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.

Woes of a 9-year-old

2011 has begun. Christmas break is over. Everyone goes back to work tomorrow. School kids go back to school - to the great disappointment of my little cousin. "E-man it's so not fair," he has complained all day. The cause of his great grief is that us college students still have two more weeks of vacations while he needs to be up at 6.30 tomorrow morning. All day I heard a whiny 9-year-old go on and on about how lucky we are to not be in grade school anymore. "I wish I was in college, too," he said.

Graduating high school is overrated. So is going to college. And starting work. And all the other things you are expected to do in life. As soon as you graduate, you are expected to find a job that pays you a certain wage. In between all that, you are expected to find the perfect person for yourself, get married, and raise a family. At every stage of your life, you are expected to fulfill expectations.

Truth is, you shouldn't expect anything from life. Life just happens. You have no control over it. It's not fair. And will never be. That is why life is amazing. That is why we are free.

Free to do what we want to do. Not what makes the most money. How long is it going to last anyway? Free to fall in love. Because loving is good for the soul. Free to bungee jump, get a speeding ticket, make mistakes, travel, dress stupid, gossip, dance in the rain, be hated, and break a leg.

All of this sounds fabulous but how am I even going to explain this to my dear cousin? For now, I'm just asking him to get over it.