*i love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck, i love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck i do!*
and i love the way that food is celebrated; cooked with passion and purpose.
I immediately click on a youtube post of an interview with her, and straight away it becomes clear that the Amy Adams depiction of this woman is inaccurate, to say the very least. This curvaceous, mile-a-minute talker babbles on about how many of the nitty gritty aspects of her real life journey were surreptitiously left out of the light and mostly fluffy film. She does not seem as socially inept as the Amy Adam's character, which was one aspect of the movie that grated me terribly, and she also denies the somewhat negative portrayal of her girlfriends, protesting that 'I actually like my friends.'
Astonishingly, she also got to spend eight ours on the set, quite unlike Stephanie Meyer of the Twilight prodigy, who even played a small extra's role in the first film. In this time, however, she did meet Meryl Streep, and commented that meeting her as Julia, was perhaps not quite as wonderful as meeting the real Julia Child, but did come pretty damn close.
Unsatisfied with this eight minute segment, I turn to several articles that also came up in my Google search. I come across some truly grotesque subject matter concerning Powell, including a review of her new book 'Cleaving;' a detailed read about a butchery course she attended, which according to the article, contains disclosure regarding an affair she has with another man, including descriptions of 'rough sex,' and likening her marriage with her husband Eric to something concerning sinewy strings of meat...how romantic. I go on to various other articles; one encompassing a two page lament of the absent role of her cat 'Maxine,' renamed 'Minette' in the film. To say that I am crushed is a complete understatement.
Totally and utterly disillusioned, I feel as if I have witnessed the aftermath of one of Gatsby's illustrious parties. The American Dream is a lie. The movie is deceitful and unaligned with the reality of this woman's life. But I will admit, that in a small, subtle way, this film does outline the theme of disappointment. When Julia, Simca and Lousiette meet Irma Brombauer (Mrs. 'Joy of Cooking'), they discover that no, she didn't test all the recipes, her publisher cheated her out of thousands of dollars, the book's index is now a disaster, and just quietly, her husband committed suicide. Then there's the disappointing phone call Julie Powell receives that she informs her of the fact that Child 'hated her' and did not want to meet her. On a personal note, I feel that, often when we look forward to something, and create this wonderful idea of what it is going to be like in our minds, it often turns around to disappoint us. With this goal of becoming an actress, I fear that this will very much be the case. No, I do not want to be an administrative assistant for the rest of my life, because quite frankly I'm bored out of my brains with it, and yes, it's going to be jolly hard trying to achieve what I have in mind, but at the end of the day, if I don't do it, I will regret it forever. That's why I'm here. That's why I uprooted myself from my family, my job, my Melbourne, and came to Sydney. So many times I have asked myself, what the hell am I doing here? Why did I put myself in a situation that forces me to pay for everything myself, do everything for myself and be all by myself most of the time? Because I was rotting. That's why. I was sleeping on the couch almost every night, despite the fact that I had a perfectly comfortable bed in my room. My eating was almost out of control. I was constantly in a foul mood. I never went out anywhere. I felt like I was living for nothing. Every time I saw a film this envious, ferocious angst rose up inside of me; I wanted to be part of it. I started NIDA last week, and I loved it. I don't care that it's once a week, for three hours and that's it. I got in. I've moved up here. I got a job. And I will prevail, because I've decided to enjoy the journey. So even if the outcome at the end is disappointing, the experiences I will have picked up and pocketed along the way will be worth more that diamonds and rubies.
One more quick gem I picked up from 'Julie and Julia' (regardless of whether it is actually true of the real Julie Powell), is the fact that to get where you want to go, to achieve your dreams, you just need someone to believe in you. Julie's husband Eric, and Julia's husband Paul, were both sources of strength to their ladies. Even if your don't have a Paul or an Eric, let it be you that believes in yourself (admittedly it is good to have a back up person in times of self doubt.)
Simon Cowell of American Idol said "if it is uncomfortable for you, it's uncomfortable for us" (the audience). How much better would an audience react if you believed in yourself and made owned that stage? Being unconfident and nervous only hinders us - the spirit of fear is not our friend.
Anyhow, having recovered from my disillusionment, I contemplated my movements for the next day. Sunday.
*That's my fun day, Sunday...my i don't have to run day...just another manic Monday...*
My only day where I don't actually have to go anywhere at all. No work. No gym. No (more) awkward family lunches. I should go to Church. I did two weeks ago. It was Valentine's Day. The outcome being that I only felt lonelier that I though humanely possible and practically ran out the door in tears.
So, I started Googling 'great Sydney cafes' (again). Actually, I googled one particular cafe, 'Le Petit Creme,' and NotQuiteNigella's blog comes up. She seems to think it quite good, so I'm sold. This morning, after lingering in bed (bliss), I double check the address of 'Le Petit' and come across a startling comment that throws my plan out the window; no soy and pretty much 'go somewhere else.' Bum. Oh well. There are plenty of other options. Another place I'm excited to try is 'At Perry Lane;' part-time cafe (Fri thru Sun), and Art Studio most of the other time. To be completely honest, all I feel like doing is watching the rest of 'P.S. I Love You' from last night, but I put on my funky plaid try-hard Chucks and my overpriced, oversized Witchery shades, and head out the door. Not before checking the washing machine.
*Goodbye pillow, although I never really knew you at all...*
Clutching the disfigured white lump, I head down to Lola (my car) and bid it farewell. So here I am, listening to old Motown tracks, miraculously having found a park no more than 60 seconds walk from this inconspicuous, no doubt 'locals only' haunt. 'Perry' has a very mod-con vibe and is filled with yummy mummies and guys wearing fedoras. It is a split level joint in a street just off Oxford, and is definitely 'the place to be.' But one look at the menu and I know I won't be back. Every item has eggs or ham or brie in it, and the only choices I'm left with are muesli or toast. I go the muesli. It is lovely, garnished with vanilla poached pairs, but not unlike the packet I have at home. My coffee arrives with a dismal amount of froth and is just a tad too strong for my liking (acid reflux all afternoon. blegh.) I think this is more of an 'egg and bacon lovers' + 'gourmet (meat) sandwich' joint. However, the staff are very friendly and the service very quick. I would highly recommend it, just not for me. This is confirmed with a full stop when I reach the counter and eye the size of the scones - sorry Perry, I won't be seeing you anytime soon.
Now off to peruse Oxford Street, but I don't think I'll stay very long. Loneliness scale is pretty high today; I'd say about an 8 or 8.5. Doesn't assist with motivation terribly. Keep you posted on whether I get to Church or not...looks like rain.
lots of luff xox
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