GTBKI: Warren Miller Heller House

This is the Miller Heller house. It was built in 1876 by the first graduate of Cornell's architecture program. It is now owned by the AAP (Architecture Art and Planning) School and is used both for housing various adjunct professors and hosting various school events. On Thursday when I went to the graduate reception, it was here.

Our first studio project as M.Arch ones is actually centered around this house. We are going to plan a dinner party. I know it sounds like something better suited for someone in the school of hotel management but really it is an exercise to do with space... I'll let you know how it goes.

The nice thing about all this is that the house is only two blocks up from me. So today when I had to wake up to go and measure the inside, it was not that far of a walk.

In other news, the summer is fading away and about a half an hour ago the rain started again. I am actually enjoying it, especially as I do not have to leave my apartment again if I do not want to.

TGIF

Yesterday began with "Techniques in Visual Representation, Analog and Free-hand Drawing." We meet once a week on Fridays but I am quite confident she has it in the works to keep us occupied for more than that. Yes it will be a lot of work but the promise of the syllabus is to make us think like architects and use our pens as vessels of our creativity.

We got out early and I walked over to Willard Straight Hall to read for a while in the, go figure, reading room. It is actually a small library with different sections like poetry and literature, all for the passing student who wishes to sit down and relax a while in a very Romantic setting. There are fire places and large Victorian chairs to sit in, the kind with the high backs and sides that one would imagine Chesterton or Elliot sitting in, smoking a pipe.

One end of the reading room actually opens to a cafe and once they opened for lunch I bought a sandwich and ate it on the deck outside. I'll have to take a picture of the deck because it is probably the main reason that this building is becoming my favorite on campus. First, it is a massive roof space and the height of the surrounding neo-Gothic architecture impresses me. Second, it looks out over all of Ithaca.

Here is a picture of the front of the building that I stole off the web. The other side of the building faces the Cornell Slope and has a considerably larger facade (there is a one screen movie theater on the lower level).


After spending several hours reading Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, I walked across the promenade to Barnes Hall, where the entire architecture department was meeting for presentations by the faculty on what each of the studios will be doing this Fall. Each presentation approached a new set of problems and I couldn't help feeling that I was entering into a very prestigious and intellectual arena. I also couldn't help feeling that our new Chair of Architecture, Dagmar Richter, was dressed in flowing black and bore a striking resemblance to Prof. McGonagall as she welcomed back the students.

After the presentations we met with our studio back at Sibley Hall and were given our bay assignment in Rand. We then went up the third floor, to our new home, and discussed our first project.

Finally the day was coming to a close and a few of us decided to head over to the Big Red Barn, Cornell's Graduate and Professional Student Center, for TGIF or "Tell Grads its Friday", a weekly event with free food and $1 draft beers... sorry that was not accurately emphasized... FREE food and ONE DOLLAR beers! The building itself is very comfortable and the interior brings to mind a lodge in Aspen. When I get pictures I'll do a GTBKI post.

A Day of Firsts

Today was a day, a day of firsts.

I woke up at first light and had my first bowl of cereal (for the day). For the first time I took the bus to class. It was also my first time using my Cornell ID for the bus and I, at first, put the card into the wrong machine. It was not my first time embarrassing myself on the bus.

The class I was going to for the first time happened to by my first at Cornell and the first of my graduate studies. It was the first time I had been in Goldwin Smith Hall. It was the first time I had been in a lecture hall that large. It was the first time I had been in a class with both graduate and undergraduate students. It was the first time I had heard of a professor who commutes five hours to class and it was the first time I had heard of a professor who came to class, half as much as the students. It was the first time I had an 8:00 engagement finish by 8:15.

I walked home and applied for my first credit card. Minutes later I was approved for a credit card, for the first time, and spoke to a lady who was the first happy customer service representative that I have ever encountered. I then walked down to the Commons and signed up for a checking account at the first bank I ran into (this was not happenstance, I had already selected the branch). I was first in line and received my first few checks in a few minutes.

I walked to Collegetown Bagels (the downtown branch), ordered a bagel and tea. It was the first time I payed less than three dollars for two items at a restaurant. I sat down and read James Joyce for the first time. I saw my landlord, out of context, for the first time. I walked home.

I went to my second class. It was the first time I have been in Ives hall. It was my first time in History of Architecture and the first time I was equally intimidated by the professor and the syllabus. It was also the first time I was relieved to break into small groups and my first time interacting with a TA who is twice my age.

I walked home, exhaled for the first time, took off my pack and walked down to Ithaca Coffee Co. for my first beer tasting. I tried two new beers for the first time, lusted over the various gourmet goods in the store, and walked home. That is my day of firsts.


