Aftermath

When I was applying for architecture graduate schools last winter, I told myself that I'd post up the portfolio and the results regardless of what results I got. So, these are the results. A portfolio that's no longer viable and 4-of-4 rejection letters. If I sound bitter, it's because I am bitter. Nonetheless, a promise is a promise. Well, here's to sleeping better after I post this and can get it off my consciousness. Cheers.

First, the portfolio. It's not the best viewing method, but I cut down the portfolio to post as picture files. Few pages of the portfolio are missing, but they're mostly cover pages, eye-candy photos, and table of contents. Altogether there isn't much to look at, if it helps here's a link to the higher-quality slideshow. I only had 3 projects. The first one was a conceptual build-up of typography and manipulation of its space. The second was a labor-intensive work of luthiery and fascinating an instrument facade into a visual space. The third is an easy piece that encodes calendar information into spacial context; basically, it's like a watch that tells time except it tells the month and the date.

As for schools, I applied to four programs. They're Harvard, Princeton, Yale, and MIT; and I didn't get into any of them. Why these schools? Go big or go home. That was the spirit. I wasn't going to settle for less. Personally, I've always been interested in only 1 school: MIT. I like the other 3 programs as well, but I believed I'd find a good home at the MIT program. My grades and GRE were fine. Speculating, my essays were weak for Harvard and Yale. But architecture admissions rely heavily on portfolio. And in most cases, the portfolio speaks for itself and the rest of the application are supplementary.

So, that's that. My last application was submitted early January. I received all my results by mid-March. I remember the last of its days. Ever slipping, I finally cracked.

What's next? Who knows. Life, perhaps.

Stray Cats

I've become accustomed to feeding stray cats near my place. These two are the regulars I feed. There is one more cat and a dog that come by time to time. But they don't befriend me at all. So, these two are the only ones I feed. And I guess they are the closest thing I've had as a pet because I've never had a pet. Well, technically I did. I owned few hamsters, turtles, a pair of birds at one point, and fish. I also had an ant colony in my desk drawer that gathered around the crab claw I souvenired from the previous night's dinner. That was grade 2, and my mom cleaned it up. I was unwilling to clean it, because I thought it was cool. Anyways, point made, I did have pets. But none of them were large enough to pet, which is my definition of a pet. If you can pet it it's a pet. I sometimes wish I did or could, but given my current living arrangements I can't accomodate one. My brother and I have always liked the idea of having a dog, but sadly that never happened. Reasons being allergy, lots of moving around, disapproving parents, and so on.

The black one is addicted to tuna. It does eat cat food if it's really hungry but rarely. It's also much less timid than the orange cat. The black one will eat food out of my hands whereas the orange one will only eat if I'm at least 3 feet away. Having said that, recently the black one's begun to claw my hands whenever I hold food out for him. It has sharp claws so when it claws, I'd drop the food and it'd just eat the food off the ground. Cunning little prick, but I like the emerald eyes.

Perfection

I think we all think that if we could be perfect, or just simply be better, we'd be better in all sense. That, being smarter, more athletic, more sociable, more talented, wealthier, and better dresser, or even innate characters such as having more empathy, being punctual, and being agreeable. But more and more I realize that it's not true. It's the relationships we make and the qualities of them that define our value, whether good or bad. If we could really be better by being more perfect, then some would be much more unfortunate than others. And I don't think people are made equal though all are valued the same. Some are simply smarter, more athletic, and more talented in different aspects of life than others. But I believe we all have the same potentials to love or hate another. Cherish and endear those who we love, and it inherently betters ourselves. Hate and despise one another, and that has its consequences also.

I have people who I look up to. I admire great people and the historical figures. To list some are Winston Churchill, Oscar Wilde, and Bill Gates. But reflecting on this admiration, I have trouble calling it love. It's mainly because I don't have a personal relationship with any of them, but I noticed that it's also because I've come to idealize their character. To me they are, in one sense, complete. I have easier time expressing love for those in need, hungry, and not loved. And it's because love is better found in redemption and in act of console. It's the imperfections that I can readily perceive which enables my heart to open up and empathize. With people and things I see perfect or simply good, it's much harder. And although I haven't tried, it often seems impossible. It's that opportunity or space reflected by another's imperfection that you can come to forgive, redeem, and love. If we were all made perfect, we wouldn't need to be forgiven, we wouldn't need redemption, we wouldn't need to depend on another, and we would never find love. We'd be self-sufficient.

There was once a dream that was timeless. A perfection that spoke of paragons of ideals and stood impeccable to corruptions. With virtues and might, he mounted himself on the fragile plane where he could only whisper of this perfection. Anything more and it would vanish. But to what end?

Redemption is better than perfection. Photo from Insadong, Seoul.

The Love Competition

A friend of mine shared me this video. A fun game of whose brain will show most intensity when thinking about your loved ones. I study neuroscience, so while watching this I have a tendency to refute the definition of love, measurements and controls, and sampling size. Don't be like me. Just watch and enjoy!

Narratives

The stories I tell myself and believe are the ones most compelling.

I used to talk to lots of people. Nowadays, I find little time to do so. And since I can't find the time to make new dialogues or engage with someone, I reflect on past conversations. I think about the context, their life-stage, and what I understood and what I did not. I wonder how some of the people I've stopped talking are doing. I wonder how they changed, or I think about how some of my friends I've stayed in touch over the years grew. I realize the past changes. The younger me was an absolutist; he cared little about what happened in the past and always looked forward. To him, the past remained as-is and it remained a fact, like the mosquitos trapped in ember. They were immovable. He was wrong; they move, and they can be stirred. And it's because people change; and people can change. And when you change, your perception changes also. Past, present, and future.

Years back, coming up to college I had a simple plan. I was relatively a simple boy and in a way, I still am. But I intended to keep things all simple; I'd do good in college, study what I enjoyed, go to a med-school, graduate, live somewhere rural, practice medicine, and enjoy hobbies with a family. And it's what many dream, coming into college. Is that good or bad? I don't know. It's naive, but naivety is neither moral nor immoral. Being a doctor or wanting to become one is certainly not immoral. I thought I'd be a doctor ever since I was young and that wish continued till my senior years in college where I took a turn. I no longer showed any interest in getting into a med-school. I began to think doctors were boring people, med-schools were overrated, and as a profession it seemed too constraint. I've become free of the Asian stereotype or the imposed choice of profession in the capitalistic society. So I went onto study something different. And I never looked back. Until now. I've always told myself that things worked for the better and that I should always be thankful at where I am now. That is a good attitude to have, and I should be thankful. But if I were to be fair to myself and test my character I'd stop assuming I was right and drop that narrative. The narrative is that I stopped dreaming of med-school willfully, and that I was the agent of change, when in fact I was passive. I had doubts whether I could get into med-school and whether I had the skills or talent. In effect and truthfully, the choice was never mine. It's convenient to believe that it was mine though. I'd feel more assured where I am right now, I'd be more confident, and I'd have more faith in myself. So, choosing the previous narrative makes more sense than the alternative. But at what cost?

Everyone has a narrative.

Francis Thomson
In attempts to improve your character, know what is in your power and what is beyond it.