signing off

this marks the last entry of this 'work in progress' blog as well as my last night in the office. it only seems fitting that as one chapter in life closes, i end it the same way it began. [see here]

tomorrow is my last day of work and it's easy to forget this entry is just a stepping stone as all the other have been and no more or less significant. just another step towards something i don't yet know. in 16 days, 16 hrs, 14 min, and 44 sec my journey begins towards india. i should probably be scared or anxious, nervous or fearful, but i am surprisingly calm...exhausted from this last week of work, but still at peace. it is a peace knowing i am doing exactly what i need to do and going where i've been called to go.
that is enough.

i apologize for not sharing more of this preparation process with you. i have been like an iceberg, 10% above the surface and 90% below. you've witnessed the 10, my journal and i the 90. ah well. know that the other 90 has been good.

i'm surrounded now by a bare desk and heavy boxes of books. there are a few construction document sets waiting to go home with me for i couldn't throw them away yet...they were some of my first. i know it will be like those projects in the first years of studio, saved for a time until i'm ready to laugh at them from a more experienced view. it's time to make my way to the car and home. india is calling tonight and i'll hear my team's voices for the first time. i don't want to be late.

i look forward to the stories He will soon tell.

www.jillm.com
please visit often and enjoy always.
blessings to you.

www.jillm.com

coming soon...

blogger

report: indian gov blocks blogspot, typepad, geocities blogs

sad.

working on a remedy...

[ca] construction administration

after five years of architecture school, i really didn't know how buildings were built. sure, i knew where to draw flashing in a window system, but i didn't know what it physically looked like. i knew the definition of a epdm roof, but i had never seen one put together. how to think, how to analyze, how to design, was part I of my education and existed within the walls of seaton hall. part II i have found in the 'real world,' in the profession, on the job site.

as i think back now, i realize it was out there with all the newly poured concrete, metal studs, and half completed hvac systems that i fell in love with the art of building. as far back as i can remember, my dad has been taking me out to the 'job site.' sometimes we'd come down with mom to bring him lunch and he'd take us around on a special tour. i got to ride in cranes, was once stuck in a recently installed elevator and sat on the toilet of a multi-billionaire before he inhabited his space. i fulfilled my child-given urge to push buttons when dad tested the fire alarms and eric and i collected enough cans on saturday walk through to buy mom an electric pencil sharpener for mother's day. [i know what you're thinking...lucky lady!]

i'll never forget the day when it clicked. i was twelve and had spent the morning with my dad at work. trying to keep me occupied he handed me some left over home magazines as he finished up the end of his paper work. i don't know what it was, but it hit at something deep inside. i found the plan i was sure i would build for myself someday. i pulled out the graph paper and set to work on my design, sliding walls, extending rooms, and adding windows. it was complete, or at least as much as it could be. i decided then, i would grown up to be an architect.
ah...it was a great moment.

twelve years later, i'm still in love with this profession, though now in a deeper way and for other reasons. the art of creating, of making, of forming things into being is in my core...and i also in my genes. my favorite parts of my work days now are not spent with trash paper on the drawing board or putting a drawing set together on the computer. no, they are the ones out there with mud all over my feet and my hard hat messing up my hair. there is something so energizing in standing out there on the field, watching the steel going up and the noises and smells of 'construction' infiltrating the air. sure, i can make it work on paper, but the real fun is solving the problems out there in the thick of it, putting the drawings aside for the moment learning how buildings are really built.

my dad and i visited the job site together this weekend. this time though, instead of one of his buildings, we went to mine. we walked through the open framed building and examined the way the building was taking form. we talked about hvac systems and how to make construction documents more effective. we tried to figure out how the ridiculously expensive fish aquarium was placed in the wrong location and what i should do to fix it. we discussed the relationship of the architect with the contractor and how to work better as a team. his advice to me is more valuable than the lectures i attended. [not to mention i pay more attention] they formulated not by theories or concepts, but tangible, grayed-hair understanding. i'm enjoying part II.

this one's for the girls

college really is a truly unique time of life. away from home, you step into your own, decide for yourself what is important and what direction you'll head in life. you don't know enough to realize you really don't know anything at all. some people may believe college is the best time of your life. they tend to live in the past, wishing they could live in those days with little responsibility and unappreciated freedom. i hope to never become this but to instead enjoy each season for what it brings and the smile that comes to my face as i recall memories. for the time being though, college just happens to be the time of life that i enjoy remembering the most.

