NYE

Good morning, Tri-State area, and welcome to the last day of the old year, not that it really matters. The counter will reset to 1, you will return to work in a few days' time, it'll take you three weeks to get used to writing 2014 instead of 2013, and life will go on, just as it has for the past 4 billion years.

Sometimes I feel like the wise old man in an ivory tower (Side: I should build an ivory tower). I only say that because I question the reasoning behind celebrating New Year's. New Year's, like every other holiday in America, has more or less just become an excuse to celebrate. And what is with the American desire to celebrate so often? But seriously, what are we celebrating? If you ask every person in Times Square that question tonight, they'll all make up some bullshit answer like "We're reflecting on the past year and making resolutions for the next one, whee~"

Resolutions, man. I don't think I've ever met someone who, on New Year's Eve, celebrates the successful accomplishment of one of their year's resolutions. Myself included! I find it difficult to believe that New Year's is a chance for one to welcome the new year with a "fresh start" because nobody really ever gets a fresh start in life. The entirety of being is based on the fact that you accumulate knowledge and experience and New Year's shouldn't be an excuse for you to suppress the not so good things you've done in the past year. Resolutions are arbitrary statements that you post on Facebook that you think make you seem worldly and wonderful to your 524 friends. Well, your 524 friends are thinking the same thing as they post their status updates, only for you to scan it with a sneer.

New Year's shouldn't be a special excuse to celebrate. You can celebrate everyday, what's stopping you, really? Just pop open a bottle of bubbly whenever you please and make a holiday out of it, I beg you. To those of you who sincerely enjoy celebrating New Year's, I genuinely hope you have a good night. To those of you who are stuck at parties that make you feel slightly uncomfortable, my best advice for you is to keep drinking. And to everyone else who modestly enjoys their New Year's, cheer up!

This year, my anti-resolution will be not to die/drop out of school, which I will probably post on Facebook. But yeah, trying to prevent myself from dying so that I can live to see 2100 seems pretty do-able, right? Unless there are unforeseen.... well, it isn't anymore, so...

Free Yourself

Thought: All of these photos have been taken before, for they are all of things that have been and surely I am not the first to have come upon them.

Despite a sorely missed connection, I ventured out into the world today. For the first time in practically forever, I took it upon myself to discover something. And I think I did.

I may be prematurely declaring this, but I've come across a very interesting area, one that may be considered the subject of my thesis project come fifth year. But that's 4 and a half years away, so I've got plenty of time to change my mind. This small area north of Houston is experiencing gentrification and funnily enough, the further down the income scale I travelled, the less interesting the neighborhood became. But alas, I think that only applies to the exterior. Carefully thought out storefronts were swapped out for cookie-cutter public housing and colored-in street art declined in number. On the outside, the buildings became uglier, but on the inside, I can imagine that the inhabitants become more faceted.

The adventure beyond my bed was fairly pleasant in that I have things to show for it. Lesson: Keep no itinerary, no map, no watch, just yourself and a camera (maybe a notebook too). Free yourself from the known and go where you've never gone before.

Doldrums!

I mostly find myself writing for this humdrum site during the most inconvenient times. And most of the time, the things that I write during these aforementioned times of day are rather humdrum in retrospect. Sometimes I'll begin to write something only to lose interest after the second sentence and close the window, never to reopen the untitled, unfinished post again.

A couple weeks ago, I realized that the dearth of writing that I've produced in the past semester may have contributed to my deteriorating oratory ability. (I've also found that I have trouble describing my architectural projects to others, but that's another story.) The infographic in my head describes the lack of literary consumption that resulted in a hiatus in writing which has cumulatively caused my deteriorating oral ability, all of which are by-products of being an architecture student.

The question I ask is: How can I improve my fluency and eloquence, especially when it comes to describing my projects? It seems as if I am only able to present fairly well with an iota of preparation and am unable to properly map out the course of the conversation I seek to ignite. When someone prompts me about what I'm doing, my mind immediately goes blank and I offer a blank stare and an "Uuuhhhhhhhh...." Classy, right?

I think the solution lies not in reading or writing more, but in planning ahead and asking the right questions. That brings me to point out that in order to ask the right questions, you must be prompted to do so by a evocative topic of conversation. That being said, expose yourself to interesting things! Explore sections of the bookstore that you typically scorn, try the "white girl drink" at Starbucks that you've successfully avoided, wear the neon pink shoes you really like that garners funny stares, and so on and so forth.

