Author: harold

How Has the Average House Size Changed?

From 1920 to 1970, fifty years, the average house size grew by 500 square feet (46m²).

From 1970 to 1990, twenty years, the average house size grew again by 500 square feet.

So not only the average size went up continuously but it went more than twice as fast after 1970. It slowed down since 1990 but still: over 4 times more personal space in 94 years. Jesus. You greedy ass bitches.

Essentially, it’s likely that one person nowadays has the same amount of space as a family back in the 1920s!

This is completely ridiculous. Because of technology and the fact that we spend most of our time sitting our asses down, watching a screen, we really, really don’t need more personal space than a whole 1920s family. We just need a lot of outlets. Stable electricity and fast internet. Those don’t take room at all.

What it shows is that people have too much money and don’t think much about how to spend it in a good way. They will spend $$$ on huge houses that they heavily under-used. I can’t stop thinking about looking at one of those modern McMansion here in LA. A big, huge glass cube at night. And this woman is just sitting alone on her coffee table, busy on her phone with only her phone’s screen lighting the large room. It looked sad as hell. Home ownership has become the most inefficient shit and most vicious scam. It doesn’t have to be like that: small house, nice little backyard and front yard, bam.

You don’t know what I see in my head in terms of architecture and urban planning. I’m frustrated.

I’ve been thinking for a minute about that: how technical people in Silicon Valley and the game industry can politically end up on the extreme right or let’s say a much harder left than most people on the West Coast. When you would think that uh, they would not.

I think it’s due to programming: you cannot program something in many different ways. There’s a few ways at best, only one in a lot of cases if not most cases. Thus, programmers learn, apply and thrive through rigidity. Which is the opposite of a comprehensive and empathetic mind, and pretty much the opposite of what designers go through. Our process is a lot more about seeing all angles, pondering and then min-maxing a decision. Programming is about one thing to get going, the simplest or most straightforward way to do it, usually the better.

Designers thrive with dynamic content. We create dynamism, that’s our goal. Creating the experience. Programmers moderately like this because it’s really hard. “Staticness” is sought after and usually a good thing technology-wise (more stable, less need for re-factoring). Look at websites: we went from static to dynamic to highly dynamic and back to static.

Anyway I’m pretty sure that this rigid mindset is definitely not helping us outside the world of computers say, in real life with individuals that are all different, for instance. That creates dudes who only think in terms of “well IF this and that THEN that”, without really thinking that more often than not, life is quite more complex and nuanced than that. Edge cases everywhere, bro. Everywhere.

When a DNA Test Shatters Your Identity

The man St Clair thought of as her brother only shared enough DNA with her to be a half sibling. In fact, she didn’t match any family members on her father’s side. Her biological father must be someone else.

“I looked into a mirror and started crying,” says St Clair, now 56. “I’ve taken for granted my whole life that what I was looking at in the mirror was part my mother and part my dad. And now that half of that person I was looking at in the mirror, I didn’t know who that was.”

The DNA test didn’t erase her happy childhood memories, but it recast her entire life up to now.

I’m always wondering why white people will tell me that the color of my skin doesn’t matter but as soon as DNA is telling them that that’s not really their sibling or father here, they cry and lose their shit, starting FB groups support and all. LMAO. It’s a trip.

Of course there are plenty of secrets and affairs and stuff. It’s as old as the world. But white folks are discovering that, for some reason. Thinking they’re “perfect”. No, you might be the result of a mess. It’s fine.

Who you are is who you are. Your experiences. The way you treat others. That’s you. That’s all. Who made you doesn’t matter. How, doesn’t matter either. You are you. If you’re older, had kids, own a house then be fucking happy and/or learn new shit but don’t dwell on how your dad wasn’t really the one you thought he was. That’s completely unproductive.

So when a DNA test in 2015 revealed her biological father was likely African American, it clicked into place. But her mom denied it. “She wouldn’t answer me. She would change the subject,” recalls Lisa. When she kept pressing, her mother broke down, saying it would destroy the family and that her dad—the man she grew up with—would kill her. She refused to say anything else about Lisa’s biological father.

