ready.

From that day on, she always gave me a hug before and after class.  She never, at least not in my class, was mean to the other kids.  She even went out of her way to be helpful.

While I make this confession, I don’t make it as a regret.

She should be a freshman in high school now.  And she may have turned out to be a mean girl for all I know.  But for that one year at least, she was nice.

And I know it was because I told her she wasn’t going to have any friends.

(In unrelated news, I am 20 votes behind in the Birth Story contest.  Mama needs a new…oh forget the shoes, I just need cash, people.  Vote here: http://naturallyborn.net/birth-story-contest/birth-story-contest-entries/5211-fresh-out-of-batteries-but-still-making-noise  Contest is over at the end of May.)