Cafe Sans Lait

This year has seen many milestones. But today,
I've hit one that I am actually proud of.

Working is hard!

Sorry I left you all with that little cliffhanger, not to mention the nearly impossible reference in the title. I did find work and, as it turns out, working full time has really cut into my free time. Now I have to prioritize my activities. The days of endless websurfing and reading are regrettably, but also thankfully, over.

First, of all, if the title of my previous post was incomprehensible to you, don't worry. No one could have got that reference. That title refers to a movie that came out in 2001 called Out Cold. It is, sadly, my favorite movie. I had come home from my first day of working and decided to celebrate by drinking a beer and watching it.

Second and more importantly, is the news that I am now fully employed. I am working in the Westmont Admissions Department as an application processor. It is truthfully, not the most thrilling work but the timeline is perfect, it is full time, and I get to work in an youthful and energy-filled department, partially staffed by two of my roommates, Evan and Matt.

Working at Westmont is, in itself, a humbling experience. Many of my freshmen residents from my RA days are now seniors and, having not kept in touch, am having to explain myself at each awkward encounter. However, on top of this I am also working in the Admissions department, the department responsible for my tuition free ride through Westmont. My first day there, the veep of admissions was introducing me to the girl at the front desk and, as a visual aid, pointed to a plaque on the wall bearing my name.

John's name is right up here, and now he is, um, here.

In my first few days I realized that many of these fears are irrational. Reconnecting with old friends and former residents has already been more a blessing than a curse. My insecurities about the scholarship are diminishing, but ok, still present.

Regardless, I am working and it feels really, really good.

I'm going to need a bucket, a paintbrush, and ten pounds of salt

I've got a job!

Story to follow...

Peet's

This morning my roommate Matt asked if owned I computer. While the question probably came from the fact that Evan and I have identical laptops and I have made a habit of reading news my iPod, this question still made me happy because it means that I spend more time reading than surfing in the apartment. Instead I do most of my computer tasks at coffee shops like the one I am sitting at right now (Peet's).

Christmas Tree

I don't think you appreciated this enough the first time.

:)

By the Numbers

A few weeks ago I began the graduate application process by logging on the various university websites and creating accounts. You need this much if you are going to ask for recommendations. Anyways, a few days ago I got further into the process and one application, in addition to a Statement of Purpose, asked a series of short answer questions. The third of these questions was this:

If more than six months have elapsed since the date of your last university enrollment, please describe what you have been doing.

I still use my hands count - starting with the thumb of course - and I quickly - as fast as you can count to six - figured out that I have indeed been out of Cornell for more than six month. This would later be debunked by Drew, Evan, and Danny Clapp - thank you summer enrollment - but still, six months. That is half of year!

This type of revelation, though completely devoid of any real significance, is exactly the type of revelation that is likely to get my hands shaking. The latter half of this last half a year I have been unusually susceptible to this sort of thing. Most of the time I am in control. Most of the time I am pleased with what I have accomplished in this time (books read, miles run, friendships rekindled). Most of the time I am confident.

Sometimes, though. I am not.

Anyways, I have another interview on Monday and I am praying this is the one to break the spell.

It's Christmas Time in Apartment 21!

In high school you were
what was left of her.
You meant seizing chances
with slow dances.

Now all I wanted was a tree,
but there's this fee:
Glitter everywhere,
my clothes, my phone, my hair.

The Old Man

At the moment I am sitting in the Montecito Coffee Bean. I've just completed several applications for internships and a junior engineer position so I might take a break and share a story.

When I first arrived the only table available was the one bearing this sticker: "Please offer this table to our customers with disabilities." Although most of the other tables are arranged to accommodate four people, it is the only single table that four people can sit around. I never really want to take this table but, not seeing any handicapped customers, figured it would be safe for a while.

Coffee Bean being a busy spot, it wasn't long before an elderly gentlemen approached me and asked if he could share. His skin looked not withered, but as though he had spent the last eighty years in southern California. He had white hair and was wearing a moss green sweater. In his left hand was a small coffee and in his right he carried a white plate with an old-fashioned donut in the center. He moved as softly as he spoke.

