i ruined at least 8 people's days today.
well...am going to ruin their days.
i show up to class, and i give my students advice.
wait.....what?! there is nothing right with this sentence.
"give advice?"
"my students?"
it's bizarre, i know.
the deal: (without being too specific) one of my bff's and myself are in charge of one of the sections of the freshmen architectural foundation classes. we have fun, we laugh, we get our shit done.
alas, project one is complete and handed in as of wednesday. hooray.
and now, the terrible world of grading semi-subjective things.
we handed out at least 8 D's.
and to be honest, i feel like shit.
there were some brilliant projects that must have taken days, weeks to complete.
and there was the opposite.
it's a completely irrational projection, but i think of myself, sitting on that stool, excited to get my grade back, only to be blindsided by a D.
i mean, jesus....we all know that sucks, right?
and here i am, the undertaker.
ugh, it's quite a different pair of shoes being on the other side of grading.
i have a much larger perspective.
1.31.2009
1.29.2009
perspective
it was july.
it was insatiably sunny.
it was the early 1990's.
sitting in my parent's kitchen in the middle of the day (it was summer vacay, you see) i decided to pass on one more homemade popsicle from the freezer (mmmmm, cherry), flow through the door, and out into the blaring sunshine when it hit me.
"i don't want to be a kid anymore."
it's odd how i can clearly remember myself, walking up and down the boulevard on 5th street, (no doubt being watched by all of our 80+ year old neighbors) and wanting nothing more than to be a 20something, with all that independence, freedom, and money. cha-ching!
i can remember thinking that 25 was the ultimate age.
your own house,
your own car,
your own wife,
your own income,
your own everything.
as a kid, i was trapped inside all day, was ruled by my parents, constantly wanting more out of life. i wanted to explore and discover, dammit! and i was getting tired of the shitty sand in the sandbox.
now, as a semi-adult, i long for that time back.
instead of looming deadlines, i had tv schedules to remember.
instead of writing papers, i had pools to fill.
instead of rent to pay, i had disney movies to watch.
instead of paying for groceries, i could yell "mom! what's for dinner?!"
although.......i don't have to mow the grass anymore.
i miss spending so much time with my parents. now that they're suh-weet.
blast!
allow me to be cliche, but
"you don't know what you got till it's gone."
and that's the thought of the day.
starting now.
it was insatiably sunny.
it was the early 1990's.
sitting in my parent's kitchen in the middle of the day (it was summer vacay, you see) i decided to pass on one more homemade popsicle from the freezer (mmmmm, cherry), flow through the door, and out into the blaring sunshine when it hit me.
"i don't want to be a kid anymore."
it's odd how i can clearly remember myself, walking up and down the boulevard on 5th street, (no doubt being watched by all of our 80+ year old neighbors) and wanting nothing more than to be a 20something, with all that independence, freedom, and money. cha-ching!
i can remember thinking that 25 was the ultimate age.
your own house,
your own car,
your own wife,
your own income,
your own everything.
as a kid, i was trapped inside all day, was ruled by my parents, constantly wanting more out of life. i wanted to explore and discover, dammit! and i was getting tired of the shitty sand in the sandbox.
now, as a semi-adult, i long for that time back.
instead of looming deadlines, i had tv schedules to remember.
instead of writing papers, i had pools to fill.
instead of rent to pay, i had disney movies to watch.
instead of paying for groceries, i could yell "mom! what's for dinner?!"
although.......i don't have to mow the grass anymore.
i miss spending so much time with my parents. now that they're suh-weet.
blast!
allow me to be cliche, but
"you don't know what you got till it's gone."
and that's the thought of the day.
starting now.
1.26.2009
k a j d
and i suppose it was that cold november day that started it all, all that time ago.
me, standing in my kitchen, alone, hellbent on finishing a bottle of wine, as well as the moves to the electric slide.
