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This should be awkward, the end of the First Date. He was dropping her off at the hotel, just inside the lobby doors. She had her room key in her hand. They were both smiling. Maybe it was the wine they had with dinner but Waverly didn't think so: her smile, at least, was genuine.

First Date. Was she all ready hoping for another? Yes. The evening had been just that good. She enjoyed listening to him talk. There was a passion in his voice and a light in his eyes whenever he spoke about his work (the real career, the military not the police work he did now) or when he told her about Dean, the young man he'd reached out to and helped turn around. Waverly liked making him laugh too. There was a warmth and a richness to the sound and his lips curved into an inviting smile. Really, there wasn't much she didn't like about Mark Kosik.

Except that he was being such a gentleman that he had yet to kiss her good night.

Waverly tipped her head back to look up at him, held her key to the side, using it to gesture at the elevators behind them. "Do you...?"

Want to walk me to my room, come inside, stay a while, talk some more, spend the night...? Any and all of the above would suit her just fine, and some of that may be the wine talking, but not much.
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Lord Marlowe got out and he's been gone for three days. This is what I share with the world when I remember I have an online journal.
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Whether in a cultural sense or simply in the day-to-day demands of coping with a region's weather, we're all influenced by where we come from or where we live now.

Where does your character live? How have their geographical surroundings influenced them? It could be something as minor as having given them a taste for seafood if they grew up in a port city, to as complex as a world traveler having a broad global perspective on everything from race to religion. Show us the city, region, or planet they call home, and what influence it has had on them!

Dalton's Corner, Maine

She grew up in this tiny, tiny town in Maine, near the coast and of course there was lobster and other shellfish. Her mother even once worked at the docks, sorting seafood, banding claws and doing other smelly, damp tasks. Cold weather, long winters, lots of ice and snow. She learned to dress in layers and to stay warm by keeping active--fortunate that she danced from a young age, working up a sweat in below zero temperatures was a joy.

As a little girl, the close knit community felt like an extended family to her and was a comfort Waverly enjoyed. They supported her endeavors and gladly joined in to fund raise so she could attend that coveted school in New York. They were there for her mother when, at eight, she left home to live at the school. They were there too, to welcome her home between terms and to send her care packages while she was away.


As a child she attended the School of American Ballet. Starting there at age eight, Waverly refused to let herself feel homesick or cry often, after all there were six year olds there. Kindergarten babies that could do this so she could too. It gave her a sense of independence that differed from the one she found in dance itself.

By the time she was twelve, Waverly had a firm mind of where she wanted to dance professionally. The American Ballet Theater. She wanted this over Joffrey or any other company so she begged and pleaded, worked and weaseled until her mother agreed to help navigate the paperwork nightmare and audition process with her. The Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School fed (and still feeds) into the post-secondary dance program at ABT and then into the company itself. So young and already with that competitor's fierce determination to get what she wanted.

She didn't see much of the city during her years as a student, her focus was on her feet. Her career. The sights and the tourist traps would always be there. Ballet was ruthless enough to have a time frame and a small window of opportunity. Of course this meant she experienced little that the city had to offer even once she did join the Corps de Ballet. What she did find and take from the city that never sleeps was the sense of being alone in a crowd and fending for herself, in that sense, the city itself reminded her of a ballerina. Trust no one (except your partner) and stay alert.

Dalton's Corner, Maine

Coming back home, her dream career effectively over, Waverly found (still finds) the small, close-knit town smothering and its inhabitants nosy. They no longer provided a sense of comfort but rather raised her hackles against intrusion and lack of privacy. She preferred her extended family to consist of the small circle of friends she'd managed to keep over the years--more effort on their parts than hers, she'd admit.

More than anything, Dalton's Corner serves to remind Waverly of all the tings she misses about NYC, a city she thought she knew very little about. It's too quiet in Maine. No one is ever busy enough and sleepy towns just don't feel alive or urgent. The only thing she didn't feel in Maine was the constant pressure to perform. There wasn't anyone to impress and those that were? It took relatively little on her part.

Besides, toddlers in tutus are hardly the likes of Irina Dvorovenko.
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Usually, I say in a very loud voice that I only RP for myself and for fun. Of course, this isn't true. I also RP for the joy of interacting with others and entertaining those who read this journal. And, therefore, here is your place to tell me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. Please be constructive.

So, I don't know anyone who doesn't feel like they aren't getting enough feedback. So... let's give some. What do you like about my pup? What do you think could be improved? What things about them do you not understand that you'd like elaborated on?

Comments screened.

