Kriol

"Orait, longtaim bifo enijing bin jidan, det Wed bin jidan, en det Wed bin jidan garram God, en det Wed na im God. Wal brom longtaim det Wed bin jidan garram God, God bin meigim ebrijing garram det Wed. Im nomo bin meigim enijing nomo garram det Wed, det Wed na bin abum det pawa blanga gibitbat laif, en det laif na bin det lait blanga ebribodi, det lait oldei shain langa det dakbala, en det dakbala kaan neba audim det lait."

--- John 1:1-5

This well-known scriptural passage is rendered here in Kriol, an English-based creole language spoken by many Australian Aboriginal peoples in the Northern Territory. Creole languages are fascinating to me because they rely so much on actually speaking the words, as the language being creolized is often not a written one. In the first sentence we read "longtaim bifo enijing bin jidan" which looks pretty foreign until you speak it aloud and realize it's "longtime before anything [was made?]". It's not exactly "in the beginning" but you get the drift. I once saw some Haitian Creole (which is based on French) written someplace. It was amusing to me because the French-derived words were actually written like they are pronounced (ça as sa, qui as ki, dite as di, etc.). I didn't understand what I was reading until I tried reading it aloud to myself.   

On accents

Isn't it interesting that English lacks any accents or other diacritical marks? I can think of no other language off the top of my head where this is the case, apart from Latin. As English is a hodgepodge of various languages, one would think that some of the diacritical marks of French or of the Norse languages would've survived. Middle English still used some of the old Norse letters like ð, æ, and þ, for instance (these are preserved in modern Icelandic). Perhaps accents would make English easier to learn for non-native speakers? But then again, sometimes spelling is so disconnected from pronunciation that this may be impossible. It would be difficult to explain the difference in pronunciation of "cough" and "through", for example, with the mere addition of a diacritical mark or two.

I am in the midst of reading Empires of the Word: A Language History of the World. The subject of language has always fascinated me, especially when it comes to the evolution of sounds and words. Last night, I was at a friend's 25th birthday party. Several of us were talking about how we are getting to the point of "not understanding kids these days." We were discussing the use of the expression "on fleek" which has apparently arisen recently. Synonyms include "on point". We decided it sounds far better if one pretends it was a French phrase. Thus, en flique, was added to the modern lexicon. Nous etions en flique hier soir...

To stroll is Parisian

I was going through some photos yesterday. This one is from my second day in Paris, which I remember vividly. On my first day, I rushed right down to Notre Dame, but on day two I had no real itinerary. I wandered down to the Place de République and then zig-zagged through the Third Arrondissement. I stuck my head into Saint-Elizabeth, the Parisian parish of the Order of Malta. At a cafe across the street from the church, a car backed into a pole, causing a commotion. From there, I got all turned around and ended up in the neighborhood of Charlie Hebdo. After a stop in the Place des Vosges, the sky turned turbulent, and I took refuge from the rain in the church of Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis in the Marais. There was a clearing and I continued on to the Seine and crossed over to the Ile Saint-Louis. It was from the bridge that this shot was taken.

My favorite part about Paris, which has become clearer in retrospect, is the delight it gives to walkers. The texture of the city is so uniformly interesting, that one can just keep going from place to place without noticing. There is such a strong continuity of experience. "To err is human, to stroll is Parisian," as Victor Hugo said. I think Washington is a good walking city as well, though it is not as uniform as Paris.

The Octave of Easter

Happy Easter, all! I'm back in DC, and things have been hectic in the aftermath of the Easter recess. This coming weekend the school of architecture is undergoing its accreditation visit from NAAB - a process that happens typically every six years. Suffice to say it is a big deal and it's an all-hands-on-deck situation. My professor, Julio, is largely spearheading the organization of the visit. I am his research assistant, which means I have been busy assisting him in whatever ways I can. The week has included a lot of lifting and moving models, pinning up student work, and making the building look good. Our main efforts have been focused on the team room, where the accreditation team will do their deliberations. The room is full of a range of student work from each and every class offered in the school. The work is tagged and color coded according to a matrix of educational criteria established by NAAB. It has been an exercise in tedium.

*     *     *

On Wednesday, Julio took a brief break from the madness of accreditation to deliver a lecture introducing a book that has just been published that he edited and assembled. The book contains a series of essays from a wide range of authors on contemporary views of sacred space. The diversity of the contributors is perhaps the strongest aspect of the book: from Duncan Stroik, one of the leaders of the current resurgence of traditional Catholic architecture, to Juhani Pallasmaa, a Finnish architect enamored of an architecture of all five senses, the variety of views makes the book enriching. I have not read all of it yet, but I will have to report back with my final thoughts. Julio spoke honestly and quite personally about the book - his first of his long and distinguished career - and there was a nice gathering afterward where he sold and signed the books. He wrote me a very kind inscription in my copy, which I will treasure.

