I used to live where I live now about (oi) 15 years ago. As I was much younger I don't have very many concrete memories of what life was like. However, I do remember stopping at the slightly more expensive grocery store in town at night to get something. I remember the plaza and the grocery store's facade and how the interior lights slipped out on the sidewalk and into the interior of our mini-van. I don't remember what we were buying or why, but I remember the feel of the place. Guess I was destined to be a planner.
As fate would have it, I now live within walking distance of that plaza from my past. The grocery store is out of business, the slightly upscale restaurant across the way has changed owners at least twice and the drugstore closed and is potentially going to be turned into a CVS.
The plaza still has a Carl's Jr. fast food restaurant, a donut shop that keeps truly sporadic hours, a Dollar Store, a Sally's Beauty Supply, and an improbably located Edible Arrangements.
Despite these amenities the plaza feels incredibly vacant, owing largely to the gaping hole/empty retail space where the grocery store used to be. It's kind of like a sledgehammer went through a wall. Yes, the wall is still standing and is still technically whole, but it needs to be fixed.
So, one can imagine my surprise and delight when over my housemate's Sunday dinner the idea was mentioned that a Trader Joe's was in talks to set up shop where the grocery store had been. This is a phenomenal idea as the nearest Trader Joe's is an hour away in Fresno, which seems rather far to drive to by little frozen tiny cubes of basil, no matter how much my dad raves about them. Meanwhile, when I am in L.A. I drive by at least three Trader Joe's.
Unfortunately, the rumor of a soon-to-open Trader Joe's was dispelled by another member at the gathering who had asked an employee at the Fresno Trader Joe's and that person had said that there is no truth to the rumor. And that corporate needed there to be at least 45,000 people or something in the area before they would consider building one. What their corporate people failed to recognize where the surrounding areas of my town, that yes are small, but also are not conveniently located near an access road to get to a freeway or highway to connect them to Fresno. Several of the neighboring towns are situated so that in order to get to Fresno, they have to drive through my town. Hmmm.
I've done a lot of research on downtown revitalization, one of my main areas of focus for my future urban planning practice and history has taught us that clearing out a bunch of land and plunking down a mall can backfire over time as the novelty wears thin.
However, with Trader Joe's, and this is not an endorsement of their company, but merely an economic observation, that store offers many goods and food stuffs that other stores do not carry in the area, due to lack of perceived demand. Trader Joe's is a niche market and frankly is a market waiting to be filled here by shoppers of all economic backgrounds. I worked for a neurosurgeon for a while whose wife enjoys gourmet cooking, I also have a friend who is going for his master's in plant biology who equally enjoys cooking, even if his income is much more modest and lucky duck that he is, lives in Fresno and enjoys frequenting his local Trader Joe's.
Trader Joe's is not a shopping mall, it is, pared down to its essence (no pun intended) a grocery store, but a specialty one at that. Unlike a mall, which people may grow tired of, it has the potential to increase profits as the population continues to grow and last time I checked people need to eat at least once a day. It also would be able to revive an area that is frankly depressed. It also can utilize a pre-existing structure with very little interior renovation. Most of the fixturing from the original grocery store is still in place. The lights are all on all day, which makes me twitch, but that's a story for another day.
The people at the top level at Trader Joe's Inc., Corp.? whatever- need to look beyond their narrow parameters and see what an opportunity a new location could be not only for them, but also for the surrounding area. Just sayin. . .
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
If I Ever Leave This World Alive -Flogging Molly
I thought it appropriate to use a Los Angeles-based band, and one of my favorites, as the title for my latest posting.
Grad school is soon upon me, and I like to have everything nailed down as much as possible. So, I thought that I had a place all lined up. It was cute, private, and close to school.
Then I called the property manager to check on whether the owner was agreeable to my lease terms and he thought that I had found another place and found another tenant! This is despite my pronouncement that I loved it and that I would take it. In the City of Angels where you can't throw a Variety newspaper without hitting a waitress-actress hyperbole is just bole.
This is not something you want to hear during the middle of your work day. I raced home and immediately hit Craig's List.
I've lined up a few prospects in a variety of situations: a thirty-something married couple, a grad school film student, a professor, and a recent grad whose parents own the house- all different, but all potentially good fits.
