7:56 right now- I'm sitting in studio right now trying to
do homework without getting drawn into the conversations
around me. Its a little hard to get focussed though; the
area where my desk/drafting table sits is too distracting.
When you're surrounded by bulletin board partitions
(decorated with pictures from Maxim), crumpled paper and
uneaten food, you spend more time tidying than working.
Christ, everyone feels the need to sit in my area and leave
their crap behind. If I'm going to be spending eighteen
hours a day here I shouldn't have to worry about getting the lord
knows what disease from other peoples' rotting food. Strange,
I'm such a terrible slob at home yet I can't stand to have
my working area the tiniest but cluttered.
Mostly everyone has gone home for the night. Its pretty
crowded during the day but at night only the most loserish
of workaholic night cats hang around (like me). Still, the
few people who are here are gossipping and laughing, and,
against my will, I get drawn into the discussion. Soon,
I'm enthused to the point that I become the centre of the
conversation. (God, I really hate myself when I do that.)
My prodding conscience brings me back to doing work. I
should feel bad; I have a ridiculous amount of pending
assignments within the next few weeks. Even so, I can see
my itinerary for the next few nights- conversation, food, a
little work, more food, more work, then I'll go home around
three or four in the morning and eat some more. Likely I'll
be late for class tomorrow morning. Who gives a shit- my
teacher's a cocky, pedagogical asshole anyway. Thinks he's
gods gift to architecture. Everytime I have to listen to
him spew his bullshit I feel like saying "Oh thank you, oh
mighty, omnipotent, all knowing one, for forsaking some of
your generous time on me, but a mere mortal. Allow me to
prostate myself before thee"
Fuck, I should really watch myself. Fifteen years from
now I might become the same pompous ass brainwashing the same
mindless group of student zombies.
I'm more than a little bitter right now- a nagging panic
is starting to form in the pit of my stomach. Soon, as
deadlines approach, it will grow to the point that I won't
give a shit about anything- eating, sleeping, social
interaction, anything. It sounds cheesy but all I'll be
aware of is the project I working on
I certainly won't get to that stage tonight- all I feel
like doing is eating and sleeping. Work work work- must get
mind back on working. . . .