archi...torture?

The associate dean of my school was at my work the other day and after he had embarrassed me much in front everyone by saying one of his "wonderful students" was in the room (I love him to bits!), there were questions from everyone asking me if studio really was as bad as he made it sound. "There's a different world out there in Marvin Hall," he said. There is no doubt that we are a cult. We do things or say stuff that makes no sense to others but is absolutely normal within the architecture circle. For all the times my oddities have made people around me roll their eyes, I put together this list of "You know you're an architecture student when..." :

• ... you go to an art museum and take pictures of the building.

• ... you have more photos of buildings and models than people. Thus, you have a folder like this on your computer:

• ... you find yourself waking up on the wrong side of your drafting table.

• ... you know what FLW stands for.

• ... you know, off the top of your head, the dimensions of letter, ledger, and tabloid sheets. 

• ... you are changing and there are drafting dots stuck to your shirt and jeans. 

• ... people ask your plans for a holiday and you tell them holidays just mean more time to sleep.

• ... people talk about the Guggenheim and you ask "which one?"

• ... you can't think in studio; studio is for work-work. Epiphanies happen at the randomest of times, thus, the ubiquitous napkin sketch.

• ... you know what campus looks like at 4 in the morning.

• ... it is perfectly normal to possess more than 5 rulers.

• ... you are most productive under adrenaline-fueled-panic mode. 

• ... you have thought about how you could have survived better in architecture school if you were a vampire at some point of time: they don't sleep, don't eat, and don't bleed. 

• ... you talk about fenestration.

• ... you know you are not likely to be earning a lot when you graduate, yet find yourself spending mindlessly on studio supplies.

• ... you think it is perfectly normal to take notes with a drafting pen at lectures.

•  ... sleep deprivation torture doesn't work on you.

• ... your professor thinks Frank Gehry had a little too much to drink.

• ... you see the word "bass", you immediately think wood. Not music, not fish. 

• ... you've seen movies in studio, you've laughed your ass off about something not funny, you've sprayed your drawings with hair spray, you've lost stuff in the mess that is your desk. When you've gotten 3 hours of sleep, everything is funny.

• ... you want to toss your model in the trash as soon as review is over. You can't stand the sight of it after working on it for weeks. 

• ... score isn't to get a girl. Or to do well on a test. 

• ... you're tired of hearing things like: "missed opportunity", "has potential", "feels unresolved", and everything cliched the reviewers like to say.

• ... you know that Murphy's Law applies not only to butter on toast, but glue on chipboard/wood too.

• ... coffee runs in your veins.

• ... you have a playlist for studio.

• ... model = project. Not Adriana Lima.

• ... you've had the architect-engineer argument more than once. Your professors have dissed engineers more than once. 

• ... you ask for studio supplies as birthday presents.

• ... regardless of how much torture, you go back every day because it's what you love and there's nothing else you would rather do! :)

My Non-Existent Life Outside Studio

SaadM asked if he was properly subscribed to this blog. He is. As a matter of fact, I am the one who has been MIA from the blogging world. What can I do? I was imprisoned in Marvin 115. And this laptop was only being used for Pandora or Google SketchUp the past month. I was slowly being poisoned by a granite sanctuary. Other things gradually taking my life were chipboard, graphite, and cold-press crescent board. I started this blog telling myself I had a life outside studio, but whatever I say doesn't change the truth. I don't have a life outside studio. Truth hurts.

Architecture school is making me dorkier day by day. I have begun to develop a staring problem. I sit and gawk at windows and light fixtures. Whenever we are driving in our car, my brother makes fun of me because I'm ogling the houses. 

I find myself dressed in black from head to toe. Not because architects are notorious for dressing in all black. Just because I don't want black pastel, charcoal, and graphite all over my pretty stuff. I already have a yellow sweater with blobs of black on it.

My Mom got mad at me when I sent her pictures from a recent trip to California. She was upset that there was hardly any pictures of me, but a bazillion pictures of buildings. And a bazillion pictures of the same building. "How many pictures do you need of the same wall?" she screamed. Well, it wasn't just any building. It was the Getty Center. Like a total nerd, the first thing I did when I got to L.A. was to go to the Getty. Forget Hollywood. Forget Disneyland. Forget the beaches. Had to go pay Meier respects first.

The other day, my roommate thought I was out of town - when I wasn't - when I live in the same house as her. I come home Sunday night and this is how the conversation goes:

"You just got back?"

"Yeah."

"You went to Wichita right?"

"Nooo I was in studio."

"ALL WEEKEND?"

Oh dear roommate, how do I explain to you why it takes me all weekend to do what I do? It's a blessing I don't live with my Mom. Had she seen me coming home at 4 in the morning all week, I'm pretty sure I would've been forced to drop out of architecture school by now. It's so hard to explain to her on the phone as it is.

A revolution started in the Middle East, the cricket World Cup started, I missed a bunch of awesome basketball games, Two and a Half Men went off air. But there I was putting a band-aid on my thumb because my X-acto was being mean to me. There I was running purely on caffeine. What would I have done without coffee?

I exaggerate.

Studio's not all that bad, I mean. It is where I've seen the wackiest videos on YouTube and laughed my ass off with Lyssapoo and theMiltonsLover. It is also where we developed the head-bob dance. We also called 911 and were escorted out of our beloved studio by the cops. It is also where the "Cookie?" "Corn Nut?" conversation happened.

I guess I just had to vent about studio. Now that I've vented, I'll blog about more important stuff.