Monday was the first day I sat down for classes although technically, school had yet to start. I signed up for a short workshop on the basics of using GIS software. GIS (don't make the same mistake I did and pronouce it "jiss" which has gotten me into trouble more than once, spell it out G-I-S) stands for something like global information system. It's a way of looking at data as it relates to a geographic basis. Basically, tying various geographic pieces of information together. So you could load, say, a street map of St.Louis, add in block populations, and land use, and then selectively look at the relationship between housing density and grocery store locations. It's pretty powerful stuff.
Anyway, that was monday. Monday night, I went down to a friend's house in the historic and gentrified Tower Grove area and enjoyed some drinks out on the patio while her friends played an incredibly lengthy and convoluted game of croquet on her tiny, uneven plot of grass below.
Tuesday was our first day of classes. Bright and early 8:30 AM Advanced Building Systems, which is supposed to bring together all the systems we've studied so far, incuding lighting, acoustics, site, HVAC, and structural systems. Taught by a professor with a very very strong Massachusets accent (and a licenced "Ahhhkitect"). Actually, I'm finding myself liking him. He's coming from a very Corbusian background and he's totally negating any kind of architecture that is not an enclosed space, but I think it should still be interesting.
Then in the afternoon, I had Urban Books. Urban books is a class mostly made of architecture students and taught by an urban planner and an artist. They teach us bookmaking, and the subject of our books is going to be St.Louis. I'm excited for this class as I love stuff done with my hands, the crafty side of things, and there's a lot of potential for the subject matter. It's pretty wide open. And Dew is in the class, which makes things more fun too. Our final books will go into the special collections library at the Olin library (our campus library). The idea is that the books document the city in some way. Sketches, photographs, maps, etc. Making books is actually a a really good way to get into curating my own work, or at least saving it and presenting it and disseminating it.
That night, I went over to another friend's house to play some cards. (Cahds). I've been craving a game of dihinmen, which is the japanese version of asshole a.k.a. president a.k.a. scum a.k.a. big 2 a.k.a too many other names and variations. The way my east coast/ midwest friends play it is much more like egyptian rat screw. There's no Jokers, for one thing, people can slap down cards whenever they feel like it, and you can go out with 2s and 8s still in your hand which you give away to other people who fight over them. No revolutions, any number of 2s will take a set. It's more frenetic, less graceful, and probably less strategic than dihimen. I'll have to teach them sometime. I suppose its not too surprising that the Japanese version is more reserved and polite with everyone playing in turns.
Summer is still here. It gets hotter and cooler. Today is beautiful and sunny and hot. The campus is verdantly green. Filled with students lounging on the grass under trees, strolling with their bicycles, and enthusiastically walking to get thier coffee drinks. Everywhere you look, its like a shot from the Wash U recruitment magazine.
Anyway, I'm off to pick studios this semester. More on that later. I'll find out tonight (9:30PM, what a stupid time to pick desks).
Aug 31, 2011
running
Ran this morning. 3.7 miles in a little over 36 minutes. I'm using RunnersWorld website to log my hours which adds a little more incentive as its got some fun graphs and tools. Here's the route I took that I created with their website:
Aug 24, 2011
Keep Calm and Make a List
I feel totally overwhelmed and school's not even in session yet.
- Saori's leaving for Buenos Aires tomorrow morning for the semester, so I'm not going to see her for about four months.
- Suki is not handling her medication well so its going to be another call to the vet and probably a Benjamin for some more suitable antibiotics tomorrow.
- Both Tay and mom are struggling in the deep end of the pool as they attempt to get situated in their respective law schools, and I'm worried about how they're doing.
- Tay is beginning to wade into the stinking mire of our bureaucratic society as he attempts to register and title his car in Indiana.
- I need to find a CPA to guide me through some financial jungles to pay tuition.
- My new roommate moved in today (although he seems like a really cool guy, and I think we'll get along pretty well)
On the flip side, everyone I know is getting started doing the things they worked hard to do, nobody is dying, and soon I'll be whisked away into the LaLa Land of architecture school.
Tonight, I took Saori out for dinner at Winslow's Home, a pretty good cafe/store not too far from here. It was just what we were looking for- close, good food, and really comfortable. I tried the birch soda. Should have gone with aspen. After we got home, I cracked open a bottle of chilled Stone Mill vignoles I'd been saving for a long time. Good stuff, even if it is a little on the sweet side. Our roommate, James, joined us for a drink and we chatted for about an hour or so.
Tonight, I took Saori out for dinner at Winslow's Home, a pretty good cafe/store not too far from here. It was just what we were looking for- close, good food, and really comfortable. I tried the birch soda. Should have gone with aspen. After we got home, I cracked open a bottle of chilled Stone Mill vignoles I'd been saving for a long time. Good stuff, even if it is a little on the sweet side. Our roommate, James, joined us for a drink and we chatted for about an hour or so.
Algorithms
My brother and I have this ongoing fight. It's not that unusual. It goes something like this:
I like looking at maps. A map, without electricity, cell phone reception, anything, can tell me more or less where I am and tell me how to get to my destination if I have a point of reference. Actually, it doesn't tell me anything, I read it.
My brother likes his iPhone because it literally tells him where he is and directs him how to get to his destination. It has the advantage of convenience, since he requires neither a reference point nor the time it took to learn to read a map, but it is subject to his cell phone reception, electricity, etc.
I say "what if the infrastructure, the grid fails?" he replies, "the grid will not fail, or if it does, our problems will be a lot worse than needing directions." He does have a point.
Traveling across the country with him, I've come to admire the ease and speed at which his iPhone is able to locate gas stations, give distances, and find coffee shops. However, in the case of the latter, his phone died partway, and left us stranded and potentially "lost" since the means it gives directions is on a turn by turn basis. If he were to zoom out, it would require the same skill of reading the map. However, my city map doesn't tell me where any coffee shops are to be found either, no matter how well I may read it.
There is a crucial difference I think beyond the issue of the reliability of the infrastructure. When I read a map, I see myself in relation to everything around me. The more I read the map, the more I gain an understanding of the totality of the city and the relationship of the various parts to each other. I feel like I know better where I am, which way the sun will rise and set, an intuitive grasp of freeways and street networks without having to constantly reference a device. It warns me when I get close to neighborhoods I'd rather stay away from, and nudges me when I'm close to neighborhoods I'd like to get to know better.
Already, then there is something dangerous about reliance on the "tell me" devices. Scientists and psychologists are saying that our reliance on the internet is actually changing the way we think. We don't remember things anymore, just where to find them. I've been dating a wonderful woman for nearly five years but I don't remember her phone number. (However, from online retail, I've unintentionally memorized my credit card number and details.)
In the case of the iPhone, for example, its ripe for the kind of subtle hijacking. Whose to say that a nudge here or there in a code will direct you to McDonalds rather than to Burger King when you search for "restaurants" nearby? Who's to say that Google isn't already doing it. Amazon.com for awhile was providing different prices for the same item depending on what the system thought the user would pay for it, based on their previous purchases.
We google things without thinking about the filters that Google has placed on the results. Google decides what we see and where we click, and all of this is is controlled by algorithms which are increasingly beyond human oversight, let alone understanding. Same for the stock market, Netflix, and Amazon.com. This lack of oversight is troubling most of all.
I like looking at maps. A map, without electricity, cell phone reception, anything, can tell me more or less where I am and tell me how to get to my destination if I have a point of reference. Actually, it doesn't tell me anything, I read it.
My brother likes his iPhone because it literally tells him where he is and directs him how to get to his destination. It has the advantage of convenience, since he requires neither a reference point nor the time it took to learn to read a map, but it is subject to his cell phone reception, electricity, etc.
I say "what if the infrastructure, the grid fails?" he replies, "the grid will not fail, or if it does, our problems will be a lot worse than needing directions." He does have a point.
Traveling across the country with him, I've come to admire the ease and speed at which his iPhone is able to locate gas stations, give distances, and find coffee shops. However, in the case of the latter, his phone died partway, and left us stranded and potentially "lost" since the means it gives directions is on a turn by turn basis. If he were to zoom out, it would require the same skill of reading the map. However, my city map doesn't tell me where any coffee shops are to be found either, no matter how well I may read it.
There is a crucial difference I think beyond the issue of the reliability of the infrastructure. When I read a map, I see myself in relation to everything around me. The more I read the map, the more I gain an understanding of the totality of the city and the relationship of the various parts to each other. I feel like I know better where I am, which way the sun will rise and set, an intuitive grasp of freeways and street networks without having to constantly reference a device. It warns me when I get close to neighborhoods I'd rather stay away from, and nudges me when I'm close to neighborhoods I'd like to get to know better.
Already, then there is something dangerous about reliance on the "tell me" devices. Scientists and psychologists are saying that our reliance on the internet is actually changing the way we think. We don't remember things anymore, just where to find them. I've been dating a wonderful woman for nearly five years but I don't remember her phone number. (However, from online retail, I've unintentionally memorized my credit card number and details.)
In the case of the iPhone, for example, its ripe for the kind of subtle hijacking. Whose to say that a nudge here or there in a code will direct you to McDonalds rather than to Burger King when you search for "restaurants" nearby? Who's to say that Google isn't already doing it. Amazon.com for awhile was providing different prices for the same item depending on what the system thought the user would pay for it, based on their previous purchases.
We google things without thinking about the filters that Google has placed on the results. Google decides what we see and where we click, and all of this is is controlled by algorithms which are increasingly beyond human oversight, let alone understanding. Same for the stock market, Netflix, and Amazon.com. This lack of oversight is troubling most of all.
Aug 21, 2011
Bloomington
There's an old riddle that concerns a goat, a cabbage, a wolf, and a man and a canoe that need to cross the river with all three. It's a logistics problem which kept running through my mind as we tried to figure out how we were going to do this move with Taylor. There were four things that needed to get to Bloomington- Taylor, Brittany, the U-haul truck, and Taylor's car. Taylor can't drive due to his ankle injury. Suki, my cat, is on medication that has to be given twice a day. There are two other potential drivers and one extra car. Saori can't afford to be away from St.Louis that long as she's leaving for Buenos Aires in five days.
