Beat, Bray, Club

It's been almost a year since I wrote, but sickness thrives on the weak, and everyday I grow stronger (I hope).

Anyway, this has been burning away on my computer for months, and some of you knew it was coming...

Eat, Pray, Love: I must admit--I did jump on the bandwagon, however my fall from it came shortly thereafter. I first heard of this book through its placement on the New York's bestseller list and other outlets, like Oprah, but it was also stated by my Creative Writing professor as "not the best example of literary nonfiction" and "don't waste your time reading". So with the recent buzz of the movie adaptation starring Julia Roberts, I wanted to take a peek since I was decidedly curious about the movie. (I am one to read the book before watching the movie.) With that said, I was wary of spending my hard earned dollars on this story even if it was a used version, and I checked out a free audio version at the library to listen in the car only.

Apparently, I was so wary of this book that the idea of spending time just to read it frightened me. Plus, I had several other books that I was a little more excited about. With Eat, Pray, Love, I felt like I had to get through it, just so I could see the movie. But I digress...

The premise is simple, and I won't spend time giving a summation. The author is hypocritical and trite. The author states that the earlier version of the book was too pedantic so therefore she did a rewrite. In other words, she "dumbed down" the book so that it would appeal to the general audience who doesn't know the difference between a piece of literature or a load of drivel. Pedantic (?), please!

She demolishes herself in a "feel sorry for me" pity party, but then wants to make clear that the divorce is not her fault, in fact it takes two to tango. But does she care to explain? No, she says. It's not fair to her husband to give a one-sided story. Wait a second...

mem·oir
/ˈmɛmwɑr, -wɔr/
[mem-wahr, -wawr]
–noun

1. a record of events written by a person having intimate knowledge of them and based on personal
observation.
2. Usually, memoirs.
a. an account of one's personal life and experiences; autobiography.
b. the published record of the proceedings of a group or organization, as of a learned society.
3. a biography or biographical sketch.

Whatever happened between her husband and her seems to me one of the most interesting parts of the story! Too bad, we, as readers, missed out on that part of the journey. Now there's the real story. When an author hold something like that back, especially in memoir, I find it severely dishonest. Even if she says that is not fair to him--that's bullshit.

As far as her prose goes, her use of simple sentences again further classifying this as an easy read. (Wait a second-her words or mine?) Her words, metaphors (when there were any), and analogies were repetitive, overused, and cliche. Sure she uses a $10 word here and there, for good measure, but I am not impressed. Disclaimer: I want writing to stimulate me creatively and spiritually, and as I read, to let the language fall from my tongue like the sweet sound of poetry. This, however, is like a conversation and anything more sounds forced.

She also tries too hard with her metaphors. At first, I say aloud, "Bravo, one literary device," but it goes on and on repeating her whole pitiful situation again. For example, one of her first nights in Italy, she meets her long-acquainted friends Depression and Loneliness. We get it, we get it. Say it, move on, get on with it. (At this point, I remember I screamed "Good, God, enough already!" and slammed my fist on the steering wheel.)

Here's the thing: I'm not judging her on her life. You make your decisions, you live your life, you pray to your God how you want, and everyone is different. But...their comes a time that when rationalize your decisions in which you speak the truth.

Her truthfulness emerges as nothing but a story of hypocrisy. She is so right when she says she lives her life from one man to the next since she was a teenager. But my question is: Does she really find her spirituality like she promises us? No, in fact, I feel like she is just on another husband hunt but getting paid to do it. I don't feel any spirituality. And with everything that she has divulged to us about what a mess she is, I kinda feel sorry for him. If she would have ended up alone, but strong, perhaps my views would be different. Liberated, maybe.

I just find it hard to believe that this person who "loves" her husband divorces him (for purposes unknown to us) then falls in love with "the love of her life" (yes, she used this phrase) but yet she doesn't want to call it love at first, but then picks up and leaves when the going gets tough, and breaks up with the "love of her life" via email, only to fall in love once again in Bali? Seriously, what's the point? If she is trying to prove herself as a wishy-washy, unconfident person, she succeeds. Just come out and say you cheated on your husband, or didn't, I don't care. But be honest about it. If you can't even be honest in your own life, then there is no way your autobiography could convey this.

People have compared Gilbert to authors like Anne Lamont. I disagree. Maybe in earlier versions of Gilbert's work, but that is neither here nor there. Lamont has not only inspired, but improved my technique. Take someone who has had real depression dealing with alcoholic or narcotic episodes. Someone who has lost all control of her life. I don't feel that with Gilbert.

Depression, maybe. But aren't most writers afflicted with something?

I do give her credit. She wrote a finished piece. She put her life on paper. Her version of honesty. An authentic feeling of accomplishment.

I asked my friend "A", my token Italian friend who also, might I mention, is a published author in English and in Italian. She grew up there actually. And her response while rolling her eyes, paraphrased, "her take on Italy was absurd". Really, and this enlightens people.

To be honest, I hated it. (Oh, if you didn't know.) And its not because of the person she is, but the person she claims to be. I'm going to stop here since I can at this point probably write a book about the skewed sense of self in this pitiful memoir. Oh, and anyone who finished the book and liked it, please comment! I'd really like to know who you are! (But no judging, as everyone has their own positions on things, and I respect this.)

But wait, did I just make her successful as I sit and ponder about this predicament?


Nah.....

Television

I could totally eliminate the television from my life and be 100% okay with it.

Seriously.

I have not turned it on today and yet, it seems....well, peaceful.