'coffee talk' began freshman year of college on the ninth floor of ford hall. oh the stories we tell, continue to laugh about and how young we really were. dinners in the 'derb' and silliness far into the morning. there were road trips to colorado and weekends away in kansas city. nikki and leah's crazy plans and tailgating for football games. the laxitive brownies, late night walmart trips, and the marshmallow fluff fights...late night 'swimming' and outreach dinners. some have served overseas together and others are now in seminary with one another. we look back now and are amazed at the way life brought us together.

enjoying another night in our old bridesmaid's dresses from each other's wedding for a fancy dinner...how often do you get to wear these things again, really?!

me, heather, marisa, kristin, amy, marie, leah [baby addison]

missing nikki, amanda, mindy, anna, & merah

friendships developed that first year that have carried us through the past six. we've all graduated and moved on to new adventures. twice a year we gather together, sharing what the last year has held and where the next year will take us. our conversation is rarely shallow, and we easily pick up where we left last. there is a bond between us that is uniquely ours and founded in something deeper. we are friends, yes, but we are also sister's in Christ's body and that creates in us a unity unlike any other.

if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. [philippians 2.1-2]

identity

a chicago friend,

now in greece,

and worth your time.

identity

desire

the clear, logical development of a work of architecture depends on rational and objective criteria. when i permit subjective and unconsidered ideas to intervene in the objective course of the design process, i acknowledge the significance of personal feelings in my work.

when architects talk about their buildings, what they say is often at odds with the statements of the buildings themselves. this probably connected with the fact that they tend to talk a good deal about the rational, thought-out aspects of their work and less about the secret passion that inspires it.

the design process is based on a constant interplay of feeling and reason. the feelings, preferences, longings, and desires that emerge demand to be given a form must be controlled by critical powers of reasoning, but it is our feelings that tell us whether abstract considerations really ring true. to a large degree, designing is based on understanding and establishing systems of order. yet i believe that the essential substance of the architecture we seek proceeds from feeling and insight. precious moments of intuition result from patient work. with the sudden emergence of an inner image, a new line in a drawing, the whole design changes and is newly formulated within a fraction of a second. it is as if a powerful drug were suddenly taking effect. everything i knew before about the thing i am creating is flooded by a bright new light. i experience joy and passion, and something deep inside me seems to affirm: 'i want to build this house!'

[peter zumthor. thinking architecture. page 21]

chicago no.1, no.2, no.3

there is no one else i've shared a room with longer than ally. first, it was 315 petticoat lane, boyd hall, then a semester in prague, only to finish out our academic career with a spacious one bedroom on hunting. fall of 2000, we entered k-state together, she in interior architecture and i in architecture. our room was the best in the hall and if you ever came to visit, she would entertain you with quite a thorough tour. she stayed up with me at night as i finished up projects for she felt guilty sleeping as i worked. funny how she got over that one by fifth year. i am forever thankful for her motherly support in prague, and ally, what would i do without your fashion expertise? seriously?! but our friendship extends far beyond being college roommates and all the way back to the fourth grade in our brownie troop and into high school. oh, the stories we can tell.

it's been two months now since i was visiting her in chicago, so this post comes a bit late. apologies. in the past four years, i have made three trips to chicago and all have been with ally. each trip to chicago was so unique and entirely different, that they must all be shared.

in our second year of college, we ventured up to the windy city together. it was the biggest trip we had both taken on our own and my first plane ride. first time in the big city, ally prefered the airport shuttle to the 'el' and opted for a hotel off of the magnificent mile for safety reasons. i appreciated her cautious ways. far too often i fail to think things thoroughly and she keeps me balanced. we stayed in well lit areas and i hailed my first taxi after the comedy club night venture. oh, did we ever think we were big city travelers.

chicago trip no. two occurred rather accidentally and i accept all blame for this one. we were about to begin our semester in prague and we could not be more excited. we were on route to manchester, england to visit some of my family before we met up with the rest of our classmates in london. boarding the plane in wichita, our eyes teared up after goodbyes but we quickly turned our minds to the adventure that lay ahead of us and a six hour layover in chicago before life took us overseas. somewhere between boarding our plane in wichita, gate c45 in chicago, and the 7 hours that passed, i lost my passport. that's right. i didn't misplace it or leave it at home. i lost it. [read more here] thankfully, we were in chicago where one of the midwest passport agencies is located. we trudged to the last minute hotel and i made about 16 long distance phone calls to figure out what to do. we awoke the next morning at 4 to catch the shuttle at 5, to get to the airport by 6, to catch el and arrive downtown by 7, to be at the front of the line by 8 for an emergency passport. 24 hours and $286 later, the plane for manchester left again, though this time we were on it. needless to say, this was my least favorite of the three trips but ally couldn't have been a better sport.

ah. this last trip was different. after graduation, the girl who used to be afraid of public transportation and hostels, moved up to chicago on her own. she enjoys reading on her hour commute, buys organic food, and has successfully killed a cockroach by herself. she's a become a big city girl and i'm proud of her in that motherly-life-time-friend kind of way to which i am entitled. this trip, i saw the city from her perspective, instead of the tourist or crazy-passport-losing window i had watched through before. hers is a much better view.

