In the blink of an eye, I haven't REALLY sketched in a year now, since moving to New York, and everything else happened. 

It's been all about:
MONEY. 
GETTING AHEAD. 
EXERCISE.
THE BUSINESS OF ARCHITECTURE. 
EXPECTATIONS. 
BUYING NICE THINGS. 
GOING TO NICE PLACES. 
TECHNICAL DETAILS. 
CORPORATE LIFE.
AREs.
CODING.
You can say, ALL THE THINGS OF LIFE. 

Meanwhile, the art has taken a deep backseat. 
Man, I miss the days when we can just make beautiful drawings, and things weren't as expensive.
Having nice things is nice, but so is MAKING nice things. 

Recently, my dope classmate Charisse won the Blank Space "Space" Competition (link). That is after she put on this awesome exhibition at Cornell AAP, talking about her travel grant to Italy. I have so much respect for her talent and drive. 

I have to step back and say that, wow - isn't THAT why we all got into the Architecture and Design game in the first place? Before all the contracts, the coordination, the negotiations, the exams, the licenses, the competitions, the compensations, et cetera? 

We should never forget that, these things of adulthood are always in the pursuit of those childhood dreams -- to remake the world a better place, and to dare imagine potential futures. 

Isn't THAT our highest purpose possible, no matter how we get there, and through whichever career?

Across Rivers: The Hudson and The Spirit River ​(Spirited Away)

I never knew that I would like running so much.
Until I moved next to the Hudson.
Until I realized that the river was two blocks away from me. 
​Tonight I ran 7k, from 163 to 72. 

Running is a way to survey the landscape. To keep moving, despite all the noise and clutter. Running is meditation in motion. It just happens to also be good for your heart and body. 

People say that Central Park is the great release valve of the gridiron - an open space to roam free, free of the traffic and stress and business of the city. But for me, that is the Hudson. There, along the stretch from Washington Heights to Midtown, you survey and traverse multiple landscapes and neighborhoods, connected singularly by a large expanse of water, where across lies Jersey and the heights.  

This is the one place that feels "open" in New York. On the east side, Brooklyn and Queens feel too close. 
I love openness. I always have. There's something about being spatially "out in the world" that liberates and heals and perfectly juxtaposes the "digital interior" world we live in, and all the urban chaos and smells and trash.

Sometimes I wish I can do what Forrest Gump did in the movie, and run across the country. And run away from all the problems and people and past and baggage: 

Since 9/1:
1) Went to kayaking by myself. Signed up for volunteering. Kayak trip!
2) Read some self help books. Wharton. 
3) Saw married friends. Had a cheesecake.
4) ​Completed JS module.
5) Went to Hip Hop Class at House of Movement.
6) Restarted AREs. Take one exam by December. 
7) Went to Boston. Visited Downeast Cider. Old colleagues. Drinking. Pie. Harvard Square. Fenway. Old Stomping Grounds.
8) Visited AAP Cornell. Saw some old classmates. Everyone great. 
9) Went to 2nd MBA Info Session. Met and talked to new people.
10) Went on morning runs. 
11) Bought new clothes.
12) Concert Tickets to BBC @ October. Another friend's concert end of this month. 
13) Reached out to Entrepreneurs.
14) Late nights at the office.
15) Mindfulness training.
16) Reconnected with old friend from Shanghai.

Drawing. "Architecture". Comedy. Writing? Code?
Am I even competent enough to do any of these things?
At least, I'm trying.  

One Year in New York.
Have to get back up. 
Have to move forward. 
​

I recently took a trip to Banff. As the kayak clerk said so well, "I traded tall buildings for tall mountains."

I never thought I would love nature, or do outdoor activities, but I do now. There's something completely authentic and sublime about nature, especially in Canada. No architecture, or piece of human artwork, seems to compare. I grew up and traveled around cities, but even Hong Kong and Shanghai seem tiny and meaningless in Banff, or Jasper.

The trees soar to new heights, in the mountains.
The waters are a clear light blue, in the mountains.
The clouds seem to hover around like fresh white pillows, in the mountains. 

I am so jaded by architectural practice - if you can't already tell. The whole business seems so small, at least the way it is run now, compared to all these other industries and spaces and visions out there. As much as I care about the placement of windows, and a well laid out residential unit, at the end of the day it still just feels like a side hobby. The people with real jobs are the developers, the mayors, the artists who fill the spaces with meaning and objects.

After my trip to the outdoors, I wonder if I have been trapped thinking that there is only "one" mode of living - the 20th century city, with its endless urbanization, its grids, and its infinite speculation. I, like so many others before me, wonder if there's a more natural way of living. If cities can behave more like cabins and tents, and be more closely connected to nature, while not completely forgoing urban conveniences.

As more and more aspects of human life take place online, I wonder if there is a larger retreat to the outdoors, to reconnect with our more primitive selves. Maybe then we can value our bodies again, the same way we value our minds - to walk the earth, to touch leaves, to breathe in fresh mountain air. To value being an intelligent human (animal), and not just a consumption mind machine. 

I learned that I love kayaking, and just being on the water. Paddling in rivers and lakes make me feel like I am the captain of my life, able to change course however I please, and navigate through both the rough and calm portions of life. Even if I go overboard, I can always swim to shore.