Ramble 1 and Ramble 2: Into The Heart of the City

This past weekend, (which also happened to be Thanksgiving weekend), I ventured into downtown Salt Lake twice; once as a passerby and once with my friend who was going Black Friday shopping.  When I was alone, I went to the Library and picked up a book on my way to Daybreak.  I was only there for 20 minutes, but it was still a very unpleasant experience.  For some reason, out of all the TRAX stops I have been to, the one at the library feels the most unsafe, though that isn't for the lack of people.  When I have a friend, especially if he is a guy, I feel very at home there, but when I am alone I feel extremely uncomfortable.  I feel uncomfortable because the TRAX station, as well as Library square, always have people smoking there.  Visiting the library for 20 minutes caused me to be nauseous for the rest of the day.

I also feel uncomfortable because of the people I encounter on the TRAX platform and on the small part of Library square that leads up to the North-west entrance to the library.   The people that I encounter there usually come in four groups: middle aged men that smell bad and look slightly homeless, people who are mentally disabled and their caretakers, couples that verbally abuse each other and bring strangers into their confrontations, and people who are alone that keep to themselves, who are usually in their twenties or thirties.  There is also the occasional group of outgoing high-schoolers, but they are less regular.  This is not to say, of course that the Library only contains those groups of people, but they are the only people I have encountered walking from the TRAX station to the library and back.  Most of these confrontations happen while waiting for the light to change so the pedestrians can walk across the street, either to or from the TRAX station.  Weirdly, almost every time I've gone there has been someone who is not quite right in the head who stands by the button to cross and pushes it at least 5 times.  I am always annoyed by the loud chirping sound it makes as it registers the button press, but there is nothing I can do.   I feel slightly appalled at myself for being scared to go to the Library, but I just don't feel comfortable during that small walk from the train to the building.  But then, I also need my books, so I go.

Another reason I think I feel uncomfortable there is because of the small outdoor space just before the door to the Library.  It says no smoking, but people always smoke there and the smell doesn't go away because the Library shelters that part of Library square from much of the wind.  It smells disgusting.  There are also benches lining the north part of the space, and a fence with a cliff at the other side.  Bikes are always locked to the fence, and they are always either disassembled, or part of them has been stolen/is missing.  I try not to look at the benches because I am afraid I am being watched.  When you are walking through that space you feel like the Library has turned a cold shoulder to you, because while most of it is sloping and round, you are entering at the tallest, sharpest part of it.  If you were in the south plaza of the library where there is a fountain and a lot of open space, it might be different.  Over there you almost feel like you are being hugged by the Library, but at the north entrance you feel like it's telling you to go away.  Then there is the greenery that is southeast of the Library.  There are benches and a bit of a rambling garden up there, but I try not to spend too much time there because I don't feel comfortable.  There are often homeless men there, and though William Whyte says that homeless men often don't make a difference in the use of a space, I avoid the garden areas because of them.  I can't speak for all women when I say this, but in my personal experience, homeless men, particularly overly friendly ones or ones that smell bad, make me very uncomfortable.  I suppose it wouldn't bother me if there were people who were not homeless men or smokers that frequented the gardens; I would feel more at home.

William Whyte also pointed out that some men tended to group together and lean against a wall and watch girls.  Though he pointed out that most girl watchers never speak to girls, I can't help but notice that this aspect of being in public makes me uncomfortable too.  I don't like being looked over like cattle, and I feel that it both encourages men's right to openly judge and rate women that they see in public, and also validates their right to speak to any in a proprietorial way, if they should feel the need to change something about the situation.

While walking from the library TRAX station to the next street west of it late at night, I discovered a plaza/courtyard.  It was inside of a building with the letters City Center I on it.  It looked creepy at nighttime, but luckily I had a friend with me.  My guess is that most people don't use this plaza, and most people don't even know it's there.  It was hidden from the street, and open to the public in just one direction.  Not good plaza building, according to Whyte.  Tsk tsk.

When I got on the train to take me away from the Library, I picked a bad seat.  There were two boys there playing shitty music loudly from their shitty phone speakers.  I am tolerant when it comes to most music.  I'll even sit there and tap my feet to country for a few hours if you want.  But I can't stand lazy or violent rap that has no meaning.  It was extremely discourteous of them to play music aloud, and they knew that, and they would turn it off if they thought someone was around who would catch them.  But they didn't care that they were being discourteous to other people because they didn't think about why people aren't supposed to play music aloud.  It seems that people don't think about why rules are there anymore, they just think about not getting caught breaking them.  Personal escape has taken precedent over public comfort.  But I'm just as bad as the rest.  I could have moved to spare myself, or I could have asked them to stop, but I felt too scared that I would offend them to do either.  I'm not sure how to address that, when the only solution is my not being a coward.