So we compromised. I was originally planning to spend at least the night and maybe an extra day before coming back, but what we ended up doing was striking out for Bloomington before 8am, planning to unload and drive back that night. I drove the U-haul out with Tay as the navigator, Brittany took Tay's car, and Saori drove the Prius. It was really not that long of a trip, a little over four hours. From St.Louis to Terra Haute is a pretty easy straight shot along the major interstate, except of course, for those miles of gridlock traffic where they restrict the road to one lane. In the meantime, Tay makes a half dozen phone calls from the shotgun seat coordinating the movers, the apartment, and his renter's insurance.
From Terra Haute, we leave the main road and join a two lane road- the scenic route to Bloomington. It's much hillier than St.Louis, with much denser and taller trees. It's quite beautiful actually, and so I really didn't mind the 50 miles of corn fields, meadows, forests, and small midwestern towns advertising the oldest continuous picnics in Indiana.
I was not impressed with Bloomington at first sight. It's like an incredibly dense suburb- many streets are one way, parking is restricted everywhere, in a sense, the quintessential college town. Gridlock traffic getting into town, bad traffic everywhere around town. Pretty though.
Tay's apartment building is a real dump from the outside. The inside, however, is older and nicer- two generous wooden stairs. Wood floors. The main dissapointment was that despite the apartment company's insistance on needing five days to clean and paint the apartment, the apartment was minimally cleaned and no painting had been done whatsoever. The paint in the bedroom was literally cracking and peeling off the walls. So Tay talked to the landlord or the representative and after many discussions, got them to come back the next day to do a decent job of mudding, sanding, and painting.
Tay lined up two movers to unload the truck, which considering that we were three flights up and one man short, was a genius move. Two professional movers, two hours, $100. They emptied that truck in about an hour.
In the meanwhile, I took Tay around to run some errands- to the bank to pay the movers, to the Target; smashed into a sad little mall imaginatively named "College Mall" for a bike lock, and finally to grab some burgers for lunch.
Brittany and Saori started unpacking Tay into the kitchen, and then it was about time for Saori and I to take off. We said our goodbyes to everyone and hit the dusty trail. Really pretty in the early evening hours, and of course we got stuck again in gridlock, when an 18-wheeler had some kind of accident and limped along a one-lane road for about a mile or so, while we cruised along at 3 miles an hour, enjoying the chorus of twilight bugs. Stopped for a bite in Effingham ("Home of the Effing good time") and finally got back to St.Louis around 11pm. Hard to believe we were in three states, crossed a time zone, and returned in the same day.
So we compromised. I was originally planning to spend at least the night and maybe an extra day before coming back, but what we ended up doing was striking out for Bloomington before 8am, planning to unload and drive back that night. I drove the U-haul out with Tay as the navigator, Brittany took Tay's car, and Saori drove the Prius. It was really not that long of a trip, a little over four hours. From St.Louis to Terra Haute is a pretty easy straight shot along the major interstate, except of course, for those miles of gridlock traffic where they restrict the road to one lane. In the meantime, Tay makes a half dozen phone calls from the shotgun seat coordinating the movers, the apartment, and his renter's insurance.
From Terra Haute, we leave the main road and join a two lane road- the scenic route to Bloomington. It's much hillier than St.Louis, with much denser and taller trees. It's quite beautiful actually, and so I really didn't mind the 50 miles of corn fields, meadows, forests, and small midwestern towns advertising the oldest continuous picnics in Indiana.
I was not impressed with Bloomington at first sight. It's like an incredibly dense suburb- many streets are one way, parking is restricted everywhere, in a sense, the quintessential college town. Gridlock traffic getting into town, bad traffic everywhere around town. Pretty though.
Tay's apartment building is a real dump from the outside. The inside, however, is older and nicer- two generous wooden stairs. Wood floors. The main dissapointment was that despite the apartment company's insistance on needing five days to clean and paint the apartment, the apartment was minimally cleaned and no painting had been done whatsoever. The paint in the bedroom was literally cracking and peeling off the walls. So Tay talked to the landlord or the representative and after many discussions, got them to come back the next day to do a decent job of mudding, sanding, and painting.
Tay lined up two movers to unload the truck, which considering that we were three flights up and one man short, was a genius move. Two professional movers, two hours, $100. They emptied that truck in about an hour.
In the meanwhile, I took Tay around to run some errands- to the bank to pay the movers, to the Target; smashed into a sad little mall imaginatively named "College Mall" for a bike lock, and finally to grab some burgers for lunch.
Brittany and Saori started unpacking Tay into the kitchen, and then it was about time for Saori and I to take off. We said our goodbyes to everyone and hit the dusty trail. Really pretty in the early evening hours, and of course we got stuck again in gridlock, when an 18-wheeler had some kind of accident and limped along a one-lane road for about a mile or so, while we cruised along at 3 miles an hour, enjoying the chorus of twilight bugs. Stopped for a bite in Effingham ("Home of the Effing good time") and finally got back to St.Louis around 11pm. Hard to believe we were in three states, crossed a time zone, and returned in the same day.
Aug 18, 2011
Provel and Schlafly
Our time here in St.Louis has come to an end after an eventful five days. Tomorrow morning, once again, we mount up and ride for Bloomington, Indiana. I feel kind of bad for Brittany and Tay, who were planning on spending some time touring St.Louis while we waited for his apartment to be ready- we were kicking around the idea of going to SixFlags, museums, brewery tours, etc. but with Tay on crutches, our apartment a mess, and our lives a mess with all the work that needs to get done to get our semester organized and started, it's just what has to has to happen, with bits of St.Louis thrown in.
For example, yesterday was pretty productive. Saori sold Tay her car, and they worked out the insurance and title issues, I got an emissions inspection done and renewed my car registration, and Tay went back to a urgent care clinic for a re-evaluation of his ankle. Apparently, the Ponca City urgent care facility on Pecan were either inexperienced or just incompetent. They should have been able to see that it was just a bad sprain and not a break, regardless of the swelling- they did take xrays- they apparently supported his foot the wrong way using a splint designed for a broken leg. Anyway, he came back wearing an ankle splint that gave him more mobility and foot covering options. So, bad sprain it is.
Afterwards, we ordered Imo's deluxe pizza, which is a local chain that sells St.Louis style pizza. St.Louis pizza is distinctive for three things- the yeast-less crust is very thin, the pizza sauce is cooked for longer to reduce it to a thicker, sweeter paste, and for the Provel cheese they layer on top. Provel is actually a trade name of a processed cheese blend of provelone, swiss, and white cheddar, made exclusively in Wisconsin for the St.Louis market. Let me tell you, the pizza is really not bad, but the cheese by itself is kind of funky and plasticky. However, we wouldn't be able to leave without trying it. We finished the night drinking Caipirinhas and playing Phase 10.
Phase 10 is a card game which requires marginally more skill than mexican train dominoes. It makes up for this shortcoming by requiring nearly two hours to play a single game. As the winner is effectively determined by who is dealt or randomly draws wild cards, a faster way to play the game would be to simply go around the table drawing a single card at a time until someone drew a wild card. This would be the winner. However, its really a good game for making people think they're playing something strategic which helps script convivial social interaction, somewhat like kids in the backseat pretending they're driving the car. There are admittably worse ways to spend two hours.
Today we had dinner and drinks at the Schlafly tap room in downtown. Good food, good beer, and we got to bring home beer glasses that we were all eyeing with the Schlafly logo. Even STP on the dessert menu, but of course not as good as the one at the Refectory.
Aug 17, 2011
Sweedish graham cracker furnature
We got a slow start this morning as Saori and I cooked sausage and eggs for breakfast. Brittney called us from the St.Louis airport shortly after and we headed out to pick her up. After we brought her back, we unloaded our stuff from the truck and spent a few hours putting our IKEA chest of drawers together. If you don't look too hard at it, it looks pretty decent. However, its totally particle board with veneers so thin, they're applied via misters. I realize why they sell a glass top accessory: I'm worried that if the surface of this thing gets wet, it will crumble like a soggy graham cracker. What do you want for under $200? At least I'm thrilled to actually have something designed to hold my clothes.
We're keeping Tay and Brittany riveted- Tay's on crutches and can't go anywhere anyway, and Saori and I are struggling to reorganize, put away, and clean the apartment and take care of business that gets to get done, so its been pretty homebound so far. Dinner at Noodle Co, which was not bad. Spin through Target and Tay and Brittany working on stocking and decorating Tay's apartment in Bloomington, and finally ending with a late night screening of Terry Gilliam's Brazil.
Got to be more productive tomorrow.
I missed our apartment, I missed my friends from school, but I never missed St.Louis. I'm trying to keep an open mind, and perhaps I'll feel different about the city if I start working here professionally, but so far I have not been seduced by this place, and it almost with resignation that I find myself here again a year later, sans the excitement of exploring a new place.
We're keeping Tay and Brittany riveted- Tay's on crutches and can't go anywhere anyway, and Saori and I are struggling to reorganize, put away, and clean the apartment and take care of business that gets to get done, so its been pretty homebound so far. Dinner at Noodle Co, which was not bad. Spin through Target and Tay and Brittany working on stocking and decorating Tay's apartment in Bloomington, and finally ending with a late night screening of Terry Gilliam's Brazil.
Got to be more productive tomorrow.
I missed our apartment, I missed my friends from school, but I never missed St.Louis. I'm trying to keep an open mind, and perhaps I'll feel different about the city if I start working here professionally, but so far I have not been seduced by this place, and it almost with resignation that I find myself here again a year later, sans the excitement of exploring a new place.
Aug 16, 2011
Surprises
It was with some trepidation that we pulled the U-haul into our street in University City. It had been nearly eight months since Saori has last seen the apartment, and it had sat empty for nearly three months this summer through a terrible heat wave and bruising midwestern storms. And Saori's car sat out in front for most of this time, so the return started well with Saori's car still sitting out front with no apparent damage. The house was there, but locked, and stuffy, which was remedied by cranking the A/C. The creepshow in the refrigerator was deftly handled by Saori while I took care of the scale in the bathroom. Tay, looking uncomfortable at being unable to help out, surfed the net. Spiders scurried everywhere.
We wanted to go to the grocery store, but my prius wouldn't start, so I'm going to try to jump it tomorrow morning. And the mountain of accumulated mail dropped through the slot was sorted in about 30 minutes between the two of us. The weather was surprisingly nice- not too hot, and the slight humidity served more to cool than to heat. We stocked up on necessitaties at the grocery store before bringing home some ready-made tortellini and salad. Saori's car started up right away and without even a grumble at having sat for several months.