By the way, I had mentioned Ithaca Coffee Co. and I believe, the fact that they do beer tastings every Thursday afternoon/evening. What I didn't mention, because I did not know until today, is that the beer tastings are free. As if I needed any more reason to love this little corner coffee shop.

It is also worth noting that today was the first day of class for some other 20,000 odd students. Things are definitely much more lively on campus and reading, while walking, is no longer a safe or worthwhile activity. Indeed, I think I would get through more pages if I doubled the slow pace needed to read while walking, then read upon my arrival.

Weather in Ithaca continues to be warm with partly cloudy skies. The summer break is at an end but the season holds out for a few more days, so the weather man suggests. Across Libe Slope battle lines are drawn somewhere up in the troposphere in a plane parallel to the surface. Bodies are scattered about the grass, casualties of the solar artillery.

GTBKI: Collegetown

Ithaca is a college town; this weekend was move-in time and while I was in California the population of Ithaca nearly doubled. Aware of this, a collection savvy real estate moguls, city planners and town commissioners must have decided to name the city's second commercial center nothing other than "Collegetown." Perhaps it was an intentional move towards the explicit, the declarative, in a defiant stance against the implicit or implied. "You are here" is a dangerously subversive statement in that way. However, the more likely story lies in the impetus of the creatively impotent.

Whatever its origin. Collegetown exists, just south of Cornell's campus, as a place to concentrate the liqour marts and cheap eateries a college town requires. After all, the stereotypical university student needs to be able to purchase large quantities of the cheapest beer available and then find food at obscene hours of the night to satisfy cravings induced by consuming such large quantities of cheap beer. Indeed, it is highly recommended that you utilize some sort of mental inhibitors before attempting to dine at these establishments.

It is sadly utilitarian.

Today I was walking through, admiring the surge in population, when I was nearly flattened by a delivery man with thirteen cases of Keystone Light. I couldn't suffer a sip of that sad brew and was floored to think there is enough of a demand to merit thirteen cases, all for a store the size of my studio apartment!

As my mind raced to think of situations where I might be tempted to drink such a beverage I nearly tripped on a man delivering a keg to the establishment next door.

It is fun to paint such a bleak picture but to be fair, there are a few gems such as Collegetown Bagels and Chip'N'Dale Laundry that make the hike worthwhile.

Anyways, now you better know Ithaca!

Back to the Future

Friends! Great news: I made it back to Ithaca. And it only took about 26 hours of travel by car, plane, taxi and bus!

For all of those unaware that I was in any danger of not returning to my new home, I spent the weekend in California and I must say, despite the high ratio of travel time to down time, it was worth it. Congratulations Tanner and Heather!

While out west, I also got a tour of Loma Linda, where Kari will be spending the next four years, which was nice in that now I can have a few points of reference for when she attempts to convey her life to me through the phone.

Last night was rough, as I knew it would be from my lack of sleep, but today I stepped outside to realize the sun is still shining. I picked up my ID card this morning and headed over to a giant tent set up in the arts quad for the architectural graduate studies orientation. This consisted of 10-minute speeches by the new dean, the chair of arch. graduate programs, and the heads of each individual program (M.Arch I, M.Arch II, MaPhd). The chair gave an inspiring lecture he started with an anecdote about the tour guides for new undergraduate students encouraging them, despite their new Ivy League surroundings, to just be themselves and ended with giving us the exact opposite advice: "Do not just be yourself... it is not enough. Be more."

Despite the pragmatic advice that our established personas, cultivated over the past 20+ years, were not good enough for Cornell grad school, we were offered no other clues on how to survive the program. Particularly discouraging was the lack of instruction for this next week; the speeches ended and we were turned loose until 4pm where we have a graduate student reception at a house the department owns actually two blocks up from me. Which is where I am headed right now!

PS- I often try to have multiple meanings in my titles. I don't know... maybe I like the intrigue (Drew you were right about me). Anyways this one is not even accessible without a explanation. "Back to the Future" works in three ways:
1. Today I returned to my career goals, my future
2. New York is 3 hours ahead of California, though we live concurrently, I in in some ways, live in your future.
3. One of the speakers today was Christopher Loyd's doppelganger and even possessed some of Doc Brown's mannerisms

Airport woes

This is a poem I composed yesterday to take my mind off the stresses of air travel and the unfortunate luck I seem to have with it.