I enjoy variety including my living situations. I've mainly lived with one another person, but in may different places: the ghetto of Chicago, a nicer section of Chicago, an island off Savannah, Georgia, the Central Valley of California, and even alone in the suburb of Chicago.
And I've met a variety of people living in these different places: a vegetarian interior designer, a Scientologist "chiropractor", a fencing enthusiast/part-time nudist, a sociologist/music moron twin (I can say that I'm her "sister"), a graphic designer whose never met a rainbow she doesn't love, a landscape designer/ VW enthusiast, etc.,
As unnerving as it is trying to find a new place in a strange city, I've enjoyed meeting all kinds of different people as prospective housemates, or even potential friends? :) "Cold calling" prospective housemates feels a little like going on a blind date- putting your best foot forward, inflating your good qualities, etc., But sometimes things work out! I'll keep you posted. Happy 4th y'all!
Grad school is soon upon me, and I like to have everything nailed down as much as possible. So, I thought that I had a place all lined up. It was cute, private, and close to school.
Then I called the property manager to check on whether the owner was agreeable to my lease terms and he thought that I had found another place and found another tenant! This is despite my pronouncement that I loved it and that I would take it. In the City of Angels where you can't throw a Variety newspaper without hitting a waitress-actress hyperbole is just bole.
This is not something you want to hear during the middle of your work day. I raced home and immediately hit Craig's List.
I've lined up a few prospects in a variety of situations: a thirty-something married couple, a grad school film student, a professor, and a recent grad whose parents own the house- all different, but all potentially good fits.
I enjoy variety including my living situations. I've mainly lived with one another person, but in may different places: the ghetto of Chicago, a nicer section of Chicago, an island off Savannah, Georgia, the Central Valley of California, and even alone in the suburb of Chicago.
And I've met a variety of people living in these different places: a vegetarian interior designer, a Scientologist "chiropractor", a fencing enthusiast/part-time nudist, a sociologist/music moron twin (I can say that I'm her "sister"), a graphic designer whose never met a rainbow she doesn't love, a landscape designer/ VW enthusiast, etc.,
As unnerving as it is trying to find a new place in a strange city, I've enjoyed meeting all kinds of different people as prospective housemates, or even potential friends? :) "Cold calling" prospective housemates feels a little like going on a blind date- putting your best foot forward, inflating your good qualities, etc., But sometimes things work out! I'll keep you posted. Happy 4th y'all!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Grow a Pair!
Haha! Got you! Please, I consider myself to be vaguely tasteful and this blog's subject matter is not worthy of Maxim, but more along the lines of Better Homes and Gardens. Sortof.
This is merely a rumination on my childhood summers, prefaced by a sensationalist title to capture the reader's attention. It worked, didn't it?
Anyway, as I have mentioned ad nauseum, I have lived in a lot of places growing up. But one of the few consistent memories that I had was my mom's love of planting and gardening, wherever we lived. Sometimes the properties we lived on were not sympathetic to a garden, but they would accept bushes, flowers, shrubs, etc.,
My mom is not a girlie girl. She is happiest digging in the dirt, planting new, er, plants, plucking a homegrown tomato off the vine for dinner, or cutting a few roses and putting them in a bowl to spruce up the dining room table. She enjoys other activities, to be sure, but this is one of the major activities that I believe give her a defined sense of pleasure.
I, on the other hand, despite my aspirations, do not like to garden. Despite being a latent environmentalist, I could take or leave plants for my own personal use. I go into Home Depot's garden section and fall over from sticker shock. $42 for a tree?! I could buy shoes! I had a topiary in high school, as I was obsessed with them, but not enough to water it. Mom nursed that back to health.
I have lasting scars from the time I tried to weed our rose beds as the weeds were getting as tall as I. And I had heard our landlady express dismay over how her prized roses were being overrun by weeds. So, seeking an opportunity to do a good deed, I pulled and I yanked and I got two 3-inch gashes for my efforts.
I also attempted to grow a little basil from seeds purchased from the dollar section of Target, but they started to look a little sad. So, I fed them just a little Miracle-Gro and that annihilated them. No joke. It was there one day looking a little peckish and dead as a doornail the next.
I think it all stems back from my childhood. My mom tried her best to get us kids (my brother and I) involved in gardening. She even let us pick out our own seeds and plant them. But Wisconsin soil is fickle and while green beans, tomatoes, and zucchini tend to proliferate- slightly more Utopian horticultural dreams like watermelons, do not. I think I also tried to grow something else that did sprout but was not as interesting on my plate as it was on the shiny seed packet. Probably spaghetti squash or something like that.
