My spring break was uneventful, as I ended up spending most of my time in a place where I spend the majority of my time when school is in session: the English Undergraduate  Office.

I’ve worked as an undergraduate advisor for English majors since the beginning of my first year at UMD, so the space is familiar to me, and the many other advisors whose offices are housed there. These offices are bit nicer than your typical graduate student offices; they come complete with windows, bookshelves, a desktop like any good office should, but most importantly, they are personal, not shared. This allows for every advisor the chance to characterize their space in a way TAs can only dream of.

For example:

Chateau de Nigel

Or for a different perspective, my colleague Michelle’s (English PhD candidate) office is decidedly better lit and more colorful:

However, as GAs in an office, we are prohibited from doing too much personalizing, especially if that involves paint, glue, hammers, and furniture. The only representation of much physical change that has occurred to this office is a lone hook for hanging pictures. Oh, and Charity’s owl streamer. Thus, much of the way that the spaces change are impermanent. Posters, marker boards, tchotchkes, and books. Lots of books:

Michelle’s bookcase

It is of course natural that books would be plentiful in the offices of English graduate students, but some of the books I have amassed have a sort of lineage to them. When one of my former coworkers decided to leave the advising office and leave graduate school, the books she had stored in her office were moved to mine, bequeathed to me since she figured I could use a set of Henry James novels and early American texts (she was an Americanist).

The strange thing about these books is that I have never actually used them. They have never left the office, and while I suppose I am happy to have them, they have a fine layer dust from never being touched. They are more remnants than books at this point. More of a remnant however, is a copy of Coetzee’s Diary of a Bad Year that was in the office when I moved in. This book belonged to another coworker who graduated from the MFA program last year, and who inhabited the office before I did in July. Apparently, this particularly book was either forgotten or left for me, but rested on the bookshelf of my office for a year before it was mine, and so it remains there.

As objects, these books represent something about who placed them there. For the set I inherited, they were books important at one time for a dissertation project or for teaching, and for the Coetzee, it might have been assigned for a class, or inspiration for the thesis. I primarily have inferences based on the person who owned them and why I got them, but at least for this period in their existence, the books have been relegated to their lot on the shelf of an office as immovable fixtures as desk it sometimes seems (yes, I suppose I could read them for once).

This place is interesting to me not just because it is my office, but because it is heavily trafficked. During registration time, every English major is required to pass through this office and speak with an advisor. Thus, the way our offices are organized and arranged is affected by this. For example, my tradition for undergraduates is filling in a marker board comic every semester with a little English major humor. The kids love it, I assure you. The expected traffic, however, means that these offices occupy what seems to be a liminal space between a private place and a public one. It should be inviting, but also is locked when I’m away, only accessible via appointment, and a quiet space on weekends for serious academic work. But the anticipation of what undergraduates will think certainly plays a role in setting the mood for the space (and validates the importance of well-stocked, if not ignored bookshelf).

For my QR code, finding a place to put it was easy, but to make it a bit more public than the one sitting above my desk I decided to place it conspicuously on my door: If it should be seen and provoke curiosity, then the door of my office is a perfect place. That is after all the reason everyone tapes posters to their doors, is it not? And with a portion of approximately 700 undergraduates coming through this door, I can ensure its visibility.

This is Books for America.

Did you know this bookstore? Do you live in Washington, DC or in the “area” and do you love books? Come in. You should know this place.

I spent hours and hours here at this little used books store, any day of the week, any season (I came here even during snowstorms). I always think that I will find that book that was waiting for me… and I leave the store with three, four or seven books each time.

To me, this is one of the most interesting spots I know in DC. It is where I feel really happy in this foreign city. I arrived in town around four years ago. Now, I’m leaving. Coming back to SouthAmerica. I am one more of the visitors in this city of people in transit, students, politicians, diplomats. People I have never met but that I constantly see in the street –I always wonder who are the Washingtonians, what they do, how they live.