"Flight 3855"

Arrivals left, Departures right
Please o please,
Let me make this flight
At the check in stand
A kindly fellow Lends his hand
“Plane is late but in the air”
Fillipantly,
“You have not a care.”
Still I know from experience,
Monotony,
Evanescent ebullience.
It doesn’t matter much
These three days,
Will serve my crutch.
Queue at the security line
Shoeless wonder
The floors I shine
This routine a bore
The loudspeaker screeches
“Half an hour, not a minute more”
Arrivals left, Departures right
Please o please,
Let me make this flight
What’s that you say?
The plane is just now
On its way?
That simply cannot be,
I cant believe
That man lied to me.
Luckily I planned ahead
"Three hour layover,"
My ticket said.
However others are
Less fortunate and
One lady calls a car.
Left waiting with me
Is a sort of Traveling coterie:
Minneapolis, Seattle, Chicago.
To our destinations
We must go!
Still no plane and we
Are getting restless
Can’t you see?
Our windows are getting thin
Please o please
Just let us in!
At long last the plane touches down
The man outside Wears a frown.
“Within minutes” is the latest of
empty promises
cries erupting “For the love!”
“Ladies and gentlemen it appears
a mechanical issue with some gears.”
It is spoken,
"There is no need to worry"
The mechanic they have woken!
Clocks ticking, nails I bite
Please o please,
Let me make this flight!

The shuttle bumps along
2am check-in
Clerk stifles a yawn
A tired hotel does its best
Welcome to Detroit
Try to get some rest.

I am a weary traveler
And have only
Precious moments
To spend with her

How to do Laundry (In Ithaca)

Before commencing, one must first decide the appropriate time for conducting such an activity. But how do you know what is the appropriate time? I like to subject myself to a series of questions and if, when all subsequent answers are true, I know that the time has come.

“John’s list of inquiries used to deduce the arrival of Laundry Day”

1. Is there a sufficient block of time in my day that I can spend reading, neurotically awaiting the end of wash/rinse/dry cycles? ( Y / N )
2. Do you have a book to read? ( Y / N ) <- This one is always answered in the affirmative but having just established these criterion yesterday, I thought I would wait another week before updating to the newest version (John’s list.. 2.0!)
3. Are you willing to make the pecuniary sacrifice to a system whose only yield is a few weeks of fresh smelling garments? ( Y / N )
4. Is there any one item of clothing of which, is only to be found in my dirty clothes hamper? ( Y / N )
5. Is there any one item of clothing of which, is only to be found in my hamper, on my floor, draped across the furniture? ( Y / N )
6. Is the one depleted drawer that belonging to underwear? ( Y / N )
7. Is the weather conductive to spending an hour and a half trapped in a room with dozens of heat emitting machines? ( Y / N )
8. Finally, are you currently of enough psychological and emotional stability to deal with the spiritual vicissitudes and crazy characters associated with public Laundromats? ( Y / N )

Now these are only the preliminary steps. To actual complete this task in my new environs, a whole separate list is needed.

“How to do laundry (in Ithaca)”

First I need to pack a pack: book, quarters, and detergent are the essentials. Ipod, snack, and water are highly suggested. Then I must don my pack, shoulder my sack, and head out the front door. From there I head up to the intersection, turn left and walk up two blocks, turn right, walk up one block, take a breather, drink some water, look down at the hill I just climbed, look up at the hill I still have to climb, wipe the sweat from my brow and press on. Once I get to the top of the hill I have two purveyors of promises for clean clothes: “Suds N Duds” and “Chip & Dale Laundromat.” I am covered in sweat (see below for a detail of far I must travel).

In defense of my physique, 50% of this walk is at a 50% incline.

I inevitably choose Chip & Dales because (a) I loved those chipmunks, (b) it makes anyone who has had a cursory glance at the Las Vegas strip giggle, and (c) I know what the “Suds” are referring to but as to the “Duds” I am at a complete loss.

Once inside I secure two washers and feed the gluttonous machines my laundry and sixteen quarters! $2 per load. While waiting an unknown time (none of the machines are equipped with any teller of time, digital or analog) I find a chair and try unsuccessfully to cultivate a look that is both blasé and casually critical. It is an unsuccessful attempt because it ends up painfully obvious; this is my first time in a Laundromat.

When the wash finishes I move the contents of both machines into one industrial sized dryer. I can’t remember ever being of an age where it would be possible for me fit into a dryer and yet, here was such a monster. After the shock wore off I realized that there was no indicated monetary investment for these machines. Apparently it is left open to the preference and frugality of the individual. I decided to experiment and here are the results.

2 quarters = 16 minutes

1 more quarter = 11 additional minutes

1 more quarter = 7 additional minutes

One of the machines looks a bit… singed and I can only assume it was some poor physics student who probably made an excel spreadsheet of the various inputs and outputs of the machine, graphed the results, and in anger at the mountainous curve made a small explosive in a Cornell laboratory, placed it into the dryer, lit the fuse, turned the dial to delicates, and pressed ON.

GTBKI: Ithaca Coffee Co.

If I walk out my door, down the stairs to the street, turn right and walk for about four minutes (at some point crossing the street) I will have arrived at a new set of buildings called the Gateway Commons. Housed in the eastern tower is a small coffee shop that also specializes in gourmet food (olive oils, chocolates, teas, etc.).