But for those of you who do not have black thumbs I urge you to try a little garden, even an herb garden. Especially if you have kids. As we get farther and farther from nature I think more and more kids literally believe that food only comes from restaurants and the grocery store and that dirt's only purpose is to turn into mudpies. Show them where it really comes from. I remember the incredible pride I felt as a second grader when my alfalfa shoots sprouted in my milk carton. I wasn't terribly taken by the taste of my labors, but I loved that I had grown it all by myself. Well, cheek to jowl with my classmates' milk cartons in that windowsill. But my alfalfa was mine alone! I had raised it up from the darkness and into the light! Hyperbole? Probably. But success? You bet your sweet bippie.
As my fresh cilantro becomes a weekly habit at 30 cents a week I am going to grow my own cilantro and try that basil again. Maybe even a little rosemary in honor of my grandma? I've already got the OK from my new property manager!
To paraphrase circa 1980's Sesame Street won't you come out and (grow something) with me?
GQ put out a very informative article in their May 2009 issue called, "Grow Your Own: a Man's Introduction to Gardening" Unfortunately, they did not provide a hyperlink to the article. So if you want to read it, leave me a comment and I'll send you a PDF or there's always ebay- Zac Efron is on the cover if that's any additional incentive. :) Happy summer y'all!
Also, I don't know him from Adam, but a Mr. Colin McCrate, founder of Seattle Urban Farm Company was mentioned in the article. Here is a link to their blog, http://sustainableseattle.blogspot.com/2009/04/seattles-colin-mccrate-in-may-gq.html
This is merely a rumination on my childhood summers, prefaced by a sensationalist title to capture the reader's attention. It worked, didn't it?
Anyway, as I have mentioned ad nauseum, I have lived in a lot of places growing up. But one of the few consistent memories that I had was my mom's love of planting and gardening, wherever we lived. Sometimes the properties we lived on were not sympathetic to a garden, but they would accept bushes, flowers, shrubs, etc.,
My mom is not a girlie girl. She is happiest digging in the dirt, planting new, er, plants, plucking a homegrown tomato off the vine for dinner, or cutting a few roses and putting them in a bowl to spruce up the dining room table. She enjoys other activities, to be sure, but this is one of the major activities that I believe give her a defined sense of pleasure.
I, on the other hand, despite my aspirations, do not like to garden. Despite being a latent environmentalist, I could take or leave plants for my own personal use. I go into Home Depot's garden section and fall over from sticker shock. $42 for a tree?! I could buy shoes! I had a topiary in high school, as I was obsessed with them, but not enough to water it. Mom nursed that back to health.
I have lasting scars from the time I tried to weed our rose beds as the weeds were getting as tall as I. And I had heard our landlady express dismay over how her prized roses were being overrun by weeds. So, seeking an opportunity to do a good deed, I pulled and I yanked and I got two 3-inch gashes for my efforts.
I also attempted to grow a little basil from seeds purchased from the dollar section of Target, but they started to look a little sad. So, I fed them just a little Miracle-Gro and that annihilated them. No joke. It was there one day looking a little peckish and dead as a doornail the next.
I think it all stems back from my childhood. My mom tried her best to get us kids (my brother and I) involved in gardening. She even let us pick out our own seeds and plant them. But Wisconsin soil is fickle and while green beans, tomatoes, and zucchini tend to proliferate- slightly more Utopian horticultural dreams like watermelons, do not. I think I also tried to grow something else that did sprout but was not as interesting on my plate as it was on the shiny seed packet. Probably spaghetti squash or something like that.
But for those of you who do not have black thumbs I urge you to try a little garden, even an herb garden. Especially if you have kids. As we get farther and farther from nature I think more and more kids literally believe that food only comes from restaurants and the grocery store and that dirt's only purpose is to turn into mudpies. Show them where it really comes from. I remember the incredible pride I felt as a second grader when my alfalfa shoots sprouted in my milk carton. I wasn't terribly taken by the taste of my labors, but I loved that I had grown it all by myself. Well, cheek to jowl with my classmates' milk cartons in that windowsill. But my alfalfa was mine alone! I had raised it up from the darkness and into the light! Hyperbole? Probably. But success? You bet your sweet bippie.