So we're all set up here- tomorrow Brittany is coming, and I'm absolutely bushed.
We wanted to go to the grocery store, but my prius wouldn't start, so I'm going to try to jump it tomorrow morning. And the mountain of accumulated mail dropped through the slot was sorted in about 30 minutes between the two of us. The weather was surprisingly nice- not too hot, and the slight humidity served more to cool than to heat. We stocked up on necessitaties at the grocery store before bringing home some ready-made tortellini and salad. Saori's car started up right away and without even a grumble at having sat for several months.
So we're all set up here- tomorrow Brittany is coming, and I'm absolutely bushed.
Aug 14, 2011
Cowboys
We spent two nights with Grandma Loretta outside of Oklahoma city. The day after we arrived, we drove grandma's SUV to the museum which used to be called the cowboy hall of fame but is now called the museum of western art and cowboy heritage or something along those lines since cowboy hall of fame doesn't sound respectible enough i guess.
As we approached, we kept seeing small signs staked in the ground with an arrow and the cryptic words "king midget". Was it a convention of a fast food company? A meeting up of the vertically challenged? An audience with a very short monarch?
It turns out that king midgets were a run of very small cars made in the 1950's in Ohio. Two seaters, less than four feet high, smaller than a golf cart. Top speed around 50 miles an hour and 50 miles to the gallon. I wanted one the moment I saw it. A woman saw us poking around them and happily approached us and spoke at great length about the cars, thier history, and the small but devoted car club. We at last disengaged ourselves and went in to the musuem.
People here in Oklahoma are so cheerful, friendly, and hospitible, that it makes me feel like the most insincere asshole. It's uncomfortable how humbling it is to roll your eyes at "podunkery" and then be genuinely welcomed and told what a pleasure it is to have us here by complete strangers. Anyway.
The museum was interesting to us, partially because we have an ancestors in it and partially because it showcases a real part of our family's historical experience in Oklahoma. For the record, they probably have the best representation of western art. And some of it is pretty good. The most fun was a mock western main street built inside of a large, dark building, and lit to simulate late twilight. The main street has stores and saloons with the full facades that you can enter and take pictures. I loved the idea of a collection of false fronts surrounding a controlled main street. Imagine a house built the same way, structured around an inward facing main street, with each shallow buildig containing a room or two. Wet bar in the saloon, formal dining in the salon of the hotel, bedrooms upstairs, a movie theater in the stable... It would just be a lot of fun.
After the museum we drove downtown where we paid a quick visit to the Oklahoma City Bombing memorial and a short walk around downtown. They're building a huge glass and steel tower down there, almost finished with the envelope, and about twice as tall as he buildings surrounding it. Going to be totally taken with Devon, an oil business i'd never heard of.
More delicious BBQ for dinner- ribs this time- follwed by a few card games.
Next morning, we got a slow start and head out to Ponca City.
As we approached, we kept seeing small signs staked in the ground with an arrow and the cryptic words "king midget". Was it a convention of a fast food company? A meeting up of the vertically challenged? An audience with a very short monarch?
It turns out that king midgets were a run of very small cars made in the 1950's in Ohio. Two seaters, less than four feet high, smaller than a golf cart. Top speed around 50 miles an hour and 50 miles to the gallon. I wanted one the moment I saw it. A woman saw us poking around them and happily approached us and spoke at great length about the cars, thier history, and the small but devoted car club. We at last disengaged ourselves and went in to the musuem.
People here in Oklahoma are so cheerful, friendly, and hospitible, that it makes me feel like the most insincere asshole. It's uncomfortable how humbling it is to roll your eyes at "podunkery" and then be genuinely welcomed and told what a pleasure it is to have us here by complete strangers. Anyway.
The museum was interesting to us, partially because we have an ancestors in it and partially because it showcases a real part of our family's historical experience in Oklahoma. For the record, they probably have the best representation of western art. And some of it is pretty good. The most fun was a mock western main street built inside of a large, dark building, and lit to simulate late twilight. The main street has stores and saloons with the full facades that you can enter and take pictures. I loved the idea of a collection of false fronts surrounding a controlled main street. Imagine a house built the same way, structured around an inward facing main street, with each shallow buildig containing a room or two. Wet bar in the saloon, formal dining in the salon of the hotel, bedrooms upstairs, a movie theater in the stable... It would just be a lot of fun.
After the museum we drove downtown where we paid a quick visit to the Oklahoma City Bombing memorial and a short walk around downtown. They're building a huge glass and steel tower down there, almost finished with the envelope, and about twice as tall as he buildings surrounding it. Going to be totally taken with Devon, an oil business i'd never heard of.
More delicious BBQ for dinner- ribs this time- follwed by a few card games.
Next morning, we got a slow start and head out to Ponca City.
Aug 12, 2011
Whirlwind
It's been a hectic few days. Friday was beginning stages of packing, Saturday was a big garage sale day from 6 am to 11 and then more packing and cleaning. Sunday was an attempted garage sale, it was supposed to be the fire sale where everything is insanely discounted and people buy it all by the pound. But it seems like sundays are not good sale days in Ahwatukee. We had probalbly a dozen people stop by in the three hours we were open. Tay was kind of bummed we didn't get more sales, but then he posted a bunch of stuff on craigslist and it was a selling bonanza. People drove across town to pick up a $10 knickknack.
At 7:30 monday morning we picked up the U haul. We got a 14 footer and it feels really big, driving along. Terrible fuel economy. One bench seat in the cab. No cd player. Air conditioning definately yes. Then at 8:30 am the movers came. They were fast, efficient, and good. They were there to help mom, but helped us out too. They lent us the dolly and when we were trying to wrestle the matress on the dolly, one of the guys just picked it up and carried it on his back and put it in our u haul. We finished loading in the late afternoon as Tay fielded calls from craigslist. That afternoon, in the empty house, we vacuumed and replaced the nice appliances mom bought with the crappy appliances that came with the apartment.
Tay and Brittany went out to dinner at a local pizza place, and mom picked up a last run to Filiberto's. I got a pollo asado burrito and Saori got a fish burrito. After Tay and Brit came back, we all lay down on the empty carpeted living room floor and watched two episodes of Community on the big drop down projector screen that came with the apartment. It was really nice for all of us to lay there watching the TV, although it was a shame that the show was so unwatchable. The characters were unlikable and artificial, and the lead characters were just stupid and obnoxious. At the end of the night, Brittany went home to sleep and we said our goodbyes.
Saori and I slept in the living room, lying on our yoga mats. Tuesday morning was a whirlwind. We got up early, finalized cleaning, while Zara cowered in mom's closet. Suki got out of the way by stashing herself on top of the refrigerator. Mom and I moved the rest of the garage sale stuff out to the patio for the Salvation army to pick up, and everyone finished packing up the small belongings. With the luggage, we filled that U haul to the door and nearly up to the ceiling. The house agent came by and did the walk through with mom at 7:30 and shortly after, mom's cab arrived, and we had barely time for a quick hug before she was gone, on the road to the airport with Zara. And that was it. It was just me, Tay, Saori, and Suki in an empty house. We left shortly thereafter.
The U-haul has a pretty generous cab, which sat the three of us pretty comfortably. We've got the most important amenity- air conditioning, and not much else. No GPS, no CD player, just glorious AM/FM radio and a cigarette lighter outlet. Tay in the driver seat, Saori in the middle, I rode shotgun with Suki in her carrier on my lap.
We stopped for gas and coffee on our way out of town. Tay drove out- which I thought was kind of fitting as the leader of this expedition. He drove all the way to Holbrook. We drove out along the beeline, which let us both avoid the miserable I-17 drive up to Flag and the really bad inclines. The truck was pretty good, actually, we only had to engage the lower gears once or twice to control our ascent or decent.
Gassed up and grabbed a bite to eat at the A&W in Holbrook. After Suki never stopped howling from her carrier, we wised up to how hot the floor was where we'd sat her carrier and from then on, held her carrier on our lap. It was a beautiful ride up to Holbrook. The lowland desert of the valley gives way to the rocky, mountainous deserts to the northwest, and we rolled through to the higher deserts until it gave way to the rim country, with the forests of towering pine and green cliffs of the mogollion rim. We pressed onward and upward, finally cresting the rim and entering the high desert plains of the northern Arizona plateau.
The rest of the day we drove to Albuquerque, where the picturesque and interesting portion of the driving scenery ended. I finished the day as the driver, and we pulled into the same Red Roof in we stayed at last year. The first room was filled with flies, so Saori went down and demanded a different room. The second room smelled mildly of ass, but that was the last room available, so we took it anyway and let Suki roam around after we'd stopped up the gaps in the bed boards to prevent her from seeking refuge under the beds. We were all tired, so we called a cab to drive us to Sadie's for dinner. Great dinner- really spicy in a good way, asado enchiladas, margaritas, and delicious chips and really good salsa. Taylor demonstrated the two ways to eat Sopapillas to Saori who'd never seen them before. The first involved drizzling honey on the outside, the second involved poking a grubby finger hole and blindly filling it with the honey bottle, so you would wind up with a massive amount of honey flowing around the inside of the Sopapilla. Cabbed it back to the hotel and we all crashed.
Up the next morning bright and early, tasted the hotel coffee, and immediately checked out in search of decent coffee. Filled up again with gas and got to it. The upside of the truck having a 37 gallon tank is that it holds a lot of gas. Unfortunately, it also means Tay is forking over about $60-$80 every time we fill up which is about twice a day. The price we pay for gas has ranged from $3.89 a gallon, when we were desperate in the middle of nowhere, Texas, down to $3.27, a few hours drive away. We finally got into Grandma Perkins' house around 6pm wednesday, and she welcomed us with pulled pork sandwiches. We pretty much passed out early after our long day of driving.
At 7:30 monday morning we picked up the U haul. We got a 14 footer and it feels really big, driving along. Terrible fuel economy. One bench seat in the cab. No cd player. Air conditioning definately yes. Then at 8:30 am the movers came. They were fast, efficient, and good. They were there to help mom, but helped us out too. They lent us the dolly and when we were trying to wrestle the matress on the dolly, one of the guys just picked it up and carried it on his back and put it in our u haul. We finished loading in the late afternoon as Tay fielded calls from craigslist. That afternoon, in the empty house, we vacuumed and replaced the nice appliances mom bought with the crappy appliances that came with the apartment.
