In my life, I have had a meandering career path - but nearly all of my roles, jobs, and ventures have been centered on real estate. I live in Southern California, a place where if you throw a rock you are likely to hit someone in our industry. When talking to strangers, my role as a would-be college professor, known as an adjunct, or a lecturer in academia has garnered the most interest, which I presently do, part-time, as I have for the past 8 years or so.
Admittedly, it is likely that my personality presents a duality with the professorial archetype. I do not smoke a pipe, wear blazers with leather patches nor do I speak in five-dollar words when fifty-cent words will do, unlike what I’ve just done here. After a new acquaintance has had time to contemplate whether or not their tuition dollars are paying for my next drink, they inevitably ask, “So what do you teach?”. Sure, there is a genuine interest, but I am acutely aware the question is a bit of a test - as if they are expecting me to confess to teaching some non-academic subject. For the record, I teach in the college of business at a very good state university as a lecturer in courses in real estate finance and urban planning. “Oh urban planning they’ll say.” To which I reply, “yes we talk about how cities are built and how they work or don’t work.” The stranger will nod in agreement to some non-question I apparently proffered.
Urban planning can be a subject built upon vaguery, alchemy, and self-aggrandizement, but mostly it’s built upon ideas. Ideas about how people live and how where they live changes their lives. For too many reasons to elaborate here, sometimes the built environments in which we spend our lives just get built wrong.
This is never more so apparent than in the walkways and pathways that carry us on our feet from this place to that one. This is particularly true in large public spaces, like parks or college campuses. The rigid, angular concrete walkways rarely lead where we want to go and seldom in the most efficient fashion. So through the long grass we trudge, until a well-worn path becomes visible to others and takes on a network effect, in that this new path, the desire path, sees its use increased the more it is used. Footprints become a footpath and now there are competing paths to take. Yet the concrete path remains because it must. There is too much invested in its infrastructure. Sometimes, signs are erected, imploring walkers to stay on the path and keep off the grass - to keep off the path they desire to walk on.
I imagine, but have not taken the time to observe, that some self-segregation occurs -those who stay on the approved path and those who follow those lines of desire through the grass. Perhaps some people use both, based on the weather or what they are wearing but I am guessing that most keep to their regular routes, based on my observance of students self-regulating the seats they choose on the first night of class.
It is romantic to think of going your own way. It speaks to our individualism and the human desire to be free. But desire paths aren’t your own way, they are just another way, one modeled by pioneers and validated by others who came before you.
By now, the life metaphors should be obvious or you will struggle in my urban planning class - to consider how people will actually use the things you are offering, to always think about another way to arrive at the places you want to be, and look for others who have achieved what you desire.
The non-obvious lesson perhaps is to look around. Take it all in. Consider where you are, where you are going, and how you will get there. Remove the music from your ears (not me) and put your phone away (me). Observe the path you are taking and make a conscious choice to be on it. Or not. “Life moves pretty fast. You don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
Desire
This is a cool short article about desire paths that I share with my classes. Worth a quick read.
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Jane Jacobs, American Badass
If you are interested in how cities are built and why they work and don’t work, then you should read Jane Jacobs, American Badass, but you probably will not. Here seminal work, The Death and Life of Great American Cities can be a bear to get through if you’re just reading for fun. A few years ago a short anthology of her articles and speeches was published, including a fascinating piece in Vogue Magazine. Or just read the review here.
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Sometimes you just want to get lost.
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Go to Hell
If you have ever read any classic literature, you should know that it started with an Italian dude named Dante. If you have not, probably best not to start with Dante (read the Great Gatsby instead) but what you need to know, is Dante was so heartbroken he created the Western Canon of literature, gave us the modern interpretation of hell and taught writers to write in a way that the rest of us could understand.