It was meant to be a house, really.
On our Architectural Drafting subject, our project for our finals is to draw a perspective (3D) of our dream house.
“I’ll do my best,” I told myself as I painstakingly tried to keep my senses awake while holding a pencil on one hand and the other controls the T-square and the 30-60 triangle while trying to form a 90-degree angle. My hands were wobbling and are insulting me further by its sweating. Shit. Just one of those days.
It was less than a 10m x 10m house that I was drawing then, single storey. I tried the single point perspective technique. The house, my “dream house”, began to take form. It just looked funny. Very funny. “I am doing my best”, I reminded myself. It will be as neat and as cool as my dream house.
The cock crows frequently now adding to my agitation. If not for this drawing I would have strangled that chicken for good to be my good chow. I tried to suppress my animosity towards the creature thinking that I would get an “egg” for a grade if I wont be able to submit my drawing should I let my intentions be consummated. “Ok just 30 more minutes” I said, talking to myself and the chicken.
My dream house still looked funny despite the doors and windows and the roof. It still looks like, well… a matchbox.
Between 0300 and 0400 hours.
“I did my best!” Finally the drawing is over and my dream house lies flat on my table. It made me think of doves. Sometimes the saying that “there’s more than meets the eye” doesn’t apply. It was mixed feelings actually finishing my dream house: I’m happy that it’s finished; worried of what my teacher would grade my drawing; and I’m trying hard to control laughing boisterously.
Then came the morning. I was groggy from the lack of sleep, nevertheless happy because my agony was over. It’s judgment day.
As our teacher calls us one by one to submit our work, he said in front of the class while holding my drawing, “Nagtatrabaho ka ba talaga?” (Are you really working on your project?)
“Yes sir,” hell I’m smiling. My classmates’ eyes are on me waiting for me to cover my face in shame.
“Ang gulo, parang bulbol!” (It’s very messy like pubic hair) he said and we all cracked up.
I’m glad to say that I passed his subject with that dove house. I got a final grade of 1.75. It’s a miracle! Well, not really. We were once told by the same professor that it is a ceiling grade. He would look at the ceiling as he reads our names and jot down our final grades on his grade sheet.
And I’m glad to say that I finally learned my lesson. That is to let the more skilled architecture chums draw my dream house. I’ll just stick with my structural calculations, let Autocad do the drafting, and to obey my hunger for tinolang manok (a native chicken dish) when it kicks me.
(P.S. No fowls were harmed in the making of the dove house and this article.)