(check! and....check!)
and the phone rings.
things are much different now. i found your notes, cards, etc.
and i realize now that they never really held as many emotions as i thought they did.
perhaps it didn't start that cold november day, but much before on that warm august day at
lauriol plaza.
change the cast.
perfect. safe.
so safe.
but so risky.
but perhaps it was that october day.
and i've fallen head over heels. and realized, coldly, that it was just a silly dream.
a silly dream with a silly ending. and (in hindsight) a silly beginning.
that's how they all go. for me at least.
no, definitely not october.
so, i don't know why you're contacting me again now. or why you want to mend bridges. i've wasted too much of my heart on you. and i'm just frankly tired of it.
of you.
i'm tired of that smile, those messages, that history.
i won't be used. again.
i miss the idea, not the reality.
1.25.2009
truth takes time
"i don't know that i agree with most of these assumptions you're making here."
damn.
and that was friday.
and i wait.
wait for something worthwhile to come to mind.
something that doesn't involve design.
or my thesis.
i really don't want this journal to become a list of inadequacies that i have with myself.
or about complaining about my life.
which, really, in the grand scheme of things, is pretty spectacular.
and, in a few months, the "school" chapter of my life will end, and the "real world" chapter will begin. with the turn of a life page, a new story will unfold.
and that, quite frankly, scares me. from my grown-up head to my toes. it scares me.
literally, figuratively, creatively, immediately.
on the one hand it's scary, but on the other: extremely exciting.
freedom.
i could be anywhere doing anything in 6 months. literally.
(i didn't tell you this, but i'm focusing my job search in the philadelphia area.....i fell in love.)
but i want to be happy.
and be able to pay off my ample amount of student loans. call me a realist.
perhaps the scariest part will be saying farewell to the daily conversations with great friends. the chance to see everyone on a regular basis.
we have all grown up and changed so much through these 5 years.
we've grown together.
like a vine or a tree. 70 of us.
beautiful stories, wonderful memories, and acquaintances will fade.
and before too long we will each have run-ins with people that look like someone we used to know.
we will measure each other by success and failure.
by jobs and family.
by bottom lines.
some will surprise, some will remain exactly the same.
how will i fit? how will i transfer to a new vine?
i haven't even planted my seeds. or decided which side of the house.
i just hope i end up on the south side. because i love the sun.
1.20.2009
swagger
i fell off the deep end today.
i spent time researching politicians handwriting.
after the whole inauguration business, president obama sat down, and started signing a slough of official papers, with his LEFT HAND.
now, left-handedness has always been a point of contention within my family. being usually atypical as we are, 4 of the 6 members are left handed. only the twins are righties.
and the rest, as they say, is a left handed history.
we have a coffee mug that is lined with a chorus of soft bears raising their left hands while the cup proclaims "lefties do it right!" and my ehtire childhood was full of general pro-left handed jargon. as a rightey, i was discriminated against. see....atypical.
i can clearly remember one of the first classes in architorture school: "who in here is left handed?" the professor said. most of the class raised their (left) hand. the professor went on to say that left handed people are generally more creative and that's why most famous architects and artists are left handed.
damn. disadvantaged at birth.
the subsequent 5 years of education has been spent making up for my right handedness.
reminded to me by my family, and now my (presumably) future profession.
alas, mine is a life charmed.
sub-point of the story: i know everything about the plight of left handedness. smearing ink, horrible time trying to use a notebook, scissors take forever, using a computer mouse just.....isn't right.
does anyone else want to become ambidextrous? dream. come. true.
i admit, i was pretty captivated by the inauguration pomp and circumstance today. there's just something so magical and endearing about things of this nature.
(insert political statement)
1.19.2009
the end is built into the beginning
my back is pressed onto a cold wall. i look to my right:
"i am sure i need scarcely tell you that i am very proud and happy" -charles dickens
my collage of overly-expensive quotable cards stares back at me, giving me a little push out of bed every morning.
those and the alarm set to wake me up at 6:40 every morning. (but brian, you don't have class until 8:30.....)