For many people, Washington is a dull city, a town with gigantic monuments, public buildings, embassies. But despite the monumentality of its buildings and its symbolic weight for Americans, its true attractions are small: Washington is a city of details (for who is interested in a city rather than a mall).

When I arrived I found a very short city and sky everywhere. I felt that Washington was not a welcoming city, with its avenues like horizons. I felt that it was a city still to be constructed, with its sad frontiers melting with the suburbs and the country. What I realized time after that it was that Washington is not a city to be constructed, but a city to be unfolded. You get to know it little by little. One friend of mine that had lived here told my husband and me when we arrived: “What I miss the most from Washington is ‘Books for America’”. So there we went to see. And it was a wonderful surprise to find an old books store with such a good energy, with a first classselection of books, and so cheap! It had so many titles, so interesting… As Borges said, “I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.” We felt impressed by this little bookstore.

To tell you more about the place, Books for America is not just a used book store but a non profit organization that aims to improve libraries in schools, shelters and prisons, support reading and education programs and provide children with first take-home books. It was created in October 2005 to “have a positive effect on literacy and educational in the Washington area”, as they state in their webpage, where they also say: “Beyond literacy, we seek to place books in the hands of anyone who wants to read and learn.  Books can be tools that help individuals rise up out of unfortunate circumstances” and “since our entire mission is to get books into people’s hands, you get fantastic books at ridiculously low prices!”

Josh is now a librarian at University of Maryland!

They ask for books, CDs, DVDs and other items, many of them they sell it at the bookstore and others they give them to needy institutions. They select the books people donate: all of the books on sale are books in very good/excellent conditions; most of them are almost new. The money they make with the sell of books they use it to expand their supportive educational programs. All the staff is volunteer. I am so happy to have met Josh and Kate, very interesting and always good-humored people. I learned about America through this non-profit organization: how a community can organize itself to help others.

I also created an American literature section in my bookcase, but also I bought books about design, architecture and new media. And also, I learned about Washingtonians themselves. Studying the bookstore catalogue is possible to read Washingtonians through what they read. I found a highly educated and diverse community, interested in art, philosophy, history, and politics, (of course!) but also, and especially, in literature. It is noticeable as well the fast this community changes, with people coming and going back home, packing and unpacking libraries, donating their books and buying others. (I myself donated many Portuguese and Spanish language books!)

Now I am leaving DC. I have already packed my library (once again) and my entire house is now in a container heading South America carrying boxes and boxes full of the books I bought here (In total we bought around 400 books) and I will read for the next years far away from this beautiful city.

Washington has a lot of hidden places. You have to be especially alert in DC to really get to know this city. Walk all its streets; step in every restaurant, every café, every bookstore (it is not overwhelming… they are not a lot!) You have to walk the city, find an interesting book in Politics and Prose or come to Books for America when in Dupont Circle. But also go out in the hottest days in summer, go to Dolcezza for an ice cream (they are Argentinians!) walk on the fallen leaves during October in the narrow streets that lead you to the Philips Collection, see snowing through the window of a café in Upper Georgetown. They are not big places; none of them are monumental. They are just special. This week, go to the Tidal Basin to see the cherry blossom, but look for some small charm in DC, some small place for happiness, as this bookstore is for me.

This is my QR Code.

Over spring break, I visited a friend in Boston and we spent a day in Concord, MA, visiting the homes of our favorite 19th century writers. Though apparently tourist season doesn’t begin until mid-April and none of the homes were open to visitors yet, it was still surreal to walk around Concord and imagine the lives that had been led there. I obviously considered sticking QR codes all over the place, but ultimately decided I didn’t feel right leaving my mark–maybe something about preserving my idyllic view of the past? Despite the fact that I traversed Walden Pond with iPhone in hand and Instagrammed up a storm (which is to say, I very much remained in the 21st century) it just seemed like these spots didn’t deserve the blemish of my sticker and accompanying blog post. But I digress, and will share my photos anyway:

At Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Concord home

The Old Manse

Ralph Waldo Emerson’s grave marker (accompanied by his wife and daughter)

Stones marking the site of Thoreau’s cabin in the woods

and a gratuitous scenery shot, since Walden Pond was pretty unbelievable–

At any rate, it was a lovely trip back in time. I also came across this advertisement while walking around downtown Boston–

A perfect example of a QR code used in advertising! A new apartment complex was clearly being built and scanning the QR code takes you to the building’s site. The slogan there, slightly obscured by a pole (I haven’t quite mastered the surreptitious picture-taking-while-walking move yet) says, “If you scan it, it will build.” I can’t decide if it’s clever or not.

