Things have been going much, much better in Raleigh these days, and perhaps surprisingly I can attribute most of that to the simple decision to start playing a second night of volleyball every week, on the outdoor courts not far from home. Much appreciation goes to the person who convinced me (tempted me? coerced me?) to show up the first week. All of a sudden weeknights are not just for studying and TV anymore. In fact, my weekends have become the more boring, antisocial parts of my week these days (that bears some correction, hopefully soon).
I'm headed for home for a long weekend next weekend, and very excited to see the family, hug my sister, play some horse corral volleyball, sleep outdoors, hopefully grab a drink with the Cantabrigians on Friday, reintroduce myself to Felicity (youngest neice), meet my eldest neice's new significant, get retribution for a water-balloon soaking on Memorial Day, and in general commune with the fam.
And get this: I passed my last architecture licensure exam! Yes, I took it many, many weeks ago, but I finally got word that I passed yesterday. It was a structures exam, which meant I had to re-learn about two years worth of college curriculum (ten years ago!) in the span of three months. Oh, but actually more... 80% of the exam was on lateral forces, which we never learned in college. Hazaa! My next exam is August 7, and at the risk of cursing myself, it should be a much easier exam. No math. No real technical terminology. Things directly applicable to work I've done. And then... I'll be nearly halfway done!
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Sheets
I purchased new bed sheets yesterday, for the first time in several years.
I was very proud of myself those several years ago, acquiring my first full set of Queen-sized bedding (with blanket!). Previous to that I had been using my 1970's-era trippy bed spread from my childhood, which had delaminated in many places and been... relaminated in others. Not a proud blanket by the end of its life. Coupled with mismatched fitted sheets stolen from home, my bed was definitely an unprofessional mess. Renting a tiny studio in Cambridge meant that, God forbid I ever had a visitor, my ridiculous bed with its threadbare 70's blankie would be the elephant in the room.
I forgot where I bought my first "adult" bedding... perhaps Sears at the Cambridgeside Galleria? I remember there was a collection of "hip" bedding from some prematurely-commercialized fashion designer or DIY hunkie or TV chef or something, and one appealed to me because it had orange (one of few colors I have confidence in seeing correctly with my colorblind eyes) but also had slivers of just about every other color that standard big-box bedding can come in. I would never have to worry about matching decor colors, because if it isn't in there, it isn't out there. I bought the set and it was a famous addition to my studio apartment--made me feel all growed up.
The trouble with owning only one set of bedding is that you can't rotate out parts that need a rest from constant use. The blanket was fine for prolonged periods (though I think I curdled the inner padding during the first wash, which has been lumpy forevermore), the pillowcases could share their load with the shams, and the flat sheet would pretty much retreat when it felt overstressed. The fitted sheet, though... what a life. Abuse from the cat alone was demoralizing, but my constant use wore at the elastic until it just couldn't hold onto the mattress anymore. Making the bed often meant restretching that poor fitted sheet over the most highly-trafficked mattress corner.
Unsurprisingly, moving to Raleigh did not improve the lot of my old bedding. It did, however, provide a separate bedroom (with a door!) in which my bedding was able to coast a bit... So a mattress corner was revealed once in a while (every night)? No problem! No need to impress me! That hole the cat dug into the sheet? Not a biggie. That weird stain left when the sheet got caught in the vacuum cleaner whilst I cleared it of cat hair? Ugly and tough to explain, sure, but no need to worry. This coordinated team forged by some trendy personality many years ago was starting to act like slovenly, fattening baseball retirees. No ambition. No professionalism. A bare mattress was a regular occurence. Pillows had to be double-bagged. The flat sheet would literally hop off the bed and refuse to work. It was rough.
In my unexpected boredom yesterday, I decided it was time to bring fresh blood on the team. I drove up to Target assuming that I would find a replacement sheet set with enough hipness to mesh in with the blanket--hell no I was not buying another blanket!--for a reasonable price. I guess my concept of what "reasonable" means when buying big square pieces of cloth with folded, sewn edges did not match Target's... even on sale, sheet sets seem wildly overpriced given the materials and labor that go into them. And hip? Trendy? Fashionable? Uh uh. Plain. Solid. Cotton. No graphics. No orange. Not even sheets with Target logos on them. My choices were thread count and if I wanted a polyester blend or a bamboo rayon blend. White, beige, green, blue, black, and red. It's like an ice cream truck that only sells popsicles.
I chose beige, mostly because 1) white? eew. 2) my blanket is orange and my walls are dark green (I think), so what else works? 3) the chances of fucking up beige are pretty slim. Thread count was my only other option, and I think I blew it. Yes, I know a higher thread count is preferable. I also know that the price jumps about ten to fifteen dollars per level. The pawed-over fabric samples that hang under the 600, 400, 300, and 250 signs do not feel $10 apart. In fact, the 300 felt the worst of all (and, somehow, was the cheapest!). I decided that the samples were not good justification and went with the cheap, "easy-care" 300. After a night on the new sheets, feeling like I was sleeping on the exam chair at the doctor's office, I have to believe that better sheets exist, and maybe even for a reasonable price... either that or I need to go to Walmart's craft department and pick myself up some fabric to make new sheets from. But no longer do I have to nag my bedding into performing its function, and I had a full--if itchy--night of sleep without ever seeing a bare mattress corner.
