First day of classes

Yesterday was my last first day of classes.

I'll never have a first day of school again.

My first class is required- Professional Practice, which encompasses such topics as "Architecture- A Service Profession" and "How to Cover Your Ass" and "Starting Your Own Firm." There is a lot I do have to learn about how the profession works but I am not encouraged by the time-filling activities. We spent most of our time this first class explaining how/why we got into architecture in the first place. My easy response is "Lego's."

We also got a case study packet with a fictional company (Waddel and Dobb Assoc. [they must be a very old fashioned firm]) and their subsequent legal and financial troubles. Case study packets! It makes me think of my mom and brother in law school. This could be very interesting.

Today was our first day of studio as well. We met our instructors- I got Ben, the professor I had for design thinking, and he was my first choice in the list I'd sent off a week ago. It sounds like they gave almost everyone their first choice in desired degree project professors. Not much to go over today. Just the introductory speech.

• DP is about the bridge from academic to professional
• it's self-driven, professors are your guide, but your work is your own
• you won't have the other students working on the same projects as a crutch (anymore)
• don't freak out
• work hard, think, be bold, take risks.
• etc. etc.

I think I may try using the tumblr format to document DP and put this on partial hiatus- we'll see. I do like the written word, and the therapeutic qualities of blogging.

In the meanwhile, keep tabs on my degree project work here.

Up at the front with the Flaming Lips

For my early birthday present, Saori got me tickets to LouFest, a two-day music festival in Forest Park in St. Louis. I love event presents- several birthdays before, Saori got me tickets to StarWars in concert, and also a great live show from from Muse.

We went to the park early to get tickets and secure a close parking space, and then we chilled out on a blanket and read away the hours, watching the clouds gathering in the sky. We finally wandered into the park around 4 or so, four hours away from the anticipated set from the Flaming Lips, the highlight of the festival. There were a few alright bands playing while we drank some beers and met up with friends, and then Saori disappeared with Cordelia for awhile and reappeared with rainbow face paint.

The folksy group Dawes was not bad, and we were right up front for that in a big group. After the Dawes set, the skies which had threatened so much for so long finally made good on their word. The heavens opened up and poured rain down on the event. I got drenched to the bone. I had the foresight to bring a baseball cap to keep the rain off my glasses, and crocs to at least let the water run out of my shoes, but after that hour ended, I literally wrung my shirt to get the excess rain out of it.

Our group had joined up with a group of what can best be described as Flaming Lips semi-groupies, people who had traveled from neighboring states to come see the band play, and who were pretty hardcore in their adoration. All came with rainbow tears and soon Saori introduced me to the girl who had a traveling set of facepaint who was happy to give me some rainbows too. And she also had a giant spice shaker of gold glitter, which was liberally passed around and applied to bodies and faces and hair. Fun people.

We were literally at the front of the stage, at the metal barrier separating the press alley from the edge of the stage itself. Socially, its a fascinating place. I got separated from my group when there was a rush to take the front of the stage area, and people who were behind the group I was with let me through to the front because they identified me as having been hanging out with that group for the majority of the time before. Position here is very jealously guarded. Up at the front, people chatted with the massive (and nearly all bald or close-shaved) bouncers/guard staff and random photographers. A young photographer allowed the girl with facepaint, to give him some rainbows as well, but then got harassed by the guard. Apparently no fraternization is allowed.

The concert was a lot of fun. I'd never seen a psychedelic band live before, and the whole show was super-trippy. LED screen flashing loops of eyeballs and topless women, a cadre of young, buxom dancing girls and a guy in a Tin Man suit who all looked like they'd been pulled from the audience a few hours before. An inflatable catfish in a captain's hat. White duct tape and rainbows everywhere. Omnipresent fog and lasers. I could definitely smell the weed being passed around in the crowd. Music was good. Fun, really fun music. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," and closing with a euphoric "Do you realize?" The lead singer jumped in a inflatable clear hamster ball and rolled around the audience.

