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.