The Call of the Mall, Reply at Your Own Peril

I have set my sights on several planning jobs in towns that are in very modest-size.

The temptation is to say gee, if they just put in a few more up-scale chain stores they could generate a lot of business. A Gap over here, an Abercrombie over there and people would flock from miles around!

Afterall, that is what I am thinking whenever I drive around Des Moines- gahh if they just had an H&M or a Barnes and Noble!

This is not entirely fair to say. The "upscale" mall, and the newest mall in town, Jordan Creek contains many national brands, including J. Crew, Pac-Sun, Ann Taylor Loft, etc., But H&M is among the missing. Barnes and Noble is in town and scattered throughout, though their bargain section is lacking in terms of quality.*sigh* I'm still looking for a Crate & Barrel or a Whole Foods. Yes, I am a horrible yuppie snob. I swear it's latent!!!

But as past experience has taught us, relying on a mall is a dangerous proposition. Other cities have tried building a mall as their Hail-Mary economic development strategy. And at first they appeared to be a resounding success. Afterall, who doesn't love a shiny, new building filled with all of your favorite stores?

The question is posed, what happens when the cruel hand of Time leaves its grubby fingerprints on an establishment? What happens when thirty years have passed and the age of a structure begins to show? It's hard to pass off an era-specific 1960s mall as hip and happening when a sleek new mall is built. Insert analogies culled from Sunset Boulevard, All About Eve, or any Joan Crawford movie centering around an aging (badly) starlet here.

And what is one left with besides a monstrosity of a building that is hard to convert into other uses. Imagine how hard it is to retrofit a former McDonalds or Taco Bell building into something else. Yes, they can be turned into a hair salon, pet boutique, or office. But these archetypal buildings are firmly ingrained in our psyches. And when we drive by the new Tammy's Toys for Pets, we still think why is the Taco Bell now a pet shop!? Imagine trying to do that with an old mall!*

Therefore, my proposals are minimal in terms of expense and often rely on social gathering, such as spaghetti suppers and pancake breakfasts. I figure, people have to eat, why not do it together? I also suggest other community-building activities, such as organized sports teams and talent shows. I'd share the list, but one must save some ideas for the interview!

People may tire of American Eagle or Macy's, but our need to be social creatures is not as fickle as the next season's hemlines. And in some communities the need to keep with the latest trends is not as important as keeping up with one's family.

Though I love big city life, I'd be willing to trade it in for a government job in a small town that allows me to think creatively and not have to worry about breathing in deeply. LA's air quality leaves much to be desired. But fresh, country air? Can't get enough!

In the end, it is community, not commerce that triumphs.

*= this is not to say that the old malls must go the way of ill-conceived housing projects. Sometimes the spaces are leased out to grocery stores-

http://retailtrafficmag.com/news/mall_owners_experiment_supermarkets_09292010/

Here are some other interesting ideas from Retail Traffic magazine

http://retailtrafficmag.com/news/developers_rethink_mall_06272010/

But it does require money, on some one's part. And no one knows that better than Cloverfield, Virginia

http://www2.timesdispatch.com/news/2010/aug/21/clov21-ar-464846/

And if one does raze a building and build a new "destination center", one must remember to build it for tourists and locals.

http://www.philly.com/inquirer/front_page/20101226_For_tourists_and_city__not_re-created_equal.html

With thanks to Planetizen.com's search engine for these results.

The "Architect"

Merry Christmas everyone! I just received a copy of Makeshift Metropolis: Ideas About Cities by: Witold Rybczynski, his new work and my all-time favorite author. Yayyy!!! So super psyched.

Reading the dust jacket my dad was asking who was the (main) architect who designed the "White City," i.e. the Chicago's World Fair of 1893. Answer: Frederick Law Olmsted.

His question got me thinking. I haven't had a chance to read Rybczynski's work. But the dust jacket says ". . . the movements that defined the twentieth century, such as City Beautiful, the Garden City, and the seminal ideas of Frank Lloyd Wright and Jane Jacobs. If the twentieth century was the age of planning, we now find ourselves in the age of the market. . ."

Going back even farther in time, (which Rybczynski may do), I would argue that if the 21st century is the age of the market (or the developer) and the 20th century was the age of the planner, then the 19th century (going as far back as the Renaissance, and technically even farther) was the age of the architect.

I haven't taken any history of architecture classes so my timeframe is definitely up for revision or modification. It could have been shorter, or could it have been from the beginning. Afterall, some cave person or Druid had to conceptualize what Stonehenge would look like.

Watching Inception the concept of the power of the "architect"- in the literal sense of the word, not in Nolan's sense of the word, weighs heavily in my mind. Especially as in the movie the "architect" is given ultimate control over the design and execution of not only a building, but an entire world. (Maybe architect isn't the right word. Maybe urban planner is a better term ;) We are the ultimate latent control-freaks. But "architect" sounds sexier- images of schmancy eyewear, all-black clothes, and spiky, artsy, hyper-stylized hair. Or maybe I'm the only one who hears the word architect and thinks of Daniel Liebskind).

source: http://www.wilde-spieth.de/english/bilder/daniel_libeskind.jpg

Planning school has broken down many of my pre-conceived notions, including the sovereign power of an architect.

I used to think that the architect had the same role as he (or now she) had centuries ago. He possessed a vision and the client paid. This was true well through Olmsted's time. But not anymore. Now I know it's no longer true. Architects are hemmed in by their clients' budgets, legal and construction restrictions, the laws of physics, developers, lawyers, and bureaucracy in 31 other flavors.

I don't know what the role was of different parties in, say, the Renaissance, other than the architect and the patron. There were obviously sub-contractors, such as the carpenters, the masons, the other craftsmen. In their time they would have been called gilds.

But who said how big one's mansion/villa could be? Obviously, property lines were determined by law. But setbacks? Roof lines? That may not have been legally mandated except by whoever was richest. Or if your second story impinged on your richer-than-tho neighbor. Maybe a cute architectural historian knows and would like to enlighten me. ;)

I'll let you know if I do determine an answer. Until then, power to the people! Er, the market.

Confessions of a Design Snob

I have been thinking a lot about my planning interests.

Before I went to planning school and learned about ordinances and politics, setbacks and NIMBYs, my driving desire in planning was to create, or at least cultivate, places for people to "hang out," to "just be."

I've come to learn that if I really want to "create" hangouts I'll literally have to put my money where my mouth is and become a developer. And as I rarely balance my checkbook I doubt that taking out a construction loan in my name is a wise idea either.

But the dream lives on.

I know that humanity needs spaces for social interaction, where we can connect- cite Bowling Alone, sociology, some anthropology for good measure, yadda yadda.

The question remains, how to bring it about?

I hate to be all Parisian, 1920's, was-it-ever-really-that-good-or-is-everyone-who'd-offer-up-a- differential-is-dead-so-let's-say-yes-with-abandon, salons, and cafes, but I do think that cafes and coffee houses, despite their inevitable romanticizing and looking at the past with round, hippy rose-colored glasses, remains one of the best places for people of different incomes, races, and creeds to come together without too much inherent strife.