My other trip into the city with my friend on Black Friday took me to City Creek Center.  On the way there from the Courthouse TRAX station, we observed the seemingly public space on Main Street at the foot of the Wells Fargo building.   I noticed that the ledges there were made of a fancy, shiny, black stone, but they had protrusions on them to keep people from sitting or loitering there.

These pictures show some of the area between the Courthouse TRAX Station and the City Center TRAX Station.  The last is a picture of a supposed seating place at the Gallivan Plaza TRAX Station.  The seating place does not meet Whyte's observational requirements, and it was rather awkward to sit on because it faced away from the other convenient seating on the planter box and was not wide enough when used in the conventional form.

There was not much to see or do in that part of the city, and Gallivan Plaza, which is just behind the building, has a crowded ice rink in the winter, but is otherwise deserted.  Perhaps this could be fixed if there was a good opportunity for eating in the plaza, but people don't seem to think of that.  There are not too many take-away restaurants downtown, and hardly any food carts, at least in the places I visit.  However, the section of Main Street between the Courthouse TRAX Station and the City Center TRAX Station is trying.  It is painted green, which gives it a different feeling than regular road, and there is only one lane on either side of TRAX, which makes it more pedestrian friendly.  But I have never hung out there, and I probably wouldn't want to.  It would be very noisy from TRAX and the occasional car, and if I were to sit there for more than 10 minutes, a smoker would walk by and I would have to gag on the already polluted air until a rare breeze blew the smell away.  So, it's not a place I would voluntarily choose to spend my time, I only tend to use it for getting from one place to another.  I have no ownership of the street, an neither do any of the businesses that operate there, other than the occasional one that features a small outdoor seating area.  But again, given the choice, unless the weather was particularly fine, I would choose to eat inside.

Looking back at my own recounting, I would say that how a place smells matters a great deal to me.  If downtown smelled like delicious pastries all the time, I would go there more often.  If the library didn't smell like dried pee and cigarette smoke on the outside, I would spend more of my time there.  I suppose I'm spoiled because, relatively, the U smells good.  It smells like clean mountain air, and food, and clean laundry, and grass.  And it also smells like cars and pollution and smoke occasionally, but mostly it doesn't smell dirty, which is why I like spending time here.  Smell is an avenue that we haven't fully explored yet, and I'd like to play with it the same way we've been playing with lighting.  I also notice noise a great deal.  I love TRAX, but I wish there was a way to make it less loud and less hard to enjoy myself next to.  

An Aquarium Can Flourish Though the Sea is Dying

Over the semester, I've been exposed to a variety of unique ways that other people have chosen to implement change in their cities to make them just a little bit better.  Each time I see one of these ways of change, I feel disappointed with myself for not thinking of that first.  However, I also know that Salt Lake City is extremely unique.  It is filled with Mormons, which makes the social environment different from anything else in the world.  We are blessed with a foul smelling lake that defines the ultimate Northeastern border of the city, when it finally does expand that far.  We are also bounded in every other direction but straight south by vast mountains.  I like to think of these mountains as boundaries too, although the city does expand up onto their foothills in neighborhoods like the Avenues.

This outward expansion is disconcerting, because there is plenty of space existing within the bounds of the valley.  Suburbs, though an ideal part of the American dream, do not further a healthy social environment, as we have discussed in class.  Salt Lake City has a beautiful blueprint already laid out, and within this blueprint the city could blossom into a lively, contained metropolis.  The area we have to work with could be easily combed with public transit to make all areas of the city accessible.  We already have this beautiful grid laid out, which can be both a blessing and a curse.  The grid promotes uniformity, which lends itself to the assumption that all areas are and should be the same.  However, in order for Salt Lake City to become the city I see it as, each of the areas must embrace what they have that is unique.  The roads should not all be the same width, and some roads should not be roads at all, but public walking plazas.  Most public walking plazas that we have are not integrated into the grid system.