Tay and Brittany went out to dinner at a local pizza place, and mom picked up a last run to Filiberto's. I got a pollo asado burrito and Saori got a fish burrito. After Tay and Brit came back, we all lay down on the empty carpeted living room floor and watched two episodes of Community on the big drop down projector screen that came with the apartment. It was really nice for all of us to lay there watching the TV, although it was a shame that the show was so unwatchable. The characters were unlikable and artificial, and the lead characters were just stupid and obnoxious. At the end of the night, Brittany went home to sleep and we said our goodbyes.
Saori and I slept in the living room, lying on our yoga mats. Tuesday morning was a whirlwind. We got up early, finalized cleaning, while Zara cowered in mom's closet. Suki got out of the way by stashing herself on top of the refrigerator. Mom and I moved the rest of the garage sale stuff out to the patio for the Salvation army to pick up, and everyone finished packing up the small belongings. With the luggage, we filled that U haul to the door and nearly up to the ceiling. The house agent came by and did the walk through with mom at 7:30 and shortly after, mom's cab arrived, and we had barely time for a quick hug before she was gone, on the road to the airport with Zara. And that was it. It was just me, Tay, Saori, and Suki in an empty house. We left shortly thereafter.
The U-haul has a pretty generous cab, which sat the three of us pretty comfortably. We've got the most important amenity- air conditioning, and not much else. No GPS, no CD player, just glorious AM/FM radio and a cigarette lighter outlet. Tay in the driver seat, Saori in the middle, I rode shotgun with Suki in her carrier on my lap.
We stopped for gas and coffee on our way out of town. Tay drove out- which I thought was kind of fitting as the leader of this expedition. He drove all the way to Holbrook. We drove out along the beeline, which let us both avoid the miserable I-17 drive up to Flag and the really bad inclines. The truck was pretty good, actually, we only had to engage the lower gears once or twice to control our ascent or decent.
Gassed up and grabbed a bite to eat at the A&W in Holbrook. After Suki never stopped howling from her carrier, we wised up to how hot the floor was where we'd sat her carrier and from then on, held her carrier on our lap. It was a beautiful ride up to Holbrook. The lowland desert of the valley gives way to the rocky, mountainous deserts to the northwest, and we rolled through to the higher deserts until it gave way to the rim country, with the forests of towering pine and green cliffs of the mogollion rim. We pressed onward and upward, finally cresting the rim and entering the high desert plains of the northern Arizona plateau.
The rest of the day we drove to Albuquerque, where the picturesque and interesting portion of the driving scenery ended. I finished the day as the driver, and we pulled into the same Red Roof in we stayed at last year. The first room was filled with flies, so Saori went down and demanded a different room. The second room smelled mildly of ass, but that was the last room available, so we took it anyway and let Suki roam around after we'd stopped up the gaps in the bed boards to prevent her from seeking refuge under the beds. We were all tired, so we called a cab to drive us to Sadie's for dinner. Great dinner- really spicy in a good way, asado enchiladas, margaritas, and delicious chips and really good salsa. Taylor demonstrated the two ways to eat Sopapillas to Saori who'd never seen them before. The first involved drizzling honey on the outside, the second involved poking a grubby finger hole and blindly filling it with the honey bottle, so you would wind up with a massive amount of honey flowing around the inside of the Sopapilla. Cabbed it back to the hotel and we all crashed.
Up the next morning bright and early, tasted the hotel coffee, and immediately checked out in search of decent coffee. Filled up again with gas and got to it. The upside of the truck having a 37 gallon tank is that it holds a lot of gas. Unfortunately, it also means Tay is forking over about $60-$80 every time we fill up which is about twice a day. The price we pay for gas has ranged from $3.89 a gallon, when we were desperate in the middle of nowhere, Texas, down to $3.27, a few hours drive away. We finally got into Grandma Perkins' house around 6pm wednesday, and she welcomed us with pulled pork sandwiches. We pretty much passed out early after our long day of driving.
Aug 5, 2011
Let's make a deal
A few nights ago, when it was just Saori, mom, and I, we decided to try out a bite and a brew at place we'd never tried before in Ahwatukee called Mad Chef Gastro Pub. Stylistically, its about what you'd expect trying to make a strip mall eatery into an authentic British pub. It's a little thin- don't come expecting to be overwhelmed with the character like you get at George&Dragon. But that's just skin deep anyway- as a pub it has it where it counts- a variety of seating density (at the bar, at pub tables, at pub booths, or away from the bar at a large table or booth), and a good variety of beer, a lot of it on tap, served in the glasses sent by the makers. And the food is pretty good too. Not FourPeaks good, but pretty decent, especially for Ahwatukee.
Anyway, mom ordered a Peroni, I got a SanTan Devil's ale, and Saori got one of those German wheat beers with the monk on the front that I can't pronounce. They all came in distinctive bar glasses. Mom's Peroni was served in this glass:
which actually Italian made imports, pretty much unavailable for purchase anywhere in the US. Taylor fell in love with them after being served many Peronis in them across Europe, and even tried to get some on Ebay to no avail.
So mom offered to buy them from the waiter.
She offered a higher than reasonable price for them, and the waiter asked his manager, and they agreed to sell us a set of four. So we brought home a little gift for Tay, which made him very surprised and happy.
I had a San Tan (Phoenix brewery) Devil's ale which was served in a cool shaped glass as well, and apparently they sell the beer in cans, which is good to know. I actually really enjoyed the beer. I might have to pick up a six pack or a case to take back with me to St.Louis, which surprisingly is falling behind in the brewery game.
Anyway, the lesson of the story is that almost everything is negotiable.
Today, I kept that lesson in mind when I went to Old Town Scottsdale. We were souvenir shopping at Bischofs/Shades of the West. It's a bit overpriced, and its got a lot of knicknacky stuff and golf clothes, plus hats that say "Scottsdale" on them, but they also have a great selection of more eclectic stuff from Mexico, like they had buyers troll the tourist markets across the border and bring back exceptional pieces. Lots of woven baskets as well.
Anyway, they also have a great selection of western hats. I'd picked up a woven straw hat at Nordstrom's rack at the beginning of summer when I arrived, and I'd splurged about $20 on it since I figured if I was using it daily for five weeks, that's pretty good economy since I'm walking to work every day. But I really wanted a leather hat for St.Louis, something that could handle the cold weather as well as work as a shade hat. So I took off my slightly worn looking hat and started trying on other hats. They have at least fifty styles of hats, so it was fun trying them all on. Meanwhile, a big guy steps into the area where I'm looking at my self trying on hats, and he's checking himself out with this other hat. My hat.
I said "hey, I'm sorry, that's my hat, I just took it off to try on these hats" and he laughs and apologizes and gives it back, adding that its a nice hat. On a whim, I offer it to him for $10. Without really thinking about the morality or legality of selling him my hat in someone else's store. He goes for it, and $10 richer, I'm more confident about buying my own hat. He's really happy as he leaves with my hat on, and I pick up a new leather hat.
Anyway, mom ordered a Peroni, I got a SanTan Devil's ale, and Saori got one of those German wheat beers with the monk on the front that I can't pronounce. They all came in distinctive bar glasses. Mom's Peroni was served in this glass:
 |
| The Peroni glasses. |
So mom offered to buy them from the waiter.
She offered a higher than reasonable price for them, and the waiter asked his manager, and they agreed to sell us a set of four. So we brought home a little gift for Tay, which made him very surprised and happy.
 |
| hmmm makes me thirsty |
Anyway, the lesson of the story is that almost everything is negotiable.
Today, I kept that lesson in mind when I went to Old Town Scottsdale. We were souvenir shopping at Bischofs/Shades of the West. It's a bit overpriced, and its got a lot of knicknacky stuff and golf clothes, plus hats that say "Scottsdale" on them, but they also have a great selection of more eclectic stuff from Mexico, like they had buyers troll the tourist markets across the border and bring back exceptional pieces. Lots of woven baskets as well.
Anyway, they also have a great selection of western hats. I'd picked up a woven straw hat at Nordstrom's rack at the beginning of summer when I arrived, and I'd splurged about $20 on it since I figured if I was using it daily for five weeks, that's pretty good economy since I'm walking to work every day. But I really wanted a leather hat for St.Louis, something that could handle the cold weather as well as work as a shade hat. So I took off my slightly worn looking hat and started trying on other hats. They have at least fifty styles of hats, so it was fun trying them all on. Meanwhile, a big guy steps into the area where I'm looking at my self trying on hats, and he's checking himself out with this other hat. My hat.
I said "hey, I'm sorry, that's my hat, I just took it off to try on these hats" and he laughs and apologizes and gives it back, adding that its a nice hat. On a whim, I offer it to him for $10. Without really thinking about the morality or legality of selling him my hat in someone else's store. He goes for it, and $10 richer, I'm more confident about buying my own hat. He's really happy as he leaves with my hat on, and I pick up a new leather hat.
Summer camp
Yesterday was my last day at the office for my summer work. I won't call it an "internship" since it was really like I stepped back into my old position and just kept working, albeit with tasks with a shorter time frame. It was a lot of fun, actually.
What I did at my Summer Job
And so will begin our great midwestern trek, my brother venturing even farther north and east. We'll pass through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, to reach our destination in Bloomington, Indiana.
What I did at my Summer Job
- design the facade of building for the preparation of medical cadavers
- translate a CAD drawing of a small building into a full 3D Revit model and near-DD set
- attended a Big Client meeting and described a few of my design options
- got a certificate for attending a mind-boggling boring lunch n'learn about automatic electric entrances
- revised and updated site drawings for a small educational campus
- survived a near miss at a Thai restaurant when a chunk of a ceiling fan fell on us
- issued an ASI for a parking garage
- reconfigured a sterilization suite for a medical education building
- designed a "fun wall" for pediatric dental ward
- presented my two studio projects to the office during a "design forum" lunch
- "Vanna" for the Monday morning meeting
I can't believe its actually over- it just went by so quickly. Four days a week of work was really good- it made the summer feel more summery, and the money will be great for the fall semester.
