An Open Letter To Hollywood
by Amy Lindorff
Sunday night while I was half watching the Golden Globes, half using the NYT Crossword Puzzle app (it’s free and the best thing ever) I realized that from December 18 to January 3 when I was in Portland and Seattle, I forgot that people make movies. I also remembered that until I was fourteen I didn’t really believe that people actually watched awards shows. My parents certainly didn’t; not if there was an episode of Modern Marvels that would be missed if the channel was changed. It wasn’t until I won myself a 13” television in my middle school’s magazine sale that I discovered awards shows actually aired on TV (around this time I also learned that Everwood was a real show and please believe I watched it CONSTANTLY once I found this out).
I do kind of love Awards Shows, even if I end up putting them on mute and just looking at the pretty dresses (Sub Open Letter To Emma Stone: GIVE ME ALL YOUR DRESSES PUHLEASE). But the point of this is that while I wasn’t in LA, I heard next to nothing about movies or Hollywood in general. It was nice to remember that there are places in this world that don’t yell “TOLDJA” every time something extremely dramatic happens. Like this.
Though as soon as I got back, I was strangely comforted by all the movie posters. They are at least more interesting to look at than the bad puns on Oregon Lottery and lumber supply store billboards. I just might suggest to you that you remember that outside of LA are a whole bunch of people who don’t really care what you’re up to and think you should not take yourself so seriously 24/7.