Look at Starbucks. Except for the dude who is monopolizing a table for four, with his laptop and no beverage nor food item in view during a crowded hour, there is rarely any strife. I admit that some times it's a chick who commandeers an entire table without a status-cup in view, nor a baked good to-go bag in sight. Either way, it's uncool when I'm meeting my group for a project get-together in a Starbucks that is well-known as a student studying spot, as it is right next to my campus and you're pecking away on Facebook taking over an entire table not buying anything. You are on warning, sir/ma'am. Starbucks corporate would back up my logic, as much as I'd hate to be in agreement with Starbucks corporate on many issues.

I was thinking about this specifically as I met my friend and fellow planner at USC, Caitlin, at the Mars Cafe, by Drake University, here in Des Moines. Caitlin grew up in Des Moines and said that the Mars Cafe was "the cool place to hang out for the cool kids," which she self-deprecatingly declared that she wouldn't know from personal experience.

I laughed, remembering the cool coffee shop in the town that I spent the majority of my childhood called, Something's Brewing. I vowed, as a child, that when I went to high school that I would hang out there after school and be so cool. Unfortunately, I only frequented that establishment on weekends, and often accompanied by my dad, which is the polar opposite of cool to a high schooler.

But the Mars Cafe was cool. It was the longest wait I've ever had for a hot cup of cider (my poison of choice in the winter). Yet it had the requisite locally-produced, winking-at-pop-culture art, the kid-friendly toys, and the slightly funky vibe that a local college coffeehouse has.

However, it felt a little too "new," too static-y, I don't know if because it's wedged in a nondescript strip center, if the roof felt too high, if the glass was gasp! too commercial (as opposed to I don't know too bohemian? I know it can't all be Art Nouveau. But it should be!) If the paint wasn't peeling in the right places, if the tables weren't "distressed" enough to warrant approval. Thanks to David Brooks, my "bobo" aesthetic is now highly attuned to bruise tones and the right level of distressed finishes, ie does it look like someone took a hammer to it or sanded the heck out of it even though it's brand-new? (see Bobos in Paradise by David Brooks, a slightly culturally dated reference as it was pre dotcom bust. Still socially scathing in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way. You'll never look at Anthropologie the same way again post-read)

This summer I went to the Bourgeois Pig, great name, mais non? in Hollywood to see a friend off before he left town for osteopathy school. The BP, as it is not called, is also directly across the street from the Celebrity Scientology Center. I wish I could say that I made that up. The BP, besides its hilarious location, is what I think of when I think coffeehouse. It's wedged in a strip too. The pig does not stand alone. There's a cute, quirky gift shop next door, and a slightly more formal restaurant to the right. But it definitely has that lived-in vibe that I crave.

"Tell me what you think of the inside," my friend said with a grin after we'd exchanged pleasantries and I was about to go inside to place my order. "Why?" I asked, expecting some Hollywood freak show of half-assembled mannequins peeking out of dark corners, or a porcelain unicorn collection on display whose sheer quantity would render one speechless. This is Hollywood, not the star machine of yore. More like the sideshow carny with that lecherous look in the eye. It's surreal fun, but you'll want too bring your Purel just in case. "You'll see." he grinned and took a nonchalant sip of his Yerba Mate tea.

The inside of the establishment is painted a dark, dark cobalt blue. It's a small space with an old bar, old school cash register, and gilt gold decorations, including the namesake pig, peering out at odd angles. I'd never been in a coffeeshop that looked like it was painted by a pre-teen whose artistic vision exceed his grasp of good interior design. But I've yet to forget the place.

Maybe Time not only heals all wounds, but also provides that patina we need to give a place that sense of history, of community. Or maybe the Starbucks aesthetic is just fine.

Sandra Tsing Loh comments on said aesthetic (as have many other writers, who I won't cite here) and how it has permeated her entire life.

"My generation. . . our psyches, our aesthetics have become totally Starbucks-ized! I expect every space I enter to look like Starbucks. I walk into a room and expect to be immediately bathed in earth tones, track lighting, and a story on a chalkboard about how far organically grown Costa Rican beans have traveled to see me, me, me. . ." (from Sandra Tsing Loh's Mother on Fire, 257).

I'm not anti-the Starbucks aesthetic. But I'd prefer a drink at the Bourgeois Pig over the nearest Starbucks and not just because the Bourgeois barista was genuinely excited at my request for a raspberry mocha compared to the green-aproned peeps at the coffee chain named after the first mate on the Pequod in Moby Dick (true story), who I could create the most inane custom order and they wouldn't blink. Sheesh, sometimes the customer isn't always right. Sometimes s/he's a raging lunatic and must be put down like Old Yeller. Or maybe it's my phobia of becoming an insufferable yuppie talking.

Granted, I'm a horrible design snob, but I'm also a history nerd. And if a place feels like it's been around forever, or at least I can't tell, I'll happily pony up $3.99 for a thimbleful of chai. Ah, marketing, you destroy me and revive me.

Irregardless, our built environment has forgotten to mandate "the third place" as Ray Oldenburg calls them in his excellent work, the Great Good Place.

To cite Wikipedia, Oldenburg calls one's "first place" the home and those that one lives with. The "second place" is the workplace — where people may actually spend most of their time. Third places, then, are "anchors" of community life and facilitate and foster broader, more creative interaction. All societies already have informal meeting places; what is new in modern times is the intentionality of seeking them out as vital to current societal needs. Oldenburg suggests these hallmarks of a true "third place": free or inexpensive; food and drink, while not essential, are important; highly accessible: proximate for many (walking distance); involve regulars – those who habitually congregate there; welcoming and comfortable; both new friends and old should be found there. -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_place

While it may take me a lifetime to actually use that helpful sheet of paper that my bank encloses with each monthly account statement, at least there is food for thought for what could be added to our built environment as the absence of a third place leaves a vacuum in our social lives.

Plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose (the more things change, the more they stay the same)

Looking for a job my how-to-get-a-job books recommend that I define what I want in a job. They don’t recommend vagaries. So, I’ve been thinking of what I’d like to do ideally/where I’d like to live and what reality might be able to provide.

When I was young I wanted to be an artist- sleep late, have people pay me to paint, travel to lands far from the staid but comfortable Midwest in which I grew up. I also wanted to live in a big city, with exciting things to do at night, which would be waiting for me after I rolled out of bed. There would be cultural events at my disposal. Ideally, it’d be a big creative city brimming with artistic people to chat with over coffee, watch good-not-boring foreign films with, and contemplate priceless works of art together. Also, ideally my dad's last name would be Trump, Rockefeller, or other titian of industry.

Some things remain the same- in a perfect world I’d prefer to sleep late, be paid to paint, and travel. But I know that nowadays it’s next to impossible to eke out, much less make a proper living as a painter. Therefore, I’ve realigned my sights for something more realistic. I’ve always wanted to have a job that would make a difference in the world. And as much as I believe in the power of art I don’t think that a painting will solve world hunger. Mona Lisa’s been around for about five hundred years and she has yet to put a dent in the issue of international famine.