Keep your brains conditioned throughout the break. Go on information binges, catch up with the news! Continue asking questions, continue exploring. Don't hibernate for a month in bed with Netflix and a perpetually refilling bowl of popcorn (although that does sound fairly idyllic and is probably what I'll be doing). Be prepared to return to school with an explosive mind, not one stuck in the Doldrums.

I commend you if you've retained any bits of this, for I find that my eyes scan everything and peruse nothing. 

A Year in Review

Ah, winter break! A well-deserved reprieve for hard-working students everywhere, a kind gift for (hopefully) acing finals and reviews. Especially reviews. 

It’s hard to believe that the year is already coming to an end, but what a year it has been. I’ll spare you the misery of reading a long and boring recap where I brag about all the things I’ve accomplished in 12 months like an overly proud parent who loves voicing how proud she is of little Bobby’s bronze medal in the peewee olympics. 

How do you measure a year in the life? Let’s break it down:
2 schools
1.5 semesters of college
1 really bad haircut
1 new pair of glasses that I am now unable to not wear
12 job prospects
6 months of tutoring
7 days in the mountains
60 min. commute to school during rush hour (with a ride to the train)
90 min. commute to school on the weekend
3 x 30-Day Unlimited Metrocard 
3 x 7-Day Unlimited Metrocard
6 Everlane tees 
2 overworn pairs of BDG hi-rise black pants
8 AM arrivals Mon-Fri
8 PM/later departures 
5 rolls of paper (of various types)
4 8B pencils
4 sketchbooks; 2 full, 2 in progress
2 lost Muji pens (1 of which is indefinitely out of stock at NYT Muji)
0 misplaced/broken/stolen items of significant value (other than the Muji pen which I loved so dearly)
1 arch school all-nighter (quite a feat, I’ve come to hear)
2 midnight trips to Insomnia Cookies
1 fantastic semester

And of course, there are items of unknown quantities, all of which are better left unknown…
Lety’s dessert bundles
Starbucks lattés
visits to the art store
Muffins, so many muffins
Breakfast sammies

But you can’t reduce an entire 525,600 moments to numbers! Ask yourself this: are you happier now than you were in January? In an ideal world, the answer will always be a resounding YES. But I can’t help but pose the question of how high your happiness can grow after a certain point. I think I’ll control myself from plunging into the philosophy and economics of happiness now. Take a moment to consider your happiness though, and challenge yourself to be happier in the upcoming year. Everything is possible.

I’ll close this note with a very big THANK YOU. Thank you to everyone—and I mean everyone—for being such fantastic people who have contributed to my journey. Wow I feel like I’m writing an acceptance speech for a major award that I haven’t even been considered for (what?). 

Live on, friends! Work harder, dream harder, make bigger goals, achieve them all with flying colors, impress people, fight for what you love, let go of what you lose; live, love, peace, and prosper! 

Forever yours,

J

Brain aches

It feels like this sentiment is long overdue because it's been on my mind for quite some time. It, like 90% of the things that I think about these days, is about architecture. But this time, it's not about how much I love architecture or any of the plethora of related topics. Rather, it's how disappointed I am with architecture. Specifically, I'm disappointed with the imposition of reality on architecture. (Which is basically every engineer's job)

Before you pursue architecture, you imagine that everything architectural fits inside a box. When you begin to take an interest in the field, a door appears and you step inside. Then school starts and you're taught to take a sledgehammer to those walls because there is no box. Actually, allow me to correct myself: there is a box. It represents everything that you've ever assumed to be true and the world outside of the box is the uncomfortable, whatever it may be. But the presence of a box is entirely dependent on your acknowledgement of the box: If you don't acknowledge the a box, there is a box, and vice versa. Then there are people like me who kindly acknowledge the box then proceed to ignore it for the entirety of Thanksgiving dinner. (what am I even trying to say?)

Anyway, the box initially represents the parameters you place on yourself: the things you don't think are possible, the things you want to recreate that you've seen in magazines, stuff like that. But as architecture school progresses, a box will progressively begin to form around you. This time, the box represents the parameters of reality. And by the time you graduate, you will have learned how to create "good" architecture that creatively fits within this reality-shaped box.

So here I am, immersed in the ocean of unreality, thinking that I can create totally unrealistic things because there is no box. But by 2018, I'll be enclosed back in a box that I may be pining to break free from. I'm questioning my place in this Mobius strip world where there is reality and unreality at the same time while I only want to be in unreality.

