balding angrily

Here’s the promised follow-up. I mentioned in the comments to the last post that there was a news crew taping my time in the wheelchair. Here it is. Bask in my luminescence.

Also, for Nick, the charity is Winners on Wheels. I would link to it, but the website is down. One of the people in charge of the event, the contact with Winners on Wheels, tried explaining why the website was down, but I was too busy bitching about getting water to hear her.

I spent today in a wheelchair; my company sponsored my time, giving money to a local charity. I’ll post the name of the charity when I can find it. The event is designed to make architects aware of the specific challenges of the wheelchair-bound.

I knew it was going to be difficult, in general terms. Therefore, I’ll focus on a specific.

When did we become so lazy and/or absent-minded that we need a device to close a door for us? I can think of only one place where a door closer is appropriate - at a door that closes in the event of a fire.

You might say, “But Alex, what about at shop entrances? Isn’t that a matter of security? Aren’t automatically closing and locking doors appropriate there?”

No. No they’re not. If we have become so averse to turning around to close the door behind us, we deserve to have our shit stolen. If we have trained generations of people that the door will close itself, then it is our own damn fault. If our national security is at risk because someone forgot to close the damn door, we were never really secure.

You might say, “But Alex, what about doors into bathrooms? Surely, we need to protect the public from seeing dirty bathrooms and/or male body parts.”

No. No we don’t. Again, if you can’t turn around to close a door, you deserve to have your wang looked upon. And again, if, as a society, we have become so lazy that we’re not training people to close doors, we deserve an unwelcome peepshow.

Swinging doors are cloves of garlic to a person in a wheelchair - if a person in a wheelchair is a vampire. Door closers are prickly spines on that garlic - if garlic had prickly spines. Do this. Pick up one of those hand-held counters popular with amusement park line attendants. Carry it around with you one day and click it every time you go through a swinging door. Click it twice if the door has a closer. Fuck it; forget the counter. Just count how many times you have to open a swinging door in a day.

Imagine the number you get is the amount of times you spilled hot coffee on yourself. You would be justifiably afraid of coffee. But you can’t give up coffee, and you can’t NOT spill coffee on yourself. In order to function, every day is a constant barrage of messing your shirt and burning your nipples.

By the end of the day, I feared doors. I feared leaving my cubicle to go to the bathroom. I feared my daily [walk] to Starbuck’s. I feared going to the kitchenette to get a glass of water. I preferred gas pains and a screaming bladder to negotiating the path to the bathroom. I preferred the dull boredom of my computer screen to turning around in my cramped cubicle to look out the window.

But don’t let me discourage you from doing a similar exercise, especially for charity. I’ll do it again next year if only to remind myself how the smallest things can be huge for someone else.

Aside from trying to stay focused at work, there has been a brewing development in the household over the last 6 months. Most of my thoughts have been aimed toward it, but I can’t yet let it out of the bag.

But I can share two news items, one minor and the other a little more major than the midpoint between minor and major. The minor item is that my literature class is over. I can start reading whatever I want again.

The item that is a little more major than the midpoint between minor and major is that I’ve been selected to be the YAF (Young Architects Forum) Communications Editor for the AIA. I haven’t been given the complete details of what will be expected of me. What I do know is I’ll be responsible for producing 6 bi-monthly issues of a newsletter and on-line content. Or editing content that’s given to me. I’m not sure. It’s a paid gig, and in a way I can say I’m in journalism now…I think.

To apply for the position, I had to send in some writing samples and collect some letters of recommendation. The fact that I was chosen gives me a sense that I might be able to make a living with this writing thing. Or it gives me a big boost of confidence. Or both. I’m looking at journalism schools right now, but I can’t talk too much more about that because of the aforementioned gag rule currently in effect.

I’m dying to know if I was the only applicant. That would suck.

For me, it’s Architecture in Helsinki. They’re making me do a twist-and-bob-butt-scoot dance in my office chair. It’s like they kicked me in my spleen, if my spleen was full of happiness and bursting it caused happiness to spill all over my body.

Thanks, Crumpet.

So, yeah. I’m already sick of Gillespie.

I spent the last two days in small offices at small desks learning what makes me tick. Before I invest a lot of money in re-educating myself for a change in career, I wanted to spend some time and a smaller amount of money understanding my suitability to different professions. My worst fear is that I would spend 2-3 years in school and many thousands of dollars only to learn that I don’t like teaching…or whichever profession I choose.

