Journal from France: Nora
Before I begin, I must make a disclaimer: I am not gay. I support it, I accept it, I’m all for the marriage rights. I’m just not. As for bi-sexual? I think those people are just selfish. So eager for attention, they need to get it from both sexes, instead of focusing on just one. So I’m not bi either.
That being said – I’m in love with Nora Ephron.
Yes.
Truly, madly, deeply. In love. And I have been ever since I can remember. Just the mere sight of her name: Nora Ephron, and my eyes well up, as a smile beams across my face. It’s uncontrollable admiration.
I watched “When Harry Met Sally” in the theater. I was five years old and definitely the youngest person in the audience. During Meg Ryan’s infamous orgasm imitation scene, as the theater filled with laughter, this tiny five year old girl let out the loudest, longest chuckle as well. And suddenly, in utter shock, the theater went silent.
Years later, I watch that same scene, and still laugh just as hard. And now I understand it.
Every word Nora writes is poetry. Painfully honest, hysterically funny, real-life poetry. She can make a casual statement about her own purse and it will be so inspirational it’s worth engraving onto a plaque and then mounting above your non-existent fireplace.
That’s how amazing she is.
When I find myself confronted with a situation I can’t handle, I stop and think, “What would Nora do? How would she have this scene play out?”
Reading one of her books once is not enough. There’s too much wit hiding beneath every sentence. You have to truly absorb it, make sure each word soaks in.
For the first of several connections during my flight to France I brought “I Feel Bad About my Neck” in my carryon. Just before take-off I got up, pulled it out of the stow-away and kept it in my lap. For the entire flight. Sometime during that six-hour journey, the woman next to me asked, “Are you ever going to read your book?”
I answered, “I already have. I just like to have it with me.” From her incredulous glance, I was sure she’d never read it. And I was right. But I have a feeling she has now. And that she has it nearby, ready to clutch in a potential moment of need.
The only DVD I packed for my four-month French adventure was “When Harry Met Sally”. My first Nora film, and still my favorite after all these years of cinema. I don’t know how I could think that only one of her films would get me through four months. But don’t worry. I called my mom. She mailed “Sleepless in Seattle” and “You’ve Got Mail” today. It’ll take 7-9 days. I keep telling myself I can make it that long.
I started reading “I Feel Bad About my Neck” again, during one of my many relaxing, rainy days in France. I’m trying to take it slow, really savor it as a delicious treat. I only have two chapters left before the third go around. And it just keeps getting better.
Love is blind. You can think you would jump in front of a moving train for someone, and a few years later, you can find yourself sitting there, trying to put together a list of what you loved so much about that person. Your mind goes blank. Nothing.
And unrequited love is just a bore. One-sided love leaves you with nothing but time-consuming daydreams and empty heartache. Loving someone who will never love you back not only makes you feel depressingly anonymous, but simultaneously, and somewhat ironically, it is also exhausting.
I don’t recommend it. But if you choose to venture into the lost battle of a blinded, unrequited love, please make it worth it. Someone who may not know you’re alive but is definitely worth that jump in front of a train.
Because Nora is worth it. And when relationships fail, when I’ve been betrayed to a point unbearable, when I feel like all love is lost in this world, I will always have Nora. I will carry this torch of true love forever, knowing the flame will never die.
Nora, you may feel bad about your neck, but I think it is positively lovely. A neck I will live my whole life trying to live up to. So throw out those turtlenecks. And hold your head up with pride.