That's right. We've been looking forward to Midnight Madness for a year. Yeah, a full 365 days. I even took a two-hour nap yesterday afternoon so I could stay up late for a change. About nine o'clock, my head was nodding, but Catherine said she would wake me up at 10:45 if I fell asleep. Plenty of time to get over to campus.
10:45 arrives, Catherine wakes me up, and I try to figure out what I'm going to wear. Next thing I know, I'm waking up out of a nightmare about being chased around campus by some unknown menace. Look at the clock, and it's 3:15. And there's Catherine, sound asleep beside me, fully dressed--including her IU Women's Basketball sweatshirt. We slept through Midnight Madness! Someone should be calling us losers, alright.
Saturday, October 18, 2003
Therapy sucks.
And we're not going back.
As far as I understood it--and Catherine concurs--the reason we wanted to go to a counselor in the first place was because I seem to be having a hard time coping with the uncertainties of life. I guess not so much that, but because I was having trouble communicating what I needed from her and myself so I could cope. I could tell Catherine was trying to help, but it was mostly making it worse, but I couldn't figure out how to explain to her why things were getting worse and not better, despite all our joint efforts. That's what I understood before we called the counselor. And that's what I understood after the first session, we were going to work on how to balance my general fucked-up-ness with Catherine's general tranquility and work on how to communicate better.
But we got there yesterday, and it was a total waste of time. To begin with, the therapist was running late, so we started 15 minutes later than usual. And she sent us on our way 20 minutes early, so I figure our insurance paid her for 60 minutes, when we were really just there for 25. That would have been okay if they would have been a helpful 25 minutes. I really felt like she just kept blowing me off every time I tried to say something. She kept talking as if finding a new job for Catherine would solve all our problems, and it really just wouldn't. I mean...I might still be unemployed in California, Catherine might hate the job, and then would it be my fault we left here, since I'm the one who forced her to apply? And she might not even get the job, so what, then, will have changed in our lives?
I'm not sure how many times I repeated yesterday that my anxiety level was high already and seemed to be climbing. She dismissed my complaint about not sleeping well by pointing out that I never sleep well. So, what, that makes it okay? Everything is just so unsettled, and I thought it was the therapist's role to help me express my worries so Catherine could understand them. That sure didn't happen. I have no idea what I should be trying to with my life right now. Should I be going to job interviews, trying to get a new job, any job, just in case we stay here? Should I take any job offered so I can get out of the kitchen, which is totally breaking down my body? Can I take a new job then take 3 weeks work off as soon as possible to have shoulder surgery? Can someone please help me with my homework?
I could type for forty hours and still not exhaust the list of questions keeping me awake at night. And an online journal is not exactly the place I hoped to be exploring these issues, but I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to do at this point. I'd like to hire someone to make my decisions for me.
As far as I understood it--and Catherine concurs--the reason we wanted to go to a counselor in the first place was because I seem to be having a hard time coping with the uncertainties of life. I guess not so much that, but because I was having trouble communicating what I needed from her and myself so I could cope. I could tell Catherine was trying to help, but it was mostly making it worse, but I couldn't figure out how to explain to her why things were getting worse and not better, despite all our joint efforts. That's what I understood before we called the counselor. And that's what I understood after the first session, we were going to work on how to balance my general fucked-up-ness with Catherine's general tranquility and work on how to communicate better.
But we got there yesterday, and it was a total waste of time. To begin with, the therapist was running late, so we started 15 minutes later than usual. And she sent us on our way 20 minutes early, so I figure our insurance paid her for 60 minutes, when we were really just there for 25. That would have been okay if they would have been a helpful 25 minutes. I really felt like she just kept blowing me off every time I tried to say something. She kept talking as if finding a new job for Catherine would solve all our problems, and it really just wouldn't. I mean...I might still be unemployed in California, Catherine might hate the job, and then would it be my fault we left here, since I'm the one who forced her to apply? And she might not even get the job, so what, then, will have changed in our lives?
