I know everything is connected, but sometimes things feel more connected than usual.  For instance, I haven’t really written very many posts here, yet it seems like in the last couple of weeks, there could be connected updates to nearly every one of them.

Let’s see…

Because I wrote about my Oscars search, a Very Important Reader found the entire show for me and now I’ve seen it! Kathryn Bigelow!  Hurt Locker!  I noticed that the guy who won the Oscar for writing Precious BASED ON THE NOVEL ‘PUSH’ BY SAPPHIRE  was an actor I used once.

I thought it was particularly funny that when they panned to Sandra Bullock in the very beginning of the show, they said “Can that woman act – and what is up with all that Hitler memorabilia?” since the broadcast was before the subsequent gossip.  Anyway, I do feel complete now, having finally seen the show.  Plus I was able to read and discard all the old magazines that covered the event.  My living room and I both thank Very Important Reader.

Another update…way back in January when I was in Los Angeles with Awesome Photographer and we did that drive, we went so fast that the number 9 came off my watch.  I know that seems impossible, but I’m convinced it had to do with the extreme speed and the crazy switchbacks we navigated.  When we got back, I brought it into Tourneau, who sent it off to Switzerland to be fixed.  As you can probably guess if you read the previous post, I was really on the fence about fixing it.

If I didn’t, would that mean the loveless spell would be broken?  Ultimately I decided that I couldn’t not fix it.  If the curse was to be lifted, it would have to be by something beyond my control.  Several months and over a thousand dollars later, the watch was ready to be picked up this past week.

In between those two events, the person about whom the Lincoln, NE post was written, snuck back into my life.  I was, of course, initially wary and not sure that his reappearance was a good idea, but being the ever-optimistic Sagittarian, whatever doubts I had were ignored.  We were, finally, going to spend this past weekend together.  Were.  I picked up the watch on Thursday and on Friday, Lincoln wrote me a form-letter-like email canceling.  The very day we were supposed to go.

Damn watch.

I can’t stop wondering why it is that I am hyper-conscious of connections to these arbitrary events in my life and yet I am terrible about keeping connected to the more important things around me?

My friend Kate died this week.  She was young and had two daughters.  It was not unexpected, but in some ways, that makes it more tragic.

One time when we were riding the subway, long before 9/11, she told me that whenever she gets on a train, she does a quick look-around and mentally picks out who will be her friend in the event something disastrous happened.  I laughed and looked around the car.

“Who would be your friend on this train?” I asked.

She looked at me and just shook her head.

“Um, you.  You would be my friend.”

Kate was awesome.  And it turns out I was a terrible friend.  I was her friend on that train ride.  I just didn’t go the distance.  I let time and geography and excuses get in the way.

I could say that this was a wake-up call and I’ll always appreciate what and who is around me, but that wouldn’t be true.  It’s sad, but it’s more likely I’ll post some link on Twitter than pick up the phone to speak to a friend.

But if disaster ever does befall me when I’m on the subway, at least I know I have a plan.


And the Oscar goes to…

I have been horribly remiss about posting.  Things in my world have been slightly off kilter.  Almost normal, but not.  For one thing, I still don’t know who won the Oscars.  And I am a die-hard Oscar fan.

What I mean to say is that I’m a die-hard movie fan, but the Oscars are probably the most important night of the whole year for me.  And the morning the nominations are announced is probably the most important morning of the whole year for me.

By that time, I’ve more or less seen the films I want to see and the remaining weeks until the ceremony are spent catching up on the handful I missed – as well as seeing the ones I really am not interested in but have to see because they were nominated.  If I’m really busy, as I was this year, it becomes almost like work.  Sometimes I don’t even enjoy it.

About two weeks before ‘the’ event, I found out that I had to be away, far away with no Oscar access.  And apparently Time Warner doesn’t let you set your DVR that far in advance.  Missing the show was all I could think about.  Well that and flying coach, but nothing else.

Then, just like a cheesy movie plot, shortly before I was to leave, someone kind of amazing came into my life.  Someone who seemed as crazy about the Oscars as I.  He seemed, then at least, amazing for lots of reasons.  It was an extremely finite period of amazingness, but that wasn’t apparent till later.  Back then, it was an intoxicating combination of someone who was super interesting, a good kisser and who would DVR the Oscars for me.  Ooooh, that’s a bingo!

The cheesy movie plot continued.  I received an apologetic email the day after the show.  He didn’t tape it.   I mentioned this to a  guy I was with in Faraway Land.  “I don’t know…if I liked you, I would have made sure I taped it.  That’s kind of what you do.”  I tried to ignore that.

What I couldn’t ignore was that I didn’t have the Oscars telecast.  I didn’t want a list of the winners.  I didn’t want to watch a clip of the Best Picture or Best Actor awards.  I wanted every minute, including the songs and the Irving R. Thalberg Tribute.  I even wanted the at-last-week’s-luncheon-we-gave-the-Technical-Awards speech.

I wanted my best night of the year.

I called my friend, Phillip.  He loves the Oscars; he would have taped it.  “Oh, sorry, I only have the Red Carpet.”  I looked online, all over.  I called everyone I knew.  No one had the entire show.  So I waited. I’d have to find it somehow.  I didn’t want the news any other way.

I didn’t use my computer for well  over a week.  I was with only a few people and, they, thankfully, respected my craziness and never spoke of the show or its winners.  I didn’t read any newspapers or turn on the television.

By the time I got home a couple of weeks later, the headlines had moved on.  I told my neighbor to make sure all my magazines were face down when she gave me my mail.  They’re still sitting that way in my living room.

Mr. Amazing was gone.  In his place was Mr. Indifferent.  He wasn’t nearly as fun to spend time with.  Or at least I’m guessing he wouldn’t have been;  I never saw much of him.  The cheesy movie plot never developed, not even in a straight-to-DVD fashion.

42 days later and I still don’t know who won.   Should I just read the list of winners already and give up trying to find the real thing?  It’s kind of ridiculous that I still hold out hope that I’ll find someone who taped the show, still has it saved, and will let me come over and watch it.  In silence of course.  I like my Oscar experience pure.  It’s also kind of ridiculous that I think about that teensy amount of Mr. Amazing time more than the vast amount of Mr. Indifferent time.

I’ve had my Academy acceptance speech written for years.   I’m on stage.  I look at Oscar and then I look to camera.

“Mommy…(pause)….I finally met the man of my dreams.”