Actually, since we were up at the front, there are a lot of photos with us in it.

A day and a thorough shower later, and I've still got gold dandruff and a few shiny sparkles on my face.

I'm so tired right now, we just went bouldering at Upper Limit. Dew encouraged us to try it, and we had a lot of fun exhausting ourselves on the V0 paths. Bouldering is like indoor rock climbing, except you dont use a rope and you don't go too high. It's a lot more difficult, actually. I was able to do two of the five V0 sets only after strenuous repetition. The paths are labeled by difficulty- V0 is the easiest. It goes up to V15.

Anyway, to bed. School starts tomorrow.

Sitting In The Tub

Enjoying the last few days of summer 'freedom'. Although the argument could aptly be made that I should be doing things like gearing up for my last semester, making dentist appointments to fill in the cavity in my teeth, fulfilling promises to friends, it's really hard to get motivated.

Summer was a full bathtub, and now that the water's running out, the weight which I carried so lightly in the full tub weighs on me, lethargically sitting in the tub as the water drains between my legs. It's so hard to rouse myself from the inertia.

Fittingly- not much to report today. Made pancakes for breakfast. Worked with Saori for a few hours on an introduction to the Grasshopper plug in for the 3D modeling software Rhino. Read way to much webcomics.

Are you ready, Kids?

Been back in St. Louis for a total of three days now. It's been a bit of cleaning, a bit of catching up with mail and emails, a bit of getting organized for school, a bit of catching up with friends.

My second night back, we went out to hear Kim Massie sing down at Beale on Broadway, and it turns out a lot of people we knew were there already. It's a great scene. Outside, with one of the best singers in St. Louis belting out blues and R&B and whatever you'll pay her $15 to sing. A few beers, nice weather, lasts from 10-3am. That night, the audience also included some cast members from the Lion King, and a few ensemble members were coaxed into singing as well.

There's something cool and laid back and nice about listening to music like that, lit by the string of christmas lights and stage floods, with the Amtrak trains rumbling past in the background. It was a nice welcome back to the laid back expansiveness of St.Louis.

Yesterday, Saori and I drove out to Cahokia and walked around and up the mounds out there. It was miserably hot, and the drought which has plauged the midwest transformed the usually lush summer landscape into brown and brittle grass spears, unpleasant for rambling. It's a site which is more memory than artifact- in importance and scale, this was the largest settlement north of Aztec Mexico city. The center and city of a civilization of great complexity and scale, larger even than the US capital when it was first discovered. But there is no written language to describe it- no stone monuments, no stone pyramids, no massive idols. The massive earthworks is only a passing reference to the true monumental urbanity of the place, and its a pale second. What is there to see other than the earth mounds? The museum does a good job of trying to awaken the imagination and to give the appropriate contexts and information about the history and extent of the site. But this has to be the saddest and most neglected UNESCO World Heritage Site I've ever seen, and there's really not even that many in the US.

Have I done Thee, Boston? How I count the ways

As I sit here at BOS airport waiting for my flight back to St.Louis, I realize that Boston is one of those strange cities where I have lived but do not feel that I've truly owned this city. It has not yielded itself up to me in the same way that I now understand Phoenix, or St.Louis. I have been unable to make this city mine, although I think I've done a damned good job at hitting all the tourist highlights. What have I done with my time here in New England?

