Eat, Pray, Love or Work, Work, Work ...

Dolce Far Niente; sweetness doing nothing. This Italian ideology struck a nerve with me while I was watching Eat, Pray, Love last night. There is a scene in the movie where a magnetic Julia Roberts is sitting in a barber shop with her Italian tutor and his friend, and they enlighten her on the Italian way of life.



It's no suprise to hear that Americans are work obsessed, and I'm not downplaying the desire to be ambitious or wanting to be successful in your career, but at what cost? Luca Spaghetti, a truly jovial fellow, explains to Julia's character Liz, that while many Americans work their asses off and feel guilty at being away from their computers, Italians universally uderstand that they deserve R&R, and have no qualms at enjoying it. Luca makes a joke about "Miller Time," and that in America, there are designated, appropriate, yet limited, times to take a load off. In Italy, when an Italian wants to enjoy life, there are ample opportunities to do so. To me, that is a perfect way to live. (Luca also jokes that most often, when Americans have time off, it is spent consuming Millers - but hey, you have to let off steam somehow!)


There are 52 weeks in a year, and at my current job, you have to work a full year to gain 1 week of vacation. After a 3 month probation, you get ONE personal day every 73 days! When you sit back and think about it, that's ludacris! This is life, and to think of how many hours you toil away behind a computer, it really is a downer. I see, and have seen, people working 60+ hours in a week, not counting endless hours on blackberries, never skipping a beat for lunch, and it is still not enough. I am a student in the school of thought that completely stands behind a 3 day weekend, or at the absolute very least, universal summer Fridays. There is too much to experience in life to cram into a Saturday or Sunday. And even if you did choose to just sit back & really relax, dolce far niente style, 3 days would be tremendous.



To balance this argument, I have to say that I am completely grateful to have a job that affords me a wonderful apartment and the ability to enjoy time off with my friends, creating memories that make us happy. When my friends and I touch on this subject, which is very often, it usually ends with a "that's life" shrug. But who says "that's life" is justified? A more accurate sentiment would be, "that's American." I'd love to have a daily siesta and minimum 4 weeks vacation, which is standard in most of Europe, but unfortunately, that aint the case! What's most important, and most realistic, is to (apologies for the cliche) live life to the fullest. I am optismistic when thinking of what can be accomplished on limited vaction and time off ... and that's what keeps me going.

With that being said, sometimes I just can't shake the gnawing feeling I get when I'm at work or commuting & wishing that I was free more often. I acklowedge that this feeling is directly related to happiness in the workplace, so I hope it subsides once I'm truely at peace with my career. Nonetheless, it creeps into my mind Monday-Friday, usually btwn 10am-6pm. (Side note; loving work or not, I think I'll always be a proponent of a 3 day weekend!)

I realize that our society is rooted in a maximum productivity mindset, but I just wish there was a way to re-evaluate this with a compromise that puts less emphasis on working yourself to death and more on enjoying life. We all deserve la dolce vita.

Chuck Klosterman; Penman Extraordinaire

I first read Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself to Live about a year ago and my only regret is that it took me this long to read another work of his. It was the first reading experience I had that compelled me to do extra curricular research. Chuck makes an eerie conclusion that Kid A predicted 9/11. While reading that book, I listened to Radiohead and felt what a teen must have felt during the 70's listening to Dark Side of the Moon and watching The Wizard of Oz.



I'm 115 pages into Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs, and he has me wrapped around his little finger. Now, I realize that this book was written in 2003, and as a collection of non fiction pop culture commentaries, you would think his work would be dated. Oh contraire. He has the ability, like my other non-fiction idols David Sedaris & Augusteen Burroughs, to make you think "holy crap, my thoughts exactly!!" as you are reading their written words. And while I don't completely agree with everything he writes, like saying Coldplay is the "shittiest fucking band I've ever heard," the way this book is relating to recent discussions I've had is uncanny.

