I have mentioned my architecture class from time to time. Well, it turns out I somehow I accidentally enrolled in the Class From Hell, not Topics in -19th and 20th Century Architecture. Monday we take our midterm, which accounts for a disgustingly integral percentage of the grade, so I inquired quite innocently about a week ago about a study guide. Apparently several other students submitted the same inquiry to him, because today he came out with the Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary. Oh, hold that; it’s our review sheet! I am utterly convinced that this prof expects to be able to rattle off an architect’s name, date, & house name and have us immutably connect those with the slide on the screen in our minds. I mean, he will say something like “Mies van der Rohe, Glass skyscrapers, 1921,” or “Gropius, design for Fagus Factory,” and flash a slide up. I bend my head down to write the name, date, building, etc, and when I look up I realize he’s already listed six other name/date combinations and I’ve missed them. This study guide clinches it: I shall not pursue the arts in that form. If this class doesn’t get credited for my AP, I will cry. And take Finger-Painting.
Aside from that class, everything’s going alright. It isn’t Friday yet, which disappoints me. Tomorrow Ian has to get up ridiculously early (5:00 am, early for anybody) to call their liason in London… at 6:15 am our time. I can see troubles with Ian and my communication if this is what we’ll have to do to talk while he is living there. I haven’t been able to sleep very well at all in general. Ian keeps having to get up at 8:00 or earlier, and I cannot sleep after he gets up.
Finally, a quick story: yesterday I was reading Modern Architecture Since 1900, by William J.R. Curtis. I hate that man. Anyway, I read that book from Chapter 1 through 17, skipping only Chapter 13 as instructed. About halfway through Chapter 16 I just had to rest my head on the book. Next thing I knew I woke up, quite disoriented, drool dribbling from my mouth and forming a lake on the slick page of the book. “I really need to stop drooling like that,” I thought to myself, and staggered over to my computer. It was only then that I realize I’d slept for an hour, a deep, restful, and slobbery sleep, and hadn’t been reading that whole time. I feel, frankly, that puddle of drool was all that Curtis deserved for spending so much time on boring men like Ralph Adams Cram, Louis Sullivan, and on the moist page 294, Bertram Goodhue and his ridiculous Nebraska State Capitol building.
I wish I could say something interesting has begun happening in my life; I cannot, however, so I’ll just plain stop talking.
– KF –