zacmaq
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| Joined: 13 Jan 2013 |
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| 20 Apr 2014 09:30 PM |
this one got a 98/100 it's a profile essay on a freshman-level architecture student at tulane, based off of my friend's struggle with architecture school
Architecture Ain’t Easy My day started off like clockwork. The alarm clock mocked my insomnia, flashing 4:30 right in my face. However, the day is inevitable and the work never leaves my presence. Whilst brushing my teeth, I reflected my professor’s deceiving words that he gave to his entry-level architecture students. “Freshman year’s easy,” he proclaimed. “Contrary to popular belief, you’ll actually have a flexible and simple schedule this year.” And soon did I figure out that every word out of his mouth on orientation was a blatant lie. My pace quickened when I glanced at the minutes going by on my watch. 7:30 hits you quickly on a Monday morning. By 7:28, I was running in full stride across the courtyard to the lecture hall, praying that somehow time will slacken for me. I burst through the door at 7:34, with a sense of anxiousness trotting slowly behind. Happily, I did not miss any supposed wise words or key notes from the professor, but what I faced was far worse. The professor, completely oblivious of my post-punctual entry, rambled on about a new architecture project in his indiscernible foreign accent. I managed to catch a few of his words in between the senseless noise coming from his mouth. He was instructing us to create a residential home for a famous client, in which the home being centered on an important aspect in the client’s life. Of course, no project was that easy for a professional architecture student. The structure, as expected by me, must contain a complete plumbing, structural, and electrical working of the house. As well as having to be built upon a sixty-foot slope. A new project meant spending countless hours in the studio to make it, which took time away from more pressing, important things. The English assignment has to be put on the backburner for something as transient as a house design; studying for the architectural history test on tomorrow seemed to be an impossibility. Sleep was the very last need to be met; when studio butts in, it becomes a luxury at best. After running the gamut of classes, banal tasks, and boring lectures, I finally entered the studio at 4:00. The room was dimly lit and vacant of any sign of life, and a draft kept dancing with my feet. However, a towering stack of Popsicle sticks stood on a table in the middle of the studio. That, of course, is what our professor wanted us to use in order to create the structure, as he yet did not trust us with actual building materials. I took a sizeable bundle and sat at a table, blankly staring into the outdated boomerang pattern laminate. I sat there, contemplating what exactly was I going to do with this project; I knew that if I stood there long enough, inspiration would flood my mind with ideas that I could work upon. My tried-and-true method for these sorts of tasks I hoped would please me yet again with brilliant results somehow, but after an hour of glancing around the now populated room, I knew my efforts were to no avail. It wasn’t doing me any good still being here, so in an effort to escape the unrelenting stress, I left the studio. I left campus and walked along St. Charles, soaking up the remnant of the waning day. The night crowd started to fill the streets with the typical New Orleans ramble, and the stale air got my mind off of things. I, by some chance of luck, glanced to my left and saw Emeril’s restaurant, and inspiration hit me. Returning back to the studio rather late, I had the needed vision, the famous client, which the project called for. Centering his new “residence” off of a large grill in the middle of his kitchen, my structure started to take shape, and it felt in the matter of minutes that I was finished with it. Time foiled me again, however, as it showed that was nearing midnight, and the whole hellish cycle would recur in five hours. I got to my dorm far past a sane time, soaked from a sudden rainstorm. I put my things down the usual chaotic manner, and thought whether or not this kind of a hectic career being an architect would fulfill me.
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| 20 Apr 2014 09:31 PM |
| Itt: i post tl;dr but will secretly read when i wake up Tommorow |
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| 20 Apr 2014 09:36 PM |
Nice good essay
-The devil of OT- |
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| 20 Apr 2014 09:41 PM |
| essays aren't supposed to be in first person n00b |
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zacmaq
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| Joined: 13 Jan 2013 |
| Total Posts: 35194 |
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| 20 Apr 2014 09:41 PM |
| narritave profile essays are, sunshine |
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| 20 Apr 2014 09:42 PM |
IMPRESSIVE
This is better than anything I've ever written by a lot. |
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| 20 Apr 2014 09:48 PM |
Woah.
I would hone those writing skills of yours; I was thoroughly impressed! |
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zacmaq
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| Joined: 13 Jan 2013 |
| Total Posts: 35194 |
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