Christmastime in The City

I'm usually one of the many people that cringe at the sound/sight of Christmas-things forced upon us too soon in the season, but for some reason this year, it's like medicine for my soul. I've spent the past two weekends at home, to decompress after (and during) a hectic season at work, and of course, for Thanksgiving. It was wonderful to be home on Long Island, vegging out on the couch, relaxing & spending time with everyone I love - the stresses of work and money far away in The City. I guess I'll always be a kid at heart, reveling in a tiny escape at home where I can put the reality of adulthood on pause.



Yesterday, my kid at heart was in full bloom, harnessing the giddy feeling that Christmas is only a few weeks away. A crisp winter chill was in the air, and as my mom drove us to my apartment, I marveled at the Christmas trees stacked on street corners, waiting to be tugged home by anxious families. And while I do think it is a little early to put up a tree just yet, that image of "holiday" lent a sense of my home back home, to my new home uptown. This will be my first Christmas in my own apartment and I'm excited to get a tree and decorate, however modestly it will be. One of the things I loved most about Christmas was lounging in my living room with the lamps dimmed and the glow of our Christmas tree giving off a soothing warm hue. My goal is to recreate that feeling as best I can, with a small manageable tree and a few decorations.

It sounds so cliche, but once you get passed the fact of being out in the bitter cold without the warm escape of cars and malls, there is something magical about being in the city around Christmas. It's hard to put into words, but it truly reinforces why I love living in The City. I'm looking forward to walking around, wrapped in scarf, hat and gloves, to take in the holiday decorations in store windows, while grabbing a coffee or hot chocolate on the way. The crowds are inevitable, but if you choose your part of town wisely, you can embrace the holiday season without getting jaded by disgruntled pedestrians.



The tree in Rockefeller Center will go up next week and with that, the official stamp of the holiday season is sealed. In a week or two, I'll be one of those anxious New Yorkers, buying a tree on the street in signature New York fashion. My sister is bringing me ornaments from home to decorate my tree with. I know that will add just the right amount of "Christmas in the Campbell household" to my little living room. December is only a few days away, and with that the magical childhood wonder of Christmas is close behind.

Stay tuned, as I will definitely be posting pictures of my holiday decorations!

M96 to Central Park West and the C to 163rd Street, Please

Hidden away on Jumel Terrace in Washington Heights, nestled between West 160th and 162nd Streets, is a 245 year old gem. The Morris-Jumel Mansion is one of the many historic landmarks that New York City offers its curious residences and tourists alike.





I discovered this antique over the weekend when one of my best friends, Keri, joined me for a weekend of mischief (which included downing a bottle of pino and an 11:30pm run to Tasti-D-Lite, where I was reprimanded by an employee for eating candy I hadn't yet paid for). As a student of FIT, Keri has to visit a selection of locations throughout the city, which offer a glimpse into the architectural and design styles that have taken shape over the years. We awoke at 9am on Sunday (thanks be to daylight savings) and made the journey across town and up to The Heights. After walking a short distance down a cobble stone street lined with enormous brownstones and stairs as solid as fortresses, we reached our destination. There, on the second highest elevated point in Manhattan and with views of the Harlem River, is the Morris-Jumel Mansion. Structurally, this house is exactly as it was when it was built in 1765 - a little floor shellac and a few dozen coats of paint notwithstanding. Most of the furniture inside are replicas based on the time period, but there are a few pieces here and there that are original to the house.



Front parlor.

British Colonel Roger Morris built this home as a summer "villa," but was booted back to England for being a Loyalist during the Revolution. Soon after, it became military head quarters for a man you may have heard of ... he went by General Washington, George, I'm almost certain, was his first name. A Whose Who's of the day, including Thomas Jefferson, John Quincy Adams, James Madison and Alexander Hamilton were entertained on premise. In 1810 Stephen and Eliza Jumel, both immigrants from France and chums of the vertically challenged Napoleon, purchased the mansion. After her husband's death, Eliza married former Vice President under Thomas Jefferson, Aaron Burr.


Noteworthy piece of furniture in this bedroom; that desk/chair combo.



Detail was everything in those days, from the intricate moldings and stained glass windows to the hand painted Chinese wall paper and lavish carpets in almost every room. I had to chuckle, if you think plastic-lined sofas and ornate Italian dining room sets are gaudy, rich families in the 18th and 19th centuries were close contenders. Every table, chair and desk had clawed feet and nary a window was without thick velvety curtains, held back with braided golden tassels.



Eliza Jumel's bedroom suite.




George Washington rested his powder-wigged head on this (replica) four post bed.




Anyone have to pee? (This chair that - suprise! - doubled as a chamber pot, was located in Eliza Jumel's boudoir, just off her bedroom.




