I’m pretty sure today’s going to be shit.
I walk into work and realize this is where I’m going to be for the next 13 hours. I decide today is definitely going to be shit.
It dawns on me that today is in fact, Oscar Night.
The Academy Awards. The crowning achievement on many filmmakers’ aspirations list, as well as mine. The closest I’ve come is two degrees of separation, my best friend in RL worked on a film that made the shortlist of nominees for Best Short.
I deliver lunch to my favourite. He reminds me of Peter O’Toole, now. He spins his wheelchair to face me, but keeps his eyes on the live telecast. Ho, hum. I’ll catch the rerun later. He looks up only to smile as I leave.
I’m back with afternoon tea.
“Am I going to be happy with Best Film?” I ask.
“I think you’ll be very happy.” He answers with his British croak. That means The King’s Speech. I smile as I leave.
I clock out.
I log on to the grid. Mr Darcy has left me a very romantic surprise. It’s made my day.
I check in with the Thelma to my Louise, Dailyn. She assures me that it’s no mirage, Mr Darcy is adorable and that she hates my guts. I love her just that little bit more.
The Oscars broadcast reruns.
I’ve had the privilege of acquiring many stories in my soon to be 24 years of life. Most of them, I feel too young to tell myself. And so, always moving to a strange new place and not knowing anyone feels like The Secret Garden. Running through rainforests and swimming in open rivers with the local kids, feels like Avatar. Seeing those same kids on the streets on my way to school, feels like Children Underground.
I’m hoping one day, to be able to share those stories. I know the people in both my lives will be a big part of that. And maybe one day, at the Oscars, they’ll say “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”
Vittoria Hancroft is a part time caterer/film school graduate, thus the cliché of a struggling artist. In-world, she’s an amateur fashion and décor blogger for SLidioglossia and an aspiring creator of machinima. Credit: Photo by Dailyn Holfe.