Unfortunately, the beautiful geographic blueprint that has already been laid out for us also serves to trap us in our own filth.  By this I am referring to the inversion, which happens in the winter months.  The mountains here, which are such an attractive feature for so many people, also hold us accountable for our pollution.  While the inversion makes me wish I didn't live where I do, I am also glad that we are held accountable for our awful pollution regulations and our higher-than-average commute distance/time.  If I lived in another city, I might own a car by now, but living here makes me see how irresponsible using a car is.  If there was one thing I could change about Salt Lake, it would have to be the pollution habits of the citizens.  Whether this means that my pinprick of change is expanding the public transportation network to include a TRAX line on Foothill or re-doing the entire city bike lane commute system, I know that my priority is to try to implement something that changes commute habits and the way that people think of the inversion.

The main categories that I can think of that we could implement change in are transportation, social space, social programs, forming a non-profit company, and natural landmarks (such as water).  There are so many directions that this project could go in, but I would ultimately want to change the transportation culture of the city.  To me that seems like a really big task, which the PRAXIS lab can't accomplish on its own, but hey, a girl can dream.  I am also struggling with my selfishness.  The easiest place/way for me to imagine change is close to or relating to the University of Utah Campus, because it is my genus locai.  I would love to put a TRAX line in on Foothill, and I would love to turn the area that forms a "T" at the base of President's circle on University street and 200 S into a red rock pedestrian plaza with a fountain and bustling storefronts.  However I feel selfish thinking of these things because they directly benefit me, and they benefit the rest of the city less. I'm not sure how to alter my perspective to encompass more of the city, because I don't use much of the city besides my little corner.  

The Absence of Shadow

There is no such thing as light, only the absence of shadow. 

Last year in my dorm room, I had an illegal candle (as in, housing regulations prohibited me from having something with a burnt wick in my room).  I would light it when I wanted to feel warm or when I wanted to feel more in-touch with myself.  It was extremely comforting to watch the flame light up a small spherical area on my windowsill.  I would often light it when I wanted to take a nap, as a silly comfort to myself that no monsters would get me while I slept.  I also hung a small strand of Christmas lights in my room, which, combined with the candle, gave great ambient lighting.  I hated the fluorescent light that resided in my ceiling.  It was large, rectangular, and though it was the brightest thing in the room, when I needed to see I still preferred to use my desk lamp, which gives off a lovely warm-yellow glow.  Unfortunately, when I started this year, I did not have a candle.  I got one recently, and I noticed that my productivity and confidence have gone way up.  Lighting it just makes me feel powerful and strong, and for as long as it’s lit, it’s easier for me to do my homework.  Not having it for so long made me realize how much I missed having fire as a constant part of my life.  How I feel about lighting elsewhere is just an extension of how I feel about my candle.  I thrive in spaces that are pleasantly lit, and feel scared in places that are lit harshly or in an unfriendly way.  Firelight gives me something to walk toward, and fluorescent light gives me something to walk away from—quickly.

                Moonlight is also sacred to me, in a different way than firelight is.  Moonlight is blue light, which is not usually considered ambient.  Most of the light I prefer to be in is yellow, but I also love the color of moonlight.  I have never had the chance to walk in only moonlight without other man-made lighting around, so I’m not sure whether it would make me comfortable or not.  However, I have sometimes gone up onto the mountains and looked out at the city at night, and seeing the city from far away while I am in the dark makes me feel safe.  I enjoy the beauty of the city because I am not surrounded by light. 

                Sometimes though, I like to be in spaces that aren't lit at all.  I would prefer it to be completely dark everywhere outside rather than have it poorly lit.  That way it is easier for me to quietly and efficiently keep to the shadows and avoid being seen.  If it is poorly lit I have no choice but to occasionally reveal myself to whomever may be interested in me.  The poor lighting also makes me feel jittery and hunted.  So, yes, I suppose there is something to be said for opting for no lighting at all.

                Shadows are another form of darkness that I find is undervalued.  So many of the shadows in the world today are binary.  What I mean by that is, the shadows are either there, or they are not there.  The shadows created by trees are analog; you can be in sun and shadow at the same time.  I like analog shadows because of the temperature change from sunlight to shadow.  If you’re not dressed exactly right for the weather, a shadow can make or break your comfort level.  In concrete jungles, analog shadows are practically nonexistent.  We are increasingly living in a binary universe, where you can have all or none, good or evil, and present or gone.  We are little encouraged to access the empathy that would let us have some, be both good and evil, and be there sometimes.  A little shadow appreciation here or there would go a long way...

