So here I am, in my bedroom, watching Eat, Pray, Love. Twenty minutes in I wanted to turn the shit off, thinking, “I’m sure the book is great but this movie is awful and never ending.” But here is this lady’s life on film because she took a year off and wrote about it. She’s a writer. What's the difference between a writer and someone who journals? An editor. Point being, if she can do it so can I. So here it goes.
Watching this movie, I wondered, if i had the opportunity to travel alone where would I go?. I wouldn’t go anywhere. I don’t tend to venture out on my own and walk around by myself in foreign places. I could be in the most beautiful city and never leave the hotel room. Anxiety and fear of getting lost or making a fool of myself prohibits my ability to take action.
I have always wanted to go to bar and have a glass of wine and read a book. I never have though. Although going to a bar to drink and then driving back would prove problematic. Plus my idea of going to the bar drinking and reading involves a cute guy interrupting me and starting a conversation that goes somewhere. I know it’s ridiculous, but that’s what happens when you watch one too many chic flicks. Damn guilty pleasures.
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