Our second day in Ithaca we visited this spot and as I ordered my latte my dad explored around back. A few seconds later I hear him laugh and as he is returning to order, he tells me to go back there and take a look. The coffee shop is in front and towards the back is a smaller area with a bar, a couple of tables, and shelves full of every tea or coffee accessory imaginable. In between these two areas, is a hallway that turns to the right and leads to this area, hidden behind the bar.



Ithaca is a special place.

What I am doing these days

Friends, things just got krazy outside. It was a rather average, hot and humid morning (see below) with perhaps a few more clouds in the sky than normal, but nothing to worry about if you are from Southern California. However, about half an hour after returning to the apartment, thunder broke the silence and within minutes it was POURING. In the last half hour, it has rained more on my apartment than in all of San Diego last year.

Really I shouldn't be surprised, my Google homepage has been telling me that thunderstorms were coming today. But Google also told me that thunderstorms were to be expected everyday for the past week. It is just the magnitude of the the rain and frequency of the flashes that is shocking.

Anyways I thought I would shed some light on my work environment today.



This is the second floor of Rand Hall, where the architecture studios are housed. It is a warehouse like building with an industrial aesthetic, subdivided into classes (social strata? we'll see) by cubicle-like dividers that drawings can be "pinned up" on. We have camped for the time being, in the largest section, the first-year undergraduate area. (Judging by the relative sizes of the higher classes, there must be some sort of record rate attrition in the program)


And this is my desk!!!! And the black device straddling my drawing board, is the infamous Parallel Rule. Also of note, for those with expensive taste, is the 44 dollars worth of lead (in the blue cases) and $47 compass (to left). In defense of the cost of these items, the lead is 2mm, about 4x as thick as mech. pencil lead, and the compass is all metal, works upside down and in zero gravity.


And this is my first floor plan! Very exciting stuff. This is what kept us all late yesterday. One guy stayed until 10pm! Anyways, the torrent has subsided outside and I think I am going to go down to Ithaca Coffee.

Furniture, a Household Oligarchy

Today I did not leave the studio until half past four. We worked on our first floor plan today and as it was a three story building and we were doing all of the lines by hand, it was quite a project. I was actually the first to finish but that only makes me worry. In any case, I trudged home in this oppressive weather and went strait to my floor... serenity.


We all have those little peculiarities that constitute our characters. More often than not, they are such an intrinsic part of our being that it takes someone else to point them out. For instance, I was unaware that lying on the floor was something I did habitually until Joe referenced that in a recent comment.

Well maybe I knew that, but I didn't think it an odd thing to do. For one thing, it is a lot cooler down there and for another, it is (almost) completely unrestricted, the restricting boundaries long out of reach of your extremest extremities. In fact, the one restriction on your being is the plane that forms the surface, which is reassuring really and has the added bonus of promoting Edwin Abbot type fantasies. Lastly, it is something that I did as a child and have never quite grown out of.

Anyways, I thought I would dedicate a blog post to my rug as it has been a small but significant part of my daily routine. Without fail, I will come home and before I turning lights on, I will lie down on the rug. Mostly to stop sweating, but also to recollect myself.

For this reason I am quite obsessive over the well being of my rug. When I have shoes on, I walk around the rug. I have a large lint roller that I use for the exclusive purpose of cleaning it. Last night I opted to eat my snack on the futon, rather than risk getting crumbs on the rug. I would consider fencing it off but that eliminates the infinite boundary conditions that I so adore with the added side effect of it interfering with company. It is not so much that it would get in the way, just that I don't know who would want to be friends with someone who kept an adult playpen.

GTBKI: Ithaca is Gorges

So this is one of many waterfalls in Ithaca. This is the scene directly behind Sibley Hall, the Architecture building... remember the one with the big white dome. Well actually, directly behind Sibley is a road, then a cliff, then this. That suspension bridge leads up to the back of the building and up above those falls, in the next falls, there is a hydro-electric plant that sends power up to the campus. In particular, it drives the laser cutter in Rand Hall, where the architecture studios are located.

And this is the closest thing to beach culture you will find in Ithaca. Armando, a new friend, pointed out some people tanning on the north bank of the creek and we laughed. He is from Puerto Rico. Another couple had a small propane grill and a cooler full of beer. We did not laugh at that, we were jealous.

In the foreground of the photo is a guy named Adam, he is also a new friend and fellow M.Arch student. He organized this outing. Everyone was invited but several were busy so it ended up just being Armando, Adam, Noah, Collin, and myself. All in different stages of life, all with different backgrounds, and all currently in pursuit of their Masters of Architecture from Cornell University.

The water I was pleased to discover, is at the absolute perfect temperature and if one so desires, the waterfalls are stable and accessible enough to sit in. Which is exactly what we did.

