Monday, April 16, 2012

Myself and the land.

An affinity for a rural-ness of life. Ohhh, so this explains my repeated readings of Jane Eyre - my admiration for the Bronte sisters; Enjoying Willa Cather's My Antonia, which seems, to some, a greater obscurity of life on the plains (in other words: *yawn* - but not to me). It explains what I call my Pottery Barn aesthetic (even though the Pottery Barn is a little barn-y, pottery-y and stereotype country-y for me) - an interest in earth tones, organic structures, country-designed kitchens, woodwork, pottery, hand-painted materials, hand-crafted textiles, ceramic chickens (as well as rubber chickens, maybe).

Somewhere between leaving the open earth and sky environment and the beginning of a respect for the concrete and metal city that scrapes both of these things, I started to think more geometrically. This explains a new found interest in architecture, marketing, symmetry and city street layout.

This is cool, though, because it might be important for me to think both ways. As I write, I'm lying peaceful on my double bed at home in Nebraska. It is so...quiet. I can hear myself think, which is not altogether a good thing, because I already over think and here, I can overhear myself over think.

Chicago, though - fun fact of the day that I'm proud to know and share - is laid out like a grid, and diagonal streets jut into the grid like a bicycle wheel's spokes, its center downtown. I've also learned that every 8 blocks equals about 1 mile. Just about every set of 8 blocks has an arterial street at the end of it. Every 4 blocks is a major secondary street. A block is about 480 feet. Downtown, most blocks are closer to 400 feet. Even-numbered addresses are on the west and north sides of each street, while odd-numbered addresses are on the east and south sides of each street. Yep, doin' my research.

And here's today's silly metaphor: my country roots (aka Jane Eyre tendencies and Pottery barn dreams) = the grid layout. My city living (architectural thinking) = the diagonals through the grid. This metaphor still up for interpretation, contemplation, expansion, because, it is a little yesteryear lame - you know, the structure of upbringing SLICED by 20-something self-discovery in the form of grid-breaking interruptions.

I think it's okay to one: not really have a really great conclusion to this piece of writing because it stands for the shaping and reshaping and shaping and reshaping of organic and geometric thinking; and two: finish up with a few words about freedom and making mistakes (by possibly writing this post and/or ending it with ambiguous song lyrics by a sentimental musician). Good 'ol Sufjan.

I was in love with the place
in my mind, in my mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind...

...if I was crying
in the van, with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself and from the land

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