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transomwhiplassI've just realized that it's 10 million times easier for me to bitch creatively than gush creatively.
I don't know if I mentioned the assignment, but in 8 hours I have my first architecture exercise due. We must describe a beautiful place with words evoke pictures and emotion. Honestly, not to sound to cocky, I think my first paragraph is smashing.
I make Houston come off as the sweltering craphole that it is, and with style.
The point is to contrast the blah-crapiness that is most of Houston to the place I find most beatiful and harmonizing.
Obligatory note to say that I'm still phazed by Rice and rejection yadda yadda.
I think that Rice Boulevard is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. I just feel at complete peace when I'm there. I'm trying to inject my emotions into the writing as well as analyze it for it's so called "objectively" beautiful qualities. Oh, and the guy used a caption from "the English Patient" to describe the quality of writing we should strive for. Thanks dude.
I just got this brain-block trying to make the positive half of this paper sound solid, not mushy. When I'm happy - I goo and gush emotion aimlessly. When I'm angry - I secrete evil very specifically.
Note my first paragraph, and second paragraph *transition* which might be a bit redundant than.. transition-y:
For a stranger to the land, the first visit to Houston is intense. The mind’s eye usually associates the expanse of Texas with dry, desert air, a horticulture consisting of cacti, and a population of unbridled cowboys. However, upon arriving in Houston, these expectations are immediately expelled when one is accosted by the air, thick as molasses, made heavy by the Gulf and pungent with pollutants expelled by a myriad of American exhaust pipes. Houston is a concrete jungle seemingly barren from any seeds of creative or original thought. The expansive maze of freeways and roads, like veins, feed the city’s pulsating core everyday by pumping workers in SUVs over long commutes in from the tumorous suburbs. The effect of urban sprawl on what was once a humble “Bayou City” is poignant. Today, the cookie-cutter communities form an ironic, complementary halo around Houston’s now infamous and morally blemished corporate center. Whispers of Enron still weigh heavily on the consciences of many, even now, years after visual reminders of the fallen company were whitewashed and bricked-away by the hasty brush and trowel of new corporate sponsorship. For a newcomer, it seems like the moon – devoid not only of the humanities and morality, but the seasons as well. The eternal summer leaves the land green year-round, creating a taste in one’s mouth for the season like the presence of too much sugar. Houston is very much alive, growing so uncontrollably that it truly lacks definable borders. Amid the throbbing of methodic activity, it leaves one wondering how such a seemingly spiritless city survives lacking an obvious heart of human thought and creativity.
Upon experiencing these immediate impressions of Houston, it is easy to assume that the city remains destitute, free of the marks of man in such culturally and human-defining qualities as intellectualism, fine art, and a moral compass. Indeed it is hard imagine a place in Houston where people exist not solely to soldier on to work and back, experiencing a completely joyless cycle of life until eventual demise. However, there are a few such places that do exist, and like dreams, they are made all the more precious by their rare and protected occurrences. These places wait for the bustling city’s disenchanted vagabonds to discover them and then offer spiritual rejuvenation to those needing contrast from the city’s meager, emotional offerings. Truly the greatest of these places is a long, unraveling street known, with name only fitting of its grand scope, as Rice Boulevard.
I'm giving myself a quickie 10 minute break to regroup so I can pull this thing off.
Did I mention I have to make a picture? Nothing fancy but also "evoking emotion."
Ugh, stab me in the eye.
Not to mention, that fucked up pain in my stomach that developed in March when I was stressed out keeps coming back when I'm stressed today. My bad habits are probably burning an acidic hole through my stomach. Soon all my innards are going to leak out over the carpet which need to be vaccuumed anyway ::frownyface:: ;_; .
This weekend I'm going to party like no freaking tomorrow. Seriously. Because, tomorrow/today I have a lot of crap to be freaking out over - so thus the partying will be occuring in away totally ignoring the pain and horror experienced today. Ok, my 10 minutes is almost over.
Fuck you Mr. Stress Alien eating at my stomach lining. You suck a big one.
I don't know if I mentioned the assignment, but in 8 hours I have my first architecture exercise due. We must describe a beautiful place with words evoke pictures and emotion. Honestly, not to sound to cocky, I think my first paragraph is smashing.
