Late sunsets in the city. I love how you can sit outside in that post-heat cool and watch the sky turn from orange to blue. I love to take a break from making dinner, step out of the kitchen onto my cemented back yard and hear the faint noises of families at home chatting or cooking coming from the houses nearby.
Lunches outside. During the winter it’s a discipline to bring my lunch and eat outside in the park behind my office. I often look for excuses to go to a café and find the cheapest thing that will buy me a cozy seat indoors. But just earlier this week I had to buy lunch and I couldn’t make myself stay in the café for more than a half hour before the idea of the sun and a bench under a tree lured me back outside.
Swimming. It’s a comfort, uh, sport for me (is there such a thing as a comfort sport?) But with the Oxy students gone for the summer, the school pool is usually empty and a wonderful place to go on a Saturday afternoon.
Less traffic. Schools are out! People are on vacation! My commute is definitely 15 minutes shorter this time of year.
Summer reading. I used to inhale books like nobody’s business. Nowadays I usually have about 5 started and I’m lucky if I get around to finishing 2. So far I’m almost through Hawaii’s Story and The Soloist is on deck.
Pace. Everything seems to slow. Naps under a fan are necessary. People seem to gather often and linger longer.
Beastocity: 12 (thinking about the future is exciting and stressful)
So, I’ve been trying to articulate some ideas for a few months and I think I should document what I’ve got so far.
Architecture has always fascinated me. Mostly what fascinates me about it is how it embodies the connection between spaces and community and art. How cool is it that someone’s artistic vision creates a space which in turn impact and shape communities. Wow.
But recently I’ve been trying to dig deeper than that… What communities are in need? How can architecture and design help them? I’m no expert, but from what I can tell, current inner-city
architecture seems to be modern developers try their hand at placing their newest “theory” of building healthy inner-city communities into low-income, urban neighborhoods. To me (granted, I too am currently an outsider) it seems like a laborious process: find a lot or tear something dilapidated down, come up with a fancy yet inexpensive design, build it, furnish it and somewhere in that process the gentrification seed can get planted. But on top of that, I’m realizing that this whole process
takes years.
Maybe it’s my own personal style, but growing up in a developing suburb my life was filled with sterile new architecture (not really even modern or all that creative). To me, what gives character and life to a
community are buildings with history. What would it look like to have existing buildings be changed, adapted, and renewed to fit the functional, atheistic, and environmental needs of a community? Would
it add ownership and pride to have someone who is an insider in that community be the one who is changing the architectural landscape of the community, and thus the feel of the community? Could that happen by using existing landmarks? Could that be a metaphor of how the community is seeking to change?
Realistically, I know this is difficult and in no ways glamorous. And, honestly, I cannot even imagine how difficult this could probably be. Would this be the route of architecture, urban planning, or historic preservation? I’ll admit I’m another one of those “theorists” trying their hand at “fixing” something they know nothing about. But for now it encourages and inspires me to keep following my interest and hopefully figuring out what is possible.
I like to think of myself as a rebel. Well I’m not, but I think there is some instinct in me that wants to go against… stuff. It’s hard to just receive. I have a hard time receiving. I want to prove myself worthy or prove myself unworthy, anything but freely receive. Receive what?, you might ask. Well, anything! What was your response last time someone complimented you or gave you something? Is your internal processing something like woa, do I deserve this? a) no! oh no! what do I do now? Either provide evidence that I don’t deserve their kindness or… what could I do to deserve it? Hmm, yes I’ll do that. Yes, then I’ll be able to deserve this. here just wait here a second and I’m going to take care of some business and then we’ll get back to this receiving thing. b) hmm well… I have done this and this recently and therefore I do deserve this, in fact, why didn’t I get it sooner? man they owe me. what could I do to show them that I deserve more… yeah, this isn’t good enough.
Relate? Maybe not. But such is my response to others all too often and that has been my response to God recently. I want to rebel. Love? He has love for me? Ha, whatever. Isn’t he all knowing? Well if he loves me then he must not be. And I’ve gotten tired. I’m tired of response (a). Something in my heart tugs back and forth saying that I’m in such a great need for God’s love but also saying that I don’t even want to ask because he just might give it and I’m not feeling like I deserve it right now. I’ll get back to him when I feel like I deserve it.
Today was a little different, a hiccup in my normal brainwaves about this topic. It went something like this: Do I like and trust God’s way of doing things but not his economy of giving and receiving love? well.. yes. Is trusting God trusting his way of doing things? yeah. Do I trust that if God wants to give me love, then he should? oh... not currently. Do I want to trust God? I want to.
So, while I’m on the theme of noticing funny little things about myself (well this can be the second in my theme…) here’s my newest: I have a “soft voice.” I never thought of myself as having a “soft voice” (maybe I still don’t cus I’m putting it in quotation marks). I mean, I guess as I look back on my entire life I remember some instances that might prove this “theory.” For one, one of my pet peeves has developed throughout the years to be when someone can’t hear you and they lean into you and say “What did you say?” As though you couldn’t say it in a louder volume and instead they need to be a few inches from your face.