I'm not sure how many times I repeated yesterday that my anxiety level was high already and seemed to be climbing. She dismissed my complaint about not sleeping well by pointing out that I never sleep well. So, what, that makes it okay? Everything is just so unsettled, and I thought it was the therapist's role to help me express my worries so Catherine could understand them. That sure didn't happen. I have no idea what I should be trying to with my life right now. Should I be going to job interviews, trying to get a new job, any job, just in case we stay here? Should I take any job offered so I can get out of the kitchen, which is totally breaking down my body? Can I take a new job then take 3 weeks work off as soon as possible to have shoulder surgery? Can someone please help me with my homework?
I could type for forty hours and still not exhaust the list of questions keeping me awake at night. And an online journal is not exactly the place I hoped to be exploring these issues, but I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to do at this point. I'd like to hire someone to make my decisions for me.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Not as bad as I thought it would be.
Just spent two hours on campus, talking to my former boss. I put off talking to him face to face for too long, I guess, but I wanted to make sure my anger was gone before going over there. Also, I knew he would ask me about the online courses I was taking, and I didn't want to have to admit that they weren't going very well. So, it took me awhile to go out to school.
It was okay, though. I rediscovered that Kirk is a nice guy. I just don't think he means to not follow through on his promises, he really doesn't recognize that he's jerking people around. We talked for two hours about the department and course requirements and construction methods and project manuals and trigonometry and machine design and a dozen other things, and I had a good time. It made me realize how starved I am for intellectual stimulation. I have fun at work, and on days when Jay isn't dropping fiberglass trays on my thumb, I'd even say I like my job. But it is good to be around people who share my interests and can hold a spontaneous conversation on a variety of related topics. It's just good to be able to talk about building/construction/design software/architecture and have the person on the other end of the dialogue know exactly what I was talking about. And Kirk and Tom both talk to me like a member of the team, not a student or semi-professional. I like them both as co-workers, and I guess I'd kind of forgotten about that with all the frustration I was feeling with the job itself.
They were also reassuring about my online courses, confirming my suspicions that the instructor teaching the courses is completely inadequate. I'm trying to just work through the homework and get it over with, but I lack motivation because the material isn't clear, I'm not getting any feedback, and I just don't see any point (other than to get it done so I can graduate). I finally sent a really pointed e-mail to my instructor, indicating that it was 8th week of class, and I had yet to get any assignments returned, and that had to change, and in reply I received the assignment back for one of the three classes that I turned in during week 2, with no other discussion of the matter, no other feedback. I know that sucks, but it was still nice to get independent verification of the fact. It was good to be validated, to hear that my expectations aren't unreasonable.
As we left it, I'll get in touch with Kirk when we know what Catherine's career plans are, which will hopefully be w/in the next month. He knows he has one course available to teach, with the possibility of anywhere between 1 and 4 other courses opening up. And as I was sitting there talking about some arcane Revit feature, I realized that even though I'm not particularly wild about teaching, not particularly thrilled about low pay for a lot of work, that I do want to work in my field. Is one course enough? No, we can't live on it, but maybe I can piece something else together if I need to.
It was okay, though. I rediscovered that Kirk is a nice guy. I just don't think he means to not follow through on his promises, he really doesn't recognize that he's jerking people around. We talked for two hours about the department and course requirements and construction methods and project manuals and trigonometry and machine design and a dozen other things, and I had a good time. It made me realize how starved I am for intellectual stimulation. I have fun at work, and on days when Jay isn't dropping fiberglass trays on my thumb, I'd even say I like my job. But it is good to be around people who share my interests and can hold a spontaneous conversation on a variety of related topics. It's just good to be able to talk about building/construction/design software/architecture and have the person on the other end of the dialogue know exactly what I was talking about. And Kirk and Tom both talk to me like a member of the team, not a student or semi-professional. I like them both as co-workers, and I guess I'd kind of forgotten about that with all the frustration I was feeling with the job itself.