This two-day experience was designed to learn my aptitudes - my inherent strengths, those things that, if used in my job, would give me a sense of worthiness. That’s the theory anyway.

Not that I doubt that theory. It’s just that it’s a theory, and one of the things I found out about myself is that I don’t do abstract analysis. In other words, ephemeral, non-structure-based concepts elude me. I excel at structural analysis. In other words, my bag is pulling apart concrete concepts based on things that can be seen and touched, 3D things. Not that I need to see something, but I can easily imagine a 3D, touchable, structured thing. I’ll get to why that pisses me off at the end.

Here are some highlights to the testing:

• I picked up tiny paper clip-sized pins from a tray and put them in small holes.
• I picked up the same pins and transferred them from one set of holes into another set of holes using a tweezer while a woman with a stopwatch observed, making me feel like a trained monkey.
• I arranged on a dry-erase board little hexagon tiles with words like “cow, milk, farm, eco-system, natural resource, wheat, grain” written on them while the same woman with a stopwatch observed. With my arms, bent at a simian angle, moving rapidly in front of me, and hunched over the dry-erase board, I looked like a trained monkey.
• I held a board with a tiny hole in it at arms-length and pulled it to my face while concentrating on another board held by the same woman with the stopwatch. Her board had an X on it, and I had to keep my eye on the center of the X while she held the board at different areas on her body. At one point she held the X over her crotch.
• I was given the question, “If you woke up one day to find that you didn’t have to ever sleep again and that neither did anyone else, what would you do with your time? What would you encourage other people to do?” I had to think up as many ideas as I could in a short amount of time. Since I was writing fast and coming up with ideas off the top of my head, one of my ideas was, “Wear pink underwear - the kind with little frills.” Then I got embarrassed and wrote, “Not because I’m a sicko or anything - just because, you know, I have all this time. Why not try something new?”

From these and other tests, the woman with the stopwatch determined that I excel at structural analysis, that I’m an excellent brainstormer, and that I catch on to patterns quickly.

She suggested that if I teach, I should teach higher education or prep school kids. She seemed to think that I would get very impatient in a classroom with children that didn’t get a concept fast enough. She said that I’d be great one-on-one with a kid that wasn’t getting a concept, but not a whole group of kids.

And I suck at moving pins from one set of holes to another set of holes. I can understand this - what with my fat, hairy fingers and all.

The list of possible professions in which I would use all my aptitudes was long, but this structural analysis thing seemed to be really important. Also, I need a combination of working by myself and with other people. And when I am doing something routine, my ideaphoria, or brainstorming, aptitude kicks in and my mind starts to wander. I’m a daydreamer.

Given all this and more, apparently I make a perfect architect. Fuck you, Stopwatch Lady.

Jen-An, Owen, Jerry and I went to Chicago last week. The highlight of my time in Chicago was fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine. Family Guy stole my dream and made it a parody, so you may already know where this is going. I wanted to sit in front of Georges Seurat’s masterwork at The Art Institute and listen to The Dream Academy.

In Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, I identified with Cameron. I never wanted to be Ferris. I wanted to be - and be with - Cameron. He wasn’t my first movie crush, but he was important. The scene where the camera switches between Cameron’s eyes and those of the little girl in Sunday Afternoon on the Isle of La Grande Jatte was powerful for 14-year old me. I understood the longing in that exchange.

A little later, I started exploring Sondheim and rented the PBS performance of Mandy Patinkin in Sunday in the Park with George. I didn’t know it was about Georges Seurat’s famous painting until the end of Act I or that it was a multi-Tony-nominated musical; I thought I was making a discovery. The story is about the character of Seurat who isolates himself in pursuit of his art. That’s what I got out of it anyway.

Again, there’s that theme of loneliness with this painting. As a lonely little fella, I connected with this painting.

It’s breath-taking in person, and I nearly cried sitting there looking at it. I feel like Seurat painted it just for me, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like that scene is Ferris Bueller’s Day Off was filmed just for me. Or that “Sunday,” the song from Sunday in the Park with George, was written just for me. Or that Seth MacFarlane and Co. wrote the parody in Family Guy just for me.

I’m sure that these things are loved by many, many, many people. How Eleanor Rigby of us.