I also think that problem-solving and liaison with multiple parties is something that I’d like to do and would be great at. Ideally, I’d work in an education or sustainability-emphasis capacity. And I’d definitely like to have new challenges every once in a while. I did go/am at planning school. But I am 95% confident in the hiring potential probabilities in the planning realm. All I hear about are people being laid off. However, I get most of my planning news in California. Now is definitely time to start expanding my horizons, especially those that could provide an optimistic boost.

Regardless of where I end up, being in a big city is still very important to me, and especially one that has creative areas. Again, with the utopianism, I’d like to stay in LA. The weather is perfect about 360 days out of the year, there’s always something interesting to do, and we have a vibrant, active creative community. Even if some of them pay too much for clothes that they could pick up at Good Will for 200 dollars less, same look.

However, I have a mental list of places that I’d like to live in before I settle down somewhere for a really long time and Texas is one of them. I’ve lived technically in the four parts of the US. They’re not the true cardinal points. But it is definitely the four major regions of the US= the Northeast (Connecticut), the Southeast (Savannah), the West Coast (California), and the Midwest (Chicago, Wisconsin). But I haven’t lived in Texas, which I consider a country unto itself. It’s certainly big enough to be. And guys that say ma'am like George Eads of CSI fame make me weak in the knees. Granted, that wasn't terribly professional, but it's true. I also visited Charlotte, North Carolina over spring break last year and I loved it there. It reminds me of Savannah, where I went to undergrad, but there is more to do.

I’m open to moving anywhere, that is the perk of moving around a lot as a kid. Just nowhere with wretched amounts of humidity and within reasonable driving distance of a major metropolitan area.

I'll keep you posted on what unfolds! And where I end up. :)

Your Car = You (Whether You Like It or Not)

Pulling up behind a car at my parents’ local library I noticed that said car was the same model and color as the one that my roommate drove in college, a white Pontiac Grand Am.

This made me think how our cars are an extension of us- be it conscious or sub-conscious, and thus become a part of our personal history. College kids drive beat up Civics and old Camrys. Investment bankers drive sleek German sedans. Moms used to drive minivans, now they drive SUVs, treehuggers drive Priuses and the well-heeled treehuggers in today’s economy may drive Nissan Leafs.

Some thing is signaled when you say that you drive a Mercedes versus a Kia.

The point is even cited in the work, Get What You Deserve! How to Guerilla Market Yourself by marketing gurus Seth Godin and Jay (Conrad) Levinson, ". . . cars, as much as anything else you can buy, telegraph your professional and social status" (128).

And there is a fun new ad campaign by a precocious seven-year-old who is horrified by the “uncool” car that his parents drive.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80pNUxIczig

Even kids know that a car is a reflection of you and who you are, or who you want to be.

Even some parts of our history are tied to certain cars. My first car was a 98 white Plymouth Neon. I drove it for the last two years of college all around Savannah, Georgia and made a lot of (G-rated) memories there. It died horribly- T-boned in Chicago and I bought a silver 99 VW Passat, which was my first love affair with a car. That car had everything I wanted- heated, leather seats, a CD changer, a sun roof/moon roof, and a delectable assortment of bumper stickers including one that said, "I Dig Pale Skinny Guys" It was a mobile personal ad.

I am currently carless and have been for the past three years. But when I get a full-time job I am looking at a Honda Insight as it is slightly cheaper than a Prius and yet it is a hyrbid without the overt lifestyle connotations of a Prius.

Therefore, to extricate ourselves from our cars we must not just relinquish the convenience and security that they provide. We must also give up a part of ourselves, of our identity. And that point is often absent from cars versus mass transit debates.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Freeway, or b-i-k-e = l-o-s-e-r?!?!

My friend and fellow planner, Ed and I were talking as we drove around LA gathering stuff for our Thanksgiving feast. He had been carless like myself last year, but he had his car shipped to him a month ago. And he was loving his newfound freedom!

We were talking about how within certain circles the car versus mass transit debate starts to develop tunnel-vision. We agree that, given the opportunity and access, people should take mass transit instead of their cars. Mass transit increases air quality, reduces nonpoint source pollution, and could even reduce congestion - all of this is assuming that new vehicles do not replace the vehicles that were taken off the road as drivers become riders.

But some times having a car is so much more convenient such as shopping for Thanksgiving dinner. Or when one has to buy paper goods. Lugging a 6 pack of paper towels on the bus is no fun for anyone, including and especially the other riders.

At the same time, when did a bike become short-hand for loser? Tom Vanderbilt, author of Traffic: How We Drive and What It Says About Us, wrote an interesting article about the movie Greenberg, whose main character's main mode of transportation is not his own car, and what does that say (or imply) about the man himself?

http://www.slate.com/id/2262214/

I have many happy memories riding my bike as a kid and I imagine that many other people do too. Unfortunately, a lot of people think that bikes are only for kids. But there are literally hundreds of highly educated people who possess bachelors, masters degrees, and even advanced degrees, who use bicycles as their predominant, or only form of transportation, including Dr. Donald Shoup, PhD.

Yet some bikers become so single-minded in their passion that they think that's what good for them should be good for everyone confoundit, to quote Nero Wolfe.

As with many things in life, except chocolate and Italian men, I believe that a little moderation never hurt on either side of the debate.

Isn't It Ironic, Don't You Think? A Little Too Ironic

I had some free time and was reading Los Angeles author, Sandra Tsing Loh's book, Mother on Fire when I came across this passage,

"I am a person who believes that in Los Angeles, people's innermost personalities, their philosophies even, are revealed in the driving routes they choose, the trail of bread crumbs they make as they weave their way through the city" (Tsing Loh, 58).

One of the funniest points in the animated movie Madagascar was when the menagerie of animals asks an NYPD horse how to get to point X. The horse starts telling them, with great authority in his voice when another NYPD horse butts in and gives an alternate sense of directions. The two horses begin to argue over whose directions are superior while the other animals grow agitated. Unfortunately, I was one of the few people who actually thought that Madagascar was funny. It was aimed at a NYC-centric audience, or at least an audience who would pick up on jokes such as New Yorkers priding themselves on possessing the best set of directions to anywhere in their city, or surrounding burroughs.

Meanwhile, I am often clueless where I am until 6 months after I have left a city and adhere religiously to set ways to get places until after I have moved away. (NYC is the exception- I'm an excellent navigator there, but you'd have to be a cross-eyed monkey not to know where you are)

I was thinking about getting from point A via various routes as I have been navigating the street network of my parents' latest residential town. This year it is Windsor Heights, Iowa, a suburb, if such a word can be utilized to describe, of Des Moines. Last year it was a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota, ie Shoreview, Minnesota. Next year it'll probably be the moon.

As I drive down Hickman, one of the main streets, I keep looking for White Bear Lake Road, which will take me to Target. Yes, if the Target I was looking for was in Shoreview. Or I keep craning my neck for Culver's, which is by my mom's work and the proffer of treats both hot and cold- frozen custard and Butter Burgers. (the hamburger bun is buttered, it's not some French fusion take on the American classic). But my mom does not work at an accounting firm anymore. She works as a payroll specialist at a bowling alley. Which is not near a Culver's. Or at least not to my knowledge.

I have come to realize that I am an excellent navigator. In places that I have been. Not in places that I current am. (the same is also true for my foreign language skills- while in Italian all of my sub-par French came rushing back.)