I was very proud of myself those several years ago, acquiring my first full set of Queen-sized bedding (with blanket!). Previous to that I had been using my 1970's-era trippy bed spread from my childhood, which had delaminated in many places and been... relaminated in others. Not a proud blanket by the end of its life. Coupled with mismatched fitted sheets stolen from home, my bed was definitely an unprofessional mess. Renting a tiny studio in Cambridge meant that, God forbid I ever had a visitor, my ridiculous bed with its threadbare 70's blankie would be the elephant in the room.
I forgot where I bought my first "adult" bedding... perhaps Sears at the Cambridgeside Galleria? I remember there was a collection of "hip" bedding from some prematurely-commercialized fashion designer or DIY hunkie or TV chef or something, and one appealed to me because it had orange (one of few colors I have confidence in seeing correctly with my colorblind eyes) but also had slivers of just about every other color that standard big-box bedding can come in. I would never have to worry about matching decor colors, because if it isn't in there, it isn't out there. I bought the set and it was a famous addition to my studio apartment--made me feel all growed up.
The trouble with owning only one set of bedding is that you can't rotate out parts that need a rest from constant use. The blanket was fine for prolonged periods (though I think I curdled the inner padding during the first wash, which has been lumpy forevermore), the pillowcases could share their load with the shams, and the flat sheet would pretty much retreat when it felt overstressed. The fitted sheet, though... what a life. Abuse from the cat alone was demoralizing, but my constant use wore at the elastic until it just couldn't hold onto the mattress anymore. Making the bed often meant restretching that poor fitted sheet over the most highly-trafficked mattress corner.
Unsurprisingly, moving to Raleigh did not improve the lot of my old bedding. It did, however, provide a separate bedroom (with a door!) in which my bedding was able to coast a bit... So a mattress corner was revealed once in a while (every night)? No problem! No need to impress me! That hole the cat dug into the sheet? Not a biggie. That weird stain left when the sheet got caught in the vacuum cleaner whilst I cleared it of cat hair? Ugly and tough to explain, sure, but no need to worry. This coordinated team forged by some trendy personality many years ago was starting to act like slovenly, fattening baseball retirees. No ambition. No professionalism. A bare mattress was a regular occurence. Pillows had to be double-bagged. The flat sheet would literally hop off the bed and refuse to work. It was rough.
In my unexpected boredom yesterday, I decided it was time to bring fresh blood on the team. I drove up to Target assuming that I would find a replacement sheet set with enough hipness to mesh in with the blanket--hell no I was not buying another blanket!--for a reasonable price. I guess my concept of what "reasonable" means when buying big square pieces of cloth with folded, sewn edges did not match Target's... even on sale, sheet sets seem wildly overpriced given the materials and labor that go into them. And hip? Trendy? Fashionable? Uh uh. Plain. Solid. Cotton. No graphics. No orange. Not even sheets with Target logos on them. My choices were thread count and if I wanted a polyester blend or a bamboo rayon blend. White, beige, green, blue, black, and red. It's like an ice cream truck that only sells popsicles.
I chose beige, mostly because 1) white? eew. 2) my blanket is orange and my walls are dark green (I think), so what else works? 3) the chances of fucking up beige are pretty slim. Thread count was my only other option, and I think I blew it. Yes, I know a higher thread count is preferable. I also know that the price jumps about ten to fifteen dollars per level. The pawed-over fabric samples that hang under the 600, 400, 300, and 250 signs do not feel $10 apart. In fact, the 300 felt the worst of all (and, somehow, was the cheapest!). I decided that the samples were not good justification and went with the cheap, "easy-care" 300. After a night on the new sheets, feeling like I was sleeping on the exam chair at the doctor's office, I have to believe that better sheets exist, and maybe even for a reasonable price... either that or I need to go to Walmart's craft department and pick myself up some fabric to make new sheets from. But no longer do I have to nag my bedding into performing its function, and I had a full--if itchy--night of sleep without ever seeing a bare mattress corner.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The year in review
As I noted in the previous blog post, my official start date of residence in the Land of the Pines was July 1, 2008. That was the day I drove the rental truck from... no, wait. I remember staying at a motel in New Jersey--this is when motels were slashing their rates because no one was going anywhere because gas prices were reaching their peak, but I had stupidly locked in my rate months earlier. I suppose I could have cancelled the reservation and saved a heap of money, but it's not easy to communicate that situation through a tiny little metal grille in 1/2" of bulletproof plexiglass. So that must have been June... 29? Then at Grandma's for the evening of June 30? Then into Raleigh on July 1? Yep, that sounds right. I remember being scared driving the truck the whole way down. At city driving speeds, it was just a standard shitbox rental truck clanging along the road. But take it on the highway, it would shake itself to pieces between 45 and 55 mph, meaning I either had to drive it faster than I was hoping or much, much slower... and if I opted for faster, I would somehow have to cross the threshold on the slow-down. The thing would literally shake enough--the whole thing, not just the engine--that I wouldn't have been surprised for big chunks to start falling off. It got so bad driving into town on US 64 that I had to pull over on the highway to collect myself... almost there.
