I’m a sporadic movie watcher. I can go for months without watching any, but then rent five or six all in one weekend. This was one of those weekends, even though I knew I’d have little time to watch them. I made time for one in particular today though, since it’s been highly recommended. Julie & Julia. It didn’t disappoint. It made me cry.
I cried when Julie and her husband got in a fight because of her blog and he told her she was narcissistic and selfish. I cried when she got the first comment from someone she didn’t know. I cried when she made the last recipe. I cried when Julia opened the letter from the Publisher telling her they loved her book. And of course I cried at the end when Julia received the first copy of her book.
In the moments that I allow myself to dream these days (such moments are fewer as I grow older and more cynical), I dream about being a real writer. I dream about making an actual living doing what I love. But, every time I read a great book or read a great blog (and there are MILLIONS of those) I am reminded that I am a speck. But, wow, do I love to write.
Tonight I am thankful for the world of blogging. I know that I can escape to this world occasionally and pretend like my dream is coming true. I can write about whatever enters my mind in the hopes that it just might resonate with someone. It’s probably never going to pay the bills, but it is cheaper than therapy.
