If a guitar could cry, it'd sound like this.

For six minutes of indulgent soul-swaying, click play.



'Slow Dancing in a Burning Room' by John Mayer
from his third album, 'Continuum'

Before I got acquainted with the ludicrous hours that architects endure, I fantasised about knocking off at 6pm everyday and then playing guitar at some dimly lit, uber chill bar downtown; or better yet, on the ground floor of the skyscraper where my imaginary office was located.

Alas, 'Fantasise' is the operative word here.

Why am I not able to pull myself away? Often times it's really not a matter of not having time but not being disciplined about dedicating it to a specific activity. I reckon it's also got to do with how high it ranks on my list of priorities.

If I died tomorrow would I go without any regret? I used to think that leading a purpose-driven life was all there was to it but now I'm not so sure. What exactly did Jesus mean when He said He came to give us life in the full? What does it mean to lead a full life?

Will have to store this intriguing question for future reflection.

Withdrawing

"Turn your face away,
From the garish light of day,
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light"

- from the musical, The Phantom of the Opera
by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, lyrics by Charles Hart

A stark desire to withdraw from the world has occupied my mind in recent months.

To turn away and not care about an ailing education system that could greatly benefit from greater student initiative; To lose hope and give up on a capitalistic society drunk on the cheap wine that is the prosaic hyper-formal garbage we see these days as decantered from the bowels of dishonest artists masquerading as architects – the presence of such tumors in the profession only serving to diminish our influence in the crafting of buildings - as Harry Gugger so beautifully professes, and birthed only because of ailing architectural education the world over.

Disappointment, in establishments, in so-called friends, is a drink best served cold on a winter's day, downed in the contemplative solitude of nightly walks home from the studio. The furnace that once raged as a result of an incensed soul which felt compelled to right a world of wrongs has now been reduced to a mere brazier of glowing coal.

But Responsiblity is a dear bed-fellow who grabs you by the arm and turns you around; Reputation is a prized gem that once scratched will never be fully restored. Now that the hand has been put to the plough, now that's it's time to walk that way, one can only endeavour to walk it well.

Waiting on the World to Change

photo courtesy of Joe Crimmings.

I ran my final BMT standard obstacle course on the same day that US forces launched the 2003 invasion of Iraq, half way across the world, in what was supposed to be a shock and awe, in and out affair.

A year later I remember being glued to the tube with my dad as we watched John Kerry floor incumbent President George W. Bush in the 2004 presidential debates only to have our hopes dashed when the latter was re-elected - the power-bloc of white, mid-west Christians (aka, red-neck Americans of Irish descent) having been one of the main culprits behind the tragedy.

Politics and world affairs don't exist in the realm of our early 20s demographic, but it's always held an attraction for me. I suspect it's got something to do with having a father who's 70 plus, isn't into football and has experienced, first hand during his prime, the flourishing of Singapore from colony to aspiring world city.

There was so much at stake at this year's presidential elections, along with so much hope.

Thankfully, and to much relief, "a new dawn of American leadership is at hand".

I won't be surprised if architecture gets swept along in its wake.

*cue happy songs for a happy ending...



Paul Doucette (the acoustic guitarist in the bucket hat) is damn hyper.



And for those who'd prefer a more stripped down, soulful version.

There is no 'Group' in 'Group Work'

The radio silence on my blog can only mean that I've returned to my normal (or some would say, abnormal) way of life. Here's what I've been working on.

Our first six weeks are spent on Live Projects. They're community-based projects that have but a slight architectural flavour to them. It's very hands-free, student-run sort of stuff and every group's doing something different.

I suppose the only gripe I have about it is that it's group work for 10 people.

There's no such thing as that.

Group work for 10 people.

Who're you trying to kid?

Given, if all 10 were super solid creme de la creme material, at the very least you'd end up with something that looks creme de la creme should all 10 agree, on some level, to pull their weight regarding their respective responsibilities. But the chances of that happening are as slim (or should I say, fat) as Hadid doing her own Maya port over to 3d studio max model - rendered and photoshopped.

Which brings me to my group - two singaporeans sandwiched between four englishmen and four PRCs; or at least that's what it says on the 'Group' list. I truly wish it were a situation where too many cooks spoilt the broth, but most unfortunately, only four or five seem to be at work while the others have either completely disappeared from the kitchen or have decided to do shift work. One of them's not even sure how to put her apron on.



So how? You haven't much choice except to fall back on the phenomenal endurance training drilled into you by the DOA. You stop cooking dinner on weekday nights because it just takes too much time to prepare, cook, eat and wash the dishes. You put up with freezing studio spaces after 8pm cuz the Post-graduate studios are on the 17th floor and the Arts Tower gets buffeted by autumn/winter gales.

But in the process you also manage to make plenty of friends and acquaintances you would not have made had you very simply not been hanging around. Thus far, I'm truly thankful for the friendships that've been forged in the fires of turmoil and in the warm glow of common passion, for the brief and open exchange of opinions over a cup of hot chocolate at 2 in the morning with a Pakistani economics student who's first friend in Sheffield also happened to be Chinese, and for the pleasant, quintessential store owner uncle of the Chinese takeaway behind the Arts Towers who never fails to throw in free spring rolls or fried chicken wings with your order (Jon, I really wish you could try these).

It's hard to accept that I'm almost at the halfway mark. I think I'm going to miss this place more than I had expected.