Paper Writing with Virginia

Writing this Virginia Woolf paper, I feel as though she and I are engaged in a battle of wills. I have to wrestle with her for every sentence of analysis; I have to put her in a headlock to obtain an entire paragraph.  Virginia (as you may have experienced, grappling with someone typically puts you on a first-name basis with them) is the most present of any author whose works I’ve read.  I’m not sure how to explain this, exactly.  I’m not seeing visions of her (our sparring is purely imaginative), but I feel her.  Sometimes when I’m frustrated over a contradiction I’ve just discovered in my thesis, or utterly unable to decipher a passage, I look up from Mac and say aloud, “I am not afraid of you.  Let me write this, please!”  Sometimes, Virginia seems to relent, but sometimes she crosses her lace-covered arms and looks down her nose at me.  She has a long nose, but the effect is still good.  She twitches an eyebrow (and I am terribly embarrassed to admit to myself that she looks like Nicole Kidman in The Hours).  I tremble and shed a few tears and flop back against my pillows and attempt to recover my dignity.  I think that’s what Virginia would have done to people in real life.  I think she quietly, sometimes humorously, floored people.

I’m going to get back to it now.  Virginia is eating the Sour Skittles I got on Halloween and pursing her lips in the most Victorian manner possible.  Oops, now she’s futzing with my electric hair dryer.  I may have to give her a book and make her sit in the corner until I’m through.  I highly doubt, however, that I’ll be able to prevent her from giving me that look and from calling out highly inappropriate quips every fifteen minutes or so.

I’m not seeing visions.  7.5 pages to go.

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Oscar Gowns

It’s happening.  This blog will temporarily be concerned with fashion, something I never thought it would be concerned with (I am strictly a v-neck and jeans girl).  But as I have obnoxiously strong opinions concerning the Academy Awards in general, and as said opinions trickle down to include actress attire, I’m going for it.

In no particular order, here are my favorite Oscar dresses (from 2005-present, because 2005 was when I began watching religiously):

Vera Wang. I think part of the reason I love this dress so much is that Michelle simply looked so happy in it. She and Heath attended the ceremony together, they were smiling and laughing, and all was right in the world.

1950s Dior. Reese Witherspoon won best actress for Walk the Line in this dress.

Guy Laroche. I tend to think the simpler the better when it comes to evening gowns. I tend to think that surprising details keep a simple dress from being boring. I also tend to think that if you spend months training to be a boxer in Million Dollar Baby, you deserve to show off some skin.

Balenciaga. I remember a lot of people, mostly people more well-spoken in the fashion world than I, hated this dress. I think it’s perfect on her. The color is great and the bow in the back adds interest.

Jean Paul Gaultier. She won best actress in this dress as well. I see a trend here.

Badgley Mischka

Valentino. This is possibly my all-time favorite. The colors are lovely together, and the draping is exquisite.

Vintage Balmain. Maybe it does look a little like a wedding dress, but I’m going to let that go.

Elie Saab. The color makes this dress for me, although I’m not a fan of the slightly shredded-looking edges.

Elie Saab. It’s brave, I think, to wear a patterned evening gown, and this one reminds me of a Monet painting.

Lanvin. Once you get past the brillo pad material, this dress has a modern elegance to it that Natalie Portman pulls off perfectly, headband and all.

Armani Prive. It’s simple, it’s 60s, it’s fun. What more can you ask for?

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

If there’s anything I love more than movies, it is the people who act in them.  Yes, I adore my celebrities.  I track them on Twitter, I see what their upcoming projects are on IMDB, I laugh at their failings in US Magazine.  But mostly, I wait all year for the Academy Awards, where all my favorite people come together to wear gorgeous clothes, to drink large quantities of champagne without shame, and to receive deserved (and undeserved) awards for their craft.  I love to see actors as themselves.  I love that Julia Roberts is left-handed (she faked it in Erin Brockovich because the real woman is a righty).  I love that Natalie Portman makes dirty jokes and Nicole Kidman is from Australia (which I realize after 10 minutes of “where did this accent come from?”).  I love that half of them can’t figure out which side of the stage to exit on, even though they’ve been watching people up there ALL NIGHT.

I love how giddy everyone is, how wide a berth Meryl Streep is given as she sashays down the red carpet in a bubble of touchmenoti’vebeenwinningOscarssincebeforeyouwereborn.  I love it when Ryan Seacrest practically has to beg to get an actor to come and talk to him.  I love when they ignore him and continue posing for the press.  I love the transparent jokes he makes to hide the fact that he just got the cold shoulder.

I love this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And I think this is hilarious:

Stay gold, everyone.  And if you don’t, make a quick exit to the powder room, because the cameras will be on you.