Our last stop was the kitchen. "They had toast and waffles back then? Life couldn't have been so bad!" - Keri, always pointing out the positives in life :)

Oh, Say Can You See!

This past weekend, Rob and I Mega Bused it down to Washington, DC. It really was a killer trip, made even more killer because we stayed with Rob's college friend James, who just happens to be a DC tour guide. James' sister also just happens to work for a congressman and it just so happened to be one of two weekends a year that The White House gardens are open to the public! As soon as we pulled into the parking lot on H Street, just a stones throw away from Ford's Theatre, it felt great to be in DC.




The history of the city is just palpable. When we walked passed The House Where Lincoln Died, it was eerie to realize that so many scores ago Lincoln, himself, walked down that street. James gave us a plethora of knowledge as we walked around Capitol Hill. Our first stop was the quiet National Japanese American Memorial to Patriotism During WWII. This memorial sheds light on something that I don't remember learning too much about in school, one of the moments in our history that is looked back on as an error in judgment but deserves to be remembered. It brought to memory a heartfelt book, Snow Falling on Cedars, which tells the story of a Japanese American family that was sent to an internment camp during WWII.




After a jaunt around the truly magnificent Capitol building, we walked down The National Mall past The Smithsonian Castle and subsequent museums. (James Fact - The Smithsonian was funded by a British scientist in the 1800's who never set foot in America, but was enraptured by its history.) The air was cool and crisp as we walked past The Washington Monument (James Fact: The monument is actually two toned, as the stones used to build the structure about a third of the way up are different from the stones above them. The construction was halted during The Civil War, and by the time it was resumed, the stones in the quarry had changed composition.) As we reached the Reflecting Pool, I realized it is not as clear as you would imagine up close, but once you ascend the steps of The Lincoln Memorial and turn around ... the view beyond the Pool and Washington Monument all the way to The Capitol is awe inspiring. I also couldn't help but but hear "Forrest!" being yelled by Jenny, as I walked past this body of water immortalized in pop culture.




The Lincoln Memorial is really incredible, as I Have A Dream is etched into the summit. When you realize the scope of that speech, it is humbling. You stand where Martin Luther King, Jr. himself stood and imagine how powerful it must have been in 1963. Lincoln sat looming before all of us tourists in his memorial, but he was not intimidating. I really just wanted to stare at him, as he has always been an historical figure I would love to sit and chat with. He looks so stoic in every fuzzy, black and white photo of him ... but I always wanted to hear what was brewing underneath. (Stoic in every picture except one in The National Museum of American History, where he looks drunk. I really hope he was at the time, he deserved it).



We walked through the Korean War Memorial, which was really something. White statues roaming through the jungles of Korea, are poised in interia for all to see. It made me realize that I also don't know as much about that war as I wish I did. Our next stop was the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall. I was struck by how many names are on that wall. (James Fact - The youngest name on that wall is a boy of only 15.) As the years have gone by, friends of the fallen have come to pay their respects and leave beer bottles, notes, motorcycle helmets, etc. in honor of their friends. All of these items are being put on display in their own little museum. To understand these men as people who rode motorcycles, drank with their friends, read books and had families and dreams is really inspirational.




The apex of our trip was our visit toThe White House. Now, I wish I can say that we sat down for a beer summit with Obama as Bo frolicked and Sasha and Malia played on their awesome monkey bars, but alas I can not. Although, we did get to walk around the grounds and gardens and get an up close and personal view of The White House. One thing we kept pointing out our whole time in DC, was that the buildings are all so stark white! It looks like they are white washed every week and The White House is no exception. The lawns are immaculate and the shrubbery is perfectly coiffed. And while there is no cabbage patch of kids in The Children's Garden, there are chubby hand and foot prints of the children of past presidents captured in cement. The Kitchen Garden was beautiful and something that Michelle Obama has really taken pride in as First Lady.

In the 2 1/2 days we were in DC, we took in a tremendous amount. We didn't make it to Arlington or hipster spot Georgetown, but we rode the metro, which looks like a space station, and drink at a few great bars, most notably The Dubliner and Kelly's Irish Times. It definitely is a city that I would love to visit again, a city that is home to some of the most important moments in our country's history.

www.papertrailmusic.com

I have been slacking in the blog department as of late, but I am happy to share the latest news in my blogging ventures! My very first concert preview on an official site was posted this week! I have always wanted to write for a music blog, reviewing concerts and CDs or just dishing some ideas/opinions on the music industry, and now I have been given the opportunity to do so. My hope came alive when I was browsing CraigsList and came across PaperTrail. It's a really cool music site that covers an array of bands and does so by giving readers a unique insight into the music industry.


Check out my post on the upcoming My Morning Jacket concert at Terminal Five!





I'm excited to see where my relationship with Paper Trail will go, hopefully it leads to many more posts!

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.