arts, movies, music, pop culture · dating and singlehood

and the oscar goes to …

I don’t mean to write about celebrities ever, but it happens once every few months. I caught the end of the Oscars last nite – the part with the best actress and best actor. It was nicely done and just the right amount of butt-kissing without going too far into sentimental swamp territory. I would like to state for the record that I still think it’s slightly discouraging after all this time they still havent changed up the order of men vs. women categories as if best actor is slightly more of a build up to best picture. it’s subtle, but it’s there. seriously, academy, can you just one year switch the order? maybe you can alternate each year. I’m surprised no one has said anything about this publicly?

anyway, that’s not the topic of this blog. no, this blog is about being 2nd best. or not. I was thinking about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Actually, I was thinking about Jennifer Aniston more. At one point they had shown Brad and Angelina and then cut to the person speaking, I think it was Steven Spielberg at the time, and then to Jennifer. This sent me down a little path I call speculation Street. I thought about how it must sting, even a little bit and after all this time, for Ms Aniston. I suppose that’s one of the many downsides to being a celeb, other than having to hide away in one your many multi-million dollar homes somewhere in the world to avoid prying eyes. Yeah that really must suck for yall.

But really, it’s bad enough to be rejected, but to have to see your ex with his new love splashed every where every day for years on end. And then for both of them to be front and center at a major awards show and they are both up for the big kahuna the same year. It would just about do me in. But that’s just me maybe. maybe I’m sensitive about losing and not being good enough and not feeling like I am someone else’s sun moon and stars any more. Well, Jennifer does have Mr John Mayer who I personally would take in a blink of an eye over Brad. But that’s not the point really. Or is it? Maybe there is some kind of working out of these things that hurts like hell at the time but sorts out all in all.

A friend recently was talking about breaking up with a girlfriend and how he was thinking about how you really know when this is “the one” and all that. another friend of ours had given the advice to never settle for 2nd best. But i know many who have gotten into trouble getting into relationships with the one who they thought was basically the best they could do. I have no idea how you can just know this is it. In every relationship I have always felt like there will be someone better or smarter or funnier or more interesting or more talented or better looking or whatever whatever. you can always play the upgrade game. Like computers – as soon as you get the best available, they go and announce something even more incredible and yours is obsolete in a year and you just want to blow it up with explosives in a deserted stretch of I 64. Ok, not a good analogy.

In keeping with the Oscar metaphor, I suppose it’s nice to be nominated and all, but it still has to hurt a wee bit to not go home with a trophy. You start second guessing yourself and comparing to everyone else in the running. It can be this endless game of rejection v defense mechanism, making excuses or pumping yourself up to do better next time. In the context of love and rejection, we do this, shifting from blaming “him” to me and back to him again, going from feeling this generally demented sense that there is something intrinsically wrong with me to thinking all men are jackasses. Somewhere in between is probably true.

Anyway, I suppose I’m going to have to see Slumdog Millionaire to see what the hype is all about. It still doesn’t seem like a flick I’d really be interested in, but I do like to see movies about other countries and cultures, however corrupted by Hollywood, come to the forefront. it’s so easy to forget there are other worlds out there. Especially when you are so busy feeling sorry for yourself because no one will date you.


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