Yes. This is it. The last day I'll be spending in Lincoln. Well, the last full day at any rate. This time tomorrow I'll be home. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, which is just as well because it is cold and raining here right now.
Yesterday my parents came over to take home the very vast majority of my stuff, so my flat feels a little empty. At least I'm not tripping over books, bags and random pieces of foam-core board anymore though.
I don't know what it is about going home, but suddenly I'm rather optimistic with no reason to be. No degree, no job now, still no girlfriend, but there is something in the back of my mind, or intuition, which is adamant that as soon as I get home things are going to be all right. I don't know. Perhaps there will be some party.
And as for going home, I'm rather confused about whether it is the notion of going home that excites me, or more the notion of going on a long (well, ish) train journey to get there.
So yeah, really that is all I have to say. Apart from 'sorry' about misspelling 'Espresso' last time.
Sunday, 29 June 2008
Friday, 27 June 2008
Tidying up.
Well, it seems like ages since I last wrote here so I suppose an update is in order.
I really haven't done that much. No, really,I haven't. I just haven't had the heart, the drive or the inspiration. I suppose that the whole 'University screwed me over' thing is still giving me grief. I mean, come on, wouldn't you want to be told you were failing at least once before results day? Even more so if you saw your tutors every week, and if you went through four or five different assessments?
Anyway, enough.
So. I have a half-drawn section of my revamped concert hall. Which needed revamping firstly because the accoustics didn't work, and secondly because the tutors don't like the 'pedestrian' aesthetic. Excuse me? Since when has aesthetics been a source for failing someone? The technology, fair enough, fail me for that, but surely my response to the brief in terms of the aesthetic is just as valid as anyone elses?
Anyway, as I said, moving on.
This weekend is going to be quite busy. I would say 'quite sad' too, but it won't. Tomorrow my parents take all of my belongings home. I follow Monday morning. I can't wait. There will be many (well, several) people I will be sorry to leave... but right now I feel the vast majority of people, especially those I studied with, are absolute showers out only to rub my nose in the fact that I failed whilst they passed. Probably not the case, but still that is how it feels.
This means of course I'm having to pack. I've cleaned up my apartment, and put a lot of stuff in boxes. My lava lamp has its own box. My DVDs have fitted in a shoe box. Most of my books and half of my CDs fit inside the box that the box containing my top hat arrived in. A hat within a box within a box...
My lava lamp is proudly proclaimed on the box to be a 'Lava Grande'. Now it may just be me being cynical, but... does 'Lava Grande' sound like a lamp, or some sort of drink containing a double shot of expresso, steamed milk, whipped cream, chocolate moccha sauce and caramel sauce?
I really haven't done that much. No, really,I haven't. I just haven't had the heart, the drive or the inspiration. I suppose that the whole 'University screwed me over' thing is still giving me grief. I mean, come on, wouldn't you want to be told you were failing at least once before results day? Even more so if you saw your tutors every week, and if you went through four or five different assessments?
Anyway, enough.
So. I have a half-drawn section of my revamped concert hall. Which needed revamping firstly because the accoustics didn't work, and secondly because the tutors don't like the 'pedestrian' aesthetic. Excuse me? Since when has aesthetics been a source for failing someone? The technology, fair enough, fail me for that, but surely my response to the brief in terms of the aesthetic is just as valid as anyone elses?
Anyway, as I said, moving on.
This weekend is going to be quite busy. I would say 'quite sad' too, but it won't. Tomorrow my parents take all of my belongings home. I follow Monday morning. I can't wait. There will be many (well, several) people I will be sorry to leave... but right now I feel the vast majority of people, especially those I studied with, are absolute showers out only to rub my nose in the fact that I failed whilst they passed. Probably not the case, but still that is how it feels.
This means of course I'm having to pack. I've cleaned up my apartment, and put a lot of stuff in boxes. My lava lamp has its own box. My DVDs have fitted in a shoe box. Most of my books and half of my CDs fit inside the box that the box containing my top hat arrived in. A hat within a box within a box...
My lava lamp is proudly proclaimed on the box to be a 'Lava Grande'. Now it may just be me being cynical, but... does 'Lava Grande' sound like a lamp, or some sort of drink containing a double shot of expresso, steamed milk, whipped cream, chocolate moccha sauce and caramel sauce?
Friday, 20 June 2008
Damn.
And blast. And much other, stronger, profanity.
They have failed me! WHY was I not told earlier my work was not complex enough!?! WHY, considering the number of crits and assessments my work went through, was I not told then that one of my buildings was not complex enough!?! They had months, MONTHS, to tell me, but oh no, they wanted to trip me well past the final hurdle. Well past the finishing line, for that matter.