But on to the actual assignment!

I live in The Chateau Apartments at New Hampshire and the beltway, and the spot I chose to mark is the entryway sign, which welcomes me home every day. It is always a welcome sight, especially because the sign is usually adorned with colorful balloons (though not today when I took my picture, of course) and I weirdly think it’s super endearing.

Obviously moving out to Maryland from St. Louis for my first year of graduate school was a big transition, and I had to find a place to live in 36 hours. The concept of “home” means a lot to me, so I’m thankful to have found a place (with such a glamorous name!) to hang my hat. This picture I took coincidentally matches the “Street View” of The Chateau Google Maps provides (linked above) and clearly marks the apartment complex.

I took this picture while driving, hence the crookedness.

When I got home from spring break yesterday afternoon, I had major car debacles and delayed flights to deal with, so driving up the hill to The Chateau sign was particularly comforting. It’s no Old Manse, but it’s still all mine!

To again reference my extreme Instagram usage, I’ll also note that I almost always add my location to my photos and thus, “The Chateau Apartments” are clearly marked and represented in the digital archive of my life. Instagram recently came out with a “Photo Map” feature which visually shows you where you most often take photos. The further you zoom in, the more specific the locations get. So, for instance, I’ve taken 194 photos in Silver Spring, and 148 of those were at–you guessed it–The Chateau Apartments. It’s interesting to consider geographically (and quite quantitatively) where we spend our time, and which spaces in our lives we prioritize over others.

I’ve made my QR code and allowing that I can find a functioning printer in Tawes, will adhere it to the sign tonight, pictures forthcoming. I wonder if anyone will actually walk close enough to the sign to ever notice it? (The sign is the in the middle of the traffic circle entryway).

Update: I’ve affixed my QR code with copious amounts of tape to the back of my Chateau sign (for the sake of subtlety). Here’s hoping someone notices!

During my time at UMD, I have been engaged in a constant battle to find a quiet place to study during those periods of time between work and class. I started out in the graduate study room in McKeldin Library, but it was not long before hoards of students began choosing that place to study as well. Now, I’m relatively good at tuning out certain noises. However, when people are talking to one another, I find it incredibly difficult not to eavesdrop. I get drawn in, more intent on listening to what is being said than on reading an article for class. In any case, it was not long before I had to move. Occasionally I could find a quiet spot elsewhere in the library, but more often than not, the constant traffic and conversations of passerby broke my concentration. So, I started studying in the English Graduate Lounge in Tawes. Similar problems occurred, though there was a fair share of quiet times, and I still go there on occasion. But right down the hall, I found a relatively quiet corner (unless TA’s were having conferences). I began going there on occasion in order to get both quiet (for the most part) and privacy (you can hide quite well behind the one wall, leaving only your feet and legs visible to people in the hallway). In any case, I was content.

Eventually, I started to notice writing on the wall.

First, this appeared:

After a quick Google search, I found out that these two lines are lyrics from a song entitled “The Last Lost Continent” by La Dispute. The song can be found here.

Another day, I found this:

These lines are lyrics from a song entitled “Tilde” by the band Touché Amore.

And later, I discovered these:

These lines are also from a La Dispute song entitled “Nine.”

These words, though communicating a familiar sentiment—summer love, did not bring up any definitive results on Google. Perhaps the inscriber decided to try his or her hand at composing lines.