Meanwhile, in LA, I blissfully take in the city while my friends drive, or while I take public transportation ignoring most major streets and intersections. I have a gift for describing the feel of a place. But the cross-streets, um, why don't you ask him over there?

This is a constant bone of contention between my friend Derek (my go-to driver/ride) and myself. Derek grew up in Orange County, which is a stone's throw away from LA. And if I had been an OC kid I would have been hightailing it up to LA every chance I could get the keys. Incidentally, people from Orange County do NOT call it the "OC," just as true San Franciscans do not call it Frisco. Therefore, I assume that Derek has a sixth sense of the streets of LA. Especially when we are going some place unfamiliar to me. More often than not he doesn't know how to get there either but assumes that I have squirreled away a set of directions or possess a sense of navigation I have yet to procure.

I have come to realize this when our drive starts to take five, ten, fifteen minutes longer than Mapquest (despite its fallible glory) predicted. Usually it boils down to me asking if he knows where the place is, he replying that he thought that I did, I saying no, him asking if I had printed out directions, and my response as being I thought that he would know the general area so, no. People say that we act like brother and sister. A lot. I have yet to dispute their claims successfully.

My friend Eddie, however, who was more reliant on public transportation than I until his car arrived from Rhode Island, is an excellent navigator, despite being an LA transplant himself. Eddie is also more technically-oriented than I am and can write an amazing paper in about two hours, no prior prep while I academically crucify myself for about three weeks straight before the turn-in date.

If I stay in LA I'll pay more attention to the streets' names. Until then, despite the great irony that I am getting my masters in urban planning, I don't know where a lot of the major streets intersect- does Santa Monica run parallel or perpendicular to Vermont? Will Olympic and Normandie ever intersect? Uh, I don't think so, but don't quote me, etc.,

Ask me in ten years, when, maybe, I won't be in LA, the best way to get to the Glendale Galleria from Little Tokyo (ie downtown LA) during rush hour. I'll probably have excellent directions. Have me describe the feel of Weller Court in Little Tokyo- well, you got a pen?

You Make My Heart Go Pitter-Pat, My Love of Urban Design

I am taking an excellent class, which focuses on urban design, a subject that we haven't focused on to date in any of my other classes. My professor is an urban designer and architect, working for one of the most prolific, and one of the original new urbanist design firms, Moule + Polyzoides of Pasadena. Elizabeth Moule and Stephanos Polyzoides, are both founding members of the Congress for New Urbanism.

Urban design is what made me fall in love with urban planning to begin with. I was studying abroad in Italy and my undergrad professor took us around the streets of Florence, or fine Firenze, and showed us how one could interpret a city's history based on its layout, its building materials, how close the buildings were to one another, how tall were they, etc., This made the inner history nerd in me rise up and squeak with glee.

Ever since then I've had a keener awareness of buildings and open space, the types of materials used, the layouts of cities. I'm not as much a designer, who, I maintain are more technical than creative in their objectives, therefore I didn't go to urban design school. But as an artist, I look for visual harmony in the built environment- places where people want to be, buildings that are in harmony and scale, points of interest, either natural or manmade.

My current professor teaches with the same passion as the first professor who sparked my interest. He wants us to see the world the way he does, as pieces put together that can be beautiful with enough forethought and planning. We can create places that are welcoming, energizing, and inspiring, not slapped together and without much of a purpose or focus. I hope to have an opportunity to share such insights with others in the future too.

Today I Don't Care About the Planet (Because It's Too Darn Hot Outside)

Today was definitely a day that I wished that I had a car- this wish had popped up a few days ago too when I was accidentally locked out of my apartment due to fault of my own.

We reached a record scorcher and even tonight at ten to eleven PM it's still pretty hot outside.

And I craved the 2010 Honda Insight that I've been researching in my spare time the past few days. It appears to be a better deal than the Toyota Prius and as a secretly neurotic energy nerd I am concerned about the potential for peak oil, and the increased demand (ahh more econ!) from other countries that will increase the price we have to pay here in the States. I wished, even if I was/am still living in my current place, that I could get into my personal chariot, crank the A/C and grab hold of my American right to drive myself down to the end of the block if desired.

Alas, I sweltered under the heat, wondering at what degree does rubber melt as I was wearing my favorite flip flops.

I know that I'm getting that itch to get up and go, which rears its head every two years. And one of the best ways to get away is to take yourself in a personal automobile, an option I currently do not possess. Though I am seriously considering signing up for a Zip car membership.

But this car fever made me think about how does one reach the person who has a car, loves their car and has no desire to give up their car? Especially to drive it to the corner grocery to pick up their 24-pack of unnecessary bottled water. Seriously?! We all lived without bottled water for millennia. Now I have people ask me if I want a bottle like do I want to know the cure for cancer?

I have also come to realize that looking at a lot of this through the lens of economics (admittedly often in its idealized form- there are no needs, only demands as there are substitutes everywhere kind of thinking) is very helpful.

What incentives will people respond to?

For example, no one buys those spiral CFL light bulbs because they're "cool"-the purchaser or the lightbulb. They do it because buying them will shave a few cents off their electric bill over the long haul.

Some of us may claim more altruistic reasons "I love the planet!" Yeah, but you love money more. We all do. Economists want us to put our money where our mouth is (that which we are willing to sacrifice in order to obtain something that we perceive has greater personal value than what we currently possess- oh my gosh it sunk in and stayed!)

I've been very thinking a lot about how to foster and encourage permanent social change. There is a very interesting group based in England called Futerra that deals with this concept. http://www.futerra.co.uk/

And while they have an office in New York I'd love to spread the gospel around the U.S. To quote the immortal Clash, "London calling from the underground!"

How Much Is Too Much? The Question of Government Intervention, Posed for the Second Time (to me)

I have noticed a trend in my readings for school lately- the issue of public vs. private, or public-private partnerships, and how much of a role should government take in daily affairs of its citizens?

This last question is incredibly loaded and I no way intend to make this into a Tea Party soap box other household objects noun noun mop mop broom broom?

Instead, I'd like to gripe that this information would have been very helpful to me last year when I was sitting through a rather painful and sortof unnecessary class that is required called Intersectoral Leadership.

Back then I was a snot-nosed planning punk and I didn't understand what policy had to do with planning (answer = everything!) I kind of understood that policy lets planners do "stuff," but I didn't see why I had to spend two- eight-hour weekends (Saturday and Sunday) sitting in a classroom listening to an NPO (non-profit organization) guy tell me that government has gotten so big *cue the voice you use when gesturing with a baby* SO BIG! that it has to delegate some of its functions. Woot. Couldn't one have just put that on say, a memo and I'd promise to read it (and subsequently never would.)

However, this theme has come up again to haunt me. It is getting close to Halloween, or as the Misfits say "every day is Halloween."

This time the subject is coming up in my transportation class. The question was posed, what if there were no governmental role in transportation? It's an interesting question for a planner, admittedly less so for Joe Schmoe. But it does pose an interesting parallel universe, where corporations, or savvy entrepreneurs could charge sky-high rates to utilize their roads, which may, or may not be in serviceable condition. There wouldn't be synchronizing of traffic lights, would there even be traffic lights? This is of course jumping off from the world as we know it and Big Brother just walking away, saying "Have at it, kids" not some world where traffic lights were never invented.

