Este blog não possui nenhuma afiliação social, empregatícia, financeira ou política a não ser comigo mesmo. As opiniões expressas aqui refletem meu ponto de vista sobre assuntos aleatórios e nada mais. Comentários são mais do que bem vindos, são encorajados, positivos ou não. Até prefiro comentários oposicionistas, afinal um mundo que pensa igual é desprovido de inovação. Portanto, sinta-se em casa. Espero que ler minhas verborréias esporádicas traga-lhe o mesmo prazer que tenho produzindo-as.
P.S. Algumas vezes algo que eu quero expressar não pode ser dito (apenas) com palavras, então vai parar em meu fotolog ao invés de aqui. Confira-o de vez em quando.
segunda-feira, 23 de novembro de 2009
Andrew, Chapter 2, First Draft.
In the same manner Andrew worshiped his father for his 'mad programming chops' as Andrew would put it, his brother Peter put his admiration on his mother's skill in making cold, hard cash. It would be only fitting that Andrew should follow a creative career while Peter became a very technical professional. The irony resided in Peter pursuing a computer engineering career while Andrew decided to major in architecture.
Séamus, Andrew' and Peter's father, was a professor at the College of Computer and Information for as long as Andrew could remember. He'd take the Amtrak from Amsterdam to Rensselaer and back to Albany towards SUNY Plaza almost every day. Sometimes he'd take the 214 across the Hudson, sometimes he'd walk half a mile to work. He cherished these walks after one hour or more of sitting in the train. Andrew loved to visit dad in the downtown campus, and dad would sometimes take the 63 with Andrew to the beautiful uptown campus when he had business in the central office. Andrew fell in love with architecture during these visits to the 'new' campus, with its fountains, towers and columns. He learned from Séamus that its designer, Edward Durell Stone, had been responsible for parts of the Radio City Music Hall, the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel and the Museum of Modern Arts in Andrew's native New York City, and all that before he was formally considered an architect. This man's connection to his hometown struck a chord with Andrew, one that would mold his decision to become an architect himself.
It would also influence another decision, the most stupid in his vast collection of stupid decisions.