As my fresh cilantro becomes a weekly habit at 30 cents a week I am going to grow my own cilantro and try that basil again. Maybe even a little rosemary in honor of my grandma? I've already got the OK from my new property manager!
To paraphrase circa 1980's Sesame Street won't you come out and (grow something) with me?
GQ put out a very informative article in their May 2009 issue called, "Grow Your Own: a Man's Introduction to Gardening" Unfortunately, they did not provide a hyperlink to the article. So if you want to read it, leave me a comment and I'll send you a PDF or there's always ebay- Zac Efron is on the cover if that's any additional incentive. :) Happy summer y'all!
Also, I don't know him from Adam, but a Mr. Colin McCrate, founder of Seattle Urban Farm Company was mentioned in the article. Here is a link to their blog, http://sustainableseattle.blogspot.com/2009/04/seattles-colin-mccrate-in-may-gq.html
More Things I Have Learned From the Road
*The original draft was written at the 7th Street L.A. Greyhound station- right across the street from the American Apparel factory/non-sweatshop. But as I am too cheap to add an Internet option to my phone I am publishing it now. Enjoy*
I consider myself a pretty experienced traveller. I have literally been flying in airplanes ever since I was 4 months old- how else do you think they transport infant adoptees? FedEx?! I've survived cross-country trips with my family and trans-Atlantic flights with strangers. I enjoy trains and deal with buses because they're cheap and are the only mass transit vehicles that traverse the Grapevine- the foothills/mountain range that separate central from southern California.
But today (6-22-09) I learned something new. Greyhound will not print you a second ticket should you lose or misplace your original.
This came as quite a shock to me especially as I thought that I was all set to board my 2 PM trip without any hassles. (Another note- just like airplanes ALWAYS come at least an hour early!) Nope, what the person behind the counter at my departure location had failed to advise me was not to throw away my ticket because, unlike the airlines, but like life, this is the only one you get.
Usually, I don't throw away any of my travel stubs until I get home, or to my final destination- kind of a one-stop garbage purging if you will. However, this time, this ONE time! I threw away what I thought was just my Greyhound receipt and the little folder it came in, not even bothering to check if there was anything else important in there. O the folly of my ways! Think very expensive signed check in the pocket of your jeans, going through the wash.
I wound up spending the next twenty minutes frantically texting and calling my friend who was by this time en route to Santa Monica, while I was in downtown, making her also nowhere near her house in Mar Vista, where my ticket sat in her kitchen garbage can.
I was also wrestling with two medium sized bags, whose straps kept falling off my shoulder, rubbing down my arm and crating marks in their wake. I have very sensitive skin, and I bring this up not to sound like a wuss, but because the marks the falling straps left on my arm turned red and angry looking- like a cat had scratched me, or that I had pursued an unsuccessful half-hearted suicide attempt, entirely untrue but superficially embarrassing. Red, "cutter"-like marks on my arms did not exactly enhance my already frazzled appearance or contribute to anyone's assurance of the general condition of my mental health. Great.
It is ironic that this was definitely a case of be careful what you wish for- as I had said earlier in the weekend- OK, lamented, having to go back to my deliberately non-air-conditioned place, walking to work in the oppressive heat versus the rather balmy L.A. weather, and a job that is a means to an end. My friend had said that I could stay with her until it was time for grad school, but alas, money is my mortal master, and bills must be paid. Not something that happens while one slurps down lemon basil gelato in Silver Lake. Highly recommended place right on Sunset Strip. Exact name unknown at this particular moment. Will report back later.
I can't wait until I don't have to do this 4 hour schlep back and forth anymore. It's hard to be an environmentalist! Although I applaud Greyhound for not wasting paper, but I do find this occurrence of not printing out a new ticket for one that is most definitely lost, a tad arbitrary.
This blog doesn't have much at all to do with planning, at least the urban kind, but I thought that someone out there might find this vaguely amusing. And if it has, then my pain had a purpose. You have been warned people of Earth!
I consider myself a pretty experienced traveller. I have literally been flying in airplanes ever since I was 4 months old- how else do you think they transport infant adoptees? FedEx?! I've survived cross-country trips with my family and trans-Atlantic flights with strangers. I enjoy trains and deal with buses because they're cheap and are the only mass transit vehicles that traverse the Grapevine- the foothills/mountain range that separate central from southern California.