They were also reassuring about my online courses, confirming my suspicions that the instructor teaching the courses is completely inadequate. I'm trying to just work through the homework and get it over with, but I lack motivation because the material isn't clear, I'm not getting any feedback, and I just don't see any point (other than to get it done so I can graduate). I finally sent a really pointed e-mail to my instructor, indicating that it was 8th week of class, and I had yet to get any assignments returned, and that had to change, and in reply I received the assignment back for one of the three classes that I turned in during week 2, with no other discussion of the matter, no other feedback. I know that sucks, but it was still nice to get independent verification of the fact. It was good to be validated, to hear that my expectations aren't unreasonable.
As we left it, I'll get in touch with Kirk when we know what Catherine's career plans are, which will hopefully be w/in the next month. He knows he has one course available to teach, with the possibility of anywhere between 1 and 4 other courses opening up. And as I was sitting there talking about some arcane Revit feature, I realized that even though I'm not particularly wild about teaching, not particularly thrilled about low pay for a lot of work, that I do want to work in my field. Is one course enough? No, we can't live on it, but maybe I can piece something else together if I need to.
Oh, so disgusting.
I know some people think it tastes good, but my theory is: if a recipe calls for 5 pounds of sour cream, 5 pounds of mayonnaise, and 5 pounds of bleu cheese, the end product should not be consumed by humans.
Monday, October 13, 2003
Fuck the AC joint.
So, this is the diagnosis, arthritis of the AC joint. The orthopedic surgeon would like my permission to take off an inch of my collarbone. I'm thinking--no fucking way.
Builder by birthright.
I don't get to talk much to my dad anymore. He's lost his voice, and we only have about 30 seconds at a time for him to spit out whatever he thinks is important at the moment, then we have to wait for another day. Lately, he's been tossing me little bits and pieces of the family tree, trying to get me to chase up more information about his side of the family. We already know a lot of the family history--at least one branch of his family came over in the 1700s (my mom once thought about signing me up with the Daughters of the American Revolution in hopes of getting college scholarships for me, thank god she never got around to it), and one of my ancestors fought in the War of 1812 under Commodore Perry. That seems pretty cool.
Even more cool, though, is to discover that straight up the branch of the family tree that gave me my last name sits a builder and building contractor, my great, great uncle August, born in Saxony, moved to Ohio in 1866. As it turns out, I've probably even seen some of his work: He was given a contract in 1890 to remodel the state capitol building in Columbus, Ohio. According to his obituary, during his life he "took pride in the fact that he had built 15 churches and 40 school houses. The German Lutheran, English Lutheran and Methodist Episcopal churches, Second National Bank, Y.M.C.A., Kearsley residence, Chesney residence, of his home town of Bucyrus, the Ohio Wesleyan university building at Delaware, the Espiscopal church, the Indianola Methodist church, and the St. Philips churches at Columbus, being some of his edifices. At the time of his death he was just completing the $25,000 residence for Mr. Creith, the Columbus lumber man, and buildings all over Columbus mark his activity in the contracting line; in one year his contracts in Columbus amounting to $250,000."
Right now we're planning a road trip to Bucyrus for Thanksgiving weekend. My great grandfather's home doesn't exist anymore, neither does the planing mill that gave all the carpenters and furniture makers in my family their starts, but some of the other buildings designed by my uncle are still standing. And I'd like to find the cemetery and take some photos of the family burial plot for my dad.
At least I know now from whom I got my greed for power tools. That's not a bad legacy to inherit, I say.
Even more cool, though, is to discover that straight up the branch of the family tree that gave me my last name sits a builder and building contractor, my great, great uncle August, born in Saxony, moved to Ohio in 1866. As it turns out, I've probably even seen some of his work: He was given a contract in 1890 to remodel the state capitol building in Columbus, Ohio. According to his obituary, during his life he "took pride in the fact that he had built 15 churches and 40 school houses. The German Lutheran, English Lutheran and Methodist Episcopal churches, Second National Bank, Y.M.C.A., Kearsley residence, Chesney residence, of his home town of Bucyrus, the Ohio Wesleyan university building at Delaware, the Espiscopal church, the Indianola Methodist church, and the St. Philips churches at Columbus, being some of his edifices. At the time of his death he was just completing the $25,000 residence for Mr. Creith, the Columbus lumber man, and buildings all over Columbus mark his activity in the contracting line; in one year his contracts in Columbus amounting to $250,000."
