B) Sighing nostalgically at imagining one of my movie adaptions earning such an award.
Movies from books, other than backhand work, such as costume, cinematography, and original score (all extremely important ingredients, by the way), have more particular challenges when it comes to being recognized by the Academy. It certainly happens -- this years' Silver Linings, last year's The Help, Lord of the Rings, etc. But these recognitions mainly occur, I think, when the film warriors completely pioneer and eclipse the novel into its own craft of filmography. In some ways, I think Peter Jackson's rendition of The Lord of the Rings honors Tolkien's story even more powerfully than the novels, not the mention the sheer beauty of his scenery and presentation.
But where is the love for the authors?
I understand Tolkien went to be with Frodo, but even when authors do have their stories acknowledged at the Oscars (notice, sadly, the novels of public sensation - Harry Potter, Hunger Games, etc. - largely disregarded, in part due, I think, to the commercialism such success gives; which unspokenly seems to disqualify them for sophisticated commendment) they're never called up. In fact, are the authors even THERE?
Okay, let's just run things over again.
The Bachelor is one of those rare shows of who's participation in I would wish upon both my worst enemies and my best friends. I had the immense pleasure of describing the show to Laura last night, who had no idea what it was.
First, I disclosed the concept. Twenty girls, one guy, Hunger Games battle to the death for him.
But while some Bachelors/Bachelorettes are real jerks or got nothing but roses upstairs, there are worse situations one could be in than competing to the death for Sean Lowe.
We all know this is a pageant. However, with such amazing and unrealistically glamorous dates planned, paid, choreographed, and documented by ABC for the Bachelor/Bachelorette, MY dates would be EXCLUSIVELY HAND-CHOSEN TO REQUIRE EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF *SPECIAL* ASSISTANCE AND STAND OUT FROM ALL THE OTHERS.
It would be really good publicity. Really good television. ABC could even sell us to Lifetime and Hallmark afterwards. And Oprah. (She likes me! She really, really likes me!)
And then, of course, everyone who knows me would know that the only real reason I was on the show would be so Liam could pull a Gale and watch the screen with hidden, heartbroken jealousy whenever I kiss the gentlemanly blonde.
Well readers, this must be the first post I've written without something deeply intimate, profoundly spiritual, or sincerely enlightening to the meaning of life and the human condition. I'll leave you all to rest your minds. In the meanwhile, while I pet him and coo at how beautiful and sweet he is, I better go put more ointment on my dog's pelvic rash.