But today (6-22-09) I learned something new. Greyhound will not print you a second ticket should you lose or misplace your original.
This came as quite a shock to me especially as I thought that I was all set to board my 2 PM trip without any hassles. (Another note- just like airplanes ALWAYS come at least an hour early!) Nope, what the person behind the counter at my departure location had failed to advise me was not to throw away my ticket because, unlike the airlines, but like life, this is the only one you get.
Usually, I don't throw away any of my travel stubs until I get home, or to my final destination- kind of a one-stop garbage purging if you will. However, this time, this ONE time! I threw away what I thought was just my Greyhound receipt and the little folder it came in, not even bothering to check if there was anything else important in there. O the folly of my ways! Think very expensive signed check in the pocket of your jeans, going through the wash.
I wound up spending the next twenty minutes frantically texting and calling my friend who was by this time en route to Santa Monica, while I was in downtown, making her also nowhere near her house in Mar Vista, where my ticket sat in her kitchen garbage can.
I was also wrestling with two medium sized bags, whose straps kept falling off my shoulder, rubbing down my arm and crating marks in their wake. I have very sensitive skin, and I bring this up not to sound like a wuss, but because the marks the falling straps left on my arm turned red and angry looking- like a cat had scratched me, or that I had pursued an unsuccessful half-hearted suicide attempt, entirely untrue but superficially embarrassing. Red, "cutter"-like marks on my arms did not exactly enhance my already frazzled appearance or contribute to anyone's assurance of the general condition of my mental health. Great.
It is ironic that this was definitely a case of be careful what you wish for- as I had said earlier in the weekend- OK, lamented, having to go back to my deliberately non-air-conditioned place, walking to work in the oppressive heat versus the rather balmy L.A. weather, and a job that is a means to an end. My friend had said that I could stay with her until it was time for grad school, but alas, money is my mortal master, and bills must be paid. Not something that happens while one slurps down lemon basil gelato in Silver Lake. Highly recommended place right on Sunset Strip. Exact name unknown at this particular moment. Will report back later.
I can't wait until I don't have to do this 4 hour schlep back and forth anymore. It's hard to be an environmentalist! Although I applaud Greyhound for not wasting paper, but I do find this occurrence of not printing out a new ticket for one that is most definitely lost, a tad arbitrary.
This blog doesn't have much at all to do with planning, at least the urban kind, but I thought that someone out there might find this vaguely amusing. And if it has, then my pain had a purpose. You have been warned people of Earth!
Welcome Back to Civilization! or Where Do We Go From Here?
I must confess that I was a little nervous on my latest bus ride back from L.A. this past Monday. For more on my other hijinks see "More Things I Learned From the Road" 6-25-09 I've taken the Greyhound from my current location to L.A. several times and I like to think that I am an old pro by now.
However, due to circumstances beyond my control, (see aforementioned blog) I didn't take a Greyhound Greyhound bus. Instead I took another line, which leaves from the same station. But this line takes fewer stops, which makes fewer checkpoints between civilization. The inbetween points are really long stretches of California farmland and undeveloped or undevelopable land, not much to see and unfortunately makes the mind, which has been exposed to too many slasher movies, wander and consider the potential for me to star in a real-life version of Jeepers Creepers.
But as I am writing this blog not from beyond the grave, I survived the trip. I was a bit too excited when I saw those 12-foot high fences that attempt to block the noise from the stone's-throw-away freeway while corraling the aesthetically-unappealling sprawling edge suburbs.
The reason I bring this up is because during my bus ride, and yesterday too, in the most unlikely of events- watching one of my favorite movies, Wedding Crashers, I was thinking about the future of development. In Wedding Crashers Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdam's characters take a charmed bike ride through the (probably) Virginia countryside. There are unpaved bike paths, rolling meadows, and centuries-old trees that fill the background. This is the kind of land that I can get behind, that I can defend, chain myself to a tree for, etc.,
But the barren, frankly ugly California countryside I could do without. If anything, it is prime real estate. Sections just like this have been developed an hour, two hours driving distance outside of L.A. One might think that I should be psyched about this. But the environmentalist in me bemoans how expensive the infrastructure is to support these fringe communities. The edge suburbs of L.A. are developed in the desert, not exactly land known for abundant natural sources of water. Then there are utilities, waste management, etc.,
I guess there is no truly perfect solution. Once that beautiful Virginia countryside is razed for development there is no turning back. A good example is one of the final scenes in the surprisingly anti-development movie, Evan Almighty where God, in the form of Morgan Freeman shows Evan aka Steve Carrell, shows what the land used to look like before his development was built. On the other hand, developing in the desert makes sense, at first, no one else is using it, there isn't much of an eco-system or too many animals to consider potentially displacing. But it's really expensive to establish and maintain infrastructure in a land that is technically uninhabitable.
