Sunday, December 13, 2009

I Wish I Could Say This All In Fewer Words Because The Length of This Makes It Seem Too Dramatic

After a 10 day stretch of blog writer's block, I come to you with upsetting news: Earlier today I was emotionally moved by Julie & Julia. Those of you who know me, and those of you--whoever you are--that only know me as Hollywood Sucker, might be surprised to learn that a feel-good, please-everybody movie could have this effect on me. Well, allow me to put this in some kind of context.

I bought the movie on demand at about 4:30. Up until that point, I'd accomplished nothing all day, except for managing to cram 2 carb-intense meals into my face in the span of just 4 hours. I have a love/hate relationship with lazy days like these. Lately I've been leaning more towards the hate side of things.

So I'm sitting there watching the movie, not a thought in my brain. I get to the part where (spoiler alert--I guess? not really) Amy Adam's character, Julie, is featured in a New York Times article and suddenly every literary agent and publisher in the universe wants a piece of her. Hurrah, hurrah, she is a real writer after all.

And I, in spite of myself, start to cry. These weren't sappy happy scene tears. I was just...bothered. With myself, not with the movie. I suppose the best explanation I can offer is that it occurred to me that my writing aspirations are little more than a hobby. And that I've never devoted a good amount of attention to any hobby I've ever explored. But this Julie person found a way to fix her own shortcomings as a writer, got lucky, got published, and wound up portrayed in a major Hollywood movie by an attractive A-list actress. Now she has a new blog with an About Me section that reads, "From dead-end secretarial job to a 110 pound dog and a job writing in my pajamas." Well la-di-freaking-da.

Because I'm trying to be a better human being these days I don't want to dwell on the real Julie and her real success. So back to the story at hand: me, my couch, and this darn movie.

I finished watching the movie, trying to put my ridiculous outburst out of my mind. Fortunately Devin had dozed off somewhere along the way and missed the whole episode, so if I could just get through the end credits and on with my night, I could ignore whatever feelings were rumbling around deep inside. I could pretend this had never happened.

But of course that was a stupid plan, and by the time the movie wrapped up and Devin stirred from his nap, I was still distracted and distraught. So I took a shower for no good reason, then went out to get a hot fudge sundae for dinner, and now here we are. I think I have reached some kind of conclusion.

I believe the writer in me is still alive and well. I think I've just wound up in the wrong headspace.

When I started this blog my plan was to chronicle the life of an average, daydreaming, underwhelming girl with no money, who lived in a city of glamour, celebrity, sunshine and wealth. Sure it was a self deprecating theme, but I think --I hope--that was its charm. And then for a while I became obsessed with The Hills during what was sort of an unannounced comparison study. Who's doing it right? People like me or people like Lauren? I don't know if I ever decided on a winning team, but I'd like to think it's the one I'm on.

And then sometime after that my blog just lost steam. In the last several months, especially, I can't seem to find anything to say. I realize now that it's because I can't write this particular blog any more. I'm not feeling so lost and lame, so bored and boring. My job is going really well, I just got married and thus started an exciting new part of my life. And in general, I think some part of me just changed somewhere along the line.

For instance, last week Devin and I went to a get together at the home of one of his coworkers. It was a beautiful house, and not in a massive, elegant way. It was cozy, and warm, and every piece of furniture or artwork had a story behind it. That night, in bed, I was acting sort of despondent. Devin asked what was wrong and I told him, "I just want a house and I'm sad we don't have one." Once the words came out of my mouth, I hated myself for saying it. And for being such a brat, as I lay in a warm bed, next to someone who loves me, with a roof over my head and a belly full of yummy dinner.

So it goes when I try to write this blog. More often than not, I stop myself from publishing my post because I re-read what I've typed and I feel like I'm being a little shithead, like I'm directionless and hopeless. And while I hate to admit that the story of Julie Powell has anything to do with the story of me, I think I realized I'd rather write a blog that sets goals. That speaks to accomplishments, or at least to the pursuit of something.

As 2009 comes to a close, I think it's time to put an end to Hollywood Sucker. In the new year, one of two things will happen: Either I will start a new blog, one where every entry I type feels right, or else I will just stay focused on my other writing, the countless screenplays I've started with great fervor and then carelessly abandoned.

And now that I'm here, I don't know exactly what to say. This is harder than I thought it would be. So thanks for those of you who have been reading. See you around the internet.


Thursday, December 3, 2009

Christmas In My Neighborhood

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Everywhere you go...

There's sleazy M&M's

And giant blow up snowmen

And trees tied up with pretty red bows...

It's beginning to look a lot like Chistm-aaaaahhhh!

[record scratch]

Holy crap! What happened here?

Teddy Bear, is that you? Pull yourself together, man. You're ruining Christmas.

Oh, I see. Drunk again.

What a pity.