The point was, even though I moved in July 1, I still had to fly back home and collect the cat and the car, so I wasn't a permanent fixture here until July 5th (thus avoiding the question of what the hell I'm supposed to do here on the 4th of July... which happens to be the first day two years ago that I came to Raleigh, during which I observed the festivities at the State House and even found Port City Java on Fayetteville Street open despite the holiday).
I underestimated the trauma involved in moving by a wide margin. I've never been especially sensitive to homesickness. When college started in Troy, NY, in 1996, the trauma of architecture education must have quickly superseded whatever homesickness I could have experienced. And for life thereafter, including grad school, I was never more than an hour from family. Even three months in Rome in 1999 was less traumatic--probably because it was so damn awesome and the trauma was spread out amongst twenty schoolmates that I knew fairly well. But this time, coming to Raleigh, it was all me and only me. Trying to tie down a job. Getting the car registered and inspected. Finding furniture. Finding a new doctor. Being stared at for walking. Being on edge with anxiety just about every day at work.
Things settled down in stages, but I would say I was still quite unhappy--or at least unsettled--through to Thanksgiving. I think that was my first trip home (actually a business trip to Cambridge a week or two earlier was my first time back in Mass.). At about the same time I gave up on slogging through the anxiety and re-started my anxiety meds. And I started a project at work that was more in line with my experience. Etc. etc.
It probably wasn't until three months ago, though, that I really started to feel like I had momentum here in Raleigh. That was about when I got laid off from work. Somehow an event that had the potential to really fuck up everything managed to solidify my resolve to stay here. Of course, the fact that I was back at work within a week and a half made the whole thing easier, and I'm not sure what the situation would have led to otherwise... but for once I was able to clarify that I had an identity here without my job being its central component.
Since then, I've met many new folks in town, been out more on weekends, corresponded with the leadership at NCSU School of Architecture, gotten active in the local professional organization, and all those other fun distractions that help keep a person from thinking about how hard their life is.
So, for future reference, it takes Paul Lipchak between 9 and 12 months to feel "at home" in a new place.
The point was, even though I moved in July 1, I still had to fly back home and collect the cat and the car, so I wasn't a permanent fixture here until July 5th (thus avoiding the question of what the hell I'm supposed to do here on the 4th of July... which happens to be the first day two years ago that I came to Raleigh, during which I observed the festivities at the State House and even found Port City Java on Fayetteville Street open despite the holiday).
I underestimated the trauma involved in moving by a wide margin. I've never been especially sensitive to homesickness. When college started in Troy, NY, in 1996, the trauma of architecture education must have quickly superseded whatever homesickness I could have experienced. And for life thereafter, including grad school, I was never more than an hour from family. Even three months in Rome in 1999 was less traumatic--probably because it was so damn awesome and the trauma was spread out amongst twenty schoolmates that I knew fairly well. But this time, coming to Raleigh, it was all me and only me. Trying to tie down a job. Getting the car registered and inspected. Finding furniture. Finding a new doctor. Being stared at for walking. Being on edge with anxiety just about every day at work.
Things settled down in stages, but I would say I was still quite unhappy--or at least unsettled--through to Thanksgiving. I think that was my first trip home (actually a business trip to Cambridge a week or two earlier was my first time back in Mass.). At about the same time I gave up on slogging through the anxiety and re-started my anxiety meds. And I started a project at work that was more in line with my experience. Etc. etc.
It probably wasn't until three months ago, though, that I really started to feel like I had momentum here in Raleigh. That was about when I got laid off from work. Somehow an event that had the potential to really fuck up everything managed to solidify my resolve to stay here. Of course, the fact that I was back at work within a week and a half made the whole thing easier, and I'm not sure what the situation would have led to otherwise... but for once I was able to clarify that I had an identity here without my job being its central component.
Since then, I've met many new folks in town, been out more on weekends, corresponded with the leadership at NCSU School of Architecture, gotten active in the local professional organization, and all those other fun distractions that help keep a person from thinking about how hard their life is.
So, for future reference, it takes Paul Lipchak between 9 and 12 months to feel "at home" in a new place.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
One year in the New Colony
I would love to write a long, humorous retrospective of the last 12 months in Raleigh... really, I would. And maybe I will. Just not tonight. After an AIA lecture at 7pm and speeding back on Glenwood Ave. to catch the tail end of beach volleyball at 9:30ish, and being up past midnight last night hanging out drinking at the PR with some cool folk, I'm a bit tired (plus, an approaching thunderstorm threatens to cut all internetting short). So there you go; we've come a long way in a year--a long way for me, anyway.
Thinking of you, sis. Hope everything went OK today.
Thinking of you, sis. Hope everything went OK today.
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