Right now we're planning a road trip to Bucyrus for Thanksgiving weekend. My great grandfather's home doesn't exist anymore, neither does the planing mill that gave all the carpenters and furniture makers in my family their starts, but some of the other buildings designed by my uncle are still standing. And I'd like to find the cemetery and take some photos of the family burial plot for my dad.
At least I know now from whom I got my greed for power tools. That's not a bad legacy to inherit, I say.
Sunday, October 12, 2003
Worth the jail time.
Obviously, I'm going to have to make a road trip to Laramie, Wyoming, sledge hammer in hand. He can try to carry through with his plans, but I'm perfectly willing to spend some quality time in jail if that's what I have to do. I can knock it down as many times as he can put it up, private property be damned.
Get with it, dude.
I am so out of touch with my people. Today is National Coming Out Day. My own coming out story is dead boring, so read someone else's instead.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
Presents.
Mmm...Catherine gave me my anniversary present a few weeks early.
My electric screwdriver, which sucked in the first place, died about a year ago, and I've been using my drill to do the job. What a hassle--drill a hole, take out the bit, put in the screwdriver head, fasten the screw, take the screwdriver head out, put the drill bit back in, drill a hole, repeat ad infinitum in situations where you can't just drill a line of holes but need to go one by one. I often end up just using a manual screwdriver, but that just kills my hands, so I can't do very many that way. Anyway, my whining paid off in the form of a Black and Decker electric screwdriver this morning. A much better design than my original driver, so I'm happy.
Power tools for everyone, that's my motto.
My electric screwdriver, which sucked in the first place, died about a year ago, and I've been using my drill to do the job. What a hassle--drill a hole, take out the bit, put in the screwdriver head, fasten the screw, take the screwdriver head out, put the drill bit back in, drill a hole, repeat ad infinitum in situations where you can't just drill a line of holes but need to go one by one. I often end up just using a manual screwdriver, but that just kills my hands, so I can't do very many that way. Anyway, my whining paid off in the form of a Black and Decker electric screwdriver this morning. A much better design than my original driver, so I'm happy.
Power tools for everyone, that's my motto.
Kind of crazy around town and at work because of homecoming. I hauled over two tons of dough this week, and I feel like my ulna (or is it my radius? I can't tell) is about to break through the skin at my elbow. Bad joint! Bad!
I can complain about my job, but at least it pays for my drum lessons. I met with Bobby today while Catherine went to the homecoming parade. I always knew Bobby was a fantastic drummer, he's worked with a lot of famous groups and donesome great studio work, but today I found out that Jeff Porcaro of TOTO used to be his teacher. That's pretty damn cool--two degrees of separation between me and Jeff Porcaro! He also told me that Jeff's father, Joe, taught him how to really get the swing beat down (instead of counting it, think of it as "Please shut the door, shut the door, shut the door." It works!).
Got together with Catherine for dinner at The Trojan Horse, finished up in time to catch the end of the homecoming fireworks over Dunn Meadow, then headed off to watch the IU women's volleyball team get their butts kicked by Michigan. Oh, well, can't win them all. A nice evening, though, and it made us really pause and think about whether we really want to leave Bloomington or not. It's looking more and more like Catherine might be headed toward a job offer, but neither of us want to be responsible for making the decision to stay or go. We're just kind of hoping that a) there will be no job offer; b) if there is, it will be so fantastic we can't turn it down; or c) if there is, it will be so awful we won't have to think twice about turning it down.