The rushing water was too loud to allow for conversation, so we lounged in the middle of the falls until we got tired of the scenery (not easy), and hopped in, attempted to swim upstream, tired and floated downstream. It may not look it, but the middle is pretty deep and the drop off is, well, immediate. I found that out the fun way: where shin deep water turns to underwater.

I was also pleased to know that I was not the only one to feel the affects of Thursday night's sangria outing. Adam brought up the fact that he was hungover the next morning and we all laughed. Each person, it turns out, left that evening not entirely sober (Adam's case was particularly harsh because his night did not end there). Anyways, I suppose it was a potent mixture and the ice cold glasses, too refreshing to savor slowly. Even though we were there for several hours and did not drink more than a glass per hour, we all felt the effects.

I am glad to report that I am doing well. My apartment is a great jumping off point and I have not been short on ideas for activities or books to read. Although I am hanging out with the guys again tonight it is hard because it is in a way, a forced friendship and the conversations suffer from chronic silences. I know not to expect an immediate depth or ease to these relationships but I have to try to be myself around these people and that attempted genuine self, just goes to say that I am missing the comfort and recognition of true friends.

On a lighter note, I made a frozen pizza tonight but topped it with fresh bell pepper, onion and cheese. Sooo tasty. And the bonus of living alone... leftovers :) Also, many college students are familiar with wine in a box... well I have peach iced tea in a box. It is also very tasty.

"It's Friday night, you want..."

Tonight was my first Friday as a grad student. During the year I will most likely have work to stress about or social engagements to attend, however... as neither of those imposed on this particular summer evening, I needed some entertainment.

I passed some of the time in Ithaca Roasting company, right down the street from my house. At least I could read there in the air conditioning. However, they shut down at nine and I trekked back up the hill, begrudingly, to my apartment.

Still restless, I decided to see where my feet could take me and packed up my bag with camera, tripod, Ipod, and a copy of T.S. Elliot's The Waste Land. The latter two were mostly because if you get to feeling sad, nothing is better than sad songs and sad poems. One would think that this would do nothing to alleviate the situation but any true melancholic knows that there is no better remedy and The Waste Land, is about as bleak as it gets. In fact, it is the happy songs (country music) that I have learned to watch out for.*

*This is not to say that I was feeling particularly sad this evening, this was merely a preventative measure, preparedness some might say.

Anyways, as of late I have been walking from necessity and tonight, it was for pleasure. And pleasurable it was. The warm summer air filled me with hope for the semester and Cornell is still in the quiet stages before the onset of madness, which means I could wander the sacred halls unaccosted by drunken undergrads.

Strolling through the campus at night was very peaceful and surprisingly, a good time to sightsee. The area is remarkably well lit and the softly illuminated buildings stand out brilliantly against the black backdrop of the night's sky. It was so bright in the courtyard of Baily Hall (pictured above) that I could sit in the immense opening, back propped against a Modernist bench, and read. The poignancy of the moment however, came not with the lighting, but the cool breeze that billowed my shirt. "You can handle this," it told me.

Anyways, once I realized I was hearing voices I decided it would be good time to move on.

I walked to Collegetown, found a small grocer, then stood outside in pure relief, knowing that I would not have to make the journey out to the Eastside strip mall for groceries unless I wanted to. I followed one of the cashier's into the store, surveyed the selection, assessed the stage I was at in my evening's adventures, pondered the possibility of stopping in a local bar, decided that I am too self conscious to read in a bar, decided it was a good time to head home, decided first I would pick up a loaf of bread, pondered the bread selection, decided on a multi-grain bread (like I always do), purchased my loaf, stowed my cargo, imagined myself Aladdin with my loaf, realized I would have had to steal it to make it a real analogue, thanked God that I am not in a place that makes stealing bread morally acceptable, thought about Les Mis, listened to some Dave Matthews, made my way down the mountain, arrived here.
:)

The Daily Show

This is the gorge that I have to cross on my walk to class. There is a waterfall directly under the bridge but I couldn't get that angle. Last night a wooden chair decided that this abject life is not worth living and cast itself over the edge. Today as I walked by I noticed the corpse and paused to think what could make a chair's life so terrible... I'll probably never know. I distracted myself from the horror by imagining myself a part of an Umberto Eco novel, inventing a secret society that the diabolicals of Cornell would take for a reality.


Once I get up the hill from my house this is the first part of Cornell that I see: the Libe Slope. It is the worst part of my day... well at least it is a very discouraging part.


And what is the difference between the worst and best part of my day? About 300 feet. That is Cayuga Lake in the background. I also recently started to reread The Crying of Lot 49 and it opens with a satirical comment about a sunrise from Cornell's slope (the slope faces West) and it turns out the author went to Cornell.


And this is the architecture building! It obviously home to the campus intelligentsia.