Do you track with me? Haven’t you ever been with someone in a public place and smoothly try to tell them something out of the corner of your mouth, trying to draw as little attention as possible to yourself probably trying to make some critical comment that you don’t want the others around you to hear, and because your dumb-o friend (or perhaps temporarily dumb-o) and instead of whispering a quiet “huh?” they awkwardly do a huge lean/bend at the waist and ask loudly “What did you say?” and now you have a third of the people whose attention you were trying not to draw conveniently looking over at you… then you have to be the one to be like uhhh I’ll tell you later. AWKWARD!
So maybe I’m just too sensitive to social situations. I am a self confessed over-analyzer. Most of my cell phone people-can’t-hear-me issues come from not wanting to disturb those around me or have them hear my conversation. Maybe I need to readjust my volume settings… maybe then people at my office would be able to hear when I page them over the loudspeaker. Until then, I’m grateful for the intervention of my coworkers who tell me weekly that I have a soft voice.
I am a healthy eater. I admit it. But not by choice. I’m kinda like a junk-food eater/cookie monster with the external of a healthy eater. First it was the digestion problems (I’ll spare details) that cut a lot of the fluff (or what my family likes to call “cheap filler” … mmm I lova da cheap filler) and substituted it instead with hearty high-fiber foods. Bring on the fruit, vegetables, and beans! (Yes, beans became one of my best friends. They’re actually a kind of comfort food for me now- I know I’m safe in the hands of beans.) So I thought- well that’s not so bad, I can still indulge in my sweet tooth habits without harming my fiber intake-ha HA!
Until recently. Now-by part divine intervention and part experimentation-I’ve decided to cut out a lot of sugars. Man. So here I am. The reformed “cookie monster” (as my sister calls me) who now gets excited about her afternoon snack of mixed nuts and dried cranberries. What have I become?
The combination of trying to be frugal about my money doesn’t help either. It got to the point today where I went out to lunch with a co-worker (the office was paying J) and so I scanned the menu and thought get something with chicken- because that’s expensive and takes a while to cook (or at least thaw) and then something with fiber! So I ended up with some chicken eggplant mushroom sandwich dilly-yo (complete with a side salad) that had the potential to be good but in reality kinda tasted like bread. Even with some of the side salad dressing poured on top.
There have been other things going on in the past two weeks that are way more important than this but after realizing that last week I was head-over-heels for my pairing of apples and cheese and this week I’m nuts about mixed nuts and dried cranberries I couldn’t keep what I have become private any longer.
Last fall, I got to pose as a student for CO Architects' new residence hall at CMC. The hall was very creative and modern... looked like it was too good to be a residence hall! But it still doesn't beat the timeless quality of places like Erdman. See if you can find yours truly in the pictures.
Beastocity: 20 (really a beastocity of like 3 but the shock adds 17)
Ever heard of a Mayline? It’s a straightedge that attaches to your desk via screws and wires that can roll up and down. Well I know how to install one. And drill holes.
I’m no stranger to power tools. I’ve grown up doing boat maintenance alongside my dad and seen many a hole drilled and a thing installed (and sometimes done it myself) but I was still shocked today. Yesterday one of the architects asked me about these Mayline things and I brought some old ones up from storage. I told him I’d never installed one before (which really means I’ve never used one and therefore have no idea how they work). So he was going to check it out and see if we had the necessary hardware etc. It turned out we did and I told him to holler if he needed a hand. He comes back, says alls a go and that all that is needed is a power driver. I get power driver and come to his desk then…. Shock. He briefly explains what goes where, puts the correct driver bit in the contraption, collects his drawings and leaves.
I was in such shock. Um…. Does this mean I’m supposed to install this? Young, little Jennifer? Not old, seasoned architect man who makes buildings? Guess so, after all I kind of am the random office person whose job description is a mix between home ec and handyman (hence the man part there- often I realize why this is the first time they’ve had a woman in this job position, this was one of them).
So the next two minutes were a mix of sweat and quick synapse-firing all with the background music of “what the hell am I doing?” So I try out the power screwdriver and find it won’t go through the formica tabletop. Suddenly- a thought. Hmmm maybe I need to drill a hole first! But since seasoned architect man didn’t say anything about it, I’m more confused than when I started. So what do I do? I use a lifeline. Two desks away sits the real office handyman, Dean. Luckily we are good friends because I deliver people’s packages and he orders a lot and loves to get packages. He kind of does this funny flip from a 45 year old man to a 12 year old boy when he gets packages (especially when they’re from his mom in Hawaii sending him snacks, then it’s more like 8 year old boy). Point is, we’re tight. I swing by and off handedly ask if I needed to screw into the table top if I need a drill. He says it would be easier so… drill it is! I continue with my task, trying to look as at ease and confident as I can: finding a drill bit, taking out the old screw bit, replacing the drill, drilling into the table (eek!), then realizing I need to get the drill bit out of the table (another perk from watching dad), switching bits, putting the screw in (adjusting something that I see my dad adjust when the screw proves difficult to go in), and then figuring out the maze of wires that makes this thing work.
With the commotion (by that I mean uncharacteristic drill noises and maybe my internal background music is starting to become audible by now) Dean comes by to check on me, gives me some pointers and says I’m missing some hardware. Few seconds later he’s back with all the stuff I need and tells me I’m doing a good job.
Four holes and three screws later (one hole was in the wrong place) I’ve gotten it all put together! Luckily not many people were around at the time so I didn’t disturb too many people. Moral is: I’m very honored that they trust me with something like that (even though it’s just a formica table) and glad that traditional gender roles were broken.