Argh. Everything is so complicated. On Thursday, Steve at BRI suggested he might be able to find enough work to keep me busy, and that's something I really, really want to do, but I hate not being up front with him about the very real possibility that we might leave in January. And he might have just been making chit chat, not thinking that I really would be interested in the nuts and bolts work of affordable housing projects. And then, today I got a phone call offering me an interview to do production work at a local publish-on-demand company. I don't think the work itself is that great, but the salary is better than my current one, and it would have benefits. But I just got a raise at my current job, and I know it's not a good job, really, and it's breaking my body into little, tiny, bitter pieces...but it is kind of fun.
Okay, obviously thinking should not be happening at 9:30 on a Friday night. I could go around in circles for hours. Better just to remember we had a good time tonight, and we can have good times wherever we are and wherever we go, and it's best just not to worry about it.
I can complain about my job, but at least it pays for my drum lessons. I met with Bobby today while Catherine went to the homecoming parade. I always knew Bobby was a fantastic drummer, he's worked with a lot of famous groups and donesome great studio work, but today I found out that Jeff Porcaro of TOTO used to be his teacher. That's pretty damn cool--two degrees of separation between me and Jeff Porcaro! He also told me that Jeff's father, Joe, taught him how to really get the swing beat down (instead of counting it, think of it as "Please shut the door, shut the door, shut the door." It works!).
Got together with Catherine for dinner at The Trojan Horse, finished up in time to catch the end of the homecoming fireworks over Dunn Meadow, then headed off to watch the IU women's volleyball team get their butts kicked by Michigan. Oh, well, can't win them all. A nice evening, though, and it made us really pause and think about whether we really want to leave Bloomington or not. It's looking more and more like Catherine might be headed toward a job offer, but neither of us want to be responsible for making the decision to stay or go. We're just kind of hoping that a) there will be no job offer; b) if there is, it will be so fantastic we can't turn it down; or c) if there is, it will be so awful we won't have to think twice about turning it down.
Argh. Everything is so complicated. On Thursday, Steve at BRI suggested he might be able to find enough work to keep me busy, and that's something I really, really want to do, but I hate not being up front with him about the very real possibility that we might leave in January. And he might have just been making chit chat, not thinking that I really would be interested in the nuts and bolts work of affordable housing projects. And then, today I got a phone call offering me an interview to do production work at a local publish-on-demand company. I don't think the work itself is that great, but the salary is better than my current one, and it would have benefits. But I just got a raise at my current job, and I know it's not a good job, really, and it's breaking my body into little, tiny, bitter pieces...but it is kind of fun.
Okay, obviously thinking should not be happening at 9:30 on a Friday night. I could go around in circles for hours. Better just to remember we had a good time tonight, and we can have good times wherever we are and wherever we go, and it's best just not to worry about it.
Friday, October 10, 2003
Thursday, October 09, 2003
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Monday, October 06, 2003
Yeah, I know I'm old and pathetic.
When the paychecks came in to work today, all my co-workers were "Yeah! Drugs and alcohol! Drugs and alcohol!" And I was "Yeah! I can finally get that cortisone shot in my shoulder!" Definitely a bad sign.
The funny thing about this California deal--I didn't use to hate Arnold Schwarzenegger. I didn't watch a lot of his movies, but every now and again, he'd release one I liked. Now, however, I'll probably never see another one, not even if he goes back to light comedy. Did he mean to tank his acting career? I just have to wonder at his naivete during this whole campaign process. Wasn't he paying attention during the Clinton administration? Dork.
When the paychecks came in to work today, all my co-workers were "Yeah! Drugs and alcohol! Drugs and alcohol!" And I was "Yeah! I can finally get that cortisone shot in my shoulder!" Definitely a bad sign.
The funny thing about this California deal--I didn't use to hate Arnold Schwarzenegger. I didn't watch a lot of his movies, but every now and again, he'd release one I liked. Now, however, I'll probably never see another one, not even if he goes back to light comedy. Did he mean to tank his acting career? I just have to wonder at his naivete during this whole campaign process. Wasn't he paying attention during the Clinton administration? Dork.
Whenever I'm feeling depressed (which is--stupidly--a frequent occurrence), I just trot on over to zombo.com and let them make me feel welcome.