Hope this gives you a picture of my day-to-day life. Now that I have concluded the apartment tours I think I will start taking you all around Ithaca.

Day 8 & the Drawing Room + Bathroom

Today: the Drawing Room AND the Bathroom

So to my surprise, my studio apartment has actually one extra room. I have taken to calling it, "The Drawing Room." It houses my desk, a radiator, and the majority of windows. I am actually quite fond of it and if you talk to me on the phone, chances are that I am sitting right there.


That lamp by the way, is called an "architect's lamp." After we saw the label in target we just had to buy it.


This is a shot with the mirror...


This is my tiny bathroom. Like my tiny kitchen, it is cute. The toilet is always running and a constant reminder that I live in a house that has lived for much longer than I. I know you can't see this from the picture but the light fixture actually has an outlet underneath and I plug my electric toothbrush into that, and store it behind the mirror, pretty cool huh?


My shower. I usually take cold showers in the afternoon. They are pointless because I start to sweat the minute I dry off.


I am sorry if this post is a little less fluent than others. I actually went out for the first time tonight. I was hanging out with the other M.Arch I students at a place called Collegetown Bagels, which serves everything from bagels to ice cream to beer to sangria. The latter of which we had several carafes and I am afraid to say, that my tolerance is not quite up to date with our generations standards. In any case, I really enjoyed our time together and it does look like we will be spending a lot of time together so I appreciated getting to know these people outside of our architectural interests.

I think that I will be able to survive here, but I do miss you all terribly.

Reading a Thomas Pynchon novel at the moment, he actually went to Cornell... weird.

Day 7 & the Kitchen

So today I woke up early, took my time getting getting ready and walked to school. This was my first day walking to class and although I took the same route I take to get home, it took me about 20 minutes instead of the 13 I have grown accustomed to on my return trips. The hills play into travel times that much.

In class we transitioned to digital media and spent the day familiarizing ourselves with photoshop. Afterward I walked back to the apartment only to lie down on my rug for twenty minutes. Meteorologic conditions are doing everything they can to remind me that this is not California and the humidity literally beat me to the floor.

I ate a pint of Purity Ice Cream, felt better and decided it was time for an adventure. I needed milk and entertainment and only two blocks down the hill there is something called the Commons, which is really a breeding ground for the young degenerates and dirty hippies that Ithaca seems to harbor (I have already decided to dedicate a future post to how liberal this upstate New York town is).

The public library is only one block south of the Commons and I decided that would be my first stop. I signed up for a library card and received my plastic passport to happiness within minutes. I checked out two books and immediately felt better about life. I then headed to the Common's Market, which is really just a closet with one large bookshelf bisecting the store, dividing it into a chips/dip aisle and the beer aisle. Among the numerous brews there were two shelves of milk and I selected an appropriately sized half gallon. I then made my way to the Ithaca roasting company (another great subject for a blog post) and bought a six pack of my new favorite beer, the Ithaca Beer Co's "Cascazilla." And here I am now, ready to tell you about.....

My Kitchen!



This is my kitchen, cute isnt it? If more than zero persons are in there at one time it feels crowded. The sink does not have a garbage disposal which a bit of a bummer and that counter my dad and I actually purchased (before it was a block of driftwood with rusty nails sticking out). That counter is in reality a cool story. We went to Lowe's expecting to buy two 12"x12" tiles to put on the wood but thought we would inquire at the kitchen department anyways. They actually had two of these pieces special-ordered and then returned, we had to buy them together but it was only 10 dollars and it fit absolutely perfectly.


We had to buy almost everything but now I can do a fair bit of cooking... if it was not so dang hot.


Plentiful cereal (hot and cold) supply. You can also see my miniature stovetop oven. Most of the groceries came from a place called Wegmen's, which is a big chain over here. In fact many of the items on the shelves are Wegmen's brand. Did I already talk about our experience there? I forget. Anyways, this store was huge and crowded. We were first struck my the number of cars in the parking lot and then the number of patrons in the store. Ithaca has only have 30,000 permanent residents and at any given time (it is open 24 hours a day) about a thousand people are shopping at Wegmen's.

So that is my kitchen and yet another part of my charming residence. In all seriousness I am very pleased with my living arrangements. Talking to other students and seeing some of the other housing options, I realized I am quite blessed.

PS- Thanks for reading my blog! It has been quite cathartic to let forth such a deluge of thoughts onto these pages and I like to know that the people who care about me are tuning in.

"Eat Dessert First!"

So today is actually my second day of "class," which has actually been a fairly tedious tutorial on the most fundamental aspects of architecture. The first day we had a round of introductions, a brief tour of Rand Hall (where the studios are located), a presentation on architectural drawing, a lunch break to retrieve the remaining needed supplies, and then the afternoon to construct our drawing boards, complete with the parallel rule which I purchased yesterday for a neat sum of 259.99. I will try and take a picture of it sometime but right now, know that it is a ruler that attaches to the drafting board through a series of wires and pulleys that allows for the construction of parallel lines.