Wow.

But once again, that doesn’t change your life now or in the future. You are who you are. If she had a little thing for black music or spices well now she knows why. That’s it. Yes, your mom had sex with a black man. That sex stuff happens a lot, it turns out. Move on. This weird “but what does this mean?” question? It doesn’t mean anything. There’s no meaning in having kids, people. Ideally you want them, sometimes you don’t. They just happen, we happen.

Personally I might have been the result of rape. Or tender love. Or something in between. I will never know! It doesn’t really matter. It’s cool to know I guess, but it objectively doesn’t matter once you’re an adult.

Freaking out about your DNA ancestry is some kind of privilege.

Estimates from 2010 suggest that as many as 150,000 individuals (roughly 2% of the population of Katanga) were involved in artisanal mining. Government officials have said that hand-dug cobalt accounts for around 20% of the DRC’s total exports of the mineral (in other words, 10% of the total global supply).

Those estimates are 8 years old, when cobalt demand hadn’t increased like crazy. It is likely that they are many more people hand-digging cobalt now. It probably doubled.

The government is surely corrupted to no en so there are no official accounts of how many people are actually slaves for tech and never will. We just know that kids as young as seven are digging up to 12 hours or more a day. So that you can get notifications on your phone that you will promptly ignore.

Because cobalt prices are already extremely high when a large part of its extraction is done at the lowest cost possible –slaves or machines–, thinking that we have enough of that mineral is totally missing the point: cobalt prices will explode. If people were paid decently, it would already be unaffordable for tech companies. This, I hope, will happen. The DRC will otherwise, explode again. Which would compromise cobalt extraction too. So either the price goes way up or no more cobalt because of war. Either way, our batteries overlord are screwed (though they probably have been hoarding for those cases). Ugh.

Seven of the 26 companies did not respond when contacted in 2015. Thirteen denied using cobalt
sourced from the DRC or connected to Huayou Cobalt, without offering any information that would allow these claims to be verified.

And then there’s this entire BS going on where no one, government, holdings, companies are accountable for anything. They all wave some bogus reports and attempted regulations. Hide behind supply chains and policies. Every actor in this mess is closing their eyes. It’s a disaster for the people of Congo.

We are bad.

The report.

I believe loyalty is crucial in society. I believe it’s the human being sustainability. That’s how we build things like family and dynasties and just good old, nice relationships. That’s how we curate our world by being loyal to who and what we think is good. That’s how we change the world.

Loyalty has been hacked and soiled by greed.

Of course, we can be cynical all day and tell ourselves that loyalty doesn’t matter or exist, fuck y’all I’m about me etc. But at some point, you will be on the other side.

Worse, at some point it totally destroys trust within society, which is where we’re at now, a bit.

Take something light like those basketball trades for instance. Demar, going to the Spurs because the team he gave everything to, and he really gave a lot, decided to “do something” to win a championship. Demar has been leading the Raptors in scoring for five years? Doesn’t matter. Investors want their trophy now. Same with Kawhi and his uncle. How can you want more than a team with which you won your title and made you who you are, ready to give you $221M for five years of service, and you’re not happy? Because you want more perks? Damn. It’s absurd, annoying and disappointing.

So greed corrupts things and the world changes and moves in a way that fosters more ruthlessness and short-term vision. It’s so weird (yet makes sense, we need loyalty somewhere) then to only see loyalty being about brands and corporate stuff. People are fanatics and will pour a lot of energy to show off how dedicated they are to a company, a brand, a product.

It’s no good. *puts society in reverse*

It’s 1998. A French multi-racial team is in the final. We’re about to face Brazil and we’re just happy to be there. 3-0 later, for the first time ever, we’re world champions. We. Oui?