The day before yesterday, my second to last day of work, we went to lunch at Wild Thaiger, a Thai restaurant in central Phoenix. Because we had a sizable group, we sat outside on the patio. It was about 110 degrees outside, but there were ceiling fans with large glass globes for the lights. They weren't turned on, so I pulled the cord on the fan above our table. Nothing happened, so I shrugged and sat down. The patio filled with people and the staff flipped the switch somewhere that turned all the fans on. Everyone else's ceiling fan ran fine. The fan above us, pretty much situated right between where Saori and I were sitting, started going nuts. Wildly unbalanced, it whirled around, and I could hear it making odd creaking and straining noises. I was watching it when the waitress came by. "Don't worry," she said "it won't fall on you."
About halfway through the meal, the heavy glass globe covering the light worked itself free and fell almost nearly between us, grazing Saori's arm and shattering on my metal armrest. A foot to the left or right would have meant a serious head injury to either one of us.
The staff were completely blase. They swept up the glass, and we had to demand new plates of food to ensure that there wasn't any glass in it. They had a sulky attitude like it was our fault, and not only were Saori and my meals not comped, we never got a single apology. I can only conclude that the waitstaff at Wild Thaiger are unconcerned with the lives and safety of their patrons, and I would encourage people to avoid such death traps.
So we survived to fight another day. Speaking of which, these next two weeks are going to be a whirlwind of activity. Today is friday. We are planning on a trip to Pizzaria bianco amongst other things, and Tay is going to organize the garage sale. Saturday is going to be a garage sale day, Sunday is another garage sale day while the rest of us clean and pack, and the movers come monday. Tuesday will find me, Taylor, and Saori in the cab of a U-haul truck with Suki in a carrier in tow on one of our laps.
And so will begin our great midwestern trek, my brother venturing even farther north and east. We'll pass through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, to reach our destination in Bloomington, Indiana.Jul 23, 2011
The New Architects
If architecture is a river which follows its way along the contours of landscape of human history, we left the broad, turbulent water of Modernity long ago, and today we find ourselves drifting down a stagnant tributary from which there may be no end.
There was once the idea that architects could improve society and create a new and better way of life. These waters were deep and dangerous as the river charted the new course, charged by the floodwater of human progress, which swept away the old ways of the world. But much was destroyed, and many began to think that progress itself was a sham- the river would never run to a future city that was more equitable, healthier, happier, or more just. The flood stage dropped and the architects steered away from its center, vowing to never work so closely to the essence of humanity and society.
The architect abandoned its role of changing society directly, and began to play elaborate games with it instead. In the shadow of failed cities built by faith in human progress, court jesters joked, pricked, and prodded the world. The architect's primary tool of change became the typewriter and the exhibition. After all, if you can't change the world, you can subvert its meaning.
And when the patience of the world ran out for this kind of game shortly thereafter, we found ourselves floating along in another tributary entirely. Form was a new game, one that appealed to architects because it was aesthetic, could make vague associations to meaning, and most importantly, harnessed the power of imagination that the computer could unleash. The river became crammed with a floatilla of speedboats, hovercraft, hydroplanes. A gaudy parade with no idea of where it was going, caught up in the heady whirl of Catila, Rhino, 3Dmax, Maya. Even mere human imagination of form is too limited- parametric software calculates and interprets various irrelevant factors and generates even more irrelevant forms.
But the day grew long and the parade had to end; the organizations who had financed and propelled the float kings were as flimsy and reckless as the parade itself, and if your boat is simply a brand, there's not much to float on when your sponsor goes under.
We have even abandoned the helm; the wheel spins idly, floating where the eddies of commerce push, while we drool happily over our card games on the sun deck. Why have we settled for so little?
To the untrained ear architect is still loaded and mythic- a power to shape the world, a noble responsibility to humankind, a profession from the joy of designing and making, membership in an elite class of designers to whom the masters of the world turn. It is an image easily maintained by a profession that has no visible presence to the masses. No one ever actually sees an architect; the majority of the members of the profession are like any other office worker, working on computers behind tinted glass. One might catch a glimpse of a person in office dress and a hard hat on a construction site, but even this heightens the contrast of the immaculate architect over the mud-splattered construction crew. It's an invisibility that even makes Hollywood uncomfortable- if they want to portray an architect, its invariably to the same stereotypes: either the super-sleek futuristic bond-villain type who independently designs the world, or the bumbling local junior architect (who works for the first type) clutching a small drafting T-square.
There was once the idea that architects could improve society and create a new and better way of life. These waters were deep and dangerous as the river charted the new course, charged by the floodwater of human progress, which swept away the old ways of the world. But much was destroyed, and many began to think that progress itself was a sham- the river would never run to a future city that was more equitable, healthier, happier, or more just. The flood stage dropped and the architects steered away from its center, vowing to never work so closely to the essence of humanity and society.
The architect abandoned its role of changing society directly, and began to play elaborate games with it instead. In the shadow of failed cities built by faith in human progress, court jesters joked, pricked, and prodded the world. The architect's primary tool of change became the typewriter and the exhibition. After all, if you can't change the world, you can subvert its meaning.
And when the patience of the world ran out for this kind of game shortly thereafter, we found ourselves floating along in another tributary entirely. Form was a new game, one that appealed to architects because it was aesthetic, could make vague associations to meaning, and most importantly, harnessed the power of imagination that the computer could unleash. The river became crammed with a floatilla of speedboats, hovercraft, hydroplanes. A gaudy parade with no idea of where it was going, caught up in the heady whirl of Catila, Rhino, 3Dmax, Maya. Even mere human imagination of form is too limited- parametric software calculates and interprets various irrelevant factors and generates even more irrelevant forms.
But the day grew long and the parade had to end; the organizations who had financed and propelled the float kings were as flimsy and reckless as the parade itself, and if your boat is simply a brand, there's not much to float on when your sponsor goes under.
We have even abandoned the helm; the wheel spins idly, floating where the eddies of commerce push, while we drool happily over our card games on the sun deck. Why have we settled for so little?
To the untrained ear architect is still loaded and mythic- a power to shape the world, a noble responsibility to humankind, a profession from the joy of designing and making, membership in an elite class of designers to whom the masters of the world turn. It is an image easily maintained by a profession that has no visible presence to the masses. No one ever actually sees an architect; the majority of the members of the profession are like any other office worker, working on computers behind tinted glass. One might catch a glimpse of a person in office dress and a hard hat on a construction site, but even this heightens the contrast of the immaculate architect over the mud-splattered construction crew. It's an invisibility that even makes Hollywood uncomfortable- if they want to portray an architect, its invariably to the same stereotypes: either the super-sleek futuristic bond-villain type who independently designs the world, or the bumbling local junior architect (who works for the first type) clutching a small drafting T-square.
The new social media
Today I joined Spotify, which I think will be the streaming media player to kill all other streaming media players. Last semester was all about grooveshark, which is great because you can run it from any web browser, but the downside of course, is that it operates on a takedown basis- that they put everything up until the copyright owner tells them to take it down. So that does limit things somewhat, but at least you get really new or really obscure bands able to post their stuff so its great for discovery- what myspace aspired to become.
I also recently joined Google+ which doesn't seem like a facebook killer to me, but is interesting and better thought out. We'll see what direction it goes in. I hope that it becomes much more of a website/experience sharing site more than a "saw a funny sign today LOL" kind of posting site. Cache will carry it for a little while, as its still on an invitational basis only, and its more sophisticated than FB, but we'll see how it goes. If no one uses it, it will be betamax all over again.
This summer is draining away. I still hate mom's car, but now Saori's driving stick (and she's actually better at it than I am) so at least I'm not driving all the time. I can't believe we're all on our way out of town in less than three weeks.
Today was a busy day. After I dropped mom off at school to study early in the morning, I picked up Saori and we went to get some coffee with Tay and Brit where we strategized over moving logistics. Afterwards, we went to Ikea and had a meatball lunch and looked around for furniture. Then, I had to pick mom up, so we drove back to Tempe and I dropped Saori so she could take the light rail up to downtown Phoenix. I dropped mom off at her house and drove up to George & Dragon in downtown. We met up there with two of Saori's friends from one of her old workplaces, and we spent a cheerful few hours drinking beer and gossiping about the industry. Architecture is a small world, and the people who socialize with other architects is an even smaller world.
Jul 9, 2011
Apartment for rent in St.Louis
I'm looking for a roommate this fall semester for an amazing 2 bedroom apartment in University City, St.Louis. Wood floors, gas appliances, large windows, and our personal washer and dryer in the spacious basement.
Picture windows overlook a tree-canopy shaded residential street in the safe and upscale neighborhood northwest of Washington University of St.Louis. Families live here. Walking distance to the famous Delmar Loop and ten minutes walk to the wonderful Winslow's Home. Easy access to Washington University, five minutes by car or bike, 30 minutes by bus or metrolink.
Rent is $450 a month, plus 1/2 of the utilities. Come live with me for a semester!
4th of July
This year, Tay and Brit came over to mom's house and made fried chicken and mashed potatoes, and let me tell you, they are becoming excellent at both. Saori and I made Earl Grey ice cream, which turned out very nice and was actually pretty simple to prepare. We all sipped white sangria mom made a few days before.
After dinner, Tay, Brit, Saori and I headed to downtown Tempe for the fireworks display. Brit circled with her car while we picked up the tickets in advance. $7.50 admission fee to the beach park which had the best viewing and vendor and food booths. To kill some time, we stopped for a beer and some snacks at Mellow Mushroom, a relatively new pizza place on Mill, which has the advantage of having a relatively quiet and low key bar with a great selection of draft beer. We actually killed too much time, since we ended up leaving the bar about ten minutes before the fireworks were about to start.
So we quickly made our way down to the park, squeezed through the security line, and found a spot on the sidewalk to watch the fireworks. The display lasted about 45 minutes, and it was pretty, but it was pretty typical for a small city fireworks display. If the local high school fireworks are a 1, and New Years in London are a 10, Tempe 4th of July is about a 5. We were all kind of jaded actually. Brit actually left us for awhile and hunted down some chocolate covered strawberries for us to munch on while we watched, which was very sweet of her. Anyway, after the fireworks ended, we joined the streams of people leaving and went back to the bar for another few rounds of drinks. At the end of the night, Tay and Brit caught the light rail back to thier respective apartments, and Saori and I solicited the services of a pedicab.
It was a little spendy, but a very nice way to get to the Tempe condo our friend let us borrow for the night.
It's amazing to me that its only been a year since last years 4th, when Saori couldn't make it to dinner with us because she was working, and it was really before any of the moving really got started.