The Theoretical Societal Wealth Baseline

As humanity progresses through technology and the automated age, we continue to reduce the amount of effort needed for an individual to live.  Once it was necessary for most people to obtain food for themselves, which took up most of that individual's energy.  Now, a portion of people collect food for the others, while the others perform different work like scientific research or building bridges, which is generally supposed to advance humanity.  However, I reason that there must be an attainable level of progress that could permit all people to work less and still live in comfort.  Right now, to attain a level of financial stability associated with comfort, you have to work extremely hard to advance over your peers.  If, instead of existing in a cutthroat system where competition for an excess of money means working extra long hard hours in order to earn that money, we were to reach a level of wealth in our species that would allow everyone to live in comfort no matter how hard they work, it would mean that our species has truly progressed.  In this ideal/future society, hard work could still be rewarded with excess wealth.  So really the main problem I see in current society is the focus on individual advancement, as opposed to the assurance of everyone's basic level of comfort.

Eventually, there will be too many people competing for the few jobs left.  Society will be so far advanced that most people will have nothing to do.  But I think that if we are that advanced, instead of rewarding the most competitive people with a way to make a living for themselves, everyone should live in a basic level of comfort, and people who want to attain more should be able to work for it.  However, the needs of everyone would be addressed before the wealth/individual achievement of the ambitious people.  Call me a communist if you like (however the correct term would be a socialist), I just see this being the natural state of things in the future.  Fuck you, capitalism.

A City as a Collective Dream

Departure Point One: My Building
As far as buildings go, I think mine is pretty nice.  However, there are some things that I would change about it.  For a college dorm, the inner walls are surprisingly poorly insulated, which means that no one has any private space anywhere.  It can be an annoyance, but it's not the most inconvenient thing.  My building also does not offer close student parking.  This is more of a problem than the walls, however it doesn't personally effect me, because I don't have a car.  The most frustrating part of this problem is that there is a perfectly good parking lot right outside our building, however it is reserved for faculty.  If this parking lot were converted back to U permit parking, this section of campus would be safer for resident students at night.

Departure Point Two: My Neighborhood
My neighborhood is the University of Utah campus.  I think I heard somewhere that when campus was originally built, it was built without sidewalks.  The idea was to observe where the students walked and create sidewalks out of those natural paths that formed.  This may or may not be true, but the idea is certainly a good one.  However, as more and more buildings went up on campus, these natural paths were disrupted, and new, more convenient routes started to emerge.  The old sidewalks are still there, although they have been made ineffectual by the new buildings and student routes.  Every year people continue to walk across the grass and over hills to get to class quickly, and yet the old paths stay there and new ones are rarely put up.  I think it's time for a re-evaluation of student walking patterns.

Departure Point Three: Campus
It has recently begun to bother me that I am constantly surrounded by dead and dying people.  What I mean by this is that I spend 95% of my time on campus.  The campus sits between the rest of the valley and the University of Utah hospital, which is huge.  This means that ambulances are constantly routed around campus to get to the hospital, because campus has no roads running though it.  Helicopters often also fly over campus to the hospital.  So there are dying people above me, and dying people encircling me.  The only direction that doesn't hold dead people is down into the ground...  Which is where dead people are supposed to be.  Great.  I used to think that the five lane roads surrounding the campus were for University of Utah commuters, but this year I also realized that a large part of the traffic up here is from the hospital.  I am particularly struck at how unfeelingly Mario Cappecchi Drive cuts upper campus away from lower campus.  Almost no one who uses the road ever has to bridge between upper and lower campus.  Firstly, I think Mario Cappecchi should have a sidewalk, even if it's a small one.  I also think that there should be more cross points for pedestrians.  In particular, I think there should be a bridge-like structure attached to my building that runs across to the grassy area on the other side of the road.  Anyone should be able to access it with a minimal climbing of stairs, and the majority of the structure should be open to the air.  To actually get into the upper floors of my building would require u card access, however to descend the stairs and get to the main floor should be an option for everyone.

