Between the years 1998-2004, you may have had a somewhat disturbing and inexplicable obsession with Julia Roberts. As in, collected every magazine cover on which she appeared, recorded every interview on various loose VHS tapes, memorized her unauthorized biography, cried when she broke up with Benjamin Bratt, and organized an extremely frightening binder full of newspaper clippings–the cover of which included cut-out letters from magazines that spelled ‘America’s Sweetheart: The woman with the million-dollar smile.’ For your 14th birthday, you even had a cake with Julia Roberts’ face screen-printed on the top.
Perhaps most concerning of all, you were never apprehended by the authorities.
Fast forward to 2013. Now an arguably normal 27-year-old with no serial-killer binders dedicated to female movie stars in your possession, you’ll travel to New Mexico with a friend. But old habits die hard.
As you’re headed toward Taos, you can’t help but remember that Julia spends a good portion of her time on a ranch just outside of town. You’re not in New Mexico to stalk Julia Roberts, and you want to be respectful of her privacy–but the 14-year-old in you also wants to watch her move from room to room in her home while perched in a nearby tree. The 27-year-old in you really wants to, too.
As such, you’ll spend the next 30 minutes Googling a smattering of phrases to the effect of ‘Driving directions to Julia Roberts’ private home in Taos.’ When nothing of the sort is found, you’ll resort to visiting every quilting shop in town. Everyone knows J. Ro. loves to work a pair of needles while on set.
Although Julia is nowhere to be found, you’ll eventually acknowledge the hidden blessing in it all. Some dreams are best left unrealized; some collages of Julia Roberts’ face best left under your childhood bed.