The fact that I got a First for my dissertation is little recompense right now. Right now I'm seriously contemplating taking a dip in the river outside. A permanent dip. The annoying thing is that overall I got 42% for the year, which is a pass. With my 2nd year added I get 52%. The only reason I'm failing, the only reason right now I can't graduate is because in one part I got 35% and in another 28%. Ergo, there are others running lower overall grades than me who can graduate simply because they got higher marks in two little units! Gah! The shame, the anger, boils within me!
So, what now? Other than suicide I mean. The only other way out is to swallow my pride, do an arty-farty god-awful building for my concert hall (as it is only this one building which has dragged my mark down), thereby kissing up to the tutors, get baseline passes (40%) in my technical and final design units as a result and hope and pray this is enough to get me a *decent* 2:2 grade.
My tutors tell me a 2:2 is a very good mark for architecture. Well it ain't damn well good enough for me.
They have failed me! WHY was I not told earlier my work was not complex enough!?! WHY, considering the number of crits and assessments my work went through, was I not told then that one of my buildings was not complex enough!?! They had months, MONTHS, to tell me, but oh no, they wanted to trip me well past the final hurdle. Well past the finishing line, for that matter.
The fact that I got a First for my dissertation is little recompense right now. Right now I'm seriously contemplating taking a dip in the river outside. A permanent dip. The annoying thing is that overall I got 42% for the year, which is a pass. With my 2nd year added I get 52%. The only reason I'm failing, the only reason right now I can't graduate is because in one part I got 35% and in another 28%. Ergo, there are others running lower overall grades than me who can graduate simply because they got higher marks in two little units! Gah! The shame, the anger, boils within me!
So, what now? Other than suicide I mean. The only other way out is to swallow my pride, do an arty-farty god-awful building for my concert hall (as it is only this one building which has dragged my mark down), thereby kissing up to the tutors, get baseline passes (40%) in my technical and final design units as a result and hope and pray this is enough to get me a *decent* 2:2 grade.
My tutors tell me a 2:2 is a very good mark for architecture. Well it ain't damn well good enough for me.
Nail bitingly tense.
Today we enter the endgame. Today I discover whether or not I have passed the third year, in which case I graduate in September, or else I have failed, in which case all of my carefully laid plans are thrown to the four winds.
I should hope that, considering the number of assessments taken out on my work, were I failing I would have been told long ago. That I haven't looks promising.
I am entering that mental phase I was in this time last year- swinging wildly between between optimism and pessimism, a state that alcohol couldn't blunt. One hour, twenty-four minutes seperate me from the knowledge of what the coming year has in store for me, be it work experience or University.
I should have passed. The previous two years I have a run a 2:2 (last year very nearly a 2:1). If I can get a 2:1 this year I may be able to go to Oxford. If I get a 2:2, yes I'll be pleased I've passed, but within days a feeling of abject failure will come over me.
Pray God, I get a 2:1?
I should hope that, considering the number of assessments taken out on my work, were I failing I would have been told long ago. That I haven't looks promising.
I am entering that mental phase I was in this time last year- swinging wildly between between optimism and pessimism, a state that alcohol couldn't blunt. One hour, twenty-four minutes seperate me from the knowledge of what the coming year has in store for me, be it work experience or University.
I should have passed. The previous two years I have a run a 2:2 (last year very nearly a 2:1). If I can get a 2:1 this year I may be able to go to Oxford. If I get a 2:2, yes I'll be pleased I've passed, but within days a feeling of abject failure will come over me.
Pray God, I get a 2:1?
Sunday, 15 June 2008
Tally-ho!
I see I left all of my readers on something of a cliff-hanger on my last post. My apologies.
The meeting with the external examiner went about as well as I thought it would. Conferring with others who underwent the same process, it appears we all had the same treatment of the examner choosing one aspect of our schemes they didn't like and then clinging to it tenaciously.
But on the whole it was good and I am confident and all is well with the world.
Except now the boredom is starting to creep in, with another week to wait for the exhibition to open and then another week after that before I can go home...
They say the devil makes work for idle thumbs, which must be why I have started to 'steampunk' my laptop. Nothing too fancy, I've merely thus far painted the keys gold and the keyboard in a teak effect, but I intend to take the gold around the screen and the teak effect all over the top. Watch this space.
The meeting with the external examiner went about as well as I thought it would. Conferring with others who underwent the same process, it appears we all had the same treatment of the examner choosing one aspect of our schemes they didn't like and then clinging to it tenaciously.
But on the whole it was good and I am confident and all is well with the world.
Except now the boredom is starting to creep in, with another week to wait for the exhibition to open and then another week after that before I can go home...
They say the devil makes work for idle thumbs, which must be why I have started to 'steampunk' my laptop. Nothing too fancy, I've merely thus far painted the keys gold and the keyboard in a teak effect, but I intend to take the gold around the screen and the teak effect all over the top. Watch this space.