•  Sampled at least 20 clam chowders in and near Boston, including attending and voting in Boston's Chowderfest and definitely identified the best clam chowder in the region ( The Lobster Pot, Provincetown)
• Duck Tour where you are driven around Boston on land and in the Charles river by not entirely obnoxious conDUCKtors. Did that one not once, but TWICE.
•  Museum of Fine Arts
• Isabella Gardner Museum (also twice)
• Lobster in numerous ways- lobster rolls, lobster bisque, steamed lobster, etc.
• Institute of Contemporary Arts
• Walking and shopping and dining on Newbury street
• Chinatown, where I went nearly every day of the week.
• Harbor islands
• Drank beers from three local breweries
• Walk Harvard and MIT
• Revere Beach, Nantasseraggat beach, Crane beach
• Walked through Salem
• Drove up to Marblehead
• Peabody Essex Museum
• Attended Shakespeare in the Commons
• Drinking with locals
• Cape Cod day trip with beaches, small diners, Provincetown.
• Rockport day trip and bicycling.
• The Union Oyster House Dining Experience and Ye Olde Yankee Gifte Shoppe featuring actual scallop puppets.
• Purchased wayfarer sunglasses and striped tee shirts worn with white canvas shorts and boat shoes.
• BONUS- used a CharlieCard to commute from my Back Bay brownstone apartment to my job in the seaport district

What have I missed?

• Red Sox baseball game
• Getting a drink at Drink
• Taking the swan boats at the public garden
• Whale watching
• New England Aquarium

North Atlantic Reprise

My alarm went off at 7:30 and as I reached from my bed to hit the snooze, I half considered sleeping in an extra hour and simply catching the 9:30 train to Rockland. I thought better of it and forced myself up. The train to rockland is an hour and some, which would get me in later in the day. And I do like to get an early start to travel.

Rockport, Massachusetts, is a small fishing village north of Gloucester, on a rocky peninsula sticking into the Altantic. It's picturesque, quaint, heavy on the tourist industry and some fishing. I wanted to get a last taste of the old new England fishing villages, so it seemed like a good place to go. Turns out I underestimated the tourism there, but it turned out ok.

Caught a train from North Station, commuter rail, $20 round trip ticket. A little over an hour's ride out of town. Went by pretty fast- the scenery once you get beyond Salem becomes really lovely as the rail runs through forest and salt marshes and past other small fishing harbor towns.

In Rockport, I walked to the main street along the harbor, about a twenty minute walk from the station. It was nice that it was early enough in the day that the streets were not yet choked with tourists, and I could get my fill of the scenic storefronts on bearskin neck. Bearskin neck is full of old lobster shacks and fishing shanties which have all been converted to the picturesque tourist industry- gelato shops, cafes, quite a few Asian Imports, several clothing stores, candy stores, tarot parlors run by witches, restaurants, sea glass jewelry, pottery, 'whimsical artwork,' and Austrian strudel. I did stop into the strudel place and get some cherry strudel which was actually pretty good.

On the train ride over, I'd been considering joining a sea-kayak tour, but once I got out there, I realized that I'd be a lot happier doing it with someone else and not just being a single in the tour group. Besides, that $40 could be well spent in other ways. I ended up renting a bicycle for a few hours, $15, which included a lock, so I took off in my landlubbery ways.

I've always enjoyed exploring by bike, especially places where you have interesting spots and sights separated by long distances. I biked along the coastal roads, stopping now and then to park the bike and pick my way down to the shoreline. The coast up here is really rocky (surprise!). While the small beach proper down in Rockport was sandy, farther north, the Atlantic crashed into a shattered plain of granite steps marching into the sea. I walked here for awhile, cooling my legs in the spray and waves washing over the rocks. I took photos of the lighthouses on distant islands. It was a nice farewell to the Atlantic- it was a place which conveyed well the power and isolation of that ocean.

Caught the train back and walked home from the north station, a few miles journey, but one that took me through some picturesque parts of the city. Chinese take out for dinner. Tomorrow I catch a flight back to St.Louis.

Big Achievements

Saori's big achievement today was running her first 5K in the St.Louis color run. I am really proud of her for the work she has put into running, which is a lot less enjoyable for her than it is for me. She had a great time and was excited to run another one.


My big achievement of the day has been holding down a few gulps of Gatorade and four Ritz crackers, hung over, and sick as a dog. Yesterday's drinking started at noon...