Jul 1, 2011
Bicycling Aland
Aland is not really an easy place to get to, despite the 3 ferry lines which pull into port. We decided the cheapest way to go was by Viking line, which is kind of like the Silja line, but cheaper. It's a bit like comparing royal caribbean with carnival. Anyway, the catch was that the ferry arrives in Mariehamn at 4:30 am and on the return trip, leaves at 11:45 at night. Everything in Mariehamn, as we discovered, opens around 10 am and closes around 6pm. Anyway.
Boarding at the Helsinki pier was a breeze. Easy to pick up our ticket, which is also our door card, really no visible security check. The cruise over was fun. We grabbed a beer and from our high vantage point on the deck (remember most of Helsinki is only around six stories tall) enjoyeda nice view of the city and harbour as we cruised out in the late afternoon. Of course as the night ot later, the hordes of drunk Scandinavians and Russians shouted and sang in the halls well into the AM. Interestingly, I read that it is the ability of the ferry lines to sell duty free goods (read: super cheap booze) which allow the lines to operate profitably. We were woken up by the staff at 4 am and made our way to the exit door. There were about five other people getting off the boat at this early hour, so they decided it was too much trouble to extend the boat dock bridge so they took us down to the car deck and we threaded our way along the parked cars and cargo trucks in the lower deck. They dropped open the back of the boat, the massive driving hatch and we walked down and jumped out to the concrete pier.
It was pretty cool, like jumping out of the military boat or something. It was early morning light, and everything was still and blue. The other passengers dispersed, most of them had rides. I think they get many tourists disembarking this late at night/early in the morning. We walked along the empty streets for awhile. It's a small town, quiet, mostly residential. The town of Mariehamm is stretched the full width of the narrow peninsula, which is about a twenty minute walk from shore to shore. We walked towards the center of town, carrying our luggage with us. The main drag had a large median/park lined with huge shade trees and we walked along, getting odd stares from the very few cars out at that time of the morning. One of them pulled over and the guy inside asked us where we were going. I told him we were heading up to a hotel up the road. I didn't really know if they would be open or have anyone at the desk this early, so we were just killing time. He offered to give us a ride and took us up to the Hotel Arkipelag, the swanky hotel of the island.
By this point, I began to figure out that Aland was more popular with older, wealthier Scandinavians as the principal activities were sailing, yachting, and fishing. As such, the typical tourist flew into town from the airport and stayed at hotel Arkipelag. Our kind driver chatted with us a bit and suggested we wait in the "beautiful lobby" of Hotel Arkipelag, have some free coffee, and rest until the town began to wake up. He dropped us off and waited while we went to the front door of the hotel. Locked. The driver parked his car in the middle of the road and walked over to the front door. He rang the buzzer impatiently and waited for the sleepy looking night clerk to open the door. He explained in rapid Swedish our general situation (or so I assume, it could have been "let these suckers stay here, maybe they'll decide to get a room"), and then said to us in English that it was ok, we could go in. We thanked him again, this really odd guy, and he drove off. We parked ourselves on one of the couches and broke out our reading material.
The front of the lobby was all glass, and the hotel was on the coast, so we could see across to the pier. There were a small group of mostly drunk revelers milling around and giving their farewells to one another. Remember that in Europe partying until 4 am is typical, and that less than five hours ago it was friday night, so it should not be surprising. After the group dispersed, however, there was a figure who remained.
This young gentleman was fashionably dressed, and was so drunk he was basically heel-toeing it along the street in front of the hotel. Apparently he didn't have anywhere else to go either, or was too drunk to get there. It was like watching one Monty Python's Ministry of Silly Walks. He would take a hesitant step forward or two, and then one back, visibly trying to keep his balance. At one point, he openly relieved himself in middle of the street. (That was one of the really surprising things, when Finns get drunk, they tend to pee anywhere and everywhere).
Anyway, we had some vending machine coffee, and finally around 7 am we wandered out. We spent about two hours wandering around. The hotel we were supposed to stay at looked frankly abandoned. No one answered doors, and the lobby looked like it was being renovated. I called them with my cell phone a few times before I finally got connected. It's a bit complicated- there are several hotels on the island owned by the same group, and apparently the hotel I booked gets combined with the other hotel for certain months of the year. The website, however, did not mention this fact, nor did the hotel booking staff I spoke to on the phone. The hotel I thought we were staying at would not open for another month. Thank God I had my phone.
We spent about an hour in front of a famous church in the middle of the town, sitting on a park bench, napping and watching the birds fight in the bird bath. Finally, we found the hotel, about a five minute walk from where we got off the boat in the first place about five hours prior. Tired and hungry, we ate a huge breakfast at the hotel restaurant.
They were open all night. They felt bad, so they gave us an upgraded room with a view of the harbor. It was a nice seaside hotel. Thick red drapes to keep out the sunlight, Scandinavian design. Lots of motorcycles and middle age Europeans. That's the other thing people do here, they bring their motorcycles and tool around the scenic roads around the archipelago.
We walked to the bike rental shop, stopping for a quick visit by the tourist information center. We wanted to do some bicycling, which was highly recommended in the guide book, and they suggested some places nearby we could bicycle. Easy trips, in other words. We went on to the bike rental place, Ro-No, and picked up two bikes for about 15 bucks a day each. We talked to the rental guy, a young guy who probably did this as a summer job. We asked him about biking up to the ruins of Kastelholm castle, and he said it was very possible to make it there and back in a single day. That sounded pretty cool, so we set out, Saori leading.
Biking in Aland is incredibly easy, there are well-marked biking trails, its relatively flat riding, and incredibly beautiful. We happened to be there at just the right time as all the wildflowers were in bloom, and they were blooming everywhere. We alternated riding through forests of pine and birch, and meadows of grasses of wildflowers. The weather was beautiful and sunny. We stopped at an old church and took some photos before passing on. Saori's bike tire was flat, so we stopped at sporting goods shop and the shopkeeper generously let me use their bathroom and then helped Saori fill up her tires with air from her car's compressor pump. She recommended we fill up at the gas station at the tiny village up ahead which had some gas stations and a large general store like a kmart. We biked on. We stopped for snacks and water at the store, which was kind of fun to poke through. One of the only stores in that part of the archipelago, it was basically a wal-mart. What they sold told of a hard lifestyle, especially in the wintertime. After about four hours of riding and breaks we finally crested the hill and saw the ruined castle.
The historic ruins were pictureesque against the stream and water around it, and there was a small group of people lunching in the green park in front of it. We spent about an hour exploring the ruins and resting. It was not that exciting, and the renovation work made the experience much more Disneyland. It was beautiful and pastoral, however, and the journey made the trip well worth it.
It was just amazing and wonderful bicycling, the island flying by around you, the wind in your hair, sun on your back, and surrounded by picture perfect pastoral nordic landscape. Playing tag with Saori on our bikes, and signaling to each other with our cheerful bike bells. Bicycling in Aland was the standout highlight of my time in Finland. On the way back, we stopped at a cafe on top of rock knob overlooking one of the narrow straits and inlets between the islands. Absolutely amazing view, great little cafe, we got a piece of cake and split it, sitting outside in the sun, high above the archipelago which spread out far below us. We got back to Mariehamm too late to return the bikes. So we pedaled our way to the hotel and locked our bikes up there.
The bike locks are very interesting. They are small locks that basically prevent the rear wheel from turning by putting a piece of metal between the spokes. And that's it. There's really nothing but propriety from preventing people from picking up the bike and stealing it. But it's convention, just like people used to leave their cars and houses unlocked. Anyway, we were both absolutely beat from our marathon ride. We were on bike for probably six hours, and I was chafing like a motherf***er. My knees were in bad shape too, so we opted to walk to dinner. By then, most of the restaurants had either closed or were closing, (by the way, Aland's hours pretty much are 9am to 6pm, good luck finding anything open at any other time) but we were able to get a takeout pizza and calzone which ended up being pretty good. (and pretty expensive; other than the bikes, everything was spendy). After dinner we went back to the hotel and passed out from exhaustion.
Boarding at the Helsinki pier was a breeze. Easy to pick up our ticket, which is also our door card, really no visible security check. The cruise over was fun. We grabbed a beer and from our high vantage point on the deck (remember most of Helsinki is only around six stories tall) enjoyeda nice view of the city and harbour as we cruised out in the late afternoon. Of course as the night ot later, the hordes of drunk Scandinavians and Russians shouted and sang in the halls well into the AM. Interestingly, I read that it is the ability of the ferry lines to sell duty free goods (read: super cheap booze) which allow the lines to operate profitably. We were woken up by the staff at 4 am and made our way to the exit door. There were about five other people getting off the boat at this early hour, so they decided it was too much trouble to extend the boat dock bridge so they took us down to the car deck and we threaded our way along the parked cars and cargo trucks in the lower deck. They dropped open the back of the boat, the massive driving hatch and we walked down and jumped out to the concrete pier.
It was pretty cool, like jumping out of the military boat or something. It was early morning light, and everything was still and blue. The other passengers dispersed, most of them had rides. I think they get many tourists disembarking this late at night/early in the morning. We walked along the empty streets for awhile. It's a small town, quiet, mostly residential. The town of Mariehamm is stretched the full width of the narrow peninsula, which is about a twenty minute walk from shore to shore. We walked towards the center of town, carrying our luggage with us. The main drag had a large median/park lined with huge shade trees and we walked along, getting odd stares from the very few cars out at that time of the morning. One of them pulled over and the guy inside asked us where we were going. I told him we were heading up to a hotel up the road. I didn't really know if they would be open or have anyone at the desk this early, so we were just killing time. He offered to give us a ride and took us up to the Hotel Arkipelag, the swanky hotel of the island.
By this point, I began to figure out that Aland was more popular with older, wealthier Scandinavians as the principal activities were sailing, yachting, and fishing. As such, the typical tourist flew into town from the airport and stayed at hotel Arkipelag. Our kind driver chatted with us a bit and suggested we wait in the "beautiful lobby" of Hotel Arkipelag, have some free coffee, and rest until the town began to wake up. He dropped us off and waited while we went to the front door of the hotel. Locked. The driver parked his car in the middle of the road and walked over to the front door. He rang the buzzer impatiently and waited for the sleepy looking night clerk to open the door. He explained in rapid Swedish our general situation (or so I assume, it could have been "let these suckers stay here, maybe they'll decide to get a room"), and then said to us in English that it was ok, we could go in. We thanked him again, this really odd guy, and he drove off. We parked ourselves on one of the couches and broke out our reading material.
