I'm not nerding

Today was the last lecture for my urban geography class, and I actually the last topic we discussed about modernist vs. post-modernist works.This isn't the first time that I have complained about how much modernist buildings freak me out all the time, in fact they literally give me nightmares, it really had happened before. I remember when I was ten years old, I had a dream where I was in the Downtown Eastside (funny how I knew these buildings existed in these areas) with my family, and wandered away by myself. And I went into one of the older tall office towers which was plain concrete, filled with geometrically uniformed windows. I went in the building and there was no one in there except rows of uniformed desks, uniformed cubic offices, uniformed walls. And I walked up the stairs to look at each level just to find out that every floor were completely the same, as if I'm walking in mirrors, except some floors were leaking (and for the first time today I was told that Le Corbusier styled buildings do leak LOL can someone explain why? I couldn't believe it.). I was trapped in a concrete box of hardcore rationale and bleak environment, industrial and inhumane. And then I woke up and freaked out.

I never liked those modernist buildings. When I saw Le Corbusier's plan for Paris, they give me goosebumps. It was good that we had some other aesthetics later in the century.. (better ones in my opinion).

Anyway, I really like what my prof showed us this quote from Umberto Eco, about his thoughts in the relationship between modernity and post-modernity, and it's kind of sweet actually.

I think of the postmodern attitude as that of a man who loves a very cultivated woman and who knows he cannot say to her, I love you madly, because he knows that she knows (and she knows that he knows) that these words have already been written by Barbara Cartland. Still, there is a solution. He can say, 'As Barbara Cartland would put it, I love you madly.' At this point, having avoided false innocence, having said clearly that it is no longer possible to speak innocently, he will nevertheless have said what he wants to say to the woman: that he loves her,but he loves her in an age of lost innocence. If the woman goes along with this, she will have received a declaration of love all the same. Neither of the two speakers will feel innocent, both will have accepted the challenge of the past, of the already said, which cannot be eliminated; both will consciously and with pleasure play the game of irony...But both will have succeeded, once again, in speaking of love.