Departure Point 4: Delight in the City
I noticed that when I drew my personal map of the city, two things appeared consistently.  The first was that I tended to show places that had good views of the city, like the U on the hill.  The second and most prominent thing was that I showed my friends' houses.  So I concluded that the presence of my friends and the ability to view the city are two things that influence my delight.  Most of the time in central Salt Lake, my delight is limited because I can't see very far around me at all, and if I am with my friends I have to stay close to them to hear them because it is a relatively noisy part of the city.  I would love to experience a public place where I could still see the mountains around me and experience the natural beauty of Salt Lake while also experiencing the constructed beauty of the buildings downtown.  If one of these buildings was to be a public building that the public could go to the top of, I wouldn't feel confined to the sidewalk when I am downtown, and it might be nice to separate myself from the traffic noise a little.  As it is, I don't feel that I have a right to go into the buildings that line Main Street.  If I could make such a large modification, I would make a public park/garden on top of one of the tall buildings downtown.

Seeing Mario Capecchi Drive

Every morning I have breakfast by the window of my living room.  It looks out over Mario Capecchi Drive, which is a four lane road (two going in either direction) with a wide meridian and an extra lane on the southbound side for turning right.  Every morning at about the same time, excepting Friday, traffic will start to pile up in the same place.  This is because just down the road (north of my building) there is a left turn lane to a street into campus.  The traffic almost always exceeds the boundary of the left turn lane itself, and instead spills backward into the left lane of the road.  I've often noticed that the traffic is pre-sorted.  What I mean by this is that those continuing on the road stay in the right lane, while about 95% of the traffic in the left lane utilizes the left turn lane when they finally reach it.

It is also fun to watch the street on a very rainy day. When it heavily rains for more than 10 minutes, an area of grass across the street from my window starts to vomit up water.  Presumably it's a storm drain, but I haven't really checked it out.  Since the terrain on the other side of the street is sloped steeply downward toward the street, the torrent of water quickly finds it's way to the storm drain there.  However this drain quickly fills up, and before long a very large puddle collects.  Once we estimated it was about 3 or 4 feet deep.  This puddle also collects on the road, not on the side of it.  It makes driving on the road very dangerous, although I haven't seen anyone crash yet.  It is funny to see a street that looks so functional and utilitarian be reduced to half capacity just because of a rain storm.  The road is slightly slanted in race-track fashion, so that the innermost lane is lowest to the ground and the outermost lanes are at a higher elevation.  It is because the road is so adapted for fast traffic that it has the problem of the giant puddle.

Another important feature of this road is the Fort Douglas TRAX station next to the seldom used extra right turn lane I mentioned above.  Every day excepting Friday a man gets off the northbound train at the same time.  He is always dressed in army clothes and usually carries a tan duffel bag that looks very full, as well as his military backpack.  He always jay-walks across the street toward Fort Douglas, which is really not all that surprising considering his dress.  Sometimes, other people jaywalk across the street too, but he does it every day.  His predicament brings into light many issues with the street.  First and foremost, it is an area for cars.  People are not welcome; there are not even sidewalks on the side of this street.  TRAX deposits people, either walking or riding their bikes at the top of lower campus.  Anyone who wishes to go to upper campus needs to either walk along the length of the TRAX station, up the stairs to legacy bridge, and across, or they need to make their way in the other direction to the intersection south of the TRAX station.  Unsurprisingly, almost nobody chooses the intersection.  It takes up to 3 minutes before the signals let pedestrians cross in the desired direction, and there is no clear path between the TRAX station and the intersection because of the lack of sidewalks.  There was never any consideration on the part of the planners to make foot transportation between the TRAX station and the intersection possible, and the only way to do it is to walk along a sidewalk that suddenly dissappears, walk across the entrance to a parking lot, walk across another parking lot (all the while losing elevation), and then walk up a steep, large set of hidden stairs.   Yes, I do mean they are hidden.  At first glance, they would look like part of a 25 foot retaining wall made of concrete.  So, all in all, I perfectly understand why army dude jay-walks across a very busy street every morning: because it's much easier.

Other than army dude, there aren't really faces associated with the street.  There are people in their cars, and there are people who get off TRAX, and there are students who cross Legacy Bridge, but nobody interacts with the street on a fundamental level.  It is a place for people who don't want to be where they are.  

Empathy Part II: Identity

I identify myself in many ways that distinguish me from others.  When asked to list my identities, most of the things that I come up with are things that make me unique and different from others, for example, my given birth name, my screen usernames, and my identification as a part of the very small group of female engineers, which also makes me unique in most settings.  However, my identity isn't just comprised of things that make me different from other people, although those are the things that come to mind.  I can identify with many large groups of people, and this is also a part of who I am.  I'm not sure if it's convention that gives me the idea that identity is something to distinguish you and set you apart from other people, or if I'm just weird.  But I do consider it rather alarming that I try as a matter of course to throw my empathy and relations away when I think about who I am.  I'm still not sure what it means to try to identify my separation from others as opposed to my connections with them, but now that I am aware of it I am trying to expand my list of identities to be more inclusive of all of who I am, not just the parts that I can't relate to anyone else. 