.....what ISN'T set to wake me up every morning is my heating blanket. my beautiful, soft, wonderful, tan, sunbeam heating blanket. we fell in love on january 10th, 2009.
our romance story begins much like any other:
so there i was, sleeping with another heating blanket.
"it will keep you warm down here" my sister-in-law said.
"it's perfect, you won't regret it" my brother chimes in.
"really," they both say in unison. "you'll love it."
i must say, at first, i was a little uneasy.
"i don't know guys....i've never tried one before. i mean, don't they light people on fire and stuff?"
"i mean, what kind of tom-foolery was this? the bed is warm WHEN I GET IN?!"
"preposterous!" shouts the old man in a white wig in back.
"outrage!" cries the housewife sitting 2 rows in front of me.
but there it was, weasling it's way into my life.
when i woke up the next morning, the blanket was still there, right on top of me, keeping me warm, making me feel safe. (too explicit?)
so what did i do? like a tyrant, i immediately left it to rot in the bismarck basement it calls home.
i drove directly to target in fargo, bought myself a lover, and THEN went back to my apartment. ever since that day we've slept together every night. every. single. night.
i see no end in sight. and i must confess that my sleeping situation never has been warmer.
it's one of the best $30 i've ever spent. hands down.
switching gears.
i don't know what's gotten into me.
lately i've been interes-wait.... obsessing over buying a house.
"whoa, g! what the--?!"
i know, i know. buying an old house and fixing it up. remodeling.
brilliance.
painting, buying linens, appliances, silverware, bedding, fluffy towels.
i dream of painting the rest of my goya collection. and of starting a large-format hadid painting.
i have them all selected.
the thrill of owning my own piece of property with my own stuff is invigorating, exciting!
i have a million ideas for custom lamps, light fixtures, color combinations, furniture, textiles.
first, i need a badass woodshop....pete style. (and i don't think my father will ever know how much i want this. because my brother always gets the "man stuff."....dammit)
i'm becoming one of those crazy people.
you know the ones, in raggedy clothes, standing on the side of the road with a sign:
"will work for barcelona chair."
and it will be perfect. with white trim and a ton of white subway tile. and muted greens.
....call me your typical 23year old male.
who is very single and very not married. (thanks, california)
i just finished up a movie.
the women. that's the title.
"why, brian?! why?!"
the cast.
if annette benning were in every movie, i wouldn't complain. maybe it's my passive mania for running with scissors, but her voice is captivating. she added so much depth to that character, as well as the mother in american beauty.
god, i love her.
in another display of "things that brian loves," she played a strong-willed, no nonsense woman.
miranda priestly,
sydney bristow,
beatrix kiddo,
samantha jones. (i don't actually watch sex and the city....just the movie....mistake.)
any muscle man can be an action star (insert stallone).
but it takes a special breed to play a leading lady.
this is turning into the least manly post.
ever.
chainsaws, buffet lines, monster trucks, 9 iron, budweiser, gillette, double-barrell shotgun, bacon cheeseburgers, table saw, hunting, timberlodge steakhouse, new balance, sawdust.
better.
i am a ridiculous person.
lonely.
i was asked to write to the minot paper a letter of support for the upcoming legislation including the lgbt community in anti-discrimination clauses statewide.
because you can legally be fired in north dakota for being gay.
which is horrible,
but i remain apprehensive. i need to talk to my parents about this move. minot loves gossip. what if a prominent business owner's son was writing to the paper in support of "those weird homosexuals?"
the last thing i want to do is turn my parents into a piece of gossip.
i once read in a book something that scared the pants off of me: i'm not the only one coming out. eventually, my parents will tell people, which means they (in effect) "come out" too.
and that scared the shit out of me.
i just need to talk to them about this. and these conversations always end up awkward and weird for all involved parties.....shit.
ah, i could write more. should write more. i need to close my computer, dream of buying a macbook(pro?), and fall unusually deep into sleep.
i am dreaming of returning to the gelato shop on via serpenti in rome.
or the one in hooker square in athens.
or just any european gelato.
does this make me pretentious?
buona notte.