I still remember jumping in the car with my girlfriend, beating traffic to meet up with my best friend on the outskirt of Paris. It’s hot. It’s dark. Street lights are still orange. We’re all together. In France people don’t hug, ever. During that night it’s the opposite. We’re hugging en masse. I can’t forget that old, small white man hugging me and another brown person right after because that would have never happened in any other occasion, unless plastered to oblivion. I can’t forget the Louvre’s security guards waving their torchlights. My eyes were misty. 9/11 hadn’t happened yet. I still get emotional about that beautiful night. I know the dream.

It’s 2018. A French multi-racial team is in the final. We’re about to face Croatia and we know we can beat them. 4-2 later, for the second time, France is at the top of the football world. We. Oui? Nah.

I am watching the stream from my home in south LA. After the first half I am on my playground, shooting 3s. Knowing what the news are going to spit. How beautiful and diverse France looks like etc. I’m mad at the state of the world. A man died in Chicago the night before, shot by police. He was black. A man died in France a couple weeks ago shot by police. He was black. Both run away. Just in case.

But people will tell you that no, really, things are fine or getting better. Things don’t change, they barely mutate. That part where we’re black and brown and only appreciated and giving opportunities on sports fields. I live this shit. I see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own heart. I still fall short on my job applications. Despite everything. Qualified, over-qualified, recommendations, it don’t matter.

I believed things were improving during that first world cup triumph even though I could already smell the bitterness. The French corporate world has an absurd lack of diversity compared to life in Paris or around stadiums. It’s frightening. It’s as if France was as segregated as the US!

And then I became a migrant. I know I have no other choice but be legally perfect here because otherwise ICE will show up, put me in jail for weeks or months before sending me back to France. That’s real. But I can enjoy some black things with black people and then everything is peaceful as fuck. Clarity is succulent.

“but they’re French so YOU are racist if you say the team is African.”

French citizenship and blackness are not mutually exclusive. But we also know how it works out: you win a world cup, you’re French. You’re unemployed, you’re some African booty virus. I lived that too once I had trouble speaking French after a few years speaking English, the vibe wildly changed towards me in Paris. I wasn’t a French customer anymore, I was a nuisance.

France has the fantastic power of becoming collectively blind at will. France constantly denies, minimizes its colonial past and how it impacts its present. It’s very uncomfortable.

Yes, I talk about all that in my book.

I got attacked by a dog while strolling to get some food in DTLA the other day. I didn’t flinch. I let him come to me, barking and running. I stopped. He jumped. I screamed. It hurt. I thought he had taken a bigger chunk of my stomach but he only printed his mouth next to my belly button. I’m okay. 6 teeth up, 6 teeth down, 12 scars. For years to come.

The building management slapped the dog owners with a $100 fine. The owners gave me $60 for uh, I guess not suing them or calling the cops on them. This dog owes me a lot. Fuck this dog.

In the end, the owners estimated that my wounds and trauma were worth less than trespassing rules. Twenty bucks times 3. Basically nothing.

I’m tired.

I have to find a new place to live and I’ve been reading a lot about architecture so I’ve been thinking a lot about my house project.

It will be made of concrete, 3D printed.

It’s too convenient and efficient to not be the first choice.

Prefab concrete pool house with nature and shit, my kind of aesthetic

At first I really wanted to go for hempcrete because it’s the best material in the world but there’s one big problem: you can’t use it for structural work, meaning you need a frame (likely wood) to build around with your bricks of hemp. It’s not an issue per se but if I build somewhere in southern California and some idiot drops a cigarette and my hard work burns down… I will indeed, lose it.

Concrete doesn’t burn. But also, if it’s destroyed by a meteor or an earthquake, I just need to pull out the 3D file and BAM. Harold’s house II is up again. I feel lucky to live our times, sometimes.

Another great thing about printed concrete: you can, like the picture shows, do whatever shape you want. I would still use hemp inside for insulation, walls and room separation but definitely not for the outside.

Now I’m dreaming of a green roof. Because those fuckers reduce cooling loads by fifty to ninety percent. The only problem is that they’re heavy. Not for my strong ass concrete house!

Stay woke.