Other weird things from Doyle and Alex:
http://www.freshsensation.com/samorost.swf
http://yugop.com/ver2/
http://www.lares.dti.ne.jp/%7Eyugo/storage/monocrafts_ver3/03/index.html
http://www.sonicteam.com/chao/
http://www.linkydinky.com/dewkiller.shtml
http://www.gvetchedintime.com/
Other weird things from Doyle and Alex:
http://www.freshsensation.com/samorost.swf
http://yugop.com/ver2/
http://www.lares.dti.ne.jp/%7Eyugo/storage/monocrafts_ver3/03/index.html
http://www.sonicteam.com/chao/
http://www.linkydinky.com/dewkiller.shtml
http://www.gvetchedintime.com/
Today was Catherine's big volunteer day with the Monroe County Humane Association. Every year she helps organize the Walk for the Animals, and every year I fail to show up. I finally made it there today, though, and even walked the circuit with Erika and Henry (oh, and the dogs, Foghat and Dinah). Many, many, MANY happy dogs out there today.
I've decided I'm just too high strung to be a dog owner. They never stop moving, never! You'd think I'd never owned a dog, but that's not the case. It's just that having a dog in the family when you're growing up is vastly different from being solely responsible for the beast. Can't do it, I don't think. Not home enough, not patient enough when I am home. I'd snap in a second. I can barely handle our nutcase kitten, imagine what would happen to my nerves if I added a basset hound to the mix.
I've decided I'm just too high strung to be a dog owner. They never stop moving, never! You'd think I'd never owned a dog, but that's not the case. It's just that having a dog in the family when you're growing up is vastly different from being solely responsible for the beast. Can't do it, I don't think. Not home enough, not patient enough when I am home. I'd snap in a second. I can barely handle our nutcase kitten, imagine what would happen to my nerves if I added a basset hound to the mix.
Sunday, October 05, 2003
What, exactly, is feminist architecture? The problem with architectural theory/history is that when it really comes down to building a structure that occupies social space, there is only a very tenuous relationship between the words on the page and the nails in the wall. Most architectural historians have no practical experience with building; in fact, I can't think of a single one of my friends working in the field who have actually built a house...or even a shed. It's all theoretical. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE theory, but lately I've been wondering what I can offer to the world as a designer/builder that I couldn't offer as a historian, and I keep coming back to this idea of building as a feminist. It's an entirely different endeavor than writing as a feminist, I think.
As a historian, as a writer, I'm perpetually occupied with the is and the was, rather than the what could be. And perhaps that is the great flaw of architectural theory--it's very seldom speculative, no science fiction allowed. It's not that writing isn't creative, and I've always maintained that writing history isn't much different that writing a historic novel (you just have to provide more footnotes), but it's still primarily occupied with examining what has already happened instead of what might happen in the future. There are architectural critics writing about what they are seeing right now, but those buildings are already the past, already built, already alive. I want to get to them before that stage, when I can still change them into something I believe in. Not that I necessarily believe that the built environment can be transformative, but just in case it is, I want my mind and hands involved at an early point in the design process.
So, what is my responsibility as a [liberal/feminist/lesbian/socialist] designer? At a very basic level, I want a building that functions more than I want anything else. I'm an advocate for universal healthcare; likewise, I believe all humans should have the right to safe, functional, and sanitary dwellings. While the intellectual in me really loves buildings that challenge our conceptions of how space is supposed to work (Eisenman's Wexner Center comes to mind), I think those kind of structures should be designed only for quasi-public spaces (places like museums *not* gov't buildings, which should always provide equal, non-challenging access to public services). I don't believe every human needs a 3,000 sq. ft. house. In fact, I don't think *any* human needs a 3,000 sq. ft. house. Our society craves privacy and individualized space, but you don't need a behemoth of a house to gain that.