Today we actually got to use the contraption and spent most of the day going through exercises on how to draw lines, vary line weight, and use and architect's scale. However, as tedious as it seems I know that in two weeks I will really appreciate the head start (It is also a bonus to run errands to the town's one mall, two supermarkets, one Walmart, etc. before another 20,000 students show up for the start of classes).

Today was also the day that my Dad left.

Now I alluded to this in an earlier post, but my first day in Ithaca, was not a happy one. It really set in how far away my friends were and that in particular, Karissa and I were commiting to living in separate places for three and a half years. Granted a good deal of my emotional destabilization can be contributed to lack of sleep and knowing this about myself, I actually told Kari before I boarded the plane in San Diego that she would have to talk me down from the ledge the next day. My Dad however, was also there for me and did everything he could to keep me busy and help me set up my imposingly vacant and whitewashed apartment.

He would at first push, and then later follow me down the aisles at Walmart and Target. Occasionally he would pick something out for me and say "Oh you are really going to like this." He was insistent on whatever would make me happy and at the end of the day we would eat at new local restaurant and make lists for things we needed to do or buy. We had pizza at Sal's where the cook was fat and the waitress was the kindest old lady I ever met. We had king crab at the Rogue's Harbor, serving strong spirits since 1830 (including 1920-1933). We both savored the filet mignon at the Boatyard grill, on a penninsula out into Cayuga Lake. In short, we had a grand time.

Many of you have had the chance to meet my Dad but I want to talk about him a bit more. First of all, my Dad is indiscriminate in who he talks to: a woman at the bookstore, the cable guy, the IT manager in Sibley Hall, a waiter, a Walmart employee. Now this does not resonate with the introverted side of my personality but I am always impressed at how these people open up to him, smile, and then answer his questions or, generally, give him what he wants (very useful if he is only looking out for your well-being). Yes, the world opens before my father.

He is also very logical, an analytical thinker, and a good problem solver. He snores like grizzly bear and will walk for miles in the morning for a cup of coffee, his one vice. Well that and ice cream. He can be very cynical and I can tell he is always thinking. Although he can be very upfront and honest with people, he is a fairly complex person and the depth of his character has always impressed me. In short, I am glad to be his son.

Dad (if you read this), I want you to know how incredibly grateful I am for your company and your help this past week. I know that the move, and especially the transition, would have been incredibly more difficult if you had not been here. When I left for college the first time I was way too proud to admit how much you and Mom helped me once I got there. I was on my way to adulthood. Now, I do feel much more mature and capable, but am no longer too proud to say that your help was invaluable and things would have been much harder without it. Thank you.

Day 6 & the Main Room

Today: the Main Room!

The theme of this first photo is "Welcome." :)

So I am apartment 6 (Seven was taken). And since it is a studio apartment (more or less one room) I have dubbed this the "main room." It encompasses: living room, F room, sitting room, dining room, library, and bedroom. It is actually a decent size space and the walls go up about 10ft before reaching the ceiling.


From here you can see into the kitchen and the "drawing room." But I am saving those for later posts. You can also see my dining table, my awesome rug, china cabinet (with new dishes), and cork board (already donning some photos, a sandwich menu, and a small flyer for something called the "Ithaca Brew Fest").


This is the Southeastern corner of the room, complete with bed, radiator, hamper, and shelves. That window is the one on the front of the house facing the busy street. I look out it several times a day to see if anyone is standing by the "No Standing" sign, mostly to see what is going to happen if a police car drives by.


This is the most plain corner as I have yet to figure out how to fill all of the wall space. This is where I stand in the morning while the fog layer retreats from my brain and I figure out what to where for the town's unpredictable weather patterns. In California you can look out the window and decide the appropriate attire for the day, however, I quickly gave that up. Yesterday it was so hot and humid that by the time I got back from class, my shirt was thoroughly damp, and then around 4:30pm it starts raining, heavier than a shower, and lightning starts flashing all across the sky.

So that is the main room! Hope you enjoyed your virtual tour.

Day 5 & the House

First, I must apologize for the inactivity of this blog. Things have been a little bit crazy and I have not had internet in the apartment until today.

So where to begin? Right, the apartment.

I decided that the best way to introduce my new living situation is through a series of posts, one a day dedicated to different parts of the apartment. I will also include other posts as to the situation at hand, what I am doing with life and the like.

So... the apartment! Today: the House.


