I’m So Tortured and So Cliché!

I recently saw the movie Limitless, starring Bradley Cooper. In this film he plays Eddie Morra, a struggling writer who discovers a drug that helps him “get stuff done” in record time. (That is the plot in a seriously small nutshell, so I’ll let you head over to IMDb to read more about it.) Bradley Cooper playing a writer? Hell yeah! I was hooked from the get. If I must be honest, I didn’t even know his character was a writer when I bought my second-run theater ticket. In fact, I knew very little about the plot at all. I just knew I was going to get to stare at Bradley Cooper for nearly two hours. That’s all it took. So, I was pleasantly surprised to find out he was playing a writer. 

In the beginning of the film, we see how he’s been struggling to get his book started. He lives in a crappy apartment and wanders aimlessly around New York City looking like he hasn’t showered or laundered his clothing in weeks. At one point, he tries to explain his book’s premise to some guys at a bar, but the effort is lost when he’s unable to convey any sense through his words. Even though he says over and over that he already has a book deal, no one takes him seriously. He’s just some pathetic guy who is “still trying to write.” To me, he is the epitome of a lonely, tortured writer.

I don’t think I have ever related to a male character as much as I did him. Sure, I have identified with female characters in film and TV (pretty sure I am Felicity) over the years, but watching Eddie Morra really made me feel something. I could totally see myself in his shoes. Maybe I’d pay more attention to my personal hygiene, but to have a million ideas swimming through my head and have a hard time writing them down—well, that’s me. Even though I felt connected to him, I still hope I’m never in his situation. Though there is some weird, romantic connotation associated with being a struggling, bohemian writer-type wandering around New York City and acting all artsy and stuff, I can’t say it’s what I desire for myself. (Not that I wouldn’t die to live in NYC, don’t get me wrong!) I’m all about paying my dues, but to be so sad and lonely all the time—that’s not really something to be excited about. What is it with writers being so damn depressed all the time? 

I believe I am naturally inclined to write, because I am overly sensitive. But am I always depressed? Maybe not in the “clinical” sense, but I do have a dark cloud over my head at times. My emotions control me. I notice miniscule slights that perhaps others would overlook. I often feel like no one understands me. I’m neurotic. And introverted. Socially awkward? You bet. I know, I’m just so tortured, right? I feel weird telling you all this stuff. But, it’s true. Lately, I’ve realized how much I have closed myself off—not letting many people get to know me. Why I am that way is another story, and I doubt I’ll change anytime soon, but it does feel good to confess. Maybe I am Eddie Morra after all. Minus the drugs, of course. Wow, how totally Psych 101 was all that crap?

So, what did Limitless do for me? Well, in a strange way, it inspired me to get off my lazy arse and start writing. For reals. Yes, I am trying to write a novel, but that’s all I will say. I can sit here and hope that the words in my head will magically appear on screen, perfect and ready for best seller-dom, but we all know how that will turn out for me. Like many writers, I alternate between thinking my work is brilliant, and thinking it’s the worst rubbish that’s ever been typed into Word. Which is it? I guess we’ll all find out someday when my book is on the New York Times “Best Sellers” list. Or isn’t. 

Alright, short story long, watch Limitless. It’s amazing. Thought provoking, even. Ladies (and some gents), you won’t be disappointed. And hey, you other gents will like it too. You’ll sooo wish you could be Eddie Morra. I promise.