Also, the theme is cropping up in my economics class under the guise of markets and the government.

I suppose that this is good as I have to write a paper for my econ class about some topic that relates to economics, and yes, deep down, like Kevin Bacon, there are six degrees or less to anything in the universe and economics. I may be able to expound on bus deregulation- I'll spare you the details, but in a nutshell in the era of Reagan and Thatcher, bus routes were sold off to the private sector, leaving those who used under-utilized routes, aka often the rural routes, in the lurch. (And one wonders why London had to introduce congestion pricing.) But now I'm just nerding out.

I guess what goes around comes around. And maybe one'll like it a little better the second time. Maybe.

Falling out of love with an old love, falling back in love with an old love

So, as you can see from my last post I am suffering from "planning fatigue." I want to get off the policy-politics merry-go-round, but know that graduation fast approacheth and I better have a game plan.

And while I wouldn't say outright no to a city planning job, especially at the City of Los Angeles, where I currently intern, as everyone is friends with everyone, there isn't a stringent hierarchy, and everyone has a sense of humor about wanting to do good, but knowing that the plans of mice and men aft go stray, I'm not 100% confident that there will be a city job waiting for me anywhere anytime soon.

Therefore, I am diversifying.

I have been in love with the publishing field ever since I discovered that books do not magically appear on bookshelves. I didn't become an English major because they're a bigger (or at least a more well-known punchline than an art history major, though  a close second behind a general liberal arts major) The punchline being, sooooo, what do you do with a degree like that!? I also am not thatttttt interested in diagraming sentences or remembering what a preposition is. 

However, I love the concept of being an acquisitions editor. Someone who can see the potential in a manuscript that will inspire others and bring delight to a reader's soul.

I can name my favorite art book publishers off the top of my head (having considered going into art book publishing as an alternative to fine art insurance)- Phaidon, Harry N. Abrams, Watson-Guptil, and Taschen, in that order, unless I am applying to a job.  Then it's whoever it is that I am applying to.

But when it comes to urban planning books it is more of a scattergun approach when it comes to favorite titles, especially as my interests are so varied- a quick list of favorites would be Emerald Cities: Urban Sustainability and Economic Development by Joan Fitzgerald (Oxford), Next Stop Reloville: Inside America's New Rootless Professional Class by: Peter T. Kilborn (Times Books), Fostering Sustainable Behavior: an Introduction to Community-Based Social Marketing by: Doug Mckenzie-Mohr and William Smith (New Society Publishers), the American City: What Works, What Doesn't by: Alexander Garvin (McGraw-Hill Professional), Traffic: Why We Drive the Way We Do and What It Says About Us by Tom Vanderbilt (Vintage), and anything by Witold Rybczynski (who is published under Viking, Oxford, and other publishers' imprints) and most of these aren't urban planning books, per se, but deal with aspects of the built environment.

However, there is one publisher, whose work I unfailingly enjoy, and would enjoy more if their average retail price wasn't about $60- yikes! They're called Wiley Publishers for short, long version is John Wiley & Sons, Inc., You may be familiar with their "For Dummies" series. Yeah, I thought it was a different publisher too, like Random House. Guess not.

The reason they are the focus of this post is because they have an office in Ames, Iowa, of all places. Ames-?! which is 45 minutes away from where my parents live! Ames, not exactly a hotbed of cultural activity. The Iowa Writers Workshop, which I thought was more like one of those weekend affairs that Erica Jong, bookended by Jonathan Saffron Foer and Jonathan Franzen attend and self-congratulate one another on their earnings and how they're going to spend their latest million, is in Iowa City (and is also a grad program- oops.)

Wiley's headquarters is in Hoboken, New Jersey, land of super thick New Joizee accents, if the stars of TLC's Cake Boss, are any indicator. Neither are cities that I would pick as my number one destination spot. But I love me some publishing. Yes, I do acknowledge the irony of that incredibly grammatically poor sentence. And driving 45 minutes up the freeway to get my foot in the door is a lot cheaper than flying across the country. Or worse, moving back in with one's parents, yes Dad, haha it would be "worse" for you- ha ha, than living in Iowa.

Hello Wiley- I have publicly declared my love for you! What are you going to do about it?! I would like to say that I can't wait to snap up Water Centric Sustainable Communities: Planning, Retrofitting, and Building the Next Urban Environment. But at $130 I'm going to have to wait for my employee discount ;-) 

The 3 P's- planning, politics, and policy- good luck untangling them!

In an effort to streamline my look today I inadvertently locked myself out of my place. Let me explain.

I possess an army green messenger bag given to me by my school as a hey thanks for coming here. However, I never use it because I don't like how it distributes its weight.

But today I was going to my internship and I was going to be carrying a few items, but not a lot. Therefore, I decided that I didn't want to bring my backpack that makes me look like I'm going hiking up K2. But I had more stuff than my purse would carry. Hence, the messenger bag.

Unfortunately, I always stuff my keys into a side pocket of my ever-present backpack, a fact I forgot as I was rushing out the door today. I partially blame the earliness of the hour. Those who know me know that I don't function very well before 10 AM. Today was no exception.

In a twist of fate all of my work that needed to be done for class tomorrow was a group effort and was done early- not before I dragged a classmate to my place to do our work as I thought that it would be a more comfortable environment, not realizing that it would also be inaccessible.

Therefore, not having any pressing work at the moment- OK I could read for a few of my classes in advance of next week, but where is the fun in that? I have decided to seize this opportunity to reflect a little bit on my future.

Every couple of months I write down what my interests are in urban planning and see if they change. For the past few sessions they have remained the same.

But as of late, I don't know if it can be attributed to an overwhelming amount of work, being so close to school for the past two weeks, without time to go somewhere else, or not getting to connect and check in with my friends as much as I did last year, or just second year blues, but I am growing fatigued of how intrinsically- and how untangleable- planning is to politics and policy.

To the uninitiated this would seem like a good thing on a cursory glance. If politicians support planning then you can always find someone to back you, right? I wish. When I say politics sometimes this can apply that, at least in L.A., to the fact that owing to its size, we have 13 districts, which include 13 council people, each of who is gunning for their share of the pie, for themselves and their constituents. Or again, to cite LA, and California in general, due to the way our legislation, citizens can vote on anything that goes through the legislature, which means that a "good" concept, can be killed, if there is enough weight behind the opposing side, and their lobbyists. And in LA almost everything gets voted on, even in planning. Here City Council has the final say.

Contrary to what some people would like to believe, planning does not occur in a vacuum. City Council passes ordinances, Zoning Administrators, who are politically appointed, approve or deny variances regarding commercial and residential properties. This does provide a check-and-balance system, but also can stymy some innovative ideas just because someone doesn't like it.

And planning is also tied to policy. Planners rarely, if ever, get to stand up and declare "we should abolish Euclidian zoning!" I'll spare you the boring details of what that is. Suffice to say it is why we have residential areas, commercial areas, and industrial areas. No, everything has to go through a process, which almost always involves research and data and politics.