Maybe I'm overthinking things. Maybe I should just succumb to the expectations of my peers, elders, etc., and continue on in this unsatisfying world. Will I become an architect at the end of the road? Probably not. Maybe I will. Maybe I'll encounter a billionaire developer who embraces unreality and will hire me to build things that can never be.

Side note: I've become very disinterested in the word "building." It leaves a yucky blerghness in my brain whenever I have to utter it.

Side note 2: I'm fairly certain my brain is slightly incapacitated, for I have been recently incapable of translating my ideas from brain to speech.

Side note 3: We learn not to get attached to our ideas and I've become so unattached that I' m not grasping onto anything and thus am not making any progression.

Dear World, it's Me

Currently: I want to create something that recreates the serenity in the void of a wave amongst all the energy/tumult in the actual structure without using a literal representation of a wave. But alas, time will not permit creative freedom, for I must create 5 drawings of this structure for Tuesday and I must concede to a curvilinear structure that resembles a wave. And I feel like I'm disappointing myself by not putting in the effort to find a solution that fulfills my need to step away from the wave shape as it is. I need to build more paper models. And I need to get my ass to school. But sleep first. 

Existential Essentials

If I wrote about my annoying influx of melodramatic feelings every time I had an existential crisis, I would have written a multitude of volumes by now.

Question: What's the meaning of life?

I used to think that it was to leave the world a better place than when you arrived. But now I don't think there is an answer. There is no meaning or purpose for our existence. Over the course of a bazillion years, the odds just continuously panned out in our favor and voila! One day, homo habilis came about, and as they say, the rest is history.

I think that people try to assign a meaning to life so that they'll feel more comfortable with existing. In a hundred years, most of us will be nonexistent blips in the History of the Earth, with the exception of marvelously talented people with excellent work ethic who will one day be able to travel backward in time. That being said, Why? Why do we put ourselves through so much agony for lost goals? Why does it matter how much effort I apply in creating each line for a drawing? What can I achieve by waking up before 6:30 to get to school? How much of a difference will my effort make in the long run?

But that's just it, isn't it? Once you lose sight of the minor goals, the larger ones become irrelevant as well. And then your life will start tumbling down the drain. So I guess all the small things matter. All the effort you put into accomplishing small tasks will condition a greater self that can accomplish greater things!

At least I think so. (I'm not quite sure about anything these days)

But I still have no will.

Isn't it interesting how conversation can begin as the answer to one question only to blossom into a multitude of deeper questions? The answer to every question is that there is no answer, only more questions.

The Talking Cure in Journal Writing

A couple weeks ago, my friends were mocking me because I told them that I had made a new friend. I shared this bit of information in an excited manner, so you can imagine me flailing my arms while saying something along the lines of "Hey guys I made a new friend!" They responded apathetically and one proceeded to say "Dear diary, I made a new friend today, yay me!" in a mocking tone.

Since then, I've filled a third of my red Moleskine which I had acquired in the summer of 2011. When I picked it back up, it was only a third full. It took me two years to get a third of the way in and its content were the antithesis of dense.

I started writing two days before my birthday, so that must have been the 16th. Today's the 29th. In 13 days, or about two weeks, I filled the same number of pages that it took my two years to fill. Two years versus two weeks. That just means that I've had a lot to say lately.

My red Moleskine has since become a necessary therapy. In my Lit & Psychoanalysis class, we drew connections between journal writing and the talking cure. When you write in a journal, you are releasing thoughts that you've kept to yourself throughout the day and is akin to a "chimney-sweep" of the mind.

As an architecture student, stress is an inevitable ailment, along with sleep deprivation, suppressed feelings and emotions, and all the jazz that comes with these symptoms. At the end of the day, my brain is chock full of unspoken thoughts and I can sweep them all into my journal to reveal a clean surface.

The object of these ramblings is to encourage you to take up journal writing. Sometimes there are things that are better left unsaid to the public, even if you think nobody is going to read it. Your journal will become your new therapist, and your sessions free of charge. Pick up your pen while on the train and empty your mind. I promise you, you'll feel so much better afterwards.

If anyone actually reads this anymore...

I'm going gluten free! (Kinda)
Bread is now reserved for special occasions. Baked goods will be a toughie to kick. (But not really, all I have to do is stop baking, which has happened anyway as a result of being at school all day, everyday)
I should stop talking about how I go to school everyday because so does everyone else (but not really)

-sigh-

I'M IN A REALLY GOOD MOOD.
My brain is running at a bazillion thoughts per minute and I can't get anything translated through text. There's nobody else here right now so I'm getting a ton of work done and my new drawings are looking quite handsome. Secret: I hope nobody comes in, for fear that they'll burst my bubble. STAY HOME, GUYS.

