"and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again."
Caliban, The Tempest, William Shakespeare
I stayed up all night to watch the Oscars live until almost 7 am. It's kind of a tradition that I've created for myself since I was thirteen years old --no matter what, every year, I watch the show live. It may seem futile to you --I could watch the replay at a decent hour the next day, and not be at work downing coffee after coffee on Monday morning, having only slept two hours. But to me, watching the Oscars is more than finding out who won Best Picture. The truth is, when I first started my tradition, watching was all about the dream to be a part of it one day. I would sit and smile and visualize myself walking down that red carpet in a signee-something gown, embracing Tom Hanks and having a laugh with Nicole and Sandra, giggling at the joke some reporter made. I'd rehearse my acceptance speech in the shower, varying it a little from time to time, switching from funny to emotional or mixing up both. Eh. I wanted to be one of those people who dream big and actually make it.
A lot of girls dream about being an actress when they grow up. Maybe you dreamed of being a singer, a dancer, a football player; and maybe you're not surprised that it didn't happen.
Now I watch the Academy Awards, and it's a reminder of what I didn't do. I look at the young and upcoming stars on red-carpet, the Hailees and Jennifers who are nominated on their first time around, and I remember that I never even tried --that I gave up before giving myself the chance. I remember what I once was: ambitious, motivated, hungry.
And now I realize that I sound like I'm 80 years old and my life is behind me. But I'm not. I'm 25.
One of last night's winners, David Seidler, who won best original screenplay for The King's Speech, is 73 years old. In his speech he laughed it off and said his "father said he would be a late bloomer." So we never know... Maybe I'll surprise myself at age 70 and be up there after all.
But my favorite part of the show last night was something director Tom Hooper said when he won. He told the story of how his mother went to a stage version reading of The King's Speech, came back and told him she found his next film. "The moral of the story is: listen to your mother."
Yes, I'm a sucker for mother tributes and such. And this made me think that maybe every time I feel lost and dwell in the misery of my quarter life crisis, I should listen to my own mother. Problem is, she died three weeks before my 16th birthday. But a lot of the times, I forget that she left me a really important, and quite specific message. On that first birthday she missed, my father presented me with a gift, from her. He said she had them run around the city for weeks trying to find the one she had in mind: it was a beautiful silver quill and ink set. And her message to me was: never stop writing.
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again."
Caliban, The Tempest, William Shakespeare
I stayed up all night to watch the Oscars live until almost 7 am. It's kind of a tradition that I've created for myself since I was thirteen years old --no matter what, every year, I watch the show live. It may seem futile to you --I could watch the replay at a decent hour the next day, and not be at work downing coffee after coffee on Monday morning, having only slept two hours. But to me, watching the Oscars is more than finding out who won Best Picture. The truth is, when I first started my tradition, watching was all about the dream to be a part of it one day. I would sit and smile and visualize myself walking down that red carpet in a signee-something gown, embracing Tom Hanks and having a laugh with Nicole and Sandra, giggling at the joke some reporter made. I'd rehearse my acceptance speech in the shower, varying it a little from time to time, switching from funny to emotional or mixing up both. Eh. I wanted to be one of those people who dream big and actually make it.
A lot of girls dream about being an actress when they grow up. Maybe you dreamed of being a singer, a dancer, a football player; and maybe you're not surprised that it didn't happen.
Now I watch the Academy Awards, and it's a reminder of what I didn't do. I look at the young and upcoming stars on red-carpet, the Hailees and Jennifers who are nominated on their first time around, and I remember that I never even tried --that I gave up before giving myself the chance. I remember what I once was: ambitious, motivated, hungry.
And now I realize that I sound like I'm 80 years old and my life is behind me. But I'm not. I'm 25.
One of last night's winners, David Seidler, who won best original screenplay for The King's Speech, is 73 years old. In his speech he laughed it off and said his "father said he would be a late bloomer." So we never know... Maybe I'll surprise myself at age 70 and be up there after all.
But my favorite part of the show last night was something director Tom Hooper said when he won. He told the story of how his mother went to a stage version reading of The King's Speech, came back and told him she found his next film. "The moral of the story is: listen to your mother."
Yes, I'm a sucker for mother tributes and such. And this made me think that maybe every time I feel lost and dwell in the misery of my quarter life crisis, I should listen to my own mother. Problem is, she died three weeks before my 16th birthday. But a lot of the times, I forget that she left me a really important, and quite specific message. On that first birthday she missed, my father presented me with a gift, from her. He said she had them run around the city for weeks trying to find the one she had in mind: it was a beautiful silver quill and ink set. And her message to me was: never stop writing.
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