Eh. I've had enough. 

I Know a Little Bit About a Lot of Things, But I Don't Know Enough About You. OK, well read this book!

I was humming the song, "I Know a Little Bit About a Lot of Things, But I Don't Know Enough About You" to which a close friend replied, "I could definitely say that about you."

Well, you want to know about me? And how I see the world? Then read Next Stop, Reloville by Peter T. Kilborn. The excellent book grew out of an article Mr. Kilborn wrote for the NYT entitled, "The 5-Bedroom, 6-Figure Rootless Lifestyle," which my dad posted on his blog, and which I ate up.

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C0DE6D61F39F932A35755C0A9639C8B63

So one can imagine my surprise and delight to discover that Mr. Kilborn had written a book on the subject.

I tore through it engulfing it in a few days (one of the perks of a long bus ride to my internship at the City of Los Angeles)

Mr. Kilborn is officially next to David Brooks, author of Bobos in Paradise and On Paradise Drive, both highly recommended not only for their incisive social commentary, but also their fantastic humor (when I speak in the plural I mean Kilborn and Brooks and Brooks' work.)

KIlborn is a (retired) journalist by trade and it shows in his writing style. Each chapter reads like a very short story (or a long newspaper article, depending on your POV) focused on a theme- relo spouses, corporate recruiting, etc., and a family (or several families.) A highly skilled journalist he seeks out viewpoints from a variety of what he calls "relos," or people whose career advancement is dictated by moving around the country (see also definition of the Mech family, i.e., my family)

There are some families that have very young children, some families with pre-teen or teenage children, a few career relos, and a couple retired or empty nesters. He is also diligent in not just highlighting the soccer mom types (like the Link family in the NYT article, who are also the first chapter of the book), but also the families that have travelled overseas, the kids who thrive on moving, the families on a verge of divorce due to so many stressful moves, the man who lost custody of his daughters due to his desire to move higher up on the career ladder, and the people who seem almost insatiable in their desire to do just a little better, to have a little bit more of the fat money cake.

It's interesting that I felt such relief that there were other people who went through the same thing as me- whenever I moved I was always "the new kid" and some years, the only new kid. Yet I also felt incredibly alone. I suppose it was dredging up old memories and old heartache, the process of starting over, again, of putting yourself out there, trying to make connections with people.

Kilborn makes an excellent point saying that "The Yons' roots are their kids and their memories." (Kilborn, 130)

If you asked my parents, where is home? They may say Wausau, WI, where they have a lot of friends and family, but they haven't lived there in 10 years, they may be at a loss. They've moved several times since I moved out and even since my brother moved out four years after me. Each move I always feel chips away at one's sense of permanence and belonging to one particular place.

However, as Kilborn points out, family relos, are often examples of a by-gone era- the nuclear family- complete with breadwinner dad, stay-at-home mom (for many relo spouses due to their partners' constant relocation it is very difficult to try to establish a career so many raise their children but do not hold down a monetary-based job), and often several children.

When people ask me what is it like? I tell them that it is very freeing not to be tied to any one place, never leaving, never exploring the world because you are stuck in your microcosm. At the same time it's very hard to answer "where are you from?" Because I don't really have a place called home. At school I now tell people that I'm from Chicago. But when I go back to Chicago it doesn't feel like home anymore even though I moved away only two years ago. So much has changed in the Windy City, the rhythm is different and I can't catch the beat.

I'd like to say that Charlotte feels like a spiritual home, but then people might ask me about specific places there that I like and how are the people and I'd only get flustered and have to correct them that I'm never lived there properly. It just feels like home.

It also saddened me that so many families buy bigger and bigger houses as a substitute form of comfort. But that people buy cookie-cutter homes because it's really easy to resell a brand-new cookie cutter rather than an older home, which has more "character." Just ask my mom, she'll tell ya. And that these people feel as alienated as I did, but the nature of their job dictates constant relocation, but guidance on how to make even short-term friends is non-existent.

But like Evita Peron said in the musical, "Evita," "Don't cry for me [Argentina]" Moving around has been very freeing as I said above. I've been able to really get to know different places in the U.S., meet new people, learn about new cultures and values, and these experiences have made me who I am.

Given the choice, I may not have moved some places at some times, but other experiences I wouldn't change for the world. That may not answer my friend's question in its entirety, but it sure is a place to start. Being a relo kid is definitely a big chunk of who I am.

Also, Kilborn's book is so good I snapped up a copy on Amazon, partially to pass on to my parents, partially because highlighting library books is frowned upon. :)

Good Night Los Angeles, You City of a Thousand Something, Somethings

*apologies in advance about the formatting. I tried manually resetting the columns, so that formats it correctly. But no go. I'll try to fix it later. Maybe it's just an error tonight. Or maybe Blogspot doesn't remember me or think that I'll notice due to my lack of posting! Enjoy!

I have now lived in Los Angeles for one year, though sometimes it feels like forever and other days it seems like I just moved here.

I was talking with my friend Luke, who had signed up to be a peer mentor and one of the reasons he said that he chose to do this is

because he says, it takes a year to learn your way around L.A. And it's true.

One of the reasons that I love L.A. is the incredible diversity it possesses. West LA is NOTHING like East LA. West LA is a mix of Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Century City, Westwood, Culver City, Brentwood, Palms, Venice, Jefferson Park, Park La Brea, West Hollywood, etc., Some of the names non-L.A.'ers may recognize as very tony places such as Westwood (home to UCLA) and Brentwood, as well as Venice. I have no idea what's in Cheviot HIlls, Palms, or Jefferson Park. But I am conducting a very successful one-sided love affair with Culver City, which I find to be a small nestled in a big city. Off of the downtown Culver there is an adorable elementary school surrounded by houses. In DT Culver there is a movie theater, a historic hotel, bank, shops, eateries- a new urbanist's dream!

East LA is technically unincorporated. And it shows. Dominately Mexican and other Latino countries in culture and composition it suffers from lack of political attention. Unfortunately, it is economically disadvantaged, as well as weather-wise. The East side is always at least ten degrees hotter than the West side and at least fifteen degrees hotter than Santa Monica, where the ocean meets the shore. However, you can find some super tasty food in East LA and people are more connected there due to stronger social ties. Unfortunately, we can't do anything about the weather. :p

People say that L.A. doesn't have a center. And while we have a downtown, like many cities' downtowns, it is mainly for business and does shut down in certain areas at night. Though we have some really great bars like the whisky (or whiskey) bar, SevenGrand (at 7th and Grand), the Golden Gopher (on 8th between Hill and Olive), the Broadway Bar (830 S. Broadway between 8th and 9th), the gorgeous Edison Downtown (technically 108 W. 2nd, but it's on Harlem Place, wedged between 2nd and 3rd, Spring and Main) and the low-slung Library (at 6th and Hope). Dress code is pretty strictly enforced, especially at the Edison. But the bartenders are competent and it's always lively. And as my transpo professor, Dr. Genivieve Giuliano observed today, L.A. has a crescent of a center- starting from downtown, going through Hollywood and ending in Santa Monica.