I just wish my husband felt the same.

Just Put Your Big Girl Panties On, and Take It.

Alas, I have started running again after my last hiatus of, well, simply doing nothing. I pulled out a 5K today, surprisingly, and feel okay, I guess, as I type this especially since its a million degrees outside. Dinner tonight? Protein fruit shake, no sugar added. I am NOT on a diet. I just eat healthy. Don't let me bore you, though...

My last critique group faded away and has since left me with a bad taste in my mouth for other writers. How pretentious they all are! Am I this way? Hmmmm....

Last Saturday was a blessing. I attended a new critique group like it was my first day of Kindergarten--so excited yet curious and nervous. I received some promising reviews i.e. lack of conflict, in which I can make this new piece work, so maybe there is hope for it after all. You have to remember, everyone is not going to agree. All writers and editors have different genres and most importantly, different styles of writing. I consider my style very unique, and it sometimes irks me when people line edit me. (Just kidding, it always irks me.) I am also slightly irked that anyone would assume that I do not edit my work before showing others. Believe me, I do. My major in college is editing. But I'm not perfect. Point is, don't line edit me! Believe me, my final will be more polished. But I put my smiley face on, because its me that will submit it, no one else, and you'll never know. Just because people tell you something, doesn't mean you have to follow it, but if enough people agree, they might just have something. (And I'm not including line editing in this "something", point in case Cormac McCarthy. He rarely uses commas and runon sentences are his specialty.) Punctuation and word choice is just merely a "guideline" of innundated, mainstream writers in order contain creativity.

You may not agree with what people say, and just because they say it aloud, doesn't make it right! Bottomline, I am, however, using most of the critique given at this last meeting, because it really was, well, helpful. I can't deny. Line editing....hmmm....some I can do without.

And in the end, just put your big girl panties on, and take it.

Maybe next post won't be so boring. I'm bored typing this.

A Difference of Opinion

Here I am. I have my opinions, and you have yours. You believe your things, I believe mine. Therefore, I will not try to sway you to my side of the fence. However if you spew useless, unresearched fiction, I will call you on it. If you have major viewpoints, base them on fact, not by opinions of other people. Research it before you spread it.

If you believe everything you read in email, then you would be a millionaire already...only if you would have only donated that few hundred dollars to the Price in Africa. (sarcasm)

Alas, I do not hate. I do not judge. I just merely state the truth. And I like you better for taking my advice under consideration.


And that is all I have to say about that.

Vegetarian, Gluten Free Chili Dog

I wanted to share my version of a Vegetarian (or Vegan), Gluten Free Chili Dog:

Gluten Free Hot Dog Bun
Lightlife Tofu Pups
(disclaimer from Lightlife does state these as gluten free)
Amy's Medium Chili
Mayo and Mustard
Sliced Avocado
Top with shredded cheese

And now you have a yummy, yet quick and easy-made meal (that won't make me sick)!

Migraines

I don't think anyone realizes that I have experienced most of my life in a fog. A fog that lingered daily in my brain letting the pain pulsate in veins and arteries of my face and scalp. Sharp, excruciating jolts of pain, that is, would strike at the back of my eyes, as if its ridiculously long fingernails would tear each nerve ending out and squish it between its toes. If pain had toes.

They say that the pain itself causes nausea. And if I puked my brains out, I felt a little better, but never quite well. And again, the pain lingered, day in and day out, like an aura shadowing me. Was I better when the migraine went away? Sure, I would tell you, and I told you that because you were tired of hearing about my stupid migraines.

They would say, it's because you probably have high blood pressure. Think again. I was in elementary when these started, doctor. (Oh, you're not a doctor?--then don't diagnose me.) Yes, I was in elementary, spending lunch, mornings, or afternoon in the nurse's office. She believed me. Mom believed me. She had to. She had the ugly demon as well. She even sent medication so I could make it through the school day. Pathetic--only in elementary.

Sure, I won't lie. Some days sucked. Some days I made it through, and you never knew a difference. You didn't know did you? Well, I hid it well. In college, I self-medicated with alternative medications, I guess you could say. And after my car accident, it seemed like the roll and total of my car shook my brain up a bit. Knocked a few nerves out of place. Probably should have had a catscan. (Yes, Mom, I will admit that.) And shortly after, a buzzing in the back of my brain appeared. Migraines that used to last a couple of days now lasted a couple of weeks. Constant. Buzzing. Fog. They were significantly worse. Catastrophic. The pain affected my legs. I couldn't move, but I had the shakes. I lived in darkness. I went to work. (I had to.) I would drive home, and couldn't remember how I got there. I would spend the afternoon in bed, sleep and start all over again when morning came.

At this point in my life, the doctor gave me barbituates, which inherently saved my life. And for the record, I may have been on a loopy high, but I finally felt clear, strong. The fog lifted, but for a little while.

And you wonder now, did things get better? Years later, yes, I can say they did. I changed my diet due to other health reasons to a lactose-free, gluten-free lifestyle, and now for the most part I do feel better. I have not refilled my barbituates since November of 2009.

Am I migraine free though? Well...every once in awhile, just when I think I'm sitting pretty, the migraine sharpens its claws on the back of my brain, grabs my eyeballs, and squeezes.

Poetry vs. Fiction

Hey, guess what crazy man? You don't want to read my poetry, don't want to waste your time on something outside your genre, you say. Well, I don't want to waste my time listening to you talk about your fiction on subjects that express no interest to me, even though you published it. Funny, crazy man. Good luck with that.