Verbiage shamelessly stolen from [livejournal.com profile] rude_not_ginger
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Show us some of your achievements! Bring out your trophies, your proud moments, your fourth grade spelling award - anything goes.

This is me, showing off and wanting to ask, "So how many of you can do this?" To someone who isn't a dancer, this pose (and many others) probably looks like quite the achievement. For students still learning to keep their balance while practicing their turnout, flexing and pointing their feet under the dinner table or as they lay in bed every night, mentally moving through barre drills in the backs of their minds...this is a goal to reach and surpass. To the accomplished dancer, this is simply one more step in a repertoire of many.

For me, someone who used to dance, it is a challenge. One I try to meet every day. Every morning when I have the studio to myself, before the first rush of students arrive for class. When it's just me and the barre. Me and ballet. Me and the constant battle of wills that I have with my body. Some days I win, other days the aching muscles and injured bones, the leg that was once shattered and refuses to to be abused any longer...sometimes they win.

But not today.

Today, I danced through the pain and then I danced with it. Agony was my pas de deux partner, accompanying me and supporting me, driving me forward and lifting me up. It egged me on, encouraged me to not give up. I was in control, my body would bend and stretch, turn and jump at my say, under my command. Today I danced the way I used to, full of passion and certainty, ego and hubris.

That's what ballet is at the core. Pain and perfection. When you manage both, then you're a dancer.

Here's my proof.

Evidence of my accomplishment.

This is what I'm proud of.

What did you do today?

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As promised, Waverly called Mark prior to boarding her plane to NYC, verifying that he would be there to pick her up. Once more she gave him her flight information, the airline and the terminal. She also told him to meet her at baggage claim since airport security made it impossible to meet people at the arrival gate these days. To ease her list of dos and don’ts into something more affable and sweet, Waverly also promised the man that if he could spot her before she found him, she’d give him that kiss he kept asking after.

The flight was relatively short, only a couple of hours and part of that was simply because they needed to navigate around a weather system, and by the time they were preparing to land, Waverly was feeling a little anxious. Being on pins and needles, fidgeting and fighting the urge to dig her nails into her armrests had nothing to do with the plane’s decent into Laguardia’s runway field—even if it was a little turbulent. No, she was nervous about meeting Mark in person.

Would he be as charming as he seemed online and over the phone? Would she still feel that personality click? Would he find her attractive? That last made her laugh quietly to herself. If the man found her winsome with her hair a tumbled mess and while wearing a baggy sweater and jeans that are more comfortable than fashionable, she might actually have to fall in love. She smirked then, the dancer taking her wardrobe choice into consideration for the first time. If he liked what he saw when she got off the plane, she was sure to blow his mind when he got a look at her all dolled up for an evening out. Travel wear seemed to suddenly have more than one purpose.

Waverly eventually disembarked and made her way through the airport she was passing familiar with, heading in the right direction and looking assured while she did it. Baggage. Not that she had much more than her carry-on with her but there was a garment bag and a small wheeled-suitcase that she needed to fetch. Of course, there was also a cop she needed to spot before she ended up having to kiss him right there for the first time. In public.

Now where would he be…?

OOC Meme

Feb. 8th, 2009 02:47 pm
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1. Waverly Windsor
2. Rory Stone
3. Cait MacEibhir
4. Peter Webster
5. Pippa Kerr
6. Ruairi MacEibhir
7. Abby Lockhart
8. Chantal Weller
9. Anrai MacEibhir
10. Laine MacEibhir

cut for lolz )
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Putting my iPod on shuffle is supposed to somehow predict the way my month is going to go...

And the winner is:

Can't Breathe--Cyndi Lauper

Can't breath, can't sleep
And words are too big for my head
Some words shouldn't even be said This does not bode well... )
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[livejournal.com profile] friend_a_muse because I am tired of LJ making me feel like a friendless loser that a grand total of two people like. Talk to me! I'm good people. Ignore any rumors to the contrary, they are lies. Dirty, dirty lies.

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Anyone want a really bitchy cat?


Jan. 18th, 2009 02:34 am
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Think of an item or symbol from every day life that could stand for your mother, father, spouse, best friend, or other person who is important to you. If you don't want to use someone from your life, pick something that you think needs to be symbolized. Write about why that symbol stands for that person or thing.

Toe shoes. My old, worn-out and broken in toe shoes. The ones torn up and the inside of the toes stained with blood. They smell. They're ugly. And if I were to put them on right now? They'd feel comfortable and like they belonged on my feet.