But like the title of Barack Obama's autobiography/call-to-arms, one needs to believe in the Audacity of Hope. That there are solutions, but we need the audacity to hope, to believe that they exist, to look for them, and not to rest until we find some that are win-win for everyone.
However, due to circumstances beyond my control, (see aforementioned blog) I didn't take a Greyhound Greyhound bus. Instead I took another line, which leaves from the same station. But this line takes fewer stops, which makes fewer checkpoints between civilization. The inbetween points are really long stretches of California farmland and undeveloped or undevelopable land, not much to see and unfortunately makes the mind, which has been exposed to too many slasher movies, wander and consider the potential for me to star in a real-life version of Jeepers Creepers.
But as I am writing this blog not from beyond the grave, I survived the trip. I was a bit too excited when I saw those 12-foot high fences that attempt to block the noise from the stone's-throw-away freeway while corraling the aesthetically-unappealling sprawling edge suburbs.
The reason I bring this up is because during my bus ride, and yesterday too, in the most unlikely of events- watching one of my favorite movies, Wedding Crashers, I was thinking about the future of development. In Wedding Crashers Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdam's characters take a charmed bike ride through the (probably) Virginia countryside. There are unpaved bike paths, rolling meadows, and centuries-old trees that fill the background. This is the kind of land that I can get behind, that I can defend, chain myself to a tree for, etc.,
But the barren, frankly ugly California countryside I could do without. If anything, it is prime real estate. Sections just like this have been developed an hour, two hours driving distance outside of L.A. One might think that I should be psyched about this. But the environmentalist in me bemoans how expensive the infrastructure is to support these fringe communities. The edge suburbs of L.A. are developed in the desert, not exactly land known for abundant natural sources of water. Then there are utilities, waste management, etc.,
I guess there is no truly perfect solution. Once that beautiful Virginia countryside is razed for development there is no turning back. A good example is one of the final scenes in the surprisingly anti-development movie, Evan Almighty where God, in the form of Morgan Freeman shows Evan aka Steve Carrell, shows what the land used to look like before his development was built. On the other hand, developing in the desert makes sense, at first, no one else is using it, there isn't much of an eco-system or too many animals to consider potentially displacing. But it's really expensive to establish and maintain infrastructure in a land that is technically uninhabitable.
But like the title of Barack Obama's autobiography/call-to-arms, one needs to believe in the Audacity of Hope. That there are solutions, but we need the audacity to hope, to believe that they exist, to look for them, and not to rest until we find some that are win-win for everyone.
Navelgazers Anonymous
I like to keep family matters and my blog separate, but a recent road trip my parents just returned from had me thinking about the nature of things.
My parents went to visit some college in the mountains of North Carolina so that my dad could see if said college would be a good place for him to teach at in the future. He was looking to teach actuarial science or business.
I assume that if he would teach a class, any class really, that he would include a concise history of whatever objective he was teaching- when did it first start, who has applied it, who has built upon it, etc.,
This is the complete and total opposite of my former discipline, art history, which as far as I can tell looks so far back it practically looks forward. One of the reasons I quit art history is because it never seemed to look forward, it was always pre-occupied with what had happened in the past. Sometimes in the ancient past, like BC or BCE, depending on how politically correct you want to be, past!
In all fairness sometimes art history bothers to stop staring at its own navel long enough to see what is going on in the current world, but usually the only thing it comes up with is some painfully self-conscious exercise in narcissism. Although I must say that Bruno aka Sacha Baron Cohen is one THE best performance art pieces since ever and definitely better than any piece that is deliberate performance art. See Matthew Barney (partner of Bjork), Chris Burden, etc., for examples.
My new discipline, urban planning, looks, or should look both to the past and to the future. If anything it really needs to be a student of the past to see what has worked and what definitely did not work to avoid literally expensive mistakes. But at the same time it is concerned about the present and working for the future, for a better future.