‘Member when I said I had a difficult conversation with my superiors? Part of that discussion was about an article I wrote for Columns, the Dallas AIA newsletter. The uppers weren’t exactly pleased. They felt that with the name of my firm so prominently displayed under my article, people would think that my firm is a sweatshop. (I removed the name of the firm from the file above.) That implication honestly never crossed my mind, and most architectural firms are sweatshops. Whether mine is or not I can’t say as I’m not in an objective place right now.

Most everyone who approached me personally told me they really liked it. Only one person that talked to me personally expressed concern with the content. Now I’m getting feedback from the architectural community at large about my article. This feedback comes to me through the editor and is negative. So far the positive feedback versus negative breakdown has broken along an expected line. The uppers don’t like it, and my peers do.

Here’s some asinine feedback:

Innuendos supportive of homosexuality as a life style and egocentric ranting appear to me to fall outside of a range of subject matter appropriate to the type of publication, which I understand “Columns” to be.

I really can’t justify such bigotry with a reply. Here’s some better thought-out feedback:

Twisted perception of Fountainhead aside, the article by Alex seems more than just a little naïve and annoyingly bitter – which came across as a personal rant on his soap box about what must have been some bad leadership in his seemingly limited personal history in the profession.

I know there have been young people in the profession who have felt beaten down by the boss man as long as the profession has existed. Occasionally those people grow up to be the next generation’s lousy bosses – but more often than not, they grow increasingly bitter and wash-out or change professions.

…

While provocative for sure, personal rants and bitterness should be saved for internet blogs and spirited drunken happy hours – not Columns.

Yes, sir, I will own “bitter rant”. I take that criticism and acknowledge I may not be the most mature writer. But, sir, that I’m bitter and feel beaten down by the boss does not obviate the possibility or likelihood that there are plenty of bosses - architects - doing a lot of beating.

Yes, this is one of those posts - one of the one’s where I apologize profusely for not posting, but I also want to update you on something going on.

As you all know, I’m in the midst of a struggle trying to figure out what to do with my career. I can’t honestly say I hate architecture, but I have no passion for it. Over the past six months since I started this blog, this feeling of disquietude has increased, probably because the job so clearly contrasts with this blog, which I really love doing.

As you probably know, I’ve been doing a lot of blogging at work. On Friday my bosses asked me to stop doing internet things. While I would love to tell the bosses to shove it and walk, that’s a reaction that doesn’t match in severity the request. Also, I have my obligations to the household and Jerry to think about.

This meeting on Friday was a long time in coming, and I knew it. Over the weekend I spent some time moping, and I am still unsettled as to what to do. Because of this, the forces of nature have made it clear to me that I need to shit or get off the pot. It’s put up or shut up time. It’s time to throw all the clichés I can think of in a bag and shake vigorously. In other words, I can’t just talk about hating my job anymore. Thoughtful action is required.

What that means for you, my faithful readers, is I may be posting less as I try to get my shit together.

Yesterday I talked to a guy in my office about a possible path to get into professional writing. This same guy is the editor of Columns, the monthly newsletter of the Dallas chapter of the American Institute of Architects (AIA). A month ago I submitted a piece to him for publication; he liked it and will publish it in the coming months. I’ll keep you abreast.

He suggested that I write a few more pieces and submit them to the editor of the newsletter for the Texas Society of Architects (TSA), and then work my way up through there. I am having some difficulty thinking of subjects for these kinds of pieces.

You people know my strengths and weaknesses. I’m strong when writing about my personal experiences, and less so when writing about more abstract, big picture issues. It is my thought that I will have to bring in these big picture issues in a piece for the TSA. I’m positive that I do not want to write an architectural criticism. I can write about my experience with a building, but not an objective criticism. (Is there such a thing?)

I’m opening it up for discussion in the comments. Any and all ideas are welcome and valid, but I reserve the right to mock you.

