We all think that our lives are meant for the pages of a book. Come on ... admit it. And if you can't admit that, then surely you have considered your workplace as the setting for a hilarious sit-com. Don't lie to me. We all have delusions of grandeur and relax, you are not alone. I read Eat, Pray, Love after everyone else did, that summer when those three words were all you heard. That's the problem with hype, Oprah-based or otherwise. By the time everyone raves about a book, movie or TV show, you get there and wonder ... what's the big deal? Modern Family, Mad Men, Up in the Air ... come on ... is everybody high?
Anyway ... back to the heroine of our story from Eat, Pray, Love. By the time I was in Bali with Elizabeth Gilbert, I wanted to go back to New York, as I was homesick for the real world. Not by any means am I demeaning her journey and meaningful experience. It was just time for me to come home to continue my spiritual quest, which has always been the journey within, while dealing with life on life's terms. The book reminded me that I am not an external seeker ... who knows ... maybe I should try it. Elizabeth's schlepping hither-and-to was exhausting. First of all, as an ex-fatty, I would sooner die that stuff myself with carbs in Italy. When I was there, I watched every morsel so I could squeeze into the clothes I was buying.
The ashram story is sooo early 70's, and made me think back to those cults where so many bleeding heart liberals flocked to, only to discover that they were stripped of all their worldly possessions. Meanwhile their Gurus were running around in 14 karat gold Cadillacs. Please ... can you remove your Saree so I can see right through you? As for Bali, well, it all sounds so lovely and picturesque but there is something ... perhaps the bombing, tidal waves and anti-American sentiment (Oh, my!) that leaves me wanting to go to other ports of call. Look, Ms. Gilbert ultimately finds true love ... which is extremely romantic. Her voracious lust for life began to give me a headache and I needed a Percodan back in the comforts of my cozy bed in New York City. That's what I yearned for, rather than finding happily ... ever ... after... zzz. Speaking of which, if you read today's article in The New York Times Style, you will be happy to know that Elizabeth Gilbert and the man of her dreams, Jose Nunes, have taken to selling Balinese artifacts from their "ye new shoppe" in Frenchtown, New Jersey. Now if that doesn't sound like the sweet end of the story ... what does? One would have to stop me from killing myself if that was the final chapter of my book.
Surely, I will see the film Eat, Pray, Love because I can stare at Julia Roberts for hours on end. I just love her and have missed her while she raises her brood and living happily ... ever ... after ... in New Mexico or some such nonsense.