Hundreds of office workers remain trapped on floors two through fifteen after four shafts elevators caved in. Two days after the freak accident, rescuers have resorted to cutting a new elevator shaft through the middle of the high-rise building in order to construct a temporary elevator. Firefighters hope the makeshift elevator will be able to descend each white-collared worker down to the safety of the lobby floor.
Albert Eisenhower Fire Chief received the call late Monday afternoon reporting a massive elevator caved in downtown Atlanta under the increasing weight of its cargo. Soon after rescuers arrived on the scene, they realized that the stranded office workers were unwilling or unable to walk down the open emergency stairway.
This morning, emergency personnel have resorted to desperate measures and began the task of cutting a new elevator shaft through the office building to allow the workers above a way out.
At the same time, rescuers are sending food and supplies up the broken shaft by tying inner office envelopes to canaries and flying them to the above levels.
Reports show that the stranded workers have survived so far on snacks from their floor vending machines and filtered water fountains. The workers are also rationing packets of Folgers coffee to keep awake through night watches.
Earlier rescue attempts include using life sized paper airplanes to glide the office workers safely to the ground or loading survivors onto large pieces of cardboard and sliding them down the ten or so flights of stairs. There were even talks of shutting off the power and water in order to coax hungry workers down the emergency stairway.
So far all attempts have been unsuccessful.
Despite the situation, the overall moral of trapped workers seem high. Vine videos show the workers spinning in office chairs along with Instagram pictures of their favorite cups of coffee.
One office worker tweeted: “I always knew this day might come. Every morning when those elevators closed to take me up to the seventh floor, I wondered if I would ever see the lobby floor again?”
As rescuers cut the new elevator shaft, firefighters have also resorted to carrying workers on the lower stories down the perfectly usable stairway.
“We don’t have the manpower to carry every sorry paper-pusher down the stairs,” says Eisenhower. “Sooner we get this new shaft built, the sooner our boys can go home.”
I put a lot of pressure on myself to make good starts in my creative life. When I sit down to paint a meaningful picture for a loved one, when take friends out for a photo shoot, when I begin writing a first draft to my humorous play, I expect nothing but pure devine inspiration.
Then comes a paralyzing anxiety to my exalted expectations of great beginnings. I anticipate the world with every new initiative. I find myself saying “This is it!” and then, inevitably, a few hours later realize this is crap!
The comfort is knowing that I am not alone. Anne Lamott’s novel “Bird by Bird” outlines her perspective on first drafts. Let’s tune down our self imposed pressure and let ourselves write “shitty first drafts.”
January First Two Thousand and Thirteen
Here we go. One more year. Ever since the millenium, the calendar years have become much too personal. With each passing year, they count with numbers all too recognizable to me.
Growing up, the arbitrary nineties blended together into a general decade. I could not fathom even my own age reaching the upper 90s of our year. Each New Year became an indiscernible digit that no child could or would ever count to.
These were the numbers at the end of the multiplication tables. These were the numbers of a matured millenium. These were the years that stretched forever on before me.
And then it all changed with a Y2K.
13 - I know this number. I wrestled with its ugly prime properties in grade school. I shuttered at its superstition in the movie theatres. I blew out each one of its birthday candles. Now the date is counting just after my own, like a baby brother I never had. I remember our news anchor parents quibbling over what to call you. o-thirteen? twenty thirteen? two thousand thirteen?
Truth is, it’s unsettling to waste my life in a year called 2013. This millenium is so young and full of hope and wonder. Welcome 2000 to your teenage years.
I took a whole brain assessment this past week sponsored by my work called HBDI. My results…
I am Yellow. Off the charts Yellow (literally).
The basic premise of this brain assessment test is this: after answering a series of seemingly unrelated questions about hobbies and preferences, you are ranked on which side of the brain you prefer to think with. Each of the four quadrants of the brain (upper right, lower right, upper left, lower left) are assigned colors representing personality traits based on the location in your brain.
I apparently have a very lopsided brain. The attributes of someone who is yellow (using primarily the upper right brain to make decisions) are “Imaginative, artistic, holistic, spatial, and innovating.” My most natural problem solving strategies are “free-flow brainstorming and meditation” though, I may overlook things like…”logic or data and facts.”
Each of the other quadrants come with their own set of descriptors:
BLUE – Factual, critical, logical, rational
GREEN – conservative, detailed, dominant, controlled
RED – emotional, spiritual, talker, intuitive
YELLOW – imaginative, artistic, holistic, spatial
As I looked down at this strange color graph and read through the adjectives I thought “well, I suspected as much.”
The administrator of the test walked us through reading the results and assessing our strong points. He asked if this was somehow an “ah ha” experience where we are suddenly enlightened about the way we prefer to think. But truth is, I already suspected my insanity…its just nice to have some proof to go with it.
Check out these adjectives. Which part of the brain do you use?
So here’s the question: “What exactly is this project you are doing?”
C.S. Lewis puts it this way “Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.” Sometimes I feel the full weight of what I am to Christ while immersed in the enchanting sounds of worship. Other times I burn with an equally all consuming desire while waiting in line at Chick-Fil-A - to eat a chicken sandwich. I wondered, can I really live through the repetitions of life with an ever constant reminder that I am betrothed to Christ?
What if I had to carry the physical weight of some celestial bridal gown? Would I trip over the cumbersome folds of fabric as I took the elevator into work? What if I saw others riding the metro wearing this dress? Would I treat them differently? Would they treat me differently?
So to answer your question, the idea of the project is just that — to take the people that I see every day, in the places that I see every day, and place them in a wedding dress.