I have had so many fun adventures in just one year in L.A. I live right by school, which is also within very reasonable walking distance to Exposition Park, which is home to the Natural History Museum, which is free for USC students! The Cal Science Center is also there and a beautiful rose garden that is huge! Also, one of the buildings is used as the Jeffersonian Institute for one of my favorite TV shows, Bones and another building was used in one of my favorite movies, Monkeybone. I think my brother and I are the only two people, besides those who attended the premiere, who have seen that movie. No matter. I love it.

Back to L.A. In L.A. I've seen movies in cemeteries- Hollywood Forever, and the classic Arsenic and Old Lace, on the grounds where wooly mammoths and dinosaurs once tread, ie the grounds of the La Brea Tar Pit, where I saw Encino Man! I've seen celebrities in historic theaters, Lea Thompson and Gene Kelly's widow, at the Egyptian (one and a half blocks east of Hollywood and Highland). My best friend and I accidentally (!) almost ran over Chris Pine, aka Captain Kirk, in our quest to get gelato at Pazzo Gelato at Sunset and Hyperion- kitty-korner from the famed Sunset Junction. That night we also parked right next to Russell Brand' (and friend) and we were leaving at the same time. I looked over as the other party was getting into their car and I wanted to make sure that they did not scratch Jeannette's car and I look up at the passenger and see that it is the author of My Booky Wook!

Not to give you the impression that I'm only interested in movies, I've also seen priceless works of art at the LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) and scuffed at some of the more modern pieces- some stuff I can categorically say is NOT art.

I'm obsessed with great food and sometimes the best bites aren't always the priciest. My friends and I sometimes hightail it up to Burbank where one of the last remaining Big Boys is in business. It is also an example of "Googie" architecture I am informed by my friend. At first I thought that he was pulling my leg, but there is a legit style of architecture called "Googie." Good to know. If you love good Mexican food, obviously there are may fine places to sample all over L.A., but across from the historic Union Station it's hard to beat the eats on Olvero Street. I've also eaten soooo well in Little Tokyo, or LT, to those in the know. Hama Sushi is dee-licious! As is the place with the yellow awning that has amazing ramen- this is nothing like the freeze-dried packets from college! I also love Panini Gardens in Santa Monica, on Main Street, but that technically is not L.A. And anything from the farmers' markets that are scattered throughout L.A. are awesome! But I am especially partial to a place at the farmers' market on Thursday at City Hall that advertise crepes, but make a deelish tandoori chicken. I get it every Thursday!

I also love free stuff such as going to the Griffith Observatory, especially at night and seeing all of L.A. stretch out before you, glittering below the night sky, hightailing it up to Forest Lawn in Glendale, which Jeannette and I discovered totally by accident- we noticed something that looked like a castle on a hill and drove to it to investigate- it's actually a cathedral, going to Art Walk in downtown L.A. every second Thursday of the month, window shopping on the Third Street Promenade (Santa Monica), walking around Silverlake, or West Adams and gawking at all of the gorgeous architecture, some of which is in disrepair, perusing the cute bookstore at Weller Court in Little Tokyo, or enjoying the perks of being a USC student and going to First Fridays at the Natural History Museum for free and trying not to snicker at the hipsters who are trying not to geek out over the dinosaurs that are mere feet from them.

And some experiences in L.A. defy description. Driving down the 110 at night, seeing all the massive skyscrapers suddenly loom over you, feeling the ocean air on your skin as you lie on the beach in Santa Monica (again, not L.A.-L.A. but whatever), smelling the roses in Expo Park, people watching at the farmers market ( and admittedly "boy-scouting") just being alive and feeling the pulse of the city even though we don't have a defined center.

Yes, it takes you a while to find your footing, figure out the major streets, discover new favorites, but that's true of moving anywhere.

But hang in there, tough it out, or find someone who loves it as much as I do, and you won't be disappointed!

The title is a paraphrase from an old song Bertie Wooster sings in the opening sequence of episode 3 "The Purity of the Turf" of my one of all-time favorite shows, Jeeves and Wooster (lyrics below) I've also enclosed a link to the posting on YouTube- it's right after the initial credits. Enjoy!

Link to "Good night Vienna"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXQ3qLr6eQI

Goodnight Vienna, You city of a million melodies Our hearts are thrilling to the strains that you play >From dawn till the daylight dies. Goodnight Vienna, Where moonlight fills the air with mystery And eyes are shining to the gypsy guitars That sing to the starry sky. Enchanted city of Columbine and Pierrot, We know the magic of your spell, Of our romances, you’re the hero, Now is the time to say farewell. Goodnight Vienna, Now lovers kiss beneath your linden tree The world is waiting on the edge of the day Just waiting to say goodnight.

from- http://lyricsplayground.com/alpha/songs/g/goodnightvienna.shtml

Been a Long Time Since We Rock and Rolled

So I realized that it's been more than 6 months since I last posted. Oops. My goal was to repost at least within 6 months, but that old quote about "the best laid plans" springs to mind.

Nevertheless, I have been hard at work, dear reader. The gears in the ol brain machine have been grinding away and I have been learning some very interesting concepts that I can't wait to share with you. But I'm going to have to space them out so that it doesn't look like I went on an OCD jag.

Also, the motivation to differentiate myself, to find a job in a year weighs heavily on my mind. My personal motto is that worry doesn't solve anything, action does. However, as I enter into my second year (!) of grad school I realize that there is a definite, immovable, defined deadline that looms overhead. But having a blog that I haven't posted to in a year isn't exactly a selling point.

And currently the economy is still pretty sucky. Here's a super big spot o'sunshine from a member of the dismal science, economics-

http://www.forbes.com/2010/08/10/jobs-federal-reserve-personal-finance-consumer-debt.html?feed=rss_popstories&utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+forbes/EZKq+(Forbes.com:+Most+popular+stories)

But physics maintain that what goes down must come up. Hope springs eternal. Read on!

Where's Your Head At?

Basement Jaxx repeatedly ask, "Where's Your Head At?" in their song of the same title.

This post is what I have been thinking about what I have been wanting to do with my planning degree after I graduate.

Initially, I had started school thinking that I wanted to revitalize downtowns, such as Detroit. Then I realized that such a prospect could become rather depressing. A classmate of mine is from Hartford, CT and is absolutely head-over-heels crazy in love with that city. He can't wait to move back and apply his knowledge and help return it to its former glory. I'm not sure I share his enthusiasm, but I know that it won't be long before I'm reading about him in the Journal of American Planning.

After my enthusiasm for revitalization/ economic redevelopment waned I thought that I could tackle gentrification. It is a two-headed monster. On one hand, it provides a much needed economic boost to a so-called "blighted" area. But on the other hand, it should be asked, at whose expense?! I love to shop as much as the next girl, but I don't want my desire for a good bargain at Nordstrom Rack to literally displace a low-income resident, who finds themself living literally at the "wrong" place at the wrong time.

Therefore, I thought, I've done a lot of research on gentrification, why not stop bad business and be more accountable? I'm still for transparency in business, but I also have accepted that sometimes lobbyists and politicians, the latter whom make the final decisions, are so intertwined that I can only practice incrementalism, and push a lot of paperwork through the necessary channels.

