10 more minutes

Came across this great bit in Dwell magazine over the weekend. A phenomenon they refer to as "Un-design." But I think it spans many mediums, not just architecture.

"I am talking about a vital carlessness, both pragmmatic and aesthetic. I am talking about a passive willingness to allow poor decisions to invade and govern our environment at every turn. Un-design is fed by America's all-you-can-eat mentality -- another trip to the buffet even though we are stuffed -- and too few question it, because why turn down another plate of popcorn shrimp when there is so much?"

Something I truly love about Charleston is our (mostly) collective rebellion against "Un-design." It's never easy melding history with the future, but it's darn important work. Sometimes the best intentions end up in a mess. Trying to get things done in a hurry, for the least amount of money to feed the demand. Strip malls giving birth to more strip malls. Old growth trees cut down carelessly. Argh. It's how the land of milk and honey turned into a tasteless supersized McMess.

My solution, you ask? I don't really have one, but here's an idea: 10 more minutes. I propose that we just take 10 more minutes a day to really think about actions in any given situation. You can use the 10 more minutes all at once or spread them out over several subjects. So, 10 more minutes to do recycling. Or, 5 more minutes to read the paper mindfully and 5 more minutes of just sitting in your chair thinking. Or 8 minutes of chopping locally grown vegetables rather than opening a can and 2 minutes of stretching. I think you get where I'm going. More thought, maybe a little less "action." Although I believe there is a LOT of action in thought. Anywho, kick that idea around and get back to me.

In other news, The William Aiken House was all up in the news this weekend, thanks to our friends at Lowcountry Brides. Best quote from the article comes from the California bride whose Mom did the "location shopping:" "Mom went over and toured all three. She saw The William Aiken House, and it was like, 'Elise, this is it.'" Thanks, Mom!