Sunday, 8 June 2008
Oh, good heavens.
I have to see the external examiners tomorrow.
My work has survived trial by tutor, trial by crit, trial by internal assessment and now this final trial. I will admit this is the only thing that has really given me 'the willies'.
The sooner this is over, the better. After tomorrow, I have nothing between then and a fortnight last Friday, when my exhibition opens.
If I can get a 2:1, which I am confident I can, there is a chance I could be accepted by Oxford Brookes for my post graduate studies. I note it is now twenty past twelve; therefore too late to do any more to my work. It all comes down now to my gift for the gab tomorrow, my external examiner, and the outcome of the examination board on June 18th.
My work has survived trial by tutor, trial by crit, trial by internal assessment and now this final trial. I will admit this is the only thing that has really given me 'the willies'.
The sooner this is over, the better. After tomorrow, I have nothing between then and a fortnight last Friday, when my exhibition opens.
If I can get a 2:1, which I am confident I can, there is a chance I could be accepted by Oxford Brookes for my post graduate studies. I note it is now twenty past twelve; therefore too late to do any more to my work. It all comes down now to my gift for the gab tomorrow, my external examiner, and the outcome of the examination board on June 18th.
Thursday, 5 June 2008
So such a thing does exist.
You, dear reader, may remember many moons ago how I described myself as being Gothic in the Romantic mould and also a Steampunk. For some time I have been wrestling about which I am~ needlessly it now seems.
It would appear that there is a thing called 'Steamgoth' ~ that is, Gothic tinged with steampunk. Hmmm. Which makes it quite alright for me to sit here in my Victorian regalia whilst listening to the likes of My Dying Bride.
Huzzah!
It would appear that there is a thing called 'Steamgoth' ~ that is, Gothic tinged with steampunk. Hmmm. Which makes it quite alright for me to sit here in my Victorian regalia whilst listening to the likes of My Dying Bride.
Huzzah!
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
Blast.
Much earlier in this academic year I promised myself to go all-out for a First in order to get into Oxford, Cambridge or the Architectural Association for my Bachelor of Architecture, or post-graduate course of study.
This took a blow when I discovered that none of the three actually offer that course in their Schools of Architecture.
However; now it is obvious (to me at least) that I shall not get a First, what do I discover? That Cambridge now offers a Part 2 course of study, and that Oxford Brookes does the same. Reassuringly Oxford calls for a 'good' degree... a 2:1 I feel confident of achieving will fill this I would assume. On balance I prefer the Oxford course to the Cambridge.
But. If I get a 2:2 AGAIN (oh please God no) I shall, it seems, be flummoxed.
This took a blow when I discovered that none of the three actually offer that course in their Schools of Architecture.
However; now it is obvious (to me at least) that I shall not get a First, what do I discover? That Cambridge now offers a Part 2 course of study, and that Oxford Brookes does the same. Reassuringly Oxford calls for a 'good' degree... a 2:1 I feel confident of achieving will fill this I would assume. On balance I prefer the Oxford course to the Cambridge.
But. If I get a 2:2 AGAIN (oh please God no) I shall, it seems, be flummoxed.
Sunday, 1 June 2008
Agitation
This afternoon finds me in a state of irritation/agitation that little or nothing can shift.
Principally becuase I am concerned about meeting my tutor tomorrow with nothing or little done in the five days since the final crit.
Although it is more likely that the mere act of having to see my tutor is resonsible. At the crit: Would Mr Harrison and the rest of the Studio pray meet her at nine am tomorrow? We were there, bleary eyed and worse for wear, at eight thirty. She arrived at twenty past nine, and wasted our time reiterating what we already knew. Then finished with the threat of wanting to meet us further.
Friday: electronic mail summoning Mr Harrison to see her at his earliest possible convienience on Monday. Why? Mr Harrison knows full well what needs rectifying with his work. This meeting will only waste time. Hopefully it shall be the last such before the examiners come in a week tomorrow.
And I wonder why I have recurring migraines? What should one expect after three months relentless hard graft?
Principally becuase I am concerned about meeting my tutor tomorrow with nothing or little done in the five days since the final crit.
Although it is more likely that the mere act of having to see my tutor is resonsible. At the crit: Would Mr Harrison and the rest of the Studio pray meet her at nine am tomorrow? We were there, bleary eyed and worse for wear, at eight thirty. She arrived at twenty past nine, and wasted our time reiterating what we already knew. Then finished with the threat of wanting to meet us further.
Friday: electronic mail summoning Mr Harrison to see her at his earliest possible convienience on Monday. Why? Mr Harrison knows full well what needs rectifying with his work. This meeting will only waste time. Hopefully it shall be the last such before the examiners come in a week tomorrow.
And I wonder why I have recurring migraines? What should one expect after three months relentless hard graft?
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