At the same time I have not given up. I subscribe to the sentiment expressed in the poem, "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)-

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole.

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

As the immortal Bard reminded us, "If it be now, it is not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all." Hamlet 5.2

Bring it.

Lately my attention has turned to suburbia, its inevitably, and how can I make it better? I would like to believe that in newer suburban developments/metropolitan regions, cities are more open to pursuing new, more sustainable ideas. This may be pie-in-the-sky wishing, but it is my wish. My plans may change in the future. But for the present that is where my head is at.

And That's When I Realized, I Was Home, a valentine to the City of Angels

I just got home from a trip to Sin City, Las Vegas, with a bunch of my classmates at USC. As much as Las Vegas reminds me of a zoo, they really shouldn't exist, but they're here, so we may as well enjoy them, I had a great time.

The problem with Las Vegas is that if you're there for only a short time there is a desire to squeeze out as much fun and debauchery as possible. This leads to dehydration, exhaustion, and other unpleasant sensations.

We were only there for a day and a half, so we rushed around to the Bellagio, the MGM Grand, Caesar's Palace, etc., having a grand old time. But after a while I grew tired and was relieved that we were going home so I could collapse on my own bed.

But what I wasn't counting on was the reassuring sensation that came over me as we pulled into the city. I saw the skyline and familiar road signs and I thought to myself, I am home.

Home is an abstract concept for me as my family and I have lived in a ton of places, I have lived on my own in a variety of settings, and I have friends all over the U.S. I have written about this before, but it is still something with which I am wrestling.

I never expected to fall in love with L.A. other than enjoying wearing t-shirts in January while my parents are still shoveling snow in Minnesota. But I really have fallen in love with L.A. There is such a diversity here that is unmatched by any place on earth, even New York, or my beloved Chicago.

I went back to Chicago for New Year's and there was so much that was familiar and felt like I'd never left. But at the same time I yearned for things that were in L.A. that didn't exist in Chicago, and not just warmer weather. They don't have taco trucks, or especially Korean BBQ trucks (horrors! though they do have the vendor pushcarts i.e. roach coaches) nor is their Asian population as large as L.A. There is a Chinatown in Chicago, but no Thai Town, Little Tokyo, or Koreatown. Though in their defense they have Greektown and a much more predominant Polish and Irish population than the City of Angels.

It was also a little eerie seeing American Apparel stores popping up in Chicago. American Apparel is based out of Los Angeles, including their manufacturing plant. But to see it in the Windy City with negative wind chills was surreal, though inevitable as American Apparel's population increases without abatement.

Chicago still outpaces L.A. any day in terms of public transit and the way it so seamlessly woven into the urban landscape is inspiring. But the cold and ice is miserable.

Quite a few of the architectural hallmarks in Los Angeles are grounded in pop culture, not architectural history, such as Capitol Records and the Hollywood sign versus the Sears Tower and the Hancock Building. But there is also an abundance of Art Deco to be found in L.A., for which I am a HUGE sucker.

I still love Chicago, but I don't think that I will be planning there any time soon. Chicago politics being what they are is a huge obstacle and I don't think I want to move back to the Chicago "area" to plan one of its suburbs, though I may change my mind on that in the future.

The future remains unwritten, but for now I have found my place, and it is under the sun.

Food for Thought

I've been thinking a lot about food and food networks over the last semester. One of the doctoral students in communications was very big into food networks, urban gardening, and not being reliant on faraway sources for food.

Also, my bff is involved in a start-up non-profit called Institute for Bionomic Urbanism (headed up by a Ms. Laura Burkhalter), which seeks to develop urban gardens, even temporarily.

http://www.ibu-la.org/index.php/programs/urban_farms/

See their page on the Whitley Gardens as an example of their work-

http://www.ibu-la.org/index.php/projects/whitley_gardens/

An article by the founder of IBU called Beyond the Crisis: Towards a new Urban Paradigm

http://www.archinect.com/features/article_print.php?id=90159_0_23_0_M

I am a fan on Facebook of Edible Landscapes and Roots of Change. And the lady who runs the Edible Landscapes page posted an article from the Atlantic that left me more than a little gobsmacked-

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/201001/school-yard-garden

I don't want to summarize the article, as it'll be shaded by my bias

But here's my take on it-

I don't think the intent of school gardens is to stilt or shortchange kids so much as an opportunity to teach them to be mindful stewards of the earth and to know where their food comes from. (hint: it's not grown in Styrofoam packages in the supermarket) Is the author implying that migrant farm worker parents have some kind of "edge" over non-agricultural parents?

(scene: in the grocery store): Hey kids, daddy used to harvest this, don't you feel all warm and fuzzy?

And besides, Euclid isn't in high demand these days :( I'd rather kids know where their food comes from than who Descartes was. I am an amateur philosophy enthusiast, but it's ridiculous to think that a little school garden is going to hamper kids' learning. If there is one thing I really have no patience for (besides post-post modern art), it's displaced liberal guilt. Kids need to know where their food comes from just as much as they need to know their three R's. Boo Atlantic boo.

Also, one of my favorite memories from childhood was growing alfalfa sprouts in washed out milk cartons in second grade. I took great pride in being able to grow something myself. And yeah, now I'm a masters of urban planning candidate. A little ag learning didn't hurt anyone.

And here is the reply to the article from the administrator of the Edible Landscapes page-

Ok, now I’m really mad. I’ve been a Master Gardener since 2004 and have designed and run public school gardens for the last 10 years. Granted, I’ve seen some garden programs that started off being not what I’d call “rigorously designed”. But as with all rapidly institutionally adopted programs, roll-out and resources for school gardens were erratic and scare at first, so many teachers and parents were left “to find their own way”. My standards-based garden curriculum, covering more than the nutrition education aspect, NEVER replaced book learning in the classroom. In fact, it proved to be another invaluable teaching tool in the educator’s toolbox. As any of our education reformers will tell you, book learning alone is not effective in teaching students who do not learn that way (Multiple Intelligence Learning styles: visual, auditory, tactile/kinesthetic learning). Garden, if well designed and supported by the school staff and parents, can be a VERY powerful teaching tool. EVERY talented teacher I know uses a variety of many different modalities of teaching a single concept; not just books and not just inside a classroom.
Many of my fellow Master Gardeners can share dozens if not hundreds of stories of witnessing a child, struggling to overcome the obstacles of language, economic and, yes, even health issues, become engaged and even inspired by a lesson augmented by a garden activity. Why? Because the abstract concept introduced in the classroom from a book came alive to that child when they experienced that same concept in a hands-on, project-based learning activity in the garden.
Ms. Flanagan comes very close to equating the School Garden Movement to …racism and directly (and nastily) bashes the parent volunteers who push for gardens as being “a certain kind of educated, professional-class, middle-aged woman (the same kind of woman who tends to light, midway through life’s journey, on school voluntarism as a locus of her fathomless energies)”. WOW! MG’s are mandated to work with the under-served. We can tell you that this does not accurately describe the parents OR typical volunteer we see.
Oh yes…I could go on venting but suffice it to say that Ms. Flanagan REALLY needs to walk a mile in my garden boots!
Geri Miller - LAUSD