Empathy

Empathy: "the ability to understand and share the feelings of another."  

Empathy is different than sympathy, which is empathy without the personal experience, aka pity.  Most people claim that empathy is always the more powerful emotional response of the two, however I find that in this respect I differ from the majority of the population.  My most powerful emotional responses have always been toward animals' sufferings.  I do feel for people in difficult situations, but animals in bad situations inflame my emotions tenfold of any empathy or sympathy I have ever felt for a person.  I am sort of afraid of being perceived as heartless or uncompassionate because of this, but I will own my emotions here.  The video "The Collector at Bedford Street" made me happy to see a community support one of it's members, but I was much more emotionally impacted to see the community of buffalo join together to save their baby.  The challenges that humans face are more moderate than being eaten alive by lions while crying out futilely for help from your parents, however humans do face the metaphorical equivalent.  That is probably part of the reason my emotions are stronger with regard to animals-because the challenges they face are so much more brutal than human challenges, though human challenges can be just as severe/fatal in the end.  

Also, in the video "Battle at Kruger," there were multiple sets of emotions that I felt that contrasted one another.  On one hand, I know that the baby buffalo would have had a miserable, short existence if it had been eaten alive.  On the other hand, the lions need to eat, and they spent a lot of energy capturing the buffalo.  Contrary to the Disney "the lion is the king of the jungle" attitude, lions are actually denied their prey on a routine basis.  So my emotions were divided, because I thought the lions still deserved to eat, but it would have pained me to see a baby buffalo eaten alive.  

During the past week I read a story that broke my heart.  I would tell you not to read it if you don't want to experience sadness, but I am beginning to realize that just because something is sad doesn't mean we should avoid it or emotionally withdraw.  So I'm going to recommend reading this, even if you don't feel like acknowledging that the world has problems today.  

http://uglythecat.com/

Towards a Just Metropolis

Just a note: I wrote the previous post before I read Soul of a Citizen, and it's surprisingly relevant.  I think that Soul of a Citizen addresses many of the things going on in my life right now.  I read it in parts over the weekend and each time I put it down for awhile, something would happen in my life that connected me to the next section of reading, which was a cool experience.

I want to start out this post by explaining my political views, though they may at first seem irrelevant.  I consider myself to be a liberal.  What that means to me is that everyone should have the ability to decide things for themselves.  I consider this ability of individuals to make their own choices an inalienable right, and I consider it to be morally corrupt for anyone to take another person's choice away from them.  This means that, from my perspective, individuals do not have the right to make a decision that impacts the health of someone else.  For example, when individuals in the Salt Lake Valley choose to drive large trucks with poor gas mileage that pollute the atmosphere much more than is necessary on an inversion day, that decision does not only effect them.  By making that decision they are also impacting the health of everyone in the valley, particularly those people with asthma and other health issues.  In this case, their individual decision has impacted the rights of other people to be healthy.  I believe that the rights of the individual to make their own decision end when that decision begins impacting someone else.  To avoid giving people the power of harming other people, I think individual decisions that impact the public should be regulated by the government or perhaps some other ruling body.  Now I must diverge here for a bit to explain that of course I believe there are exceptions to this right, such as children, who's decisions are made for them by their parents until their brains are well developed enough that they can think for themselves.  

Given my belief in this right, I find it difficult to entirely accept Soul of a Citizen as a true work.  What I mean by this is that the author certainly had good intentions, however I try to avoid putting myself in a position where I can or must make decisions for other people.  For example, my friends have recently developed a fascination for taking road signs that have been left on the side of the road.  Now, I'm pretty sure it's illegal to take government property, even if it seems abandoned, so it makes me uncomfortable when they do try to take the signs.  However, I don't want to make their decisions for them, so oftentimes I just tell them that if they want to take it, I won't help them, but I won't stop them.  I am afraid to get involved to a point where I have to make decisions for other people.  