Again, unlike art, planning fails when it caters to elitism- hello Lewis Mumford! Catering only to a specific demographic only brings about downfall. Yet one more thing to get me psyched about planning!
My parents went to visit some college in the mountains of North Carolina so that my dad could see if said college would be a good place for him to teach at in the future. He was looking to teach actuarial science or business.
I assume that if he would teach a class, any class really, that he would include a concise history of whatever objective he was teaching- when did it first start, who has applied it, who has built upon it, etc.,
This is the complete and total opposite of my former discipline, art history, which as far as I can tell looks so far back it practically looks forward. One of the reasons I quit art history is because it never seemed to look forward, it was always pre-occupied with what had happened in the past. Sometimes in the ancient past, like BC or BCE, depending on how politically correct you want to be, past!
In all fairness sometimes art history bothers to stop staring at its own navel long enough to see what is going on in the current world, but usually the only thing it comes up with is some painfully self-conscious exercise in narcissism. Although I must say that Bruno aka Sacha Baron Cohen is one THE best performance art pieces since ever and definitely better than any piece that is deliberate performance art. See Matthew Barney (partner of Bjork), Chris Burden, etc., for examples.
My new discipline, urban planning, looks, or should look both to the past and to the future. If anything it really needs to be a student of the past to see what has worked and what definitely did not work to avoid literally expensive mistakes. But at the same time it is concerned about the present and working for the future, for a better future.
Again, unlike art, planning fails when it caters to elitism- hello Lewis Mumford! Catering only to a specific demographic only brings about downfall. Yet one more thing to get me psyched about planning!
Friday, June 19, 2009
How Far Is Too Far?
I am getting a new apartment in Los Angeles this weekend, actually, hopefully, ideally, renting a room in a house that rents out all of the rooms to individual tenants- and USC grad students only if everything goes according to plan.
But the age-old question of location, location, location had me thinking- how far is too far? Points A and B being your place of residence and your consistent destination- work, school, your kid's school, your place of worship, your favorite protesting spot, whatever.
For some of you who know me, I have lived in 11, soon to be 12 places in 26 years. And for the most part my family and I have selected our dwellings within reasonable proximity to our locations that we would frequent often i.e. work, school, and church. When I say reasonable proximity I mean about 15-20 minutes. We never lived in any big, big cities, so traveling times were pretty consistent, with weather being the only variable- black ice? add at least 5 minutes for safety.
It threw us for a loop when we moved to Connecticut and people lived in different towns, but knew each other as if they were in the same zip code. Like I said, we lived in small towns and yes people from Wausau knew people from Merrill, but they went to different churches, their kids to different schools, etc., To live in Avon, but to go to church in Canton was very strange to us. The Connecticut way of life still remains very strange to me. I'm surprised no one has spontaneously combusted yet.
When I moved to Chicago on my own it took me a good hour to get to work via public transportation- bus + the Red line, not counting delays due to linework, which was a constant in the summer of 2006.
Sometimes I took my car, but during the holidays working retail in Lincoln Park made it impossible to find a spot for my car, so I relied on the ease of the public transportation. And when my car was damaged beyond repair my prior experience using public transportation made the journey less of a hassle and more of just a part of my going-to-work routine.
When I moved to the suburb of Naperville I chose an apartment whose location was only ten minutes driving time away, but unfortunately was not located on a road that was safe enough to get to on foot.
Now it takes me about half an hour (on foot) to get to my current job. Some people are horrified when I tell them how long it takes and more than three people have offered to pick me up on their way to work. But my walk not only gives me exercise, it also gives me a chance to wake up and really immerse myself in my surroundings.
But my latest relocation had me thinking. The champions of New Urbanism argue that our auto-dependent society has allowed people to live farther from their jobs- not necessarily a bad thing at the end of the day- but not great for the environment either when you consider how many emissions and pollutions one can accrue over simply a five-day work week when mass transit is possible.
Note I didn't say plausible as many people in the suburbs can attest to- I don't even want to know how few suburbs even have a bus line running through or within reasonable walking distance of the major sub-divisions.
Unlike say, Chicago (how I love their transportation department!) where one is hard pressed to find a major neighborhood that is not near some form of public transportation. And New York? Fugghedaboudit! In one ill-planned trip I managed to get from Wall Street to the West Side to midtown with the help of the NY subway system and my own dogged determination.