Anyway, classes are going well, except for physics, in which my participation has deteriorated. We have a test tomorrow. I am very concerned for myself. Otherwise, As across the board (so far) and I'm really proud that I'm doing good work..

And speaking of work, back to work I go!
Ciao :)

The Invisibility Factor

There's comfort in invisibility, isn't there? I suppose that's why we were all so enamited by Harry's Invisibility Cloak, envious of his ability to wander throughout the world unseen. I like to think that all New Yorkers have an invisibility factor, a measure of how well they can blend in to the background in and out of New York. The higher your invisibility factor, the more discreet you can become, and vice versa. I would like to point out, however, that the invisibility factor is unrelated to one's personality or loudness. I consider myself, for example, to have a moderately high invisibility factor, but that does not mean that I wither away into the background in all situations. 

Someone with a low invisibility factor would be like a redneck who is visiting New York for the first time and is occupying the most space possible on the Subway while shouting to their relatives across the car. That, my friends, is a prime example of a low invisibility factor. I suppose this means that all New Yorkers have fairly high numbers. If you can take the train every morning and afternoon without making another passenger annoyed/angry, you've pretty much qualified. 

7 train, Oct 07 2013. 7:09 AM. 

Thank You Notes: The First Review

Thank you to David Judelson, Melissa Santana, and Noshin Apurba for facilitating conversation and inquiry into the world of architecture and guiding us along the path to an endless destination.

Thank you to my studiomates for creating a supportive environment to learn and grow. I look forward to many more tomorrows with you all.

Thank you to Ken Allison for adding a dash of humor and lightheartedness to our first review which is especially appreciative after days of going without sleep.

Thank you to my friends outside of studio 312 for inquiring about our projects and allowing us to explore your work as well.

Thank you to my parents for rides to and from the train, tuition, supplies, endless support, and for putting me on this planet.

I'm feeling very sentimental right now. Can you tell?

blergh

I did not realize that today was Friday until I heard "Happy Friday" on Bloomberg Radio this morning.
"TGIF" no longer applies, you guys.
Days meld into each other, the to-do list is perpetually replenishing, every day is the same.
The minutes are short, the days are long, and the weeks are shorter.
Spitzer needs an in-house chiropractor.
I've been trying to fix this kink in my neck/shoulders for an hour.
How are these 10 year olds making tortellini from scratch? I can barely prepare box pasta.
I have yet to watch Grey's Anatomy.
I'm really tired.
No, not really, my back just hurts.

HI!

Okay, really quick Wednesday update before I get ready for bed. Yeah, I know, it's 10:00 what kind of old grandma am I?

• I cut my finger off today (just kidding, it's still attached but yes, I did cut my finger)
• 99.9% sure I inhaled a pound of foam core dust from sanding it to bits
• Still have to buy vellum (sigh)
• Almost done with A Thousand Splendid Suns. I think its my least favorite of Hosseini's three
• Wore my LOTR/Calvin & Hobbes Threadless tee today, someone thought Gandalf was Jesus
• iOS 7 is lovely
• Solitaire is the entirety of my existence
• I started reading Play It As It Lays but I'm not really quite getting it. I think I have to start over.
• Review for our project is next Tuesday, I'm dying inside
• Had a 3 day long bout of pure frustration that has mostly subsided, but I think it'll come back tomorrow morning (sigh)
• I've been sighing a lot
• Plan on going to school every day throughout the weekend
• My axonometric drawing is going to be the easiest (I think) Wait nevermind, I think I have to show an exploded view (TRIPLE SIGH)
• I woke up late this morning and got to physics halfway through the class
• But I got 95 on our first test
• So I'm really happy but
• I am also upset about my missing 5 points because it was the WORST error. I hate myself.
• I could really use a wonderful cup of coffee
• I could really use a caramel latte
• I could really use a caramel latte from Thirsty Mind
• I am never going to forget about that coffee
• It is the best latte you will ever have
• And I am never going to have it ever again
• You can understand my sadness

Night.

Hey! I know what you're thinking: Who are you again? What is this? Where am I?

Well, for one, I am not going to apologize for not writing anything because there's nothing to apologize for. I've also been bombarded with work.