My last day the office, a few people came out for lunch with me at Papagayo, a decent tex-mex place. They made fresh guac at the table, and they served a mean margarita. I got fish tacos while sipping down my drink (1). Food was not bad- the fish tacos were grilled, which was new to me, but the chips were really hard, thick things. Sitting with me were a bunch of coworkers from the NE and one girl from New Mexico, and the two of us were lamenting the lack of good Mexican food. One of the guys at my table had only recently heard of guacamole.

Anyway, after I got back to the office, well warmed from the huge margarita, I started working again, around four, my supervisor came over with a beer for me and we talked about the final stuff he wanted me to do with the model I was working on, so I drank that beer (2).

I ended up working until around six, and went around the office to say goodbye to the few people that were left. It sounds like I will have very strong prospects there when I graduate. Leaving the office, I walked across the street to the new convenience store there and picked up a pint bottle of an IPA brewed in Somerville nearby.

At home, I opened the large bottle (3, 4) and started working on it while doing some preliminary sorting and packing- clean clothes to wear for the next few days, dirty clothes to wash, stuff to take on the plane, and stuff to box to be shipped home.

Noel came home and had a beer and I joined him in the kitchen as we both made ramen noodles for dinner. We talked about this and that, and he offered me a bottle of Rogue Ale (5) which I drank while we ate and chat. Drank another of his beers (6) and then he mentioned going out to meet a friend at a bar, and invited me along. I said, sure!

At this point I was pretty drunk. Noel hailed a cab and we took it to The Sevens, a bar at 77 St.James street, and I bought a round (7) while we waited for his friend to arrive. The bar was pretty standard small bar, we were able to sit at a table, and the vibe was definitely more pub. Noel's friend joined us and we talked for a bit before he bought us all another round (8). At last call, the rest of my brain thoroughly pickled, the deepest, most ancient reptilian part of my brain called for a dose of sanity and a glass of water.

When I got up to use the bathroom before we left, I realized, belatedly, how bad off I was. Seriously staggering, using the wall as a guide. I'm happy I didn't walk into any tables. When I got to the bathroom, I realized I was going to be sick and barely made it to the toilet.

We left the pub shortly thereafter, hailed another cab for the south city diner, which is the go-to place for drunks in the downtown after hours. I've always wanted to go, but with my head spinning and my stomach churning, I was in no mood for a plate of their famous pancakes. I bid the two farewell and started walking home. Noel didn't have keys so he told me to get the door for him to let him in when he got back to the apartment. Even now I can't remember if I did or not. I remember getting home and being more sick in the toilet here a few times, and crashing in bed, sweeping my carefully sorted piles onto the floor.

Waking up this morning was an unpleasant experience. I was so bad, I couldn't hold down water. And this lasted until about noon. After one burst, when I was on my knees in front of the toilet, the sweat bursting of my back, my head about to explode, my eyes tearing and the last bit dribbling from my lips, my sweat-drenched forehead resting on my arms which grasped the communal toilet, when I thought, why am I doing this again?

It is kind of strange when you think about it- when one gets so drunk that one's memory of the event, the fun part, is fuzzy or simply loses it altogether, and then the consequence- prolonged hours of misery experienced fully with a sober head and a pounding headache- why we repeat it? It's like we're failing Pavlov's test. Fortunately, I don't do this often- I think I've only been this drunk/sick a few times in my life. By now I know my own limits, but I guess at the threshold of the limit, there was something last night that made me want to step over it. I guess its the slippery slope where I was too drunk to consider the repercussions of my drinking. I would have thought though that the body would associate drinking a certain amount with being miserably sick and form a kind of psychological barrier. Why weren't my alarm bells going off? Were they, and I just ignored them? Or it is too subtle of an alarm bell to hear when I'm at my limit.

Anyway, I started feeling better around 3, and this day is going to be totally wasted cleaning up myself and the messes I've made.