Feet, Gray, Dove and other things that really matter.

So, I have this favorite book. Perhaps you've even heard of it. It's this little sleeper hit that came out in 2006; something about spaghetti, crying on your bathroom floor and bladder infections. You probably aren't familiar with this work---most aren't--- but I'll mention it anyway. It's called Eat, Pray, Love and it was written by my friend Liz. (As I've said, if we were friends, I'm sure author Elizabeth Gilbert would have me call her Liz.) (Also, technically I'm not ready to pick the favorite book of my life---I haven't quit you Sweet Valley High Volume 22---but in my Oprah interview, Eat, Pray, Love will be mentioned as one of key influence and inspiration in my life and writing career...same goes for The Poky Little Puppy.)

In addition to reading it a few times, I keep the audio recording of Eat, Pray, Love (read by my friend Liz) on my iPod such that when I put it on shuffle for my walks, I often hear a track or two and wind up visiting with random chapters every week. I often quote it. (Recently, when explaining how affectionate Dan is---and I'm sure he's gonna love this---I borrowed Liz's words and gave due credit when I said he was "a cross between a golden retriever and a barnacle.") I draw from and take comfort in Liz's validation, or at least articulation, of some of my own spiritual convictions. ("I have always responded with breathless excitement to anyone who has ever said that God does not live in a dogmatic scripture or in a distant throne in the sky, but instead abides very close to us indeed---much closer than we can imagine, breathing right through our own hearts.") I've never written extensively on why and how this book affected me as profoundly as it did and I don't intend to now (saving it for the card I will hand to Liz when we go away together for a girls' weekend) but I will cop here to having a very personal, very possessive sense of this book. I read it shortly before it became what it was to become to the world (at least that's how I remember it...it was long before she Oprahed it up) so as it shifted to the center of the literary/pop culture/female universe, I took a quiet pleasure but also solace in the fact that I had loved Liz when... (It's like how I felt when I would see a high school boy whom I "discovered" just post-puberty breaking into popularity. This is also, by the way, how I feel about Tina Fey. Also, strawberries. That last one was a joke but I feel like I just came up with an obnoxious vegitrendian character for a book. "Nobody even knew what a strawberry was two years ago," Shira said, an RIP Cows button pinned firmly to her "Farm food makes you Phat" t-shirt.)

Still, when I heard Eat, Pray, Love was being made into a movie starring Julia Roberts, I was delightedly curious and, as I said to Dan as we headed to the theater on Saturday, "This is sort of a momentous thing for me." He asked if I was nervous about being disappointed and I wasn't because I thought I had already mentally separated the movie from the book such that they were two utterly disparate creative projects that could not even be compared. Not so, apparently. Turns out I couldn't help myself. First of all, knowing Liz and Felipe (Gilbert's love interest in the book and present day husband) as I do from both Eat, Pray, Love as well as Gilbert's follow-up memoir, Committed, which documents part of their courtship and eventual marriage, they are real people to me. So, it was distracting to see the events changed and the characters (particularly Felipe) manipulated for the purpose of a script. In the Harry Potter movies, the differences from book to screen don't bother me at all; the characters are fictitious in the first place and this is how movie adaptations work. But, as I know the facts of this story (at least Gilbert's presentation of them), these changes troubled me. Also, I couldn't helpt but note whenever a narrative quote was taken from Liz Gilbert's head in the book and put into the mouth of one of the movie's characters whom I knew hadn't spoken it. Again, because the book is a memoir and not a novel, I felt hung up on this. (This is not at all indicative of the quality of the movie, but just something I was surprised to be so caught on, having seen many book-to-movie adaptations.) The most distracting part, however, was probably my echoing these and many other lines into Dan's ear which I'm sure helped very much with his enjoyment of the movie.

(I should also take this time to say that although he was standing in front of me in the movie line, Dan made me talk to the ticket agent because he could not get himself to speak the words, "Two for Eat, Pray, Love."

"Could be worse," I told him. "I could be making you see Eclipse.")

So, despite myself, comparisons were made. And while, of course, I didn't feel coming out of the theater what I felt coming out of the book, I hesitate to use the word disappointed, particularly since I really had no concrete expectations. Honestly, I feel like I have some sort of cinematic amnesia about the whole thing. I can't remember the movie well (and yes, it was this past Saturday; a mere 72-hours ago). See, because I know the book so well, because I know the themes of the book, I have a hard time deciphering what I felt as a result of the actual film from the impressions I projected onto it. It's like a literary/movie mashup in my brain. Basically, I feel like I need to see it at least one more time to know what I really saw. (Does this make sense?) I mean, I know they covered the three countries (four including her trials in the U.S. that sent her abroad), and I know there were voice-over narratives (my cinematic G-spot) that introduced the story, added insight along the way and tied things up for us, but I can't remember what was said. The only things I can recall for sure are as follows:

---The guy who plays Giovanni (there is no Dario in the film) is one of the hottest men I've ever seen in my life. I mean, um, he's a really good actor.

---The film is, of course, aesthetically gorgeous. (Quoting Liz Lemon as they panned the beaches of Bali, I whispered to Dan, "I want to go to there.") (I don't usually whisper all that much during movies.) (Dan might disagree.)

---It was a long movie, although this perception may be somewhat affected by the fact that I had to pee by the time we hit Italy. Partway through India, I found myself thinking, "Jeez, we're not even in Indonesia yet and---SPOILER ALERT---that's where she gets laid!"

