One Step At a Time

I'm sick. Oh help. I have a headache and terrible sneezes and I look like yucks. So I missed crit and now I am so behind I am scared. I was behind before, but now it's even worse.

Sigh. Is architecture really for me? Sometimes I am sure, sometimes I feel that I made the hugest mistake in the world. Always I get the same response from tutors: this isn't architectural enough! What defines architecture? My mind works all wrongly.

What is going to happen to me? I doubt, I doubt, I doubt. I hate my pounding head. I can't even stay up a couple nights without falling sick. Am I worthy to be an architect?

I feel so sick of architecture. I want to go home and sleep. I want my parents. I always feel so safe at home. But here I feel so miserable. I am blogging because I don't want to think of design anymore, and I don't feel like doing anything. I am blogging because I haven't really blogged like this for ages. Not really. Nothing. Nil. Zilch. Even my journal hasn't been updated for nuts. Sometimes when I don't blog here it's cos I'm frantically journal-writing, but this time it's just nothing.

Two more weeks to submission. I hate architecture. I have no building and I feel like I want to die.

BLECH.

Feeeellings. FEEEEEELINNNGS. What's the point. Haih. I want to go home.

_We've learned to rush but not to wait
_We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers
_We spend more, but have less
_Buy more, enjoy less
_Bigger houses, smaller families
_More conveniences, less time
_We have more degrees but less sense
_More experts, more problems
_More medicine, less wellness
_More knowledge, less judgment
_We laugh too little, drive too fast, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch tv too much, pray too seldom
_We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values
_We've added years to life but not life to years
_These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, sttep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes.

_Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

Feel BAAD. Gonna die for P1.