We’re about to witness a surge in cooking school applicants. It’s not due to the enticing Williams-Sonoma catalog covers that slip into our mailboxes weekly, nor is it related to the Sur La Table “Introduction to Sauces” emails (I dare you not to click). It’s not because of layoffs or the economy, no. The surge will come to pass because of the meeting of two powerful industries. It’s like introducing the Key Master to the Gate Keeper, chocolate to peanut butter, placenta to anti-aging cream: life dissatisfaction goes to the movies, then leaves with a plan.
I’m betting the first thought people entertain as they exit the theater after seeing Julie & Julia is I can go to cooking school! That or, I’m a shitty sloth of a wife. If Julie Powell found time to work a full-time job and grocery shop and do prep work and cook, then what the hell am I doing all day with my life? Or, you’re thinking, "Yeah, but she didn’t have kids." It’s all excuses. Bottom line: we can all make the time to do anything, but something’s gotta give. You need to whip up a meringue of priorities, list them, and keep to them. It’s the only way you’ll get things done. Wishing takes as much time as planning does. That’s not mine; it’s Elanor Roosevelt’s.
Not French, But With Several Sticks of Butter, It’s Close Enough
What I loved most about the film adaptation of Julie & Julia is how much it inspires risk. You feel something beginning to unlock in you as the movie progresses. You’re watching Amy Adams scoop sploodge off the floor and shove it up a chicken, then see her lying on the floor, a wooden spoon still in her hand, and you’re thinking, Yes. I know. Me, too. Then you continue to view the film, and without realizing the moment it happened, you’re now thinking “I’m going to try even if it means I might fail, and I most certainly will face rejection, and it will not feel good, but I’m going to do it. I’m going to risk and put myself out there even if it kills me. Hopefully it won’t kill me. Will it kill me? Can you die from a broken heart? Holy shit, since when has my inner monologue become the pages of a self-help article in a beauty magazine?"
No sap aside, I think it’s such a beautiful thing in our lives: our willingness to risk, and more so, our willingness to continue even when it hurts. Those are the moments that define our lives, our ability to pick ourselves up and keep going, even when we’re having a melt down, when it seems impossible, when it feels too damn hard, when life hurts and is an unfair bitch… it’s then that we KNOW if we keep going it has to work out. The alternative is to shut down and live a life of fear. It ain’t easy, but it’s always, in the end–even if it feels like you have to wait forever–worth it.
A YEAR AGO: The Bellamy & Bromance
2 YEARS AGO: Seconds
