For example, there are 375 voting members in the directors branch. The accountants take that 375 number and divide it by six — i.e., the number of eventual nominees (five) plus one. The division yields the number 62 — and then you add one, so that’s 63. (There’s a reason for adding these ones, but don’t worry about it.)
The accountants then take all 375 director ballots and go through only the first choices, putting each helmer-contender into his/her own stack. When a contender hits 63 first-place votes, he has enough for a nomination.
Anyone who voted for this director gets his ballot set aside, and none of the voter’s other choices is tallied. The reason is to make sure that every voice is heard.
It’s possible, but not likely, that when the first round of voting concludes, there are five contenders who got 63 votes. If not, the [team at counting firm PricewaterhouseCoopers] take the remaining ballots and go through people’s second choices, to see who gets enough votes in this round.
One caveat: A contender has to receive at least one first-place vote. The thinking is that if a person got zero first-place finishes, maybe he doesn’t deserve a nomination.
I don’t care who or what was nominated for an Oscar and none of you are going to guilt me into caring. I’m just as cultured as you. It’s just that I don’t happen to enjoy four hour ceremonies that celebrate montages and gowns more than talent or artistic merit and despite being called an AWARDS SHOW allot less than 5% of the run time to actual acceptance speeches.
If I wanted to go out and see movies I have no interest in seeing but pretend I do just to seem knowledgable on the subject, I would.
If I had that special talent for caring what a collective group of people I don’t know thought of a certain group of films, and a blind eye towards the massive amounts of politics that really decide who the winner is, I’d be excited as you right now.
Jess talking about being forced to get work done at the library made me think about how impossible it is for me to get any writing done at home.
I think I’ll start going to the Panera or Starbucks around the corner where my distractions are limited to internet and homeless people. That may seem daunting, but cutting the DVR out of the equation will make a HUGE difference.
Obviously I won’t be doing this tonight because OMGOMGLOSTOMGOMG
Despite my distaste for Los Angeles, it is important that I remember it is still possible for me to have fun. Fun does not necessarily mean I am compromising myself or selling out. I can hate this city but still enjoy what is has to offer. This weekend I did just that.
I went and saw a few Groundlings shows, hung out with friends, saw My Bloody Valentine 3D (really fucking cool), did the Hollywood & Highland thing, saw Oliver & Company at the El Capitan (just as cool as MBV3D, but a little less intense), went to the Studio City farmer’s market, and spent most of today relaxing and writing. Tomorrow I am going to finish this treatment and enjoy my day off.
I’m pretty content with life right now. That’s a first. Guess all it took with a pick axe to the face and an orphan kitten.
Between the CHP, state of California, and city of Long Beach, someone does NOT want me to pay my speeding ticket, as every time I call or try to do so online, it tells me there is no record of this ticket. Fuck. This.
Also, I’m getting a haircut. Now that I have money and my hair is too goddamn long, I am lopping it all off. Yes. I can’t wait to not need to comb it and to not feel wet hair on the back of my neck when I get out of the shower. Yes yes yes. I can’t wait to not need to always wear a baseball cap or other hat for no other reason than because I hate when my hair is in my eyes.
The Wrestler, Slumdog Millionaire, Doubt, Frost/Nixon, etc…
I have not seen ANY of these, as I have dubbed them, “Oscar” movies. I saw half of Benjamin Button and fell asleep on accident. Note to self…once I get money, see more movies. And maybe get NetFlix back.
I really love all of my UCB friends and I always have fun hanging out with them. However, something needs to be done about this staying out ridiculously late on weeknights situation.
Didn’t get home until 1:30 last night, and I am currently in an early evening one-hour-and-twenty-minutes-left-I-swear-to-god-it’s-been-5:38-forever-lull. Such a lull, in fact, that I am drinking a pop to stay awake. That’s right. Pop. If you know me, you know I do. Not. Drink. Pop.
Also, back in Michigan I always called it soda. I didn’t start calling it pop until I moved to where everyone calls it soda.
It’s hard getting back into the swing of working full time. After four months of sleeping in and working 14 hours a week, it was hard to say goodbye to all of that freedom. Although… it is nice to have a set schedule and be gone all day, as opposed to giving myself anxiety by sitting on the couch telling myself “Well I have to do SOMETHING…” but being too lazy to actually get off my ass and do said something. Creating an endless battle of guilt vs sloth.
I want to go home and sleep, but I have to finish writing my treatment. I love how my attempt to write something more “accessible” than my last script turned into a story about hot dogs. Shit.
“The lady will be having the tasting menu, but with some substitutions: Instead of, uh, any of it, she’ll have a cup of hot water with a chicken bone in it and a bowl of salted ice cubes.”—Jack Donaghy, 30 Rock (via maniacalrage) (via lifeofbk)