Huge houses are socially irresponsible on many fronts. In materials alone, they are devastating the planet. Yes, you can raise timber for wood-framed houses on plantations (monoculture bad!), but what about all the remaining building materials? Synthetic insulation, composition roofing shingles, vinyl siding, even latex paint is bad news. Everything is required in greater quantities, even the pipe to run cold and hot water supplies. Plus, the bigger the footprint of the house, the more soil you disturb during the building process. The more ground you cover, the more problem you have with run-off. More sq. ft. means more space to heat. It's just not an environmentally wise decision.
This is one thing I like about Habitat of for Humanity. Their mission is to build "simple, decent, affordable houses" for as many people as possible, so they build small houses so they can afford to build more. I love the compactness of the plans. This is also why I like working for Bloomington Restorations. By renovating historic homes for low-income buyers, we're not necessarily using less building material--it can take as much to renovate as build from scratch--but older homes tend to be smaller and thus waste fewer resources over the life of the house once we've got it insulated and energy efficient.
So, as a liberal environmentalist, energy efficient affordable housing is huge in my book. But as a feminist? There has to be something more. There has to be a recognition that single-family dwellings don't work for the majority of women (even though that's all we design in school). For instance, in my own family, my great niece is being raised by her mother and her grandmother. To make the living arrangements work, they had to completely remodel the grandmother's house, converting a garage into a living space for the mother, which turned out to be a huge hassle because zoning laws didn't take into account that two adults might be co-habitating and still need separate bedrooms. A cursory survey of statistics indicates that there are something like 12 million single parents in the U.S., and according to the U.S. Census Bureau Household and Family Characteristics March 1998, 84% of children who live with one parent live with their mother. Clearly, my family isn't particularly unusual.
Let's face it. Men aren't going to do the work for us. I'm not into all that 1970s womyn-loving-wimmin-helping-womon ideology, but I do think that I should probably start taking care of my own if I can. Women shouldn't have to modify traditional dwellings to meet their needs, that certainly doesn't fall under "best practices" for architects. There is a paucity of affordable housing designed for single parents, and maybe I should think about working to change that. I wouldn't be alone, there are already organizations like Women's Housing and Economic Development Corporation and Women's Research and Development Center (teaching women how to install drywall!) doing things like this. I don't know why I can't contribute to the movment.
To finish this long-winded post, a list of some of my favorite affordable housing projects (feminist or otherwise), taken from the Affordable Housing Design Advisor:
Holladay Avenue Homes, San Francisco, California
YWCA Family Village, Redmond, Washington
Viviendas Asistenciales, Tuscon, Arizona
Melrose Court, Bronx, New York
The Reservoir, Madison, Wisconsin
As a historian, as a writer, I'm perpetually occupied with the is and the was, rather than the what could be. And perhaps that is the great flaw of architectural theory--it's very seldom speculative, no science fiction allowed. It's not that writing isn't creative, and I've always maintained that writing history isn't much different that writing a historic novel (you just have to provide more footnotes), but it's still primarily occupied with examining what has already happened instead of what might happen in the future. There are architectural critics writing about what they are seeing right now, but those buildings are already the past, already built, already alive. I want to get to them before that stage, when I can still change them into something I believe in. Not that I necessarily believe that the built environment can be transformative, but just in case it is, I want my mind and hands involved at an early point in the design process.
So, what is my responsibility as a [liberal/feminist/lesbian/socialist] designer? At a very basic level, I want a building that functions more than I want anything else. I'm an advocate for universal healthcare; likewise, I believe all humans should have the right to safe, functional, and sanitary dwellings. While the intellectual in me really loves buildings that challenge our conceptions of how space is supposed to work (Eisenman's Wexner Center comes to mind), I think those kind of structures should be designed only for quasi-public spaces (places like museums *not* gov't buildings, which should always provide equal, non-challenging access to public services). I don't believe every human needs a 3,000 sq. ft. house. In fact, I don't think *any* human needs a 3,000 sq. ft. house. Our society craves privacy and individualized space, but you don't need a behemoth of a house to gain that.