We have family friends who live up in the Bay Area and the father commutes two hours-each way! each day to get to his job. This is beyond crazy to me. Yes, I understand the need to have your kids be in "good schools," "safe neighborhoods," etc., But Dad has to schlep two hours each way each day? Oi. . . This is not uncommon for people in the Bay Area- my housemate's dad, when he (my housemate) was growing up- would ride his motorcycle- come rain or shine between the lanes of stalled cars (think the opening scene from Office Space)- two hours to get to his job.
I have no doubt that this is true for families across the country, especially in bigger, non-mass-transit oriented cities, especially in the South like Atlanta and Charlotte. But I think that it is a time for a revolution.
Hopefully as part of the "green" movement more funding will be devoted to mass transit, and innovative forms of it- light rail, anyone? And two hour one-way commutes will become a thing of the past. Here's hoping.
But the age-old question of location, location, location had me thinking- how far is too far? Points A and B being your place of residence and your consistent destination- work, school, your kid's school, your place of worship, your favorite protesting spot, whatever.
For some of you who know me, I have lived in 11, soon to be 12 places in 26 years. And for the most part my family and I have selected our dwellings within reasonable proximity to our locations that we would frequent often i.e. work, school, and church. When I say reasonable proximity I mean about 15-20 minutes. We never lived in any big, big cities, so traveling times were pretty consistent, with weather being the only variable- black ice? add at least 5 minutes for safety.
It threw us for a loop when we moved to Connecticut and people lived in different towns, but knew each other as if they were in the same zip code. Like I said, we lived in small towns and yes people from Wausau knew people from Merrill, but they went to different churches, their kids to different schools, etc., To live in Avon, but to go to church in Canton was very strange to us. The Connecticut way of life still remains very strange to me. I'm surprised no one has spontaneously combusted yet.
When I moved to Chicago on my own it took me a good hour to get to work via public transportation- bus + the Red line, not counting delays due to linework, which was a constant in the summer of 2006.
Sometimes I took my car, but during the holidays working retail in Lincoln Park made it impossible to find a spot for my car, so I relied on the ease of the public transportation. And when my car was damaged beyond repair my prior experience using public transportation made the journey less of a hassle and more of just a part of my going-to-work routine.
When I moved to the suburb of Naperville I chose an apartment whose location was only ten minutes driving time away, but unfortunately was not located on a road that was safe enough to get to on foot.
Now it takes me about half an hour (on foot) to get to my current job. Some people are horrified when I tell them how long it takes and more than three people have offered to pick me up on their way to work. But my walk not only gives me exercise, it also gives me a chance to wake up and really immerse myself in my surroundings.
But my latest relocation had me thinking. The champions of New Urbanism argue that our auto-dependent society has allowed people to live farther from their jobs- not necessarily a bad thing at the end of the day- but not great for the environment either when you consider how many emissions and pollutions one can accrue over simply a five-day work week when mass transit is possible.
Note I didn't say plausible as many people in the suburbs can attest to- I don't even want to know how few suburbs even have a bus line running through or within reasonable walking distance of the major sub-divisions.
Unlike say, Chicago (how I love their transportation department!) where one is hard pressed to find a major neighborhood that is not near some form of public transportation. And New York? Fugghedaboudit! In one ill-planned trip I managed to get from Wall Street to the West Side to midtown with the help of the NY subway system and my own dogged determination.
We have family friends who live up in the Bay Area and the father commutes two hours-each way! each day to get to his job. This is beyond crazy to me. Yes, I understand the need to have your kids be in "good schools," "safe neighborhoods," etc., But Dad has to schlep two hours each way each day? Oi. . . This is not uncommon for people in the Bay Area- my housemate's dad, when he (my housemate) was growing up- would ride his motorcycle- come rain or shine between the lanes of stalled cars (think the opening scene from Office Space)- two hours to get to his job.
I have no doubt that this is true for families across the country, especially in bigger, non-mass-transit oriented cities, especially in the South like Atlanta and Charlotte. But I think that it is a time for a revolution.
Hopefully as part of the "green" movement more funding will be devoted to mass transit, and innovative forms of it- light rail, anyone? And two hour one-way commutes will become a thing of the past. Here's hoping.
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