1. Avoid going to your car to start your day. Check your email for the fourth time. Check your favorite websites. Remember that you haven’t put the latest episode of Cute with Chris on your iPod. Spend 10 minutes doing that. Change your shirt 3 times. If you’re a girl, change your panties 3 times.
2. Kiss Your Husband Goodbye. Leave the apartment. Get to your car and realize you left your iPod in the apartment. Go back and retrieve it.
3. Have a nice drive to the office. Listen to Kurt Andersen talk to brilliant artists. Wish that you were being interviewed by Kurt. Wish that you were Kurt. Imagine yourself having something pithy to say. Imagine that this pithy thing will change the life of a struggling artist out there, and that artist will go out and teach other artists. Imagine that you will leave a legacy. Observe the people walking around downtown to their offices. Think about how easy it would be to step on the accelerator, hitting a pedestrian in the crosswalk. Wonder if there would be a lot of satisfying blood like in the movies. When Kurt’s done, sing along to music.
4. Walk from your car to your cubicle. As you close the car door behind you, feel the oppressive weight of the day hit you. This oppression is easy to imagine as you will likely be in an oppressive, concrete parking garage that leaks water into stagnant, oppressive puddles. The sound of your car door as it echos off the oppressive walls will be oppressive. In the elevator to your office, close your eyes thinking you might get 5 seconds of sleep and in that 5 seconds you will be Star Trek-like transported to a beach in Southern California with smooth, blonde lifeguards. This will not happen. When you get to your floor, pretend like you don’t hear the receptionist wishing you a good morning. Realize that’s rude, and wish her a good morning a little too late. Sit at your cubicle and look around. Look at the piles of drawings around you. Wish that the nighttime cleaning staff had accidentally set fire to your desk.
5. Prepare to work. Turn on your computer. Check your email. Delete the architecture-related newsletters you received overnight, looking for something entertaining. Smile inwardly at the email from your mother that asks you to forward it to 10 other people and a Norwegian boy so that when the boy receives a mountain of email from strangers from around the world, he will know that he is loved. Check your favorite websites again reasoning that the 15 minutes it took you to drive from your home to the office is a very long time on the internets. Ernie could have updated in that time, and Ernie’s new post might be just the post that will make you laugh uproariously. When all work-avoidance is complete, start Autocad. Because it takes Autocad 10 minutes to boot-up, go to the restroom, avoiding eye-contact with co-workers.
6. Work. Plug into your iPod. Dimension. Tag. Email co-workers to establish standards. Answer calls. Check your favorite sites again. Dimension. Tag. Go to the restroom again. Rub your head in frustration. Dimension. Tag. Obsess over your last blog post. Answer a comment on your last blog post. Dimension. Tag. Go to your favorite movie boards. Respond to a post. Dimension. Tag. It’s lunchtime!
7. Order Lunch. Eat it while looking at Gizmodo, Defamer, your own blog, Boing Boing, a friend’s blog, a friend’s friend’s blog, a friend’s friend’s friend’s blog…looking for something to use in your own blog. At 1:10 shut down your browser and plug into your iPod again.
8. Work. Move. Rotate. Copy. Go to the restroom. Check the kitchen for leftover goodies. Move. Rotate. Copy. Acknowledge your grumbling lower intestines telling you it’s time to go #2. Take the elevator down to the first floor where no co-workers can recognize your shoes beneath the stall door in the commode. Do your business. Hold your head in your hands and think, “If I could just sit here and sleep for five minutes. Really. Just five minutes is all I need. I’d feel less anxious if I could just get a tiny, itty-bit of shut-eye.” Go back to your cube, sit down, and sigh to yourself. Move. Rotate. Copy. Check the kitchen again for snacky-snacks. Move. Rotate. Copy. Stand up. Stretch. Turn around and look out the window at the beautiful day outside. Imagine being at the park, laying on the grass reading a book. Sit down. Move. Rotate. Copy. It’s 5:00! Check your favorite websites again. Pack up, and leave.
9. Work Out. Watch Extra on the elliptical trainer making up the story because you don’t have the sound portion of the program as you are plugged into your iPod. Playing this guessing game is quite easy as the day’s entertainment news is identical to the entertainment news from the night before. However, it is still a game, and because of that it is still fun. Turn your gaze to the television tuned to ESPN. Shiver and go back to Extra. Wonder how Mark McGrath transformed so effortlessly from semi-rock star to plucked douche. Watch a muscled student 10 years younger than you do pull-ups. Watch his lats expand. Watch his face get red with effort. He’s looking back at you! Quick! Go back to the television. Watch the woman that looks like she’s wearing a diaper underneath sweats that might’ve looked right on Will Smith as Chris Gardner painting his son’s bedroom. Watch her bend down to adjust the weights on the quad machine. Wonder if you could take her in a fight. Shower and leave.
10. Drive home. While driving don’t notice that your mind is wandering all over the place. When you get home, wonder what happened in the last 15 minutes.
11. Kiss your husband hello.
12. Watch TV or Write a blog post.
13. Go to sleep.