I think a part of me chose architecture out of spite. When I was a teen (oh shit that sounds so weird to say type out loud, I'm not a teen anymore, damn, anyway) my grandad had a small piece of land which was like half of my moms old home. My grandads brother had already had a house built on his side so now my grandad needed to build on that land. He either didn't talk to architects or completely ignored the pointers of the one he might have appointed and built the most annoying little house. It's a tiny place so very easily its the most pissing off place to live in cause the walls are super misaligned, the niches don't make fucking sense, the area programming is hideous, the fans are off center, the separations are fuck all, there's a foyer that nobody uses, the main bedroom doesn't have a proper window that looks outside the house, the ventilation is super fucked, with the way the kitchen was designed the ventillation gets worse, the windows dont close properly so this place is not even eligible for an AC (it gets like super humid and hot in this place at one point can you even imagine) and like living there even for the smallest time makes me RAGE. I've decided when the house is finally passed on to someone who will actually listen, I'm going to do it myself. For free. And I'm not doing anything for free but this.
Rage is the best motivator.