This is my house. It is on E. State St, halfway between Collegetown and the Commons, the two commercial centers of town (Ithaca is a town not a city), and about a mile south of campus. However, I am on one of the main streets of Ithaca and constant traffic gives the place a real urban feel. The place is midway in elevation between the campus/Collegetown and the Commons, which means, it is on the side... of a mountain. The slope of the street out front is about thirty degrees.

Two things worth noting.

This is the south side of the building and my window is the furthest one you see on the right on the second story. There are four apartments on the second floor and my studio occupies the right hand side and is actually fairly sizeable.

The sign in the foreground reads "No Standing, Any Time <-->." Similar signs are located all over Ithaca and have similarly ambiguous arrows pointing this way and that. My favorite are the paired signs: "No Parking, Any Time <-" and "No Standing, Any Time ->." My Dad and I crack up everytime we see one as we have yet to figure out their meaning. He says that at least he didn't just graduate.


Anyways, here is a shot from the back of the house. The windows you see in the center are mine. The one to the right of the stairs is my kitchen, the one directly to the left of the stairs is my bath room, and two further to the left are part of what I like to call, the "drawing room."

The third floor is all one apartment and yes, it does have an inside entrance. The renter is actually a cool guy, my second friend in the building, and we are going to split the cost of internet service.

Downstairs is currently unoccupied.

I'M IN NEW YORK!

I will give a more detailed account of the experience a bit later for the moment I just wanted to say I made it safely. My Dad and I arrived in Syracuse at 9:30 yesterday morning, picked up our bags and a rental car, and drove strait to my apartment in Ithaca. Neither of us slept more than a wink on the plane and suffice it to say, I was not in the best mood. We also had a couple of setbacks that were fairly disheartening and the apartment was not clean when we got there (you know how I like things clean). Ha the apartment....

Well to begin with, it is on the second floor of a converted house. When we arrived the first thing we noticed was the peeling paint and the fact that the first floor was a wreck with construction. I will give a much more detailed account of that later as well (with pictures). However, we ran several errands and after eating at a local restaurant for dinner we returned to what I could now see, is a very charming residence. The porch and foyer were lit against the twilight and to my surpise were both cleared and vacuumed. I began to see it as a home.

Anyways I have to run, my Dad and I just ate lunch at the college and we have more errands. Look for better posts later. Here is me in one of Cornells DC's:

The Longest Drive

One would think that the parting of souls, welded together, would leave some sort of mark on the universe. Such a schism should tear the fabric of the cosmos so that the majority of people who walk by the location would at least sense the sadness and the few wise men left in the world, attunned to that sort of thing, would actually know something terrible transpired in that spot.

I always thought that when two such souls leave each other it would be accompanied by some sort of noise, like the smack of a suction cup on a glass door or the popping of the last popcorn kernel. However, what I experienced today was nothing like that. There was no sound, no wisp of light, no smell of death. Indeed, there was only a feeling: deceleration. Though I maintained a constant pressure on the gas peddle, my car (White Lightning) began to slow.

We had just made it over the incline at the end of Camarillo when it happened. Those who have ridden south in White Lightning know that incline. It is the make-it-or-break-it point. We (White Lightning and I) had just finished the mandatory celebration when she lost the will to live. I felt it go. I felt her resignation... This would be our last ride together, and she sunk into a deep depression. We pulled over but knew there was nothing to be done, we had to stay the course.

It is amazing how fast the signs of old age set in once the will to go on had passed: hot flashes, shivers, an artheritic speedometer needle. Most notable is that my '91 Camry drove like there was a 91-yr old behind the wheel. There was an absolute max speed of 60 miles per hour... with the peddle on the floor. Hills were traumatic and the max speed depended on length of the incline and speed at which I entered into the climb; sometimes we would crawl at 25mph up the rightmost lane on the freeway. Even once we crested the summit accelerating was a task like no other, zero to sixty in about six minutes.

Remarkably we made it to San Diego. When we reached our exit my skin was soaked, partially from the tension of the drive and partially because I could not waste the much needed power on air conditioning.

White Lighting and I have been together since I turned sixteen. We have shared more sad songs and happy memories together than most of my closest comrades. Six years is nothing to scoff at. There were many times where I thought that she might not make it and at one point I even had a bottle of Martinellis and two paper cups stashed in my trunk for when she finally kicket the gasket. However, I decided that it was not showing her enough faith to keep such a thing and Karissa and I used the bottle for Valentine's Day. That was over two years ago.

Many people do not know this, but her actual name is Claire. Her favorite song is "Up" by Shania Twain but her theme song is "Hells Bells" by ACDC ("White lightning's flashing across the sky!"). Her record cargo was five people and three surfboards, which is currently within her capacity but this was before I bought my roofracks.

While I must adjust to new spatial handicaps in all of my other relationships, I must say goodbye to Claire forever and know that she will always be the greatest car I have ever had the pleasure of driving.