"i am sure i need scarcely tell you that i am very proud and happy" -charles dickens
my collage of overly-expensive quotable cards stares back at me, giving me a little push out of bed every morning.
those and the alarm set to wake me up at 6:40 every morning. (but brian, you don't have class until 8:30.....)
.....what ISN'T set to wake me up every morning is my heating blanket. my beautiful, soft, wonderful, tan, sunbeam heating blanket. we fell in love on january 10th, 2009.
our romance story begins much like any other:
so there i was, sleeping with another heating blanket.
"it will keep you warm down here" my sister-in-law said.
"it's perfect, you won't regret it" my brother chimes in.
"really," they both say in unison. "you'll love it."
i must say, at first, i was a little uneasy.
"i don't know guys....i've never tried one before. i mean, don't they light people on fire and stuff?"
"i mean, what kind of tom-foolery was this? the bed is warm WHEN I GET IN?!"
"preposterous!" shouts the old man in a white wig in back.
"outrage!" cries the housewife sitting 2 rows in front of me.
but there it was, weasling it's way into my life.
when i woke up the next morning, the blanket was still there, right on top of me, keeping me warm, making me feel safe. (too explicit?)
so what did i do? like a tyrant, i immediately left it to rot in the bismarck basement it calls home.
i drove directly to target in fargo, bought myself a lover, and THEN went back to my apartment. ever since that day we've slept together every night. every. single. night.
i see no end in sight. and i must confess that my sleeping situation never has been warmer.
it's one of the best $30 i've ever spent. hands down.
switching gears.
i don't know what's gotten into me.
lately i've been interes-wait.... obsessing over buying a house.
"whoa, g! what the--?!"
i know, i know. buying an old house and fixing it up. remodeling.
brilliance.
painting, buying linens, appliances, silverware, bedding, fluffy towels.
i dream of painting the rest of my goya collection. and of starting a large-format hadid painting.
i have them all selected.
the thrill of owning my own piece of property with my own stuff is invigorating, exciting!
i have a million ideas for custom lamps, light fixtures, color combinations, furniture, textiles.
first, i need a badass woodshop....pete style. (and i don't think my father will ever know how much i want this. because my brother always gets the "man stuff."....dammit)
i'm becoming one of those crazy people.
you know the ones, in raggedy clothes, standing on the side of the road with a sign:
"will work for barcelona chair."
and it will be perfect. with white trim and a ton of white subway tile. and muted greens.
....call me your typical 23year old male.
who is very single and very not married. (thanks, california)
i just finished up a movie.
the women. that's the title.
"why, brian?! why?!"
the cast.
if annette benning were in every movie, i wouldn't complain. maybe it's my passive mania for running with scissors, but her voice is captivating. she added so much depth to that character, as well as the mother in american beauty.
god, i love her.
in another display of "things that brian loves," she played a strong-willed, no nonsense woman.
miranda priestly,
sydney bristow,
beatrix kiddo,
samantha jones. (i don't actually watch sex and the city....just the movie....mistake.)
any muscle man can be an action star (insert stallone).
but it takes a special breed to play a leading lady.
this is turning into the least manly post.
ever.
chainsaws, buffet lines, monster trucks, 9 iron, budweiser, gillette, double-barrell shotgun, bacon cheeseburgers, table saw, hunting, timberlodge steakhouse, new balance, sawdust.
better.
i am a ridiculous person.
lonely.
i was asked to write to the minot paper a letter of support for the upcoming legislation including the lgbt community in anti-discrimination clauses statewide.
because you can legally be fired in north dakota for being gay.
which is horrible,
but i remain apprehensive. i need to talk to my parents about this move. minot loves gossip. what if a prominent business owner's son was writing to the paper in support of "those weird homosexuals?"