*     *     *

The cherry blossoms have begun to bloom in earnest. Unfortunately, the weather remains cold. I think, even if it is nice this weekend, I will be too tired to get out and enjoy the beauty of spring because I am so exhausted from this week.

*     *     *

My job search is continuing in the midst of it all. I am looking for something permanent that will allow me to transition from summer work to part-time work in the fall as I finish my thesis, and then on to full-time afterward. Several firms have indicated their willingness to work with me to do this (it's quite common). I ask St. Joseph and St. Juan Diego for their intercession in this matter.

 *     *     *

I got coffee with Julio today and he made a comment that stuck in my mind. He was saying how problems grow with your age, but you always have little problems too. You think, "Well, when I graduate, I will be able to relax. When I have a job, I will be ok. When I am promoted, I will be happy." But really, it never ends. "And when you retire, you think about death I guess," he said with a smile. He said he has had to come to terms with each 'incarnation' of himself separately. I feel I have done the same. Ball State Matt is not the same as CUA Matt. I am not naive - part of growing is adapting to new problems and circumstances. But, it was just nice to hear someone I admire be a bit vulnerable about his own journey. It was reassuring. 

*     *     *

There are a lot of rumors flying around campus right now. I really don't like rumors. It is hard to resist dwelling on them or passing them along. I see rumors as perverted religious impulse. We crave the unknown. When we spread a rumor, we pass along our belief in something that may not be provable. The difference, of course, is that religion (Catholicism, more specifically) is based in truth. Rumors may be either true or false. I have been working on keeping my mouth shut more. I don't want to be complicit in spreading falsehoods, even if I think they may be true. It is better left unsaid until the truth is discovered.

Good Friday

"There flowed from his side water and blood. Beloved, do not pass over this mystery without thought; it has yet another hidden meaning, which I will explain to you. I said that water and blood symbolized baptism and the holy eucharist. From these two sacraments the Church is born: from baptism, the cleansing water that gives rebirth and renewal through the Holy Spirit, and from the holy eucharist. Since the symbols of baptism and the eucharist flowed from his side, it was from his side that Christ fashioned the Church, as he had fashioned Eve from the side of Adam. Moses gives a hint of this when he tells the story of the first man and makes him exclaim: Bone from my bones and flesh from my flesh! As God then took a rib from Adam’s side to fashion a woman, so Christ has given us blood and water from his side to fashion the Church. God took the rib when Adam was in a deep sleep, and in the same way Christ gave us the blood and the water after his own death."

--- St. John Chrysostom, from The Catechesis

Home for Holy Week

I am at home for a few days for Easter. This is the first time I've been home for Easter with my family for many, many years. At Ball State, we had no time off for Easter (indeed, many of our studio deadlines seemed to fall on Good Friday) so my family would come down to Muncie for the weekend.

Yesterday, I arrived home and spent much of the afternoon napping. Last night after dinner, I went with my parents for a drive out to the lake. It was the first time in a few years that I'd been to Grand Haven. We parked and walked along the riverfront out to the pier. It was sunny and mild, but as we reached the lake, it got windier and colder. There was still a lot of ice on the pier and on the beach side of the pier. The wind blowing across the ice made it pretty chilly. Still, it was nice to walk around and enjoy the sunlight and the beautiful sunset. We met an old man on the pier who appeared to be a local photographer. He was eager to tell us how much ice has melted in the past week (and how it compares to last year at this time, and sundry other factoids). Later, we joked that that would be my dad in retirement because he likes to strike up random conversations with strangers. We drove back to Grand Rapids and got ice cream with my little sister from the ice cream stand where I used to work. It was in the 60s even that late in the evening.

Grand Haven beach

Along the pier

"crazy people"

The snow fences are still up

Sunset

Pier

Today the rain was torrential. I went to the bank and paid off a loan I had taken to go to Paris. It was a nice feeling to have that taken care of. The teller was surprised when I asked for my balance to pay in its entirety. She said, "Like, the whole thing? We don't get too many people wanting to pay off the whole thing! Good for you!" I don't like the idea of being in debt. I read Independent People by Halldór Laxness last fall, and the plot centers on a character who has worked for eighteen years to be free of debt and has been overtaken with an extreme aversion to being indebted to anyone - even to the point of refusing charity. His quest for "independence" is exaggerated to point out its faults. But that was in rural Iceland in the early 20th Century. One was in debt to one's neighbors, not to vast banking conglomerates.