These shoes symbolize everything about me, my life, my mother, my friends...everything we all worked for to get me into the academy at the American Ballet Theatre in New York. Blood, sweat, tears, sacrifice. Time. Determination.

My mother worked her ass off at two, sometimes three jobs to pay for my tuition. To keep me in leotards and shoes. For train tickets so I could come home for holidays. She let me go at eight years old, to go to school and to dance the way that she thought I was meant to dance. I was eight. I lived in New York until last year. Twenty years. She basically gave up twenty years of seeing her only child on a daily basis. She settled for phone calls--when I felt like talking to her. For letters--if I could bother to write. Of course, once I actually graduated, I saw her more often, came home a little more frequently but the truth was, my life was in New York, not Dalton's Corner.

I look at these worn out, used up things and I see all the hard work she put into giving me the chance to dance the satin right off a pair of slippers. And these are just the the pair I kept. There are so many others I threw away.

Then there are my friends. Greg and Mia and all the rest of them here in Dalton's Corner. The ones I went to grade school with. Mia who was always my penpal, who wrote the longest letters in the world to fill me in on everything I was missing out on. Andy, who I'd flirt with when I came home--every last one of them cheered me on and welcomed me back and when I'd leave again, they saw me off. Matt and Julie spent their honeymoon in NYC just so they could see me dance in the chorus of a show. Greg, Marsha and Ham used to take road trips to come see me.

They bent over backwards, tired themselves out, put their cars or their wallets to the test just to spend a day or two with me. Never complaining, never feeling as if they put more effort into our friendships (even though they really did at times). I look at these shoes and I see all the good wishes they had for me.

I look at these shoes.

You know what? If it hadn't been for all of them, there is no way I would have danced long enough, hard enough, to wear out even one pair of toe shoes.

These nasty, ugly, smelly shoes symbolize love. A lot of love.
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1. Are you single - Yes
2. Are you happy - Pretty much
3. Are you bored - A bit
5. Are you Italian - No
6. Are you pregnant - That's not even close to being funny
8. Are you nice - Yes
9. Are you Irish - No
10. Are you Asian - No

1. Full Name - Waverly Josephine Windsor
2. Nicknames - Wave, Toes, Oh God, Not You (okay, so only Greg calls me that)
3. Birth place - Dalton's Corner, Maine
4. Hair color - Brown
5. Natural hair style - Medium length and wavy
7. Birthday - 2/12 (Oh God, I am going to be 30 soon)
8. Mood - mellow
9. Favorite color - Purple
10. One Place to Visit - Moscow, maybe?

1. Have you ever been in love - Yes
2. Do you believe in love at first sight - Yes
4. Have you ever been hurt emotionally - Yes
5. Have you ever broken someone's heart - No
6. Have you ever had your heart broken - Just once
7. Have you ever liked someone but never told them - Yeah
8. Are you afraid of commitment - No
9. Who was the last person you hugged - Ham
10. Who was the last person you said I love you to - Ham, then I called him a bitch.

1. Love or lust - Love
2. Hard liquor or beer - Wine
3. Cats or dogs - Cat
4. A few best friends or any regular friends - I have an entourage
5. Television or internet - Internet
7. Wild night out or romantic night in - Wild, romantic night in
8. Money or Happiness - Happiness
9. Night or day - Day
10. IM or phone - Phone

1. Been caught sneaking out - No
3. Done something you regret - Yes
4. Bungee jumped - No
6. Finished an entire jaw breaker - No
8. Wanted an ex bf/gf back - No
9. Cried because you lost a pet - No
10. Wanted to disappear - Once

1. Smile or eyes - Eyes
2. Light or dark hair - Dark
3. Hugs or kisses - Kisses
4. Shorter or taller - Taller usually
5. Intelligence or attraction - Intelligence
6. Romantic or spontaneous - Romance
7. Funny or serious - Funny
8. Older or Younger - Older
9. Outgoing or quiet - Outgoing
10. Sweet or Bad Ass - Sweetly bad ass

1. Ever performed in front of a large crowd - Yes
2. Ever done drugs - No
3. Ever got someone pregnant - Wrong parts for that
4. Ever kissed the same gender - Yes but not like sexy time now kissing
5. Ever been on a cheerleading squad - No
6. Ever been on a dance team - No
7. Ever been on a sports team - Yes
8. Ever been in a drama play/production - Yes
9. Ever owned a BMW, Mercedes Benz, Escalade, Hummer or Bentley? - No
10. Ever been in a rap video? - No