The front of the lobby was all glass, and the hotel was on the coast, so we could see across to the pier. There were a small group of mostly drunk revelers milling around and giving their farewells to one another. Remember that in Europe partying until 4 am is typical, and that less than five hours ago it was friday night, so it should not be surprising. After the group dispersed, however, there was a figure who remained.
This young gentleman was fashionably dressed, and was so drunk he was basically heel-toeing it along the street in front of the hotel. Apparently he didn't have anywhere else to go either, or was too drunk to get there. It was like watching one Monty Python's Ministry of Silly Walks. He would take a hesitant step forward or two, and then one back, visibly trying to keep his balance. At one point, he openly relieved himself in middle of the street. (That was one of the really surprising things, when Finns get drunk, they tend to pee anywhere and everywhere).
Anyway, we had some vending machine coffee, and finally around 7 am we wandered out. We spent about two hours wandering around. The hotel we were supposed to stay at looked frankly abandoned. No one answered doors, and the lobby looked like it was being renovated. I called them with my cell phone a few times before I finally got connected. It's a bit complicated- there are several hotels on the island owned by the same group, and apparently the hotel I booked gets combined with the other hotel for certain months of the year. The website, however, did not mention this fact, nor did the hotel booking staff I spoke to on the phone. The hotel I thought we were staying at would not open for another month. Thank God I had my phone.
We spent about an hour in front of a famous church in the middle of the town, sitting on a park bench, napping and watching the birds fight in the bird bath. Finally, we found the hotel, about a five minute walk from where we got off the boat in the first place about five hours prior. Tired and hungry, we ate a huge breakfast at the hotel restaurant.
They were open all night. They felt bad, so they gave us an upgraded room with a view of the harbor. It was a nice seaside hotel. Thick red drapes to keep out the sunlight, Scandinavian design. Lots of motorcycles and middle age Europeans. That's the other thing people do here, they bring their motorcycles and tool around the scenic roads around the archipelago.
We walked to the bike rental shop, stopping for a quick visit by the tourist information center. We wanted to do some bicycling, which was highly recommended in the guide book, and they suggested some places nearby we could bicycle. Easy trips, in other words. We went on to the bike rental place, Ro-No, and picked up two bikes for about 15 bucks a day each. We talked to the rental guy, a young guy who probably did this as a summer job. We asked him about biking up to the ruins of Kastelholm castle, and he said it was very possible to make it there and back in a single day. That sounded pretty cool, so we set out, Saori leading.
Biking in Aland is incredibly easy, there are well-marked biking trails, its relatively flat riding, and incredibly beautiful. We happened to be there at just the right time as all the wildflowers were in bloom, and they were blooming everywhere. We alternated riding through forests of pine and birch, and meadows of grasses of wildflowers. The weather was beautiful and sunny. We stopped at an old church and took some photos before passing on. Saori's bike tire was flat, so we stopped at sporting goods shop and the shopkeeper generously let me use their bathroom and then helped Saori fill up her tires with air from her car's compressor pump. She recommended we fill up at the gas station at the tiny village up ahead which had some gas stations and a large general store like a kmart. We biked on. We stopped for snacks and water at the store, which was kind of fun to poke through. One of the only stores in that part of the archipelago, it was basically a wal-mart. What they sold told of a hard lifestyle, especially in the wintertime. After about four hours of riding and breaks we finally crested the hill and saw the ruined castle.
The historic ruins were pictureesque against the stream and water around it, and there was a small group of people lunching in the green park in front of it. We spent about an hour exploring the ruins and resting. It was not that exciting, and the renovation work made the experience much more Disneyland. It was beautiful and pastoral, however, and the journey made the trip well worth it.
It was just amazing and wonderful bicycling, the island flying by around you, the wind in your hair, sun on your back, and surrounded by picture perfect pastoral nordic landscape. Playing tag with Saori on our bikes, and signaling to each other with our cheerful bike bells. Bicycling in Aland was the standout highlight of my time in Finland. On the way back, we stopped at a cafe on top of rock knob overlooking one of the narrow straits and inlets between the islands. Absolutely amazing view, great little cafe, we got a piece of cake and split it, sitting outside in the sun, high above the archipelago which spread out far below us. We got back to Mariehamm too late to return the bikes. So we pedaled our way to the hotel and locked our bikes up there.
The bike locks are very interesting. They are small locks that basically prevent the rear wheel from turning by putting a piece of metal between the spokes. And that's it. There's really nothing but propriety from preventing people from picking up the bike and stealing it. But it's convention, just like people used to leave their cars and houses unlocked. Anyway, we were both absolutely beat from our marathon ride. We were on bike for probably six hours, and I was chafing like a motherf***er. My knees were in bad shape too, so we opted to walk to dinner. By then, most of the restaurants had either closed or were closing, (by the way, Aland's hours pretty much are 9am to 6pm, good luck finding anything open at any other time) but we were able to get a takeout pizza and calzone which ended up being pretty good. (and pretty expensive; other than the bikes, everything was spendy). After dinner we went back to the hotel and passed out from exhaustion.
Day in the life
Today played out pretty typically with how my life is this summer.
Alarm went off at 5:50 AM and I rolled out of bed, trying not to disturb Saorichan. With all of three pairs of pants and about five shirts that look more or less decent for work, it doesn't take a lot of time to get dressed in the morning. A quick check in the mirror- hmmmmm. I picked up a beard trimmer to keep my ragged facial hair from getting to long (as I start to look like a 19 year old trying to prove something) but I need to clean up my neck, so, shave.
Feed both the cats, slam down some off-brand honey nut cheerios ("its a bagged cereal in a box disguise!"), and mom rolls out of her room and we dive into the microconvertable for the five-minute drive to the RAPID bus stop. The RAPID bus goes straight to downtown from this park and ride on the edge of Phoenix, and for a limited window, it runs about every ten minutes. What makes it annoying is that to get a ticket on the bus you have to pay the exact fare, which is $2.75. So I had to go to the bank and get a ton of $1 bills and a fat roll of quarters since I pay that one way fare about five times a week. The ride is quick, a little over half an hour in the fast lane, and I read or listen to music. It's a commuter bus.
I jumped off before the main station- its faster to walk than to take light rail in. It's about a 20 minute walk to the office, and I meander through side streets, parks, and parking lots. I arrive about two minutes before 7:30. Right on time.
I've been working on two projects- one of them is a large multi-specialty clinic that will be going up in Illinois, and the other is a willed body storage and processing building. This one is going up in Arizona. This is a really interesting facility as it where cadavers and animals will be stored and embalmed (and possibly plasticized a la bodyworlds) for use as teaching devices for medical students. Its a building that the client wants to be very quiet and subdued, as discreet as possible, and I also want to make sure that its form is suitably understated and distinguished for the human dead. Especially as body doners may potentially come and visit the facility. So its the more fun design project.
Saorichan met me for lunch, and we took the light rail up to eat at Pane Bianco, of the Pizzaria Bianco fame. They make their own bread and serve up a caprese sandwich with fresh mozzarella, tomato, and basil. It's expensive, but its one of the best sandwiches in Phoenix.
Normally, I catch a ride back to Ahwatukee with my coworker David, and we make great time in the carpool lane. Today, though, he was back in Mexico for his birthday, so I had to leave early and make a mad dash in 110 heat to catch the RAPID bus back. It was standing room only, but it was a unique experience to stand at the front of the bus while zipping along the freeway.
Mom picked me up at the park and ride and drove me straight to hot yoga. Saori was already there waiting for us. She had packed my yoga bag for me and we got dressed (or undressed or whatever) and went into the hot room.
Yoga was miserable. It was their special "flow" class, just an hour instead of the normal 90 minutes, and more intense workout. They also cranked up the heat. It was noticeably hotter than the typical temperature, and I made the mistake of sitting in the hotter side of the room. It was a grueling workout and the heat and humidity made me nauseous and lightheaded. It's something that can be overcome with better preparation and more practice, but I think I like my workouts better without the artificial heat and humidity. Like running. At least there's a cool breeze of the moving air over by body when I run. So I'm going to do that instead. Saori is pretty hooked on Yoga. This class was her favorite.
After yoga, mom dropped me off at home first and went back to pick up Saori. After everyone showered, Saori and I grabbed a snack of leftover pork on some leftover rice. We watched some TV and went to bed around 11.
Jun 24, 2011
Ephemera Europa I
I've realized lately, why I write a blog. It's a way I have to rake my hands through the passing sands of time, to gauge and really feel their flow. It's a way to record time and feel its passage in a meaningful way. When I write, I have to remember what I have seen and done, and somewhere in my head it really happens again. Memories are not like watching a movie of a past event, they are the reliving of that past event in a very real but intangible way. When I write, I remember, I reflect, and reconstruct. But it also distorts. Since words are definite, the way I recall my memories and write them, changes them, since the power of language and words alters the thing itself. The more firmly you grasp a memory, the more distorted it becomes, hewing more closely to the words you pick and the structure and tone you use. Even the frame of mind of recalling a memory colors it. But, I'd rather have a distorted memory than a purer one which fades away with time.
That said, I wish I blogged more on the road in Europe. At this point, now all I have are moments, stories of varying degrees of truth.
Hmmm my most memorable moments from Europe:
I met Saori for the first time in six months in front of the train station in Helsinki. It was the famous one, designed by the elder Saarinen, with its neo-gothic statues holding globes of light. The outdoor bus terminal was in the adjoining plaza, which is where I was dropped off after a short ride in from the airport. I'd been listening to Agnes Obel and watching the forest of birch trees go by in the twilight hours of the summer in the far north of our planet. It doesn't really get dark until about midnight. I'd called her as soon as I'd gotten on the bus, to let her know I was on my way in. The plaza was filled with people. Surprisingly bustling, even at 10 o'clock at night. And really, why not? The light was good, the weather mild, and it was, after all, in the heart of Helsinki. With my oversized backpack, I looked around for her, and finally spotted her coming out of the train station. We had agreed to meet at the main entry; well, there are actually three main entries to the train station, so it took her some time to find the one I was at. I wasn't sure how I'd feel. I was worried it would be weird to spend time with her again, after so long apart. To my relief, it wasn't. We were both different people, but only slightly different, and we both happily slipped into our old roles together. Holding hands, we walked out of the plaza to a nearby bar where she bought me my first drink in Helsinki, a Karhu III olut, a local beer. The bar was outside, in a sort of large covered pavilion. The colored neon lights tinted the wooden table and benches yellow, red, and blue. It was a heady moment, I had my whole trip ahead of me, with Saori, nearly three weeks of adventure, and a week and a half to have Saori show me around Helsinki. There is something magical and breathless about the moment you really arrive, with the whole trip in front of you, waiting.