the last thing i want to do is turn my parents into a piece of gossip.
i once read in a book something that scared the pants off of me: i'm not the only one coming out. eventually, my parents will tell people, which means they (in effect) "come out" too.
and that scared the shit out of me.
i just need to talk to them about this. and these conversations always end up awkward and weird for all involved parties.....shit.
ah, i could write more. should write more. i need to close my computer, dream of buying a macbook(pro?), and fall unusually deep into sleep.
i am dreaming of returning to the gelato shop on via serpenti in rome.
or the one in hooker square in athens.
or just any european gelato.
does this make me pretentious?
buona notte.
1.16.2009
constrained
who knows.
i adore andrea. she is my light, my happiness, my up when i'm down. my reevaluation.
so there we were, chatting in the kitchen about europe, life, and the past. she kept telling story after story of ridiculous endeavors that were just hilarious in hindsight. every story was followed by another brilliant story that outlined her or her friend's clever acts.
when it hit me: i just don't have stories like this.
and, dangit, i felt so inconsequential. i love andrea, i love what she does, but i just felt so inadequate sitting there.
maybe it's a stupid "high-school-ey" thing to think, but i just need to get out there more, have more fun, get out of my little clean box more. meet people. be ridiculous.
so i went out to the bar tonight. i made a classy dinner with good friends, i had a few beers, and i went out. and i just didn't have fun. typical. i don't know what it is: i'm just not having fun at the bar scene anymore.
"make copies, win races, stay with me, go places."
why? why now? you were so appropriate at the time. not now. and i'm sorry.
i once saw an appropriate quote for my situation.
love is a strong word.
my lone brother joined a "i support equal rights in (state)" group on facebook. and i nearly wept. coming out to him was the hardest. THE hardest. i was so nervous, and unsure of his reaction. he was so wonderful. we got a pack of beer and talked about things. i think that it was harder for him to accept than he let me know, but it was so rewarding to see that on his damn facebook. i guess it makes me swell with gratitude when i see people supporting the cause. my best friend from high school also joined.
it just affects me. it affects me greatly. and i don't know how to tell these people how much they and their actions mean to me. i don't think that i could compose words to express my gratitude for their actions, reactions, and chatting.
in other news, i need an outlet. that isn't thesis. and i need to update more. and make this brilliant.
i adore andrea. she is my light, my happiness, my up when i'm down. my reevaluation.
so there we were, chatting in the kitchen about europe, life, and the past. she kept telling story after story of ridiculous endeavors that were just hilarious in hindsight. every story was followed by another brilliant story that outlined her or her friend's clever acts.
when it hit me: i just don't have stories like this.
and, dangit, i felt so inconsequential. i love andrea, i love what she does, but i just felt so inadequate sitting there.
maybe it's a stupid "high-school-ey" thing to think, but i just need to get out there more, have more fun, get out of my little clean box more. meet people. be ridiculous.
so i went out to the bar tonight. i made a classy dinner with good friends, i had a few beers, and i went out. and i just didn't have fun. typical. i don't know what it is: i'm just not having fun at the bar scene anymore.
"make copies, win races, stay with me, go places."
why? why now? you were so appropriate at the time. not now. and i'm sorry.
i once saw an appropriate quote for my situation.
love is a strong word.
my lone brother joined a "i support equal rights in (state)" group on facebook. and i nearly wept. coming out to him was the hardest. THE hardest. i was so nervous, and unsure of his reaction. he was so wonderful. we got a pack of beer and talked about things. i think that it was harder for him to accept than he let me know, but it was so rewarding to see that on his damn facebook. i guess it makes me swell with gratitude when i see people supporting the cause. my best friend from high school also joined.
it just affects me. it affects me greatly. and i don't know how to tell these people how much they and their actions mean to me. i don't think that i could compose words to express my gratitude for their actions, reactions, and chatting.
in other news, i need an outlet. that isn't thesis. and i need to update more. and make this brilliant.
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