Addiction

I saw a totally unrealistic movie last night. It was about a person who was dissatisfied with the course that her life was taking. To try to fill a void, she began to blog. She became obsessed with herself and with reporting to some mythical person out there who she hoped was listening. Her writing (and her underlying fascination with everything Julia Child) became the focus of her life, to the detriment of her relationship with her spouse, who tried to love her through her maze of self absorption. He alternately shook his head, or hers, to try either to convince himself that this egocentricity had a purpose, or to convince her that it did not. Ultimately, her will and drive proved strong and her husband and the world came along for her ride as a 'discovered' blogger. What a fantasy. I never met anyone in my life even remotely like this writer.

Writing this blog is like taking a powerful drug. You become addicted to listening to yourself. You think you are funny, clever, serious, different in a wonderful way. You believe there are others whose days revolve around the words you put on the page. You have difficulty separating the fantasy of this dream from the reality that it is not even 5AM and that there is no one on the other end waiting and anticipating. You try to step back, step away. But, like Al Pacino in one of the Godfather movies, just when you thought you had gotten free, you are pulled back in.

I wrote a post some time ago about others reminding me of my addiction by making an "L" (for loser) sign on his or her forehead when I launch into one of my self congratulatory moments. My wife basically has tattooed an "L" to try to slow me down. Her efforts have proven a dismal failure.

The worst part of the movie was that it was based on a true story. The woman, through luck, karma, or whatever force guides us through the universe, has her fantasy turn into reality. Her blog becomes a book. Her book becomes a movie. It is an addict's nightmare to actually think that there is something good at the core of the addiction. Ultimately, the movie makes self obsessiveness into something quite adorable. For a moment you believe that you are like Sally Field accepting her Oscar (they like me, they really like me). Then you remember it is still dark out, the world is asleep and there are no publishers leaving messages on your phone. And yet here I am, once again. Addicted.