I make Houston come off as the sweltering craphole that it is, and with style.
The point is to contrast the blah-crapiness that is most of Houston to the place I find most beatiful and harmonizing.
Obligatory note to say that I'm still phazed by Rice and rejection yadda yadda.
I think that Rice Boulevard is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. I just feel at complete peace when I'm there. I'm trying to inject my emotions into the writing as well as analyze it for it's so called "objectively" beautiful qualities. Oh, and the guy used a caption from "the English Patient" to describe the quality of writing we should strive for. Thanks dude.
I just got this brain-block trying to make the positive half of this paper sound solid, not mushy. When I'm happy - I goo and gush emotion aimlessly. When I'm angry - I secrete evil very specifically.
Note my first paragraph, and second paragraph *transition* which might be a bit redundant than.. transition-y:
For a stranger to the land, the first visit to Houston is intense. The mind’s eye usually associates the expanse of Texas with dry, desert air, a horticulture consisting of cacti, and a population of unbridled cowboys. However, upon arriving in Houston, these expectations are immediately expelled when one is accosted by the air, thick as molasses, made heavy by the Gulf and pungent with pollutants expelled by a myriad of American exhaust pipes. Houston is a concrete jungle seemingly barren from any seeds of creative or original thought. The expansive maze of freeways and roads, like veins, feed the city’s pulsating core everyday by pumping workers in SUVs over long commutes in from the tumorous suburbs. The effect of urban sprawl on what was once a humble “Bayou City” is poignant. Today, the cookie-cutter communities form an ironic, complementary halo around Houston’s now infamous and morally blemished corporate center. Whispers of Enron still weigh heavily on the consciences of many, even now, years after visual reminders of the fallen company were whitewashed and bricked-away by the hasty brush and trowel of new corporate sponsorship. For a newcomer, it seems like the moon – devoid not only of the humanities and morality, but the seasons as well. The eternal summer leaves the land green year-round, creating a taste in one’s mouth for the season like the presence of too much sugar. Houston is very much alive, growing so uncontrollably that it truly lacks definable borders. Amid the throbbing of methodic activity, it leaves one wondering how such a seemingly spiritless city survives lacking an obvious heart of human thought and creativity.
Upon experiencing these immediate impressions of Houston, it is easy to assume that the city remains destitute, free of the marks of man in such culturally and human-defining qualities as intellectualism, fine art, and a moral compass. Indeed it is hard imagine a place in Houston where people exist not solely to soldier on to work and back, experiencing a completely joyless cycle of life until eventual demise. However, there are a few such places that do exist, and like dreams, they are made all the more precious by their rare and protected occurrences. These places wait for the bustling city’s disenchanted vagabonds to discover them and then offer spiritual rejuvenation to those needing contrast from the city’s meager, emotional offerings. Truly the greatest of these places is a long, unraveling street known, with name only fitting of its grand scope, as Rice Boulevard.
I'm giving myself a quickie 10 minute break to regroup so I can pull this thing off.
Did I mention I have to make a picture? Nothing fancy but also "evoking emotion."
Ugh, stab me in the eye.
Not to mention, that fucked up pain in my stomach that developed in March when I was stressed out keeps coming back when I'm stressed today. My bad habits are probably burning an acidic hole through my stomach. Soon all my innards are going to leak out over the carpet which need to be vaccuumed anyway ::frownyface:: ;_; .
This weekend I'm going to party like no freaking tomorrow. Seriously. Because, tomorrow/today I have a lot of crap to be freaking out over - so thus the partying will be occuring in away totally ignoring the pain and horror experienced today. Ok, my 10 minutes is almost over.
Fuck you Mr. Stress Alien eating at my stomach lining. You suck a big one.
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no subject
Date: 2004-10-08 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-08 04:15 pm (UTC)My roommate said that I really conveyed a disgusting impression of Houston. yay!
OMG, I just realized that I didn't succeed in commmenting on your article. My computer froze when I was trying to submit it. I'm going to go try again! Ack, my computer is so stupid, I've named him "Mr. Fuckerson," his hobby is "dicking around."