Why is it when a man goes "in search of himself", we find it life affirming and noble? Larry from The Razor's Edge comes to mind. When a woman does it, it's self-indulgent, narcissistic hooey.
I tried to read Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert, really, I did. Ugh, I couldn't get past the page after page of, well, crap that goes on inside this woman's head. Talk about someone lost in their own drama. Good grief.
Now, with the release of the movie, we are being bombarded with the merchandise. It's every where. Candles, clothes, perfume, sheets? I guess with all that eating, praying and loving, you need a good night's sleep on 500 thread count sheets. I know I do.
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