In a larger sense, the clearest opinion I have of the film is that it was a Julia Roberts Movie. Now, hear me out. I know people were criticizing the choice of Roberts versus and unknown actress for the lead role and I really was not one of those people. I like Julia Roberts. There aren't many movies starring Julia Roberts that I haven't liked. (However, Flatliners did just pop right into my head. Though, to be fair, the fact that I was maybe 10 when I saw it and it scared the shit out of me may have something to do with the negative review. Also, it was Kiefer who most ruined it for me and I've never really liked him since...even as Jack Bauer...but that could also have to do with his roles in Lost Boys---another movie I was probably too young to see---and let's not forget the toothpick chewing creep he was in Stand By Me...but I digress.)

I wasn't on the anti-Julia bandwagon. I thought, hey, she can do it. Since the Oscar and the old-lady-named babies, she's been pretty much gone anyway. Maybe she'll seem like an unknown...Um, no. It was total JRM.

The key components of a Julia Roberts Movie:

1) The giant laugh. (And plenty of it...but it really is a helluva laugh. I would walk around tickling myself if I had that endearing of a laugh.)

2) The crying scene where her face shifts from that of a knowing beauty into that of a scared, sniffling child, complete with lost eyes and a quivering frown. The self-deprecation and amusement at her own sorry state, which transitions into that giant sunrise of a smile amidst the tears (and is accompanied by weepytalk; half weep/half talk), is also a Julia Roberts signature move and a Julia Roberts Movie staple.

You know the look:



3) The scene where the camera pans a rowdy room of convivial friends engaging in loud conversations and bursts of laughter over goblets of wine and dinner plates full of decadent fare and then narrows in on Roberts who has momentarily pulled herself out of the rowdiness for a moment of smirking reflection as she ingests the scene herself. In real life, this person would be called the buzzkill or, as I've come to realize, the writer (same thing?) which Gilbert is, so it fits.

This may sound awfully snide, but that's not my intention. These are all the things I look for and love in a Julia Roberts Movie. In fact, this is why I'm unsure whether or not I liked the film. Had I not read the book, I'm quite sure I would be raving about this "seductive, empowering, inspirational movie" (while booking my tri-country flights) much the way I adored Julie & Julia, having not read Julie Powell's memoir beforehand. That said, I do think that if they had cast, say, Broadway's Katie Finneran (whom I've never seen act---in anything!---but just have a hunch would do well in the role), or another little-known actress, that I would feel it was more a film based on the book I love and less a Julia Roberts Movie. It was a big, giant movie starring a big, giant actress based on a very intimate story and this, I suppose in the end, did disappoint me. Still, I think it's probably a great movie. Ya dig?

I'll see it again to know for sure...

However, a much bigger issue permeated my psyche and held me tense in dilemma while watching the film. Amidst all the themes of spirituality and independence and seeking and love and the role of satisfaction in one's life, I found I was stuck and gnawing at one thought the entire time; My gawd, look at Julia Roberts' hair and should I really cut mine?

I could not take my eyes off her mane. She just did so many things with it. There were buns and there were ponytails. She wore it down and she wore it half-up. There were hats and there were scarves. I actually had the thought, "I wish I had long hair," while watching everything they did with hers. I've never seen hair like it and while I wouldn't compare my hair to Julia Roberts' (though I seem to be doing just that and this is the second time it's happened so apparently I would...but maybe shouldn't) it got me kind of excited.



Pretty, right?



And funky...(MB, is that not the purse I got for you that you gave to me?)



Pushing it, I know. (Though, you would not believe how many times I find myself in this exact pose, with that exact amount of bra showing.)

You guys, I'm getting cold feet. I'm just thinking what would happen, well, what it would be like, if I just actually did my hair. I'm not talking about running a brush through it (this I do), I'm talking about styling it. Like, what if I used bobby pins in some capacity or those scary clips that look like they could take an ear off if poorly placed? What if I played with it? What if I watched Youtube videos and bought "product" and tools and just became an adult about the whole thing. It may not even take that much. I see lots of messy up-dos these days and they can't all take hours to accomplish.

There are a couple of other things weighing in to this decision, too. First of all, Dan, whom I've been asking for months and months whether or not he dug the locks, chose this week to say, "I do like your long hair." Huh. That alone would not sway me (he likes my hair short too...he mostly just likes my hair best when my shirt is off), but I also may need to postpone the cut as it overlaps with an appointment with my mom's oncologist that I want to attend.

I know what you're thinking: "But, Laura, what about the Hair Monster? What about the frustration? What about the arm fatigue you experience from having to brush it 100 times every night? (Also, did you just play your mom's cancer card to get out of getting a haircut?)

And you're right (though the scheduling conflict is real). It's a total pain in the ass which is why I'm still undecided. As I said, I think I will have to cancel my appointment for this Thursday, but it's not like getting an appointment with Dr. Oz (though close), I can reschedule. I'm shocked at my ambivalence as I always love the change of a new haircut. A dilemma, indeed; I watch a movie about life's deepest questions and catch my shirt on its shallowest.

I really don't think I can go to God with this one. All-loving as She may me be, I think even God would give me a giant, "What the fuck?" on this one.

The God that breathes through my heart talks like that.