1. Last phone call you made - Greg
2. Last person you kissed - I kissed everyone good night, I think Ham was the last out the door though
3. Last group of people you hung out with - Mia, Andy, Marsha, Vince, Julie, Matt, Greg, Hammond
4. Last time you worked - Friday afternoon's class
5. Last time you had a night out - Actually went out? Andy's birthday, I think.
6. Last person you IM'd - Mia
8. Last person(s) you went to the movies with - The gang listed above
9. Last person/thing you missed - Vitaliy
10. Last TV show you watched: Something with sexy beast Timothy Hutton
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Waverly laughed once more as she looked at the digits she'd scrawled on her desk blotter. A vampire. Right. At least he was cute and had a sense of humor. It was original. It also helped that she was bored to the point of finding this sort of nonsense the height of entertainment. Dialing me a vampire...wonder if he's read Twilight?

She punched in the numbers on her cellphone, listened as she waited for the call to connect. Ring. Ring again. If this went to his voice mail she was going to have to leave him a verbal dissertation on why Lestat was better than Spike was better than Dracula was better than Edward Cullen. Waverly really hoped he picked up.

"Come on, dazzle me."
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Friendship: Post a picture of your friends, or if you are not graphically challenged, write a short drabble about friendship

I tend to sort the people in my life into two groups: dancers and those who do not dance. And by do not dance, I mean in a professional capacity.

The Dance Crowd )

The Human Race Crowd )
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Make a grocery list for the week:

♥ Rice cakes

♥ Salsa

♥ Gluten-free pasta

♥ Peppers

♥ Tomatoes

♥ Spinach

♥ Red onions

♥ Cottage cheese

♥ Bananas

♥ Bottled water

♥ Yogurt

♥ Hershey bar
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Two days before 2009 and I decide to pick up my pen and put it to paper in an honest to God diary. Journal. I haven't kept a diary since I was probably eight years old. After that, I was away at school and we kept the nastier, more public version: slam books.

I still remember being voted as "girl with best turnout" and also "dog-faced girl" during the same trimester. Great memories. And people wonder how we get self esteem issues.

Anyway. I'm doing a lot of this supposed deep introspection and finding myself these days. A diary and an online journal. Next thing you know, I'll be knitting sweaters for my cat and signing up for internet speed dating. That's frightening.

It's freezing ass cold here and as I have no ass to speak of, this means I am wearing not only legging but sweat pants and I have a flannel blanket wrapped around myself too. Is this the sort of crap I'm supposed to record for posterity's sake? Weather updates and the state of my horrible fashion sense?

I guess I could come up with some lofty goals for the new year.

I'll save that for tomorrow.
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The Blind Date Meme


Oct. 5th, 2008 10:56 pm
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What the hell is that?! Starting at 2:05 or so. What a showboating, self-indulgent...he's prostituting the artform. A camera UNDER the stage? What is he trying to prove? There is no artistry there, the light technician should get all the credit for that 'performance'.
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They don't dance. I'm not talking about slow dancing in the living room to Jimmy Buffet's Come Monday or letting it all hang out on a club dance floor as K.C. and the Sunshine Band get down tonight...I mean they aren't professionally trained dancers. Ballet, ballroom or god forbid part of the cast for Riverdance. No one that has taps on the bottom of their patent leathers or actually uses the phrase step-ball-change in casual conversation. Certainly not anyone who acts as if making love is some sort of on stage performance where they expect adulation and applause afterward. I'm speaking from experience here. It's not pretty and never again.

What do I want? Someone funny, witty even. Wit implies at least some basic intelligence. I don't need a scholar or the next rocket scientist, but someone who can carry on a conversation in a broad number of topics would be nice.

They have to like cats, even if Lord Marlowe likes no one. Hey, he's mine and I'm pretty sure he hates me unless I'm filling his bowl with that smelly four-dollar-a-can goop he adores.

Someone who gets that I spend all afternoon and some evenings with people who are waist-high and I'm not looking to have any of my own. I love kids, I love working with them and helping them learn to love ballet, understand that magical world of pain and sacrifice and success. Personal goals and pushing your body to do as you say. I do not want to change diapers and make lunches and join the PTA.

They aren't going to get on me about my weight. Ever. I eat. Leave it at that.

Someone who has a sense of self and doesn't need to be defined by being in a relationship. I don't like to be smothered. If I need personal space, they should be okay giving it to me. Have their own circle of friends and hobbies I don't necessarily have to share. Opinions and views that are their own, don't be afraid to disagree with me. A chorus of "me too" gets old real fast.

That's what I want, we'll see if I ever find it.
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