Some of the handwriting looks similar and the fact that two of the lines come from La Dispute and three of the four are song lyrics seems to indicate that it may be the work of the same person, though I never discovered who the other person or persons were who also found that spot a good place to study or take a break. Perhaps it was just a student who would often meet with one of the TA’s in a nearby office, or maybe it was a TA seeking a bit of distance from his/her other office mates. In any case, it was interesting for me to read these little lines inscribed on the wall by a stranger who had perhaps found the same semi-quiet privacy that made the corner such a good place for me to go and study between work and class. By leaving my own kind of writing on the wall through my QR code that links to this blog post, I will make my own mark, continuing the story of that corner of Tawes.

I decided to visit Walt Whitman’s birthplace, located in Huntington Station, NY, for several reasons. I’ve been meaning to visit the house for a long time, even though it lies only 10 or so miles from my parents’ house. I also attempted to teach a few Whitman poems earlier this semester. In the past I would drive by the site all the time, frequent the nearby Walt Whitman Mall, and was aware of Long Islanders’ pride in their favorite poet’s origins. I suppose next I’m supposed to visit the home of Billy Joel, from a town known as Oyster Bay, Long Island.

I took a tour of the grounds and the house itself, where Walt Whitman Sr. practiced carpentry. I walked through the parlor, kitchen, master bedroom, spare bedroom, and servant’s quarters. As you can imagine, everything looks very old, and it would have been quite easy to hit my head on the low ceiling going up the steps. The Whitmans owned a host of useful tools that are no longer necessary anymore, such as a giant loom, bed rope stretcher stick (can’t remember what it is actually called, but apparently this is where the saying “sleep tight” comes from), and even a hoop and stick.

My visit to Walt Whitman’s birthplace was quite enjoyable. Many thanks to my father for joining me on his busy Sunday afternoon.

Note: I could not secure a more significant spot to place the QR Code, such as the statue, the house, ect., as I was being watched by the tour guide and did not want to get kicked out for vandalism. So the grass would have to do. For some reason the picture does not work when I try to scan it with my phone (bad resolution?), so I also included the original code file.

I had a bit of trouble at first in selecting a place to vandalize with which to interact.  The locations to which I have strong connections are for the most part 1) In a different state, 2) On campus, or 3) My apartment.  A lengthy road trip was out of the question, the Tawes building (for all its charms) lacks a certain something, and the only evidence for other people interacting with my apartment was the vehicle registration card that was left here by a previous tenant and which I, sadly, threw away when I found it on the top shelf in the kitchen.  As I contemplated these considerations, I determined that it would be quite absurd if — here of all places — I couldn’t think of a sufficiently memorialized spot.  However, I also did not want to get arrested.  Thus I settled on a location of moderate fame:  the George Mason Memorial.  I discovered it by walking into it during a ramble around the tidal basin last year; I feel rather fondly toward it, mostly because it seems so easy to neglect or to pass by.

This is supposed to be a fountain in front of the memorial, but it has no water.  I think it looks like a great spot for some theatre-in-the-round.

Instead of a traditional blog post, I put a monologue in my QR code.  I wanted to do something respectful (since this is, after all, very public property with which to attempt interaction), brief, and that didn’t immediately indicate my real name.  I made a minute-long movie using xtranormal, for which I selected an animated character who could (with some generosity of the imagination) represent me.  The link to which I attached my QR code sends the viewer to my video as published on YouTube, here:  http://youtu.be/ARsatTfZEvY.  The video can also be played on xtranormal.com here:  http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/14303672/why-i-love-the-george-mason-memorial , but I thought it best to use the YouTube link since more people are likely to be familiar with it and to have phone apps for it.  The movie itself is a little excessively cheerful, but I hoped that this might serve as a defense against the potential annoyance of serious-minded visitors to the memorial!

(I took some pictures and tried to look like an innocent tourist while I was waiting for my opportunity to pounce with tape.)

