life...with a twist of dixie: What can I say? Little golden men get me every time!

The Oscars. They're like a holiday to me. As soon as that little golden man starts popping up in advertisements and nominations are made, I become a child. A child full of dreams and delight!

When I was a little girl, I spent a lot of my time happily alone. I wasn't awkward around other kids or anything and was actually quite a friendly, playful lil' thing but whereas, most children require constant companionship, I was quite content off on my own (this is just one of the MANY reasons that my mum brags about what an easy and wonderful child I was to raise...in case you were wondering). I spent my days living out extraordinary moments in visually stunning, imaginary worlds that I created for myself. I sat in corners, trees, and closets writing short stories and dreaming up ideas for plays and films. Then I would sketch the clothes and costumes. Then I would act them out with my imaginary friend, Miss Pinky! Miss Pinky was a ballerina dressed entirely in blue and because of this thought it was incredibly funny to be called Miss Pinky.

When I wasn't living wildly in my imagination with Miss Pinky, I watched films. I LOVED films. I would watch them over and over and OVER again (which I'm quite certain, drove my family nutso). I would study each character thoroughly...down to their every mannerism and stitch of clothing. I would then mimic these characters or sometimes bring my own flair to the character. I longed to be captured on that screen or the creator of that story or the "dresser-upper", as I liked to call the costume designer. I wanted to be honored with an Academy Award and would therefore practice my Oscar speech regularly standing in front of the mirror in my moms silkiest night gown with my barbie doll statue held close to my heart as I gushed on and on about all the people that helped get me to that stage. I never shared this with anyone as a wee little girl. It was my own private world, where no one could judge me for my uncontrollable imagination. (Note: I grew up in a VERY small southern town and I thought no one would understand my obsession with films, fashion, and the NEED to discover far off lands and other worlds. Little did I know, that a) my family would have fully supported my weirdo creative spirit and b) many of those people DON'T understand that obsession that still lives on).

So as an intense lover of film, fashion, and photography, the Oscars were my Superbowl! I cheered on my favorite films and gowns like any dedicated fan would but always sat in awe of every artist and every piece of silk or chiffon. I watched with such fervor and desire...and to this very day, I still do.

When I watch an actress, writer, director, or any other creative spirit behind a film step onto that Oscar stage, I have an aching in my heart so intense that I can feel it in the very core of my being. I would KILL (don't worry, not literally) to work in that industry or to be working happily in any industry that I have such an intense passion about. So watching someone accept an honor that many of them have dreamt about their entire lives (like yours truly) and are being recognized for a passion that they've poured every ounce of themselves into gives me a feeling that I honestly find very difficult to put into words. But I will say this...I cry. I cry a LOT. Whoever is lucky enough to watch them with me is usually giggling at my muffled sniffles and probably thinking what a nutter I am. Which quite frankly, I can't argue. I am. Certifiably so! Luckily, that's something I came to terms with years ago and one of the qualities that I admire the most in myself. I am me. Take it or leave it!

So yes, while The Oscars may be just another award show to some but to me, it ignites a desire and a longing to belong to a career and a life where my passions and creative talents are put to use. I have no idea in what manner I want to use those talents because I am a lady of many, MANY interests and passions but I do know this...I want to live in a world where I wake up each day knowing that I'm finally living out a life that little girl swaying in over sized heels, wrapped up in her mothers' red silk nightgown with a barbie that gleamed like gold in her hands would be proud to call her life.

Peace, Love, & Chicken Grease

Beks

GLAM ALERT! Let's not forget a quick list of my absolute favorite fashions of Oscar night: