Showing posts with label the French are on to something. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the French are on to something. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Jean-Luc Godard's "Breathless"

A few nights ago I watched the classic Breathless for the first time in my life (I know: bad cinephile! No Milkbone). I don't know how the film flew under my radar for so long especially since it's a benchmark in the French New Wave movement, but I finally got around to it on my Netflix queue and was smitten. Kind of makes you want to lie around all day chain-smoking in a Parisian hotel room with a shirtless Frenchman.  

My favorite scene:

Michel and Patricia

Patricia: Do you know William Faulkner?
Michel: Someone you slept with?
Patricia: No, my pet.
Michel: Then I don't care about him. Take this off.
Patricia: He's a novelist I like a lot. Have you read "The Wild Palms"?
Michel: I told you, no. Take this sweater off.
Patricia: The last sentence is very beautiful.... "Between grief and nothing, I'll take grief." What would you choose?
Michel: Grief is stupid. I'd choose nothing. It's no better but grief is a compromise. You have to go for all or nothing.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Dolce far niente

A quick check-in post to say that for my first week off from work I have done absolutely nothing productive the last five days. Absolutely freaking nothing. 

I can't say whether this feels good or bad...it just "is." Not to get all yoga-ey and spiritual (let's not pretend I'm one of those hardcore yoga chicks, though big shoutout to them; I envy their wholeness), but I guess I'm just finding my center again, my balance. In another life I'm convinced I was meant to write novels and make cheese and wine at a farmhouse in the South of France -- totally low stress occupation, especially when imbibing on the job -- and I need to find that now. My cheese and wine life. I want to just "be." Live in the moment. Dolce far niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. After the last seven months of stress, this week I've wanted to do absolutely nothing productive. It's my vacation and I'll do nothing if I want to. 

I hung out with my Nana this afternoon and of course the first thing she asks is "Have you heard from any jobs yet?" NO I haven't heard from any jobs yet, I wanted to bark at her, and I don't plan to since I haven't exactly been applying to many (read: I've applied to three freelance positions, total. And freelance doesn't constitute "real work" in her book). 

"No," I answered instead, politely. "It's only been less than a week since my last day at work. Jesus, lady. Give me a break," I wanted to say (clearly I am losing it). But I didn't because she's my Nana and she still owns a rusted old hammer from 1953 that she uses around her house to hang up art hooks and for her the world stopped spinning in the '80s when all her grandchildren were born and -- hello? -- she only recently got a cell phone that she still doesn't know how to check voicemails on. And using The Internets? Forget it. She currently uses my deceased grandpa's old boat-anchor of a computer monitor as a shelf to display her ceramic figurines.

Why would I take my frustration out on said sweet old lady who asks these questions not to frustrate me but because she actually thinks that's the way the world works? It did, after all, in her day. How could she know what I'm going through if I just came right out and said I need a serious break and a serious cocktail? Why can't people just leave me alone about my career plans and support what I want to do? I don't want a traditional job; I don't need a traditional job. The last six years of my life spent in myriad office positions weren't who I am, it was what I did. There's a difference. And I get that she (and when I say "she" I mean 75% of those I know) don't get that, but I'm so short-circuited from my last stint that I need to detox and recoup. And the last thing I need are people judging my choices and giving me their two-cents. I'll take their two-cents and raise them one whole dollar. Because at the end of the day I feel that I'M the one that's got it figured out. (Though I'm sure they probably think the same exact thing about themselves.) And therein lies the conflict.

Who's right?

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A different perspective

My view last Wednesday morning over lukewarm office coffee:


My view this morning over an espresso:


Vive la différence.