Huge houses are socially irresponsible on many fronts. In materials alone, they are devastating the planet. Yes, you can raise timber for wood-framed houses on plantations (monoculture bad!), but what about all the remaining building materials? Synthetic insulation, composition roofing shingles, vinyl siding, even latex paint is bad news. Everything is required in greater quantities, even the pipe to run cold and hot water supplies. Plus, the bigger the footprint of the house, the more soil you disturb during the building process. The more ground you cover, the more problem you have with run-off. More sq. ft. means more space to heat. It's just not an environmentally wise decision.
This is one thing I like about Habitat of for Humanity. Their mission is to build "simple, decent, affordable houses" for as many people as possible, so they build small houses so they can afford to build more. I love the compactness of the plans. This is also why I like working for Bloomington Restorations. By renovating historic homes for low-income buyers, we're not necessarily using less building material--it can take as much to renovate as build from scratch--but older homes tend to be smaller and thus waste fewer resources over the life of the house once we've got it insulated and energy efficient.
So, as a liberal environmentalist, energy efficient affordable housing is huge in my book. But as a feminist? There has to be something more. There has to be a recognition that single-family dwellings don't work for the majority of women (even though that's all we design in school). For instance, in my own family, my great niece is being raised by her mother and her grandmother. To make the living arrangements work, they had to completely remodel the grandmother's house, converting a garage into a living space for the mother, which turned out to be a huge hassle because zoning laws didn't take into account that two adults might be co-habitating and still need separate bedrooms. A cursory survey of statistics indicates that there are something like 12 million single parents in the U.S., and according to the U.S. Census Bureau Household and Family Characteristics March 1998, 84% of children who live with one parent live with their mother. Clearly, my family isn't particularly unusual.
Let's face it. Men aren't going to do the work for us. I'm not into all that 1970s womyn-loving-wimmin-helping-womon ideology, but I do think that I should probably start taking care of my own if I can. Women shouldn't have to modify traditional dwellings to meet their needs, that certainly doesn't fall under "best practices" for architects. There is a paucity of affordable housing designed for single parents, and maybe I should think about working to change that. I wouldn't be alone, there are already organizations like Women's Housing and Economic Development Corporation and Women's Research and Development Center (teaching women how to install drywall!) doing things like this. I don't know why I can't contribute to the movment.
To finish this long-winded post, a list of some of my favorite affordable housing projects (feminist or otherwise), taken from the Affordable Housing Design Advisor:
Holladay Avenue Homes, San Francisco, California
YWCA Family Village, Redmond, Washington
Viviendas Asistenciales, Tuscon, Arizona
Melrose Court, Bronx, New York
The Reservoir, Madison, Wisconsin
Saturday, October 04, 2003
Random thoughts for the day:
- Obviously the majority of the people in California are on crack. How else can you explain the fact that Arnold is still in the race? Good on the Oakland Tribune for rescinding its endorsement of him, bad on the Oakland Tribune for thinking he was a good candidate in the first place.
- Is it my imagination, or is the entire world suddenly looking at my hair? Time to shave it off. Half way through today's concert, our conductor was advising me to play out because I had a significant snare part on the next song. "You have to play out because you're playing into the wind. I can tell you are, because your hair is standing straight up." So, I started the song thinking about the feasibility of a buzz cut instead of the music.
- I hate people, I really, really do. We went to the discount movie theater today to watch Finding Nemo, and the place was crawling with children. One mother left her young son alone in our row to hold down four seats while she went and gathered her other two kids. Pretty soon, here come these two adults trying to take this kid's seats away from him. He was obviously not going to be able to hold them off, so I said that I thought that they were saved, but the woman was all, "Well, I'm going to sit there, anyway" and tried to push past my legs. I repeated myself, and her boyfriend said, "Seats aren't taken until someone is sitting in them." Relax, dude! Don't you have better things to do then push this little boy around? What is it with people? I find it hard to believe we will ever have peace in the middle east when two supposedly mature adults think it's okay to push around a little kid.
- Living with Catherine is a lot like living with a blue tang fish named Dory.
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