Dump your student loan debt dreams
Hey. Good morning. Hope you’re doing well. What’s new with you? I had a friend tell me he never reaches out to see what’s new because… “the dumps.”
1— ouch.
2— Think about all the stories I leave on the cutting room floor! I am self-edited, so cutting something means it must be really superfluous. For example, take this story I am about to spend 250 words on. Would a good editor have told me to cut it? We’ll never know.
Post-Student-Loan-paid-off Leather
Amid a Spring Clean and bedroom rearrange, I located a folder full of financial documents from 2009-10. These were years I was distinctly not checking my bank account for fear that the total was closer to $0 than $1000. Some of these documents detailed the outstanding loan payments I had for my time at the University of Wisconsin and others from the bursar's office at Hamline University about tuition.
Long story short, boy, did I really think: oh shit, what if I have student loan payments left?
I was like 80% sure that sometime in the early days of my Qatar tenure—after I bought my first leather jacket, but before I upgraded any plane tickets to business class— I paid off all my loans.
But anxiety and stress are hereditary, and worries about finances are constant, so I decided to call someone instead of panicking. As my therapist put it: there’s nothing financially productive about anxiety.
I called Great Lakes Educational Loans, who told me that they transferred my loan in 2010 to someone called Ascendium Educational Management. Having no memory of ever paying someone with such an ominous name, I was confident this was going to lead to, "Mr. Hasler, you owe us *checks records…* $30,000."
Instead, I was asked to update all my information. Address, phone number, family members, emergency contact before anyone could tell me what I owe them.
"Our records indicate that you have an online account. Did you know you could check this information online?"
NO, ANN, I DID NOT KNOW YOU HAD MY LOAN UNTIL SIX MINUTES AGO. WHAT DO I OWE YOU!
Then Ann informed me that my balance was zero.
Talk about getting all worked up about nothing.
So, if you check in with me interdumpnum, you may be treated to delightful stories about anxieties, troubles sleeping, questions about skylights, funny Eliot anecdotes or my thoughts on the new European soccer league. If you don’t… well then you can read the rest of it here.
And now, the dumps.
"Lawnmowers have been understood for decades to be one of the single most inefficient uses of fossil fuels."
A friend of mine stopped by recently and pointed out that I have a nice yard. I had to admit that as the new owner, I can take very little credit for this. But this comment sort of got me worrying about what to do if my grass starts to die. I almost texted the former owners, hoping they'd have a "how-to" guide to save the yard.
Seriously, I made this. Thanks Canva.
My mom, once she lost her lawnmowers (my brother and me), simply turned our yards into "cat sanctuaries." She grew tall grass and wildflowers and made wood chips paths so that her cats could feel like jungle creatures. I neither have cats nor an inclination to do the same.
I guess it's high time I figure out lawn care.
OR SHOULD I.
You see, dear reader, what if lawns are bad? What if instead of yards, we replaced them with ball pits, or sand traps, or fucking ground level trampolines. The New Republic's "Death to American Lawns" paints a bleak picture of drought-riddled state legislatures passing laws banning the watering of "ornamental grass." These laws are aimed predominantly at the strips of grass between businesses and parking lots and roads and sidewalks. However… what if they just extended the ban to yards too? Who says no?
I'm not going to google this, but I think the original "lawn" was created by someone at the top of the Feudal pyramid.
If you slept through this lesson in history class, I made a quick diagram for you.
At the top, we had kings, and under them were the lords, nobles and church. These triangle areas paid knights and mercenaries to protect their land and sometimes gave them some of their lands while they were at it. These groups had lawns. They had lawns so that they could see the enemy approaching. They mowed long strips of land from the house to the wall so they could see someone coming from far away—everyone else… the peasants or serfs: no lawns. The chart is color-coded for you. If they're in a green area: lawn. If not...
Anyway, why do we still have lawns? A holdover from Feudal times. Now say what you will about your next-door neighbor Rick, but do you need a lawn to keep him out? Or put another way: has your lawn done a good job of keeping him out yet?
2. The thing about architecture is that when it's horrible, you notice it, and when it's outstanding, you notice it. All the other times, it should be almost invisible.
I just listened to a two-part podcast series from 99% invisible about Frank Lloyd Wright. Born not too terribly far from where I was, Wright's famous studio/school Taliesin is similarly located pretty close to my childhood home. Wright popularized many things we now think of ubiquitous regarding architecture and design, especially within the Mid Century Modern aesthetic (and carports, but I bet you don't think about carports as much as I do).
This is a long way of introducing a piece that asks: When is the revolution in architecture coming.
The author suggests that we've regressed to the middle, and no architect is taking the risks that men like Wright, Gaudi or Roark (Fountainhead fans, where you at?) took in their time. The piece offers a nice collection of images of Pritzker award-winning designs of recent years that are best described as drab, brutal, lifeless, dull, and monolithic and compares them with pictures of more vibrant designs full of color, life, unique perspectives and "places for birds."
If you read it, the piece will make you ponder what you consider "good" architecture. Are you more of a Neoclassical person (like Donald Trump)? Maybe you prefer your skyscrapers to look like dildos? Do you think that the Humanities building on the University of Wisconsin campus is a work of art or an eyesore?
The author of the Current Affairs piece posits that a good building should answer this question: does it make people not want to stop looking at it because they are so overwhelmed with amazement and pleasure? Read the piece. But also, on your next walk around your city, village, hamlet or neighborhood, look around at the architecture and see if you are closer to joy or boredom.
3. Big news from the food world, and no, I am not talking about this tepid (at best) “review” by Food & Wine of the “very instagrammable pot” that focuses primarily on the excellent terracotta color scheme and way less on… functionality or longevity. I know affiliate marketing when I see it. I digress.
No, the news I am talking about is the update out of Japan that we may have discovered another taste profile. If you are like me, maybe you’re still trying to wrap your head around umami. Makes sense. Sweet, Sour, Salty, Bitter and Umami? It just doesn’t roll off the tongue. Regardless, get ready to add another to the palette, and this time, it’s called: Kokumi.
Kokumi is the sensation you feel when a food is thick. It is often found in dishes that are long-cooked or fermented. We’re talking chicken broth, aged cheeses, or beers.
A better understanding of the dish could lead to a world where food has more flavor but fewer calories. If you want to try to increase your kokumi at home this weekend, add extra garlic and onions to your broth to give it a deeper, thicker, more rich flavor. Read about however you go ahead and beat the WSJ paywall, or just read the free Wirecutter takedown of the pan that Food & Wine reviewed.
Oh, and I suppose I shouldn't forget to mention the big "Is Four Loko making a comeback" thing that happened due to the White Claw Surge news. Either way, lots of food news out there.
That’s my big update. Hope you enjoy what I’ve found for you.
Don’t be a stranger.
