The Hard Pieces

I'm reading Eat, Pray, Love.

When it first came out I was working at Borders and was ringing these puppies up in the 3's and 4's, especially around the holiday season. Customers would gush about the greatness of the text and how most of their gifts would be this book. to all.

I don't know what it is about me but when everyone gets in a hoopla about something, I get a bit disgusted. I know: could I be any more of a snob against society? But come on! The band wagon is not as hot as people like to believe. So I was turned off by the book. If anything, I'm a snob with my literature. I like to experience my books in a very solitary way, that is, I like to think, or at least pretend, that at the time I am reading whatever novel, it's only me. Me and the characters, just hanging out.

Elizabeth Gilbert is the woman I need to hang out with at this moment in my life. Though I haven't had a nasty, awful, soul-sucking divorce, I've been rejected by 8 grad schools. 8.

Should have done 12.

or 20.

or 100.

With 100, I could have scored 1, right?

Right.

But yes, Liz is my homegirl. Her narrative is about a year-long personal journey. Four months in 3 countries: Italy, India, and Indonesia. The Three I's as she puts it. Ironically. She seeks to learn the pleasure of eating in Italy, the power of pray in India, and finally to love in Bali. Italy I couldn't handle from the jealousy that had me foaming at the mouth and looking quite ravenous. (It was not a pretty.) I see or hear people having not good, but-there's no words for it- mmmmmmm mmmmmmjesuschristmmmmmm and (moan)-food, I get sad. Watching Man Vs. Food is the saddest thing.

I'm in India currently. She has only two more months there before she heads to Bali. Italy was Liz's charming chapter. Again, I was jealous, naturally. She's a great, personable, writer and her voice is so easily settling. It's a worse jealousy than reading about all the perfect, mind-blowing food she eats. But in India, Liz is really talking. It's God of course, He can always get us to REALLY talk. No b.s.

So now, in this next scary unknown chapter of my life, I'm intrigued by India and its tales. About destiny and free will. God and pray. Basically, I'm constantly thinking about huge thoughts. None of what I listed is light. But I suppose this is a heavy time.

I feel like God, fate, or the literary gods-that-be, in my quest as a writer, handed me a puzzle (I hate puzzles) and I'm on the sky or the fur or the grass part of it. You know, when all the pieces are all the freakin' same color and shade and there's absolutely no distinctive quality to differentiate ANY of 'em.

I'm working with those pieces now.

Whether I like it or not, I gotta put 'em all together.