The next day, we were eating at Cafe Ursula, an expensive but great cafe which sat on the far end of one of the main peninsulas of the city, in a beautiful park overlooking the Baltic sea. It stood by itself, a small but elegant building, with a massive shade sail providing cover to the outdoor tables. It was a brilliant summer day, and we enjoyed traditional Finnish fare such as salmon on rye bread. The gulls kept trying to get at our food, but the crisp air tinted by the nearby sea, the sun, and the greenery all around made me really happy to be there at that particular moment.
That said, I wish I blogged more on the road in Europe. At this point, now all I have are moments, stories of varying degrees of truth.
Hmmm my most memorable moments from Europe:
I met Saori for the first time in six months in front of the train station in Helsinki. It was the famous one, designed by the elder Saarinen, with its neo-gothic statues holding globes of light. The outdoor bus terminal was in the adjoining plaza, which is where I was dropped off after a short ride in from the airport. I'd been listening to Agnes Obel and watching the forest of birch trees go by in the twilight hours of the summer in the far north of our planet. It doesn't really get dark until about midnight. I'd called her as soon as I'd gotten on the bus, to let her know I was on my way in. The plaza was filled with people. Surprisingly bustling, even at 10 o'clock at night. And really, why not? The light was good, the weather mild, and it was, after all, in the heart of Helsinki. With my oversized backpack, I looked around for her, and finally spotted her coming out of the train station. We had agreed to meet at the main entry; well, there are actually three main entries to the train station, so it took her some time to find the one I was at. I wasn't sure how I'd feel. I was worried it would be weird to spend time with her again, after so long apart. To my relief, it wasn't. We were both different people, but only slightly different, and we both happily slipped into our old roles together. Holding hands, we walked out of the plaza to a nearby bar where she bought me my first drink in Helsinki, a Karhu III olut, a local beer. The bar was outside, in a sort of large covered pavilion. The colored neon lights tinted the wooden table and benches yellow, red, and blue. It was a heady moment, I had my whole trip ahead of me, with Saori, nearly three weeks of adventure, and a week and a half to have Saori show me around Helsinki. There is something magical and breathless about the moment you really arrive, with the whole trip in front of you, waiting.
The next day, we were eating at Cafe Ursula, an expensive but great cafe which sat on the far end of one of the main peninsulas of the city, in a beautiful park overlooking the Baltic sea. It stood by itself, a small but elegant building, with a massive shade sail providing cover to the outdoor tables. It was a brilliant summer day, and we enjoyed traditional Finnish fare such as salmon on rye bread. The gulls kept trying to get at our food, but the crisp air tinted by the nearby sea, the sun, and the greenery all around made me really happy to be there at that particular moment.
Notes from the Asteroidtukee
First, a book review.
I just finished reading Manifold Time by Steven Baxter. I rolled my eyes through the whole thing. It reads like Baxter tried to fit everything he ever read in the physics section of Barnes&Noble into a single novel. No stone lies unturned, or experiment unrepeated or remarked upon by frankly unbelievable characters in a very loose plot which, it seems, was simply there to hang the experimental physics together. The whole thing is throughly drenched with quasi-philosophical ruminations on fate, spirituality, morality, etc. etc. There's even a re-creation of the end of 2001 a Space Odyssey. The only thing that made me keep turning pages was to get to the end of time, a depiction of the heat death of the universe. If you're going to write an end of the world-beginning of a new world book, you could probably do much better, or at least not use the "brilliant children transcending humankind" plot device used by several other authors, including Arthur C. Clarke. If you want to write about the end of the world, I much prefer Douglass Adams approach, which involves the complete annihilation of Earth in the first twenty pages in about four sentences. So. Not impressed. At least it means I can skip the other dozen books in the Time series.
I'm firmly entrenched in Ahawatukee at this point in the summer. I have my old job back at the architecture office I used to work at, Saori is here with me, and so is Suki. We're all living in my mom's house on a distant asteroid roughly orbiting several thousand miles from Phoenix. Getting my job back was actually the easiest part.
We landed back in Phoenix a week back from last Wednesday. Thursday, I sent a note to the HR guy at the office, not really expecting much, but following up on the possibility that I might be able to get some CA time in doing some punch list work up on a project I'd spent a few years working on. Maybe two weeks of work. I got an encouraging response. Two emails later he asked me to show up for work on Monday.
The hard part was actually getting to work. The asteroid this house is on is only tenuously connected to the earth. There is nothing out here but barren rock and the harsh sunlight. Mom commutes to her summer school program by a tiny personal craft, which can only accommodate two passengers. The viciousness of space travel such as they are, there is only room for the pilot, one passenger, and enough oxygen to last the gut wrenching ride out of orbit into the city. There is however, a shuttle which runs from a hub on the planet-facing side of the asteroid. Two miles of scorched rock buffeted by harsh solar winds, no atmosphere. A local transport does make the rounds, its spindly form crawling over the face of the rock, but it only runs every hour, ferrying the few space cadets on duty patrolling this desolate world.
Lately, mom's been taking her tiny craft short hops to drop me at the trans-planetary hub. The shuttle makes quick work of deep space, with a regular launch schedule, it screams through the atmosphere, bypassing commercial and residential traffic with its special clearances. From the landing pad on earth it is only about a fifteen minute walk to my workplace.
So, I've got this hourly job. I work about 9 hours a day, four days a week. I negotiated Friday off since, if I'm only coming in for four hours, it just doesn't make sense to spend two hours in transit. So far, I've done some coordination work for fire protection, designed a wall which probably will never get built for a pediatric dentistry wing, for kids to look at while in the dentist chairs, and modeled and updated the more typical dental chairs based on the approved basis of design model chair.
People seemed happy and surprised to see me back at work. I actually blended in so well, it took people awhile to realize I was actually back in the office. There were a lot of double-takes. It was a bit last minute, decided upon on a friday to have me come in monday, so few people were expecting it. They actually have an ASU intern already.
I know I've only worked four days, but I am so happy I decided not to work fridays. This whole work thing, it just steals time from you. The office has changed so little since I left. In the professional world I left, a year is a grain of sand in the glass, a blink. In the academic world of studio, a year is a transformation, an endeavor, a journey, an ordeal. If you want it to be, that is. The professional world is a single small flame on a very large candle, the academic; fireworks.
I just finished reading Manifold Time by Steven Baxter. I rolled my eyes through the whole thing. It reads like Baxter tried to fit everything he ever read in the physics section of Barnes&Noble into a single novel. No stone lies unturned, or experiment unrepeated or remarked upon by frankly unbelievable characters in a very loose plot which, it seems, was simply there to hang the experimental physics together. The whole thing is throughly drenched with quasi-philosophical ruminations on fate, spirituality, morality, etc. etc. There's even a re-creation of the end of 2001 a Space Odyssey. The only thing that made me keep turning pages was to get to the end of time, a depiction of the heat death of the universe. If you're going to write an end of the world-beginning of a new world book, you could probably do much better, or at least not use the "brilliant children transcending humankind" plot device used by several other authors, including Arthur C. Clarke. If you want to write about the end of the world, I much prefer Douglass Adams approach, which involves the complete annihilation of Earth in the first twenty pages in about four sentences. So. Not impressed. At least it means I can skip the other dozen books in the Time series.
I'm firmly entrenched in Ahawatukee at this point in the summer. I have my old job back at the architecture office I used to work at, Saori is here with me, and so is Suki. We're all living in my mom's house on a distant asteroid roughly orbiting several thousand miles from Phoenix. Getting my job back was actually the easiest part.
We landed back in Phoenix a week back from last Wednesday. Thursday, I sent a note to the HR guy at the office, not really expecting much, but following up on the possibility that I might be able to get some CA time in doing some punch list work up on a project I'd spent a few years working on. Maybe two weeks of work. I got an encouraging response. Two emails later he asked me to show up for work on Monday.
The hard part was actually getting to work. The asteroid this house is on is only tenuously connected to the earth. There is nothing out here but barren rock and the harsh sunlight. Mom commutes to her summer school program by a tiny personal craft, which can only accommodate two passengers. The viciousness of space travel such as they are, there is only room for the pilot, one passenger, and enough oxygen to last the gut wrenching ride out of orbit into the city. There is however, a shuttle which runs from a hub on the planet-facing side of the asteroid. Two miles of scorched rock buffeted by harsh solar winds, no atmosphere. A local transport does make the rounds, its spindly form crawling over the face of the rock, but it only runs every hour, ferrying the few space cadets on duty patrolling this desolate world.
Lately, mom's been taking her tiny craft short hops to drop me at the trans-planetary hub. The shuttle makes quick work of deep space, with a regular launch schedule, it screams through the atmosphere, bypassing commercial and residential traffic with its special clearances. From the landing pad on earth it is only about a fifteen minute walk to my workplace.
So, I've got this hourly job. I work about 9 hours a day, four days a week. I negotiated Friday off since, if I'm only coming in for four hours, it just doesn't make sense to spend two hours in transit. So far, I've done some coordination work for fire protection, designed a wall which probably will never get built for a pediatric dentistry wing, for kids to look at while in the dentist chairs, and modeled and updated the more typical dental chairs based on the approved basis of design model chair.
People seemed happy and surprised to see me back at work. I actually blended in so well, it took people awhile to realize I was actually back in the office. There were a lot of double-takes. It was a bit last minute, decided upon on a friday to have me come in monday, so few people were expecting it. They actually have an ASU intern already.
I know I've only worked four days, but I am so happy I decided not to work fridays. This whole work thing, it just steals time from you. The office has changed so little since I left. In the professional world I left, a year is a grain of sand in the glass, a blink. In the academic world of studio, a year is a transformation, an endeavor, a journey, an ordeal. If you want it to be, that is. The professional world is a single small flame on a very large candle, the academic; fireworks.
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