I will outline the similarities:

Exhibit A)
This weekend, Rob told me a story about a friend of his from college who wrote a paper on the song In Your Eyes, and how, by simply holding up a boombox, John Cusack entranced women all around the world to fall in love with him ... Well, Chuck begins this book by blaming John Cusack for completely ruining his own chance at love, by having tricked his girlfriend into believing in "fake love," as seen in Say Anything. (In this same chapter Chuck also calls Coldplay a mainstream knockoff of Radiohead ... Rob emailed me mere days earlier making a similiar argument!)

Exhibit B)
On Saturday me and Rob were also talking about movies and got on the topic of Tim Allen. If memory serves me correctly, I think we were discussing the merits of Tim Allen's famous-ness even though we could only remember 3 things he has done; Home Improvement, Toy Story and The Santa Clause. The Tool Man isn't exactly someone who comes to mind often, but Chuck illustrates the fact that Tim Allen is among the leading contributers of the widespread notion that guys only like beer and football. I chuckled to myself and kept on reading ...

Exhibit C)
Now this one just plain cracked me up. Rob's aunt recently gave his brother her Murphey Bed. A Murphey Bed is a functional sleeping compartment that also serves as a storage space, and conveniently folds up onto the wall! Genius. In a chapter comparing and contrasting Marilyn Monroe to Pam Anderson, and the notion of sex icons marrying athletes, Chuck points out the fact that Jane Russell was married to Bob Waterfield and slept in a Murphey Bed. Now this may seem trivial, but who even thinks about Murphey Beds these days?! Chuck points out the strangeness of this mental image, but it just made me want to sleep in a Murphey Bed even more.


Hmm ... I think I actually just illustrated the many similarities that Rob has to Chuck Klosterman but still, it's uncanny! One way or another, Sex, Drugs & Cocoa Puffs has been on my mind all day & with that, I'm going to continue reading. Stay tuned for more on the wonders of Mr. Klosterman...

Jack White, Legendary Musician of Our Generation.

The Dead Weather failed to dissapoint last night at The Bandshell in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. I am so happy to have seen them live, not only because of their unique 'take no prisoners' sound, but because Jack White is one of the greatest musicians of our generation. From The White Stripes' minimalistic edge to The Ranconteurs' power-pop rock twang through The Dead Weather's (I'm stealing this description from AMny) "scuzzy, spooky, '60's garage rock"; he is a creative genius. And while he fronted the White Stripes on guitar/vocals, and Meg banged away on the drums, Jack proves he is also a tremendous drummer. There is nothing more enthralling than seeing a pale figure dressed in black, adorned with top hat and feather, banging on his drums with mallets.



What's awesome about Jack White is that he completely commands the stage. When he lit Alison Mosshart's cigarette with a blow torch, you knew he meant business. His witty banter was on point at this show, and in his quirky shaky voice, he poked fun at the hipster enclave of Brooklyn by saying, "I bet you read Brooklyn Vegan ... any other vegans in the crowd out there? Come on stage and we'll kill a cow together." You can't help but think, I wish I could bust people's balls like that!

As insane as he is on drums, he is even nastier on the guitar. It's a sight to see, as he attacks both drums and guitar, and lets out his raw vocals. I do have to say, I agree with Rob when he said that the encore was way louder, and in our opinion, more powerful than the first set. But that may have just been a technical glitch with their amps. My short stature was also tried at this show, as we stood around really tall guys making weird squealling noises. Regardless, the encore ended the night on the powerful note we expected it to.



Now, the front woman of The Dead Weather is Bad-Ass. Alison Mosshart, also of The Kills, crawled and snaked her away around the menacing stage; taxidermy abounding and huge eye looming. Jack & Alison have great chemistry together onstage. A tad more believable than the we're-brother-and-sister JUST KIDDING we-were-really-married relationship of The White Stripes. Her voice has a haunted quality, so when she sings that she wants to hang you from the heavens , you'd better get out of her way. Dean Fertita of Queens of the Stoneage and Jack Lawrence of The Ranconteurs complete this troup of musicians.


(see the taxidermy!)

Jack made a comment during the show that Alison thought the crowd wasn't "feeling it." I think we proved them wrong by giving them the energy they needed so we could hear more. Either that or his "if you're not happy, you'll have to deal with her," threat, set us straight.