The statue of Mr. Mason was created by sculptor Wendy Ross.  More info about her work (including the memorial) can be found at her website, here:  http://www.rosssculpturestudio.com/.  I taped my code to the back of one of the pillars.  The way you see it is by sitting on the bench with George and sidling all the way back so that you are leaning on the back of the bench and (unless you are, like him, nine feet tall) your feet are dangling merrily straight out in front of you in the posture of a five-year-old on any adult’s furniture.  Judging by the number of people I saw climb up there while I was waiting for a witness-free moment to do the deed, I’m not the only one to feel that this is a desirable spot in which to sit (though few may scoot far enough back to spot my code).

These two photos were taken from the same spot; looking to the right, one sees my code on a pillar; turning to the left, one sees George.

After I finished (and ascertained that I had avoided arrest), I paid a visit to my other favorite statue in D.C. and bought a Rosie the Riveter lunchbox.  All in all, not a bad day!

After my first idea for this exercise went bust, I began ruminating on alternative sites in my Delaware hometown to photograph. I trolled around the town’s website to see if anything popped up (these sorts of things recede into the background of everyday existence, don’t they?), and lo and behold, I had passed the perfect place on my way to photograph my failed first attempt! Presenting… The Historic Ross Mansion!

I passed by this property every day my senior year of high school – it lies on a back way into town, right across from a set of railroad tracks that are still used daily by trains bearing coal and grain to power plants and mills throughout Sussex County. On clear nights at my parents’ house I can hear the eerie sound of a midnight train whistle across the mile or so expanse – my high school best friend lives right next to the tracks, and I’ve always wondered how she sleeps through it each night.

As you can read on the historic marker above, the Ross Mansion (nobody includes “Governor”) dates back to the mid-nineteenth century, its architecture clearly revealing its Victorian origins. The sign, a historic artifact in itself, fails to include reference to the two newest additions to the property – a slave quarters discovered in the early nineties and a honeymoon cottage/gatehouse.

I dug around a little and found this University of Delaware article from 1992 about the discovery of the Ross Mansion slave quarters. I remember hearing the story from my parents (though I must have been only 5 or so), about how they found this building in the backwoods of the Ross Mansion property and discovered what it truly was. At the time it was the only known slave quarters in the entire state. Now it has been restored and relocated to a new location right behind the mansion.

A little while after the addition of the slave quarters to the grounds, this little structure appeared at the entrance of the property. My parents both told me that this was another woods find, a honeymoon cottage discovered in the foresty depths of the land; however, when I sought to verify their story, I uncovered two others! Multiple sites refer to the structure as a “gatehouse” – possibly referring to its current function (?), while others corroborate the honeymoon cottage designation, although origination stories differ here: some sources (like the county realtor’s association) say that the cottage was built for the Governor’s son, whereas the historical society, which manages the property, says on their site: “Explore a ‘Honeymoon Cottage’ bought from a catalog and located on the property.” Now, I have no idea what that even means, and it just sounds ridiculous, so despite their prestigious title, I’m choosing to ignore such claims. You can decide for yourselves – mail-order or vintage handmade?

Many non-historic buildings have begun to surround the Ross Mansion property in recent years – most prominently the newly relocated local library and a sports complex. What’s interesting, though, is the fact that the city council mandated that the architecture of both sites must reflect the grand old mistress of the adjoining property (i.e. the Mansion). See for yourself:

Above center is the southwest side of the mansion, above left shows the arched windows of the library, while above right is a pressbox with exposed support beams. My dad pointed all of this out to me – I was totally unaware of how the “story” of the architecture of the Ross Mansion had spread to other surrounding facades. And still, the story of the Ross Mansion property is not limited to local lore (where did that cottage come from??) or architectural style – it’s still being unfolded, actually. In the annual Easter egg hunt, the Town and Country Fairs (complete with fireworks, craft stalls, and a full-blown reenactment with cannons – pardon the pun), and the occasional professional engagement photo shoot performed by a boy-now-man that I used to HATE sitting next to in fifth grade, the story of Ross Mansion is one that’s still being told in many voices.

Special thanks to my dad for driving & sharing his own stories. And Sadie, for moral support.