After reading Soul of a Citizen I realized that I want to do more than allow things that I don't like to happen.  I am still confused as to whether it is right or wrong to involve myself, however I also want to make a difference in the world, and I don't want to be a bystander.  I know I would feel more fulfilled as a person if I didn't feel helpless about my sociopolitical involvement.  I hope that through this PRAXIS Lab we can all gain an as-complete-as-we-can-make-it understanding of the problems this valley is facing so that we can use the power we have as responsibly as possible,  I believe our PRAXIS lab truly does have power, because we have a significant amount of money, and because we have a  group of people dedicated to studying and improving the Salt Lake Valley.  

Also, I calculated my ecological footprint on the following website:
 http://myfootprint.org/en/visitor_information/
 (Links to an external site.)

My ecological footprint=3.15 earths, which is terrible...  

Power to the People

I had a thought the other day (I know, I know, thinking is good).  Unoriginality aside, I thought it might find an expression on this blog.  The Second Amendment was created to protect the right of the citizens of the United States of America to keep and bear arms.  Now, aside from the typical "guns kill people/the constitution says I have a right to possess weapons" debate, I think there is a larger weapons issue in this country right now.  The Founding Fathers created the Second Amendment to ensure that the citizens of what was then a British colony would forever have the ability to defend themselves against their native government.  However, the Founding Fathers couldn't have predicted the arsenal of modern weaponry that world governments now have at their disposal.  The art of war has evolved far beyond population numbers.  We now live in an age where accountability resides in approval ratings.  The purpose of the Second Amendment was to give people the power to change their government if they didn't like it, but citizens can no longer do that simply because of the vast wealth of power the U.S. government has accumulated.  So really, the issue isn't about whether people own guns or not, the issue is how to take approval ratings and give middle and lower class citizens the ability to impact the government if things aren't working out.  The intention of the Second Amendment was to prevent the system we have now occurring.  Sure we have the same name as the good old U.S. of A, but we sure as hell are not the same country.  Now, frankly, I'm not sure what to do about that, because I see no way out of the trap that I have suddenly found that my ancestors let me fall into.

So yeah, just a mildly depressing thought...

Human Scale/Cities for People

My room has the bones of a typical college dorm room (beige walls, short, grey carpet that doesn't stain, and various smoke detectors, heat detectors, fire alarms, motion sensors, vents, and the lighting that you see in the ceilings of high school buildings).  I have one window that faces east, which I don't open very often because there is a very busy road and a train that goes under it.  On my door I have a poster that says "Each place is lucky to have you visit it."  I have ten posters and a string of twinkle lights hung up on the walls in an attempt to splatter myself all over the space, but there are still plenty of empty stretches of wall.  One corner of my room is dysfunctional because of the way I have my bed positioned.  I use it for storing things, but I wish there was a way to make the space more active.

I share my living room with three other people, and I see this space as an extension of my bedroom without the mess.  I spend most of my non-sleeping time here.  I also have a bathroom that I share with just one person, my direct roommate Itzel.  This space is very important to me because I do most of my serious thinking in the shower.  I even went so far as to modify my shower to make it more comfortable by adjusting the water pressure.  I also feel a certain space ownership in the living room of the apartment across the hall from mine, since my front door is propped open so often.  Last year my apartment also had an "open door policy" with the apartment across from us, and this really expanded my comfort level for getting to know people and being social.  When I have more ownership of a space, I tend to hang out there more; it just feels more like home.

I also feel at home on the U of U campus to a certain extent, because I know I'm always 20 minutes away max. from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  But the true feeling of home comes when I round the corner of the soccer field and I can see the front of the MHC.  Living in an apartment means I don't have a front yard per se, but I do have a fire pit and some weird landscaped sections of ground covered in wood-chips.  I also feel ownership of this space, but I am uncomfortable hanging out there because it feels like the environment is built to discourage people from spending time there.  There are not many places to sit comfortably with a large group of people.

When I do venture out to the rest of campus, my first impression is of construction, because both of the buildings immediately next to mine are being built.  I hate this part of my commute; sometimes I try not to breathe, because the construction smells so terrible.  The rest of campus is alternatively beautiful and frustrating (like the Hyper buildings).  The other places I regularly venture to are Smith's for groceries, and my parent's house every Sunday night for dinner.  I don't feel very welcome at my parent's house, but Smith's is just a weekly part of my life.

So I'm not really sure what I've taken away from this reiteration of my daily goings, but I do try to spend my time in many places where I feel welcome.