I spent last night babysitting. Between a robust game of dodgeball and trips to the bag of Trader Joe's carmel popcorn that I "accidentally" opened, I watched the SAG awards. After about an hour I came to the tragic realization that I no longer care for awards shows. As a child and teenager, I lived for awards shows. And when I say "lived," I mean I remained hopeful and alive because of the distinct possibility that if awards shows continued to exist and I continued to exist, a day might come when I too would win (or be nominated...same thing) for an award for something (God knows what...but it never really mattered, so long other people found it fabulous, and I seemed fabulous for winning it). Because THEN, all the crap that I endured, the divorce, the loneliness, etc., would somehow be redeemed. It was sort of my own personal, evangelical belief system, except I substituted the idea of Heaven, with a televised awards show and people clapping, and tears, and maudlin feelings for my mother, father, dentist, mailman, and kindergarten teacher...AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, everyone was watching. So, I had to be actress, or writer, or director, because after all, who watches awards shows for librarians or machinists? What chanel are those shows even on?

Last night I watched Hilary Swank proclaim Clint Eastwood to be the second coming, and while she's beautiful and her job is cool and given the same set of circumstances I would probably say the same things, NONETHELESS, I'm grateful not to be in the awkward position of being raised above society so high that I have to projectile vomit praise and acclaim just to feel comfortable.

Just for today, I don't have an award, and it's OK.