i loved hearing the stories from her day to day living, the crazy couple down the hall and the guys who try to hit on her on the bus. we ate at her favorite restaurants, walked through lincoln park on a lazy saturday morning, and peopled watched downtown. one of my favorite moments from the trip was just before bed one night. living in a studio apartment, she has big windows along the backside which look into an interior courtyard of the building...as well as all the other apartments.

as we laid there in bed, the lights off and the noises from the city still lulling in the background, we watched the building settle down for the night. she told me of the man on the sixth floor who often plays his guitar at night. he lives by himself and has red hair. though she cannot hear him, sometimes he plays by the window like he's playing for her. then there's the lady a bit further down who one evening sewed a purse. there is a black cat which always sits in the window and then another with plants far over grown. she mentioned the people who've moved and those who've made new homes. we watched the lights go off, one by one, wondering what stories their lives were telling and what they were reading from ours.

this journey.

i will rise and i will stand,
getting off of my knees and my hands.
i will walk as You lead.
and look beyond what i can see.

i will speak from my heart,
and not let pride tear the truth apart.
i won't fear another man,
'cause he is dust just like i am.

*because in this journey when the night is done
*i will set my face towards the sun.
*i will not look back, no.
*no, i will not look back.

i will learn as i go,
and test the things that i think i know.
i will love without return,
light my fears on fire to watch them burn.

i will hope in unseen things,
and i will dance when my heart sees.
i'll believe just like a child.
let my fondest dreams run wild.*

i will rest for a short while,
and then i'll go another mile.
i will be what i believe,
and i will give as i receive.

and i will choose without regret,
cause rolling dice is a coward's bet.
i will seek for what is real,
and not let pain teach me how to feel.*

[matthew perryman jones]

stick shifts and safety belts

'as you step on the gas, simultaneously let up on the clutch. go slowly on both and listen to the sound the car makes. the engine will tell you when you need to switch gears.'

i was teaching my littlest sister how to drive a standard. the lesson occurred partly because she wanted to know, partly because i thought she needed to know, but mostly because i'm tired of being the only female in the house who can handle such a vehicle and hate driving it to work with heels.

she looked at me with all the confidence of one who only knows in her mind, camouflaging the real fear of never having tried it.

'it sounds easy enough, it looks easy enough,' i'm sure she thought. her nose crinkled up as she made her first attempt with the blue ranger out of the asphalt stall. the little pickup jumped forward like a grasshopper in a field, jerking us along with it.

she turned to me, eyes wide in shock, 'what did i do?!'

'it's not what you did, it's more what you didn't do.' i explained again how the clutch worked and how it must be let out slowly.

attempt no 2: jumping truck
attempt no 3: jumping truck

attempt no 4 got us around the parking lot and into second gear. she liked second gear better, less jerking. it was the starting and stopping that was the problem. she began asking questions, ones she wouldn't have known to ask before and ones i couldn’t have answered until i watched her. we spent the next hour moving from row to row till her little body relaxed and the frustration on her face melted into an accomplished smile.

back in the neighborhood we went for loops around the block. i remember taking the same routes when she first learned to ride without her training wheels...we couldn't go around enough then.
'just one more time?' she asked this time.
i smiled, ‘of course.’

as she got out of the truck, she turned back to me with her smart-aleck grin. she did a little hop in the air and tapped her feet together.
she had done it.
it was a proud, older sister kind of moment.

47 days, 22 hours, and 32 minutes i begin my trip for india. i can't help but think i'm sitting in the driver's seat as my little sister did this weekend. i've read my books, talked to people who have been on similar trips and had tea with native indians. i stand as one on the other side of understanding a culture, on the other side of mistakes i'll make and on the other side of preconceptions. i don't know what questions to ask or what answers i need.

i sit in this seat, my hand on the ignition, one foot on the clutch and the other on the break. the passenger's seat is empty for i don't know yet who will guide me when i get there. people tell me i'm brave for going on my own. i don't feel like it, i guess i just don't know what i'll face to have to be brave about. i sit in my car on the other side of the world, on the other side of seeing, on the other side of understanding, knowing despite my preparation, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

p.s. yesterday, the day after writing this post i was rear ended in the little, blue pick-up waiting to turn by a car traveling 40mph. the poor little, fiber-glass accord... it really stood no chance against my steel bumper. ah...for once, it felt good to be a truck driving girl.

p.p.s. the post was originally named after cake's song, though only because i had 'stick shifts' in the title. after the accident...the 'safety belts's seemed even more appropiate.