I'm an architecture student

I should say, while I can.

I had a dream one night, about a month back during the study week. I was in school, when I received an envelope. I tore off its seal, and enclosed were my application results. "Rejected," it read. Troubled, agonized, "why??", I was pacing around school with my laptop, scouring the school website for any confirmation that would state otherwise. I bumped into some of my archi friends along the way. I explained my predicament, and they responded with sincere concern. "Harrr..". He said: "nevermind lar you still have us yay".

I awoke the next morning with a deeply furrowed countenance. A queer sour sensation was stirring within my chest, and my heart pulsations felt more pronounced than usual. My eyes weren't the usual moist either. The dream bothered me, so I sat on my bed for a moment, pondering. It didn't help, and I was still confused, after all I had already spent 3 years wondering if architecture was good for me. All I knew then was that, given the circumstance, whatever time I had left with the guys shouldn't be neglected and thrown to waste, but rather be conscientiously wrapped up and shelved neatly into the archive of treasured memories. With that in mind, I headed to school to study with a dear friend.

Few weeks on I had an interview for ntu accounts, which went pretty well. The interviewer actually said "you know what, I actually like you a lot. I am going to give you the course now", so I was like "hahahah okay I take". So there, there isn't anything else in the way.. except for me and my head.

I walked out of the interview room, beaming with pride and satisfaction. Just for the interview I had gone shopping for black business pants and slim fit zara shirts the day before. Just this morning today I spent half a day reading parts of a 5cm thick manual titled "Accounting: the language of Business".

What's this excitement that fills me while slipping on executive shirts and overalls? What's this very unusual zeal I have that causes me to read up or even read at all? All these actions I don't understand, and I cannot validate them. There's this lingering "what-if" floating around that I suppose I can never find an answer to, and it'd most certainly bug me for life, just whether or not I choose to entertain it. Sure, Accountancy's a bright path, logically undisputed. Does it truly reflect what I desire? Maybe. Maybe not, and maybe I'm just a fool in denial, convinced that I am thinking for myself, when in actual fact I'm merely making decisions based on the Xuan that I wish to be, that I am not. Have I been living a farce?

Sickening, all these dreary maybe's. Life would be simpler if there weren't no mental faculty for meta cognition, but it's innate and I can't help but think, so bear with me.

Perhaps there is much to be contrite about, that maybe I'm just another pathetic statistic of the Singapore-syndrome demographic. Practicality-driven drones as we are, enslaved to the vicious cycle of ever ascending achievements. From where does happiness derive for these people? (us?) Not from the simple pleasures of being able to marvel at the work of our hands, of being able to admire up and down and 10 times over, the architectural masterpiece as materialized from the blueprints painstakingly laid through days and nights of geometric lines and black autocad screens. Not from the thrill of walking into a room, decorated with a perfect composition of harmonious colors, and then proudly explaining to your friends how x and y exist z degrees apart within the color wheel thus birthing their complementary co-existence. Not from the gratifying sensation of running your fingertips along the textured walls of the corridor as you have chosen them to be, or of seeing how your part fits into the whole and then witnessing and exclaiming at how awesomely the glorious whole turns up, more than the sum of its parts.

Not.

This satisfaction stems from pride and achievement. Promotions, burgeoning payrolls, parking lots with inscribed vehicle registration numbers; to excel they strive.

So, which is more meaningful?
Yeah, it's a pity.

Perhaps, my mindset is fundamentally not so different from the very elitists that I despise. Someone tell me that it's fine.

I envy.

Architectural students shouldn't be pitied for their miserable notions of Life (if any at all), because there's much to envy if you think about it. The camaraderie and friendships, forged through countless hours of working together, getting tired together, stay overs and deadline rushes are experiences that I will never be able to enjoy, because I dread Design and studio. I mean, where else does such a community exist in university life. The dedication they pour into their works, and the passion that costs them their sleep, are traits that I'd never be able to summon. They have that fire that burns in their eyes when they build them models, it's so powerful it's scary, and yet inspiring. They complain just as much, but you can tell that they really want to do it. You can tell that I really don't, but I really wish I could say I do. The joy and satisfaction of staring lifelessly at the finally completed model after nights of slogging; it's priceless, and I'm really glad that I was at least able to enjoy that. People who chase their passions, I envy.


This path that I'm walking, I must go alone


as Fergie sings it. Indeed.

It'd be sad, but I think I've been hit hard enough by too many departures to be much affected by this one. It numbs. I hope. Sometimes I wonder if I'd be missed should I really disappear next sem, and then my brain tells me "you think?! you don't even work in studio".

Sigh :(

A friend told me that if I could remember my dreams, they wouldn't come true. If that were true, it'd hardly involve a choice, after all how is it possible to forget a dream like that. Heart wrenching, but a conclusion at least. Shyt.