I just had a revelation that has been stirring around in my head for a while, but--literally--two minutes ago, I had a Eureka! moment. I feel like Colin Singleton. Anyway, here goes:

Well, actually, I have several Eureka! theses to present:

• Teachers are the best students. After spending the summer teaching a bunch of students a bunch of things, I realize that I've become a better student. When you place yourself in a teacher's position, you come to understand that awkward silences from students are moments of death. So, when a teacher asks a question, come up with an answer. Or BS one; just say something. Most of the time, the "correct" answer is the most obvious one.
•  ...

My second goes a little something like this: I'm more creative as a result of this blog and of the "gap" year I took. It's not necessarily a thesis and most certainly would not apply to everyone, so that's why I questioned its inclusion as a thesis. Anyway: I think that of all my classmates, my projects are the most "out of the box" and I think that's because since graduating high school, I've evolved a sense of "I don't care what everyone is going to think, I'm going to do whatever I want." Call it a more sophisticated sense of independence and rebellion, if you will. Instead of worrying about what my professors, TAs, peers/classmates will think, I come up with things and execute them. Then I wonder what everyone will think. Others' opinions are more of a curiosity than a necessity and I'm curious to know what you think, but I don't care if you like it or not. (Well actually, I do care if you like it, and I will be marginally nicer to you).

How does that have to do with the blog/gap year?

Well, if you've read any of my past posts at all, you can tell that I write a bunch of gibberish/write about things that people don't really care about. And that's how the two are related. With the gap year, I think it's because I was so separated from people (in general). When I left school in February, everyone my age was still in school- I wasn't. During that time, I basically had to fend for myself and figuratively lost my social touch with the world. So yeah: independence and rebellion. I could probably make up a word for this... would I just be a nonconformist?

Kay. C'est ça. Have to go to Pearl Paint and spend a buttload of money. Ciao!

Saturday Slump

VampireStat probably makes up 30% of all my pageviews.

• I've declared today (Saturday) a forced recuperation day after spending Monday - Friday at school
• I'm doing homework right now. So much for recuperation.
• I mentally declared that I would sleep in and be lazy all day, but I ended up sleeping from 11-2, then 6-9. (sigh)
• 95% sure my feet decided to grow so that I could do a shoe overhaul.
• But on the flip side, I can't wear my chelsea boots anymore. I've only worn them through this summer (sigh)
• The UK has this campaign called 'Books Are My Bag' where you buy this tote at your favorite bookstore and fill it with books (that you pay for as well). I think I'll have to do my own version over at Strand. 
• Fall temps are rolling in, and I'm just so excited~
• This chiropractor visit is long overdue
• I'm very confused about how tired I am
• Today is a perfect day to make a trip to Rose House

The Hugging Cure

Have you ever just felt like you need a hug? Not a quick, "Hi, Aunt Marge, how's the cat?" but a long "Please don't think this is weird, just stand here and let me hug you," kind of hug. Does that make sense?

I think hugs can cure any of the following, but probably more: frustration, exhaustion/tiredness, sadness, confusion, ...I can't think of anything else, I'm too tired. 

Anyway, it is a fact that architecture students probably suffer from a majority of the above, so if any of you are reading this, ask me for a hug when you see me next. It won't be weird, I promise. I could probably use a couple right now. And don't be weirded out if I ask for a hug. 

Hugs for everyone! Have a good weekend, guys :) 

Sidenote: hugging oneself avoids weirdness but is less effective 

Dingleberries

It always feels a little strange to meet new people, only for them to later find out that you publish things on the internet. As insignificant as I may be in relation to the entire World Wide Web, it's still strange for other people to find out about your cyber presence.

It's almost as if they're uncovering a bazillion layers of you that you haven't been able to share with them in person yet. All of a sudden, they know how you think and what you think about while you're just starting to get acquainted IRL.

I suppose it's rather like celebrity stalking; people obsess themselves over their favorite movie stars yet they've probably never met them in the flesh. So how well do you know them? Is your distant perception different from their actual personality?

When people note that they've read something that I've written, I try to shrug it off as if it was nothing. In a sense, it really isn't much of anything. This collection of thoughts that I've accumulated doesn't sum up the entirety of my being. The internet is just a medium that I can use to express thoughts and whatnot.

In a way, I feel like Colin Singleton of An Abundance of Katherines lore. I spit out facts and thoughts that I find fascinating and wonderful that, honestly, nobody really cares about. So I share them here, where I don't care if people care about things or not.

Colin Singleton could've used a blog. And people need to be more open minded.