He finished his donut without a word and then sat for a few more minutes, clearly enjoying his coffee and the activity of the coffee shop. Engaged as I was in the task at hand, I almost forgot he was there.

When he made to leave he turned to me and, speaking barely above a whisper, wished me the best of luck in whatever I was engaged in, waving a hand at my computer. I thanked him and confessed that I was job hunting and appreciated all the luck I could get. To this he added "Double good luck then." He laughed inaudibly and added that he didn't even own a computer. This didn't trouble him, what did, was that no one answers the phone anymore. Apparently he has difficulty navigating the automated voice directories.

More Pictures

I noticed that I have been skimping on the pictures recently so here are a few apartment shots.

~

Recently redesigned living room (thank you Drew).

Burlap sack wall and entertainment center.

Dinning Room.

The couch did everything it could to combat the ceiling but in the end, it was to no avail.

"Got a couple bottles,
But a couple, ain't enough."
- Tremaine Aldon Neverson

I did these!

I didn't do this.

Happy Birthday Fyodor!

I have been good these past two months. I have not been buying books but visiting the library like a proper jobless person. However, in honor of Fyodor Dostoyevsky's birthday the Santa Barbara Public Library was having a sale. Why they don't extend similar honors to other famous authors, I don't know. Still, I wasn't about to start complaining.

The four-day sale began today in the basement of the central library. Instead of queuing up at 8:00am like a madman, I decided to use the event as a motivational tool, "submit this job application and then you can go to book sale." So I did just that.

The only problem is that when I arrived there were already a ton of people there. I was worried that the good stuff would have been long gone. Still, I started browsing the different tables, "Classic Literature," "Fiction," "Poetry," "Mystery," "Art," etc. I would pick up books that I definitely wanted and some that I might have wanted but didn't want to get stolen by the crowd. I was surprised by how many treasures had remained and before long my right arm was fully extended to press the stack of books to my chest.

I ended narrowing the stack down to twelve. Brought those treasures to the check out. Total cost: $5.25! I was ecstatic and couldn't believe my luck. I wanted to get out of there before they changed their minds. I actually felt my heart rate go up.

Some kind of high.

Pushing Through

Last night as I began that nightly ordeal of falling asleep I began to imagine my body sinking into the bed. This is not an uncommon practice for me and for the past five years I have tried, unsuccessfully, to will myself through floors and walls of all sorts. It is a fascination that began when I first learned about the percent of free space in the atom. It was only slightly deterred when I later learned that this space is technically occupied by the electrons. They are waves after all and granted some concessions in the fundamental forces that operate on the world, there should conceivably be some wiggle room.

The point is that last night I succeeded. After years of trying out different permutations, I finally managed to find the right arrangement of my atoms. I felt it only slightly at first. My hands could press slightly further into my sheets than normally possible. However that was all it took. I knew it could be done. After the initial shock and an irresponsible decision to disregard all possible consequences, I let my body slide through the surprisingly airy old mattress.

My current bed consists of a mattress, a piece of plywood and four square cinder blocks. After willing my body through the mattress it was in the uncomfortable position of resting on the hard plywood. At this point I really only had two choices, to go back or attempt pushing through the plywood. The latter seem the better option if only for the fact that it was hot inside the mattress and underside of my bed, carpeted and cool, seemed very appealing.

You know how I like to lie on the floor and after careful rearrangement of my atoms, accounting for the variances in organic (vs the regularity of manufactured) materials and not without considerable difficulty on my part, I felt through.

It is at this point that I began to get cocky. I began to push through the floor of apartment. With the various materials, a great spectrum of densities and inter spaced floor boards, this is not an easy feat. However, the real trouble began a few inches from the ceiling of the apartment below. There I realized that I was about to crash into the bedroom of a complete stranger's apartment.

I decided that the only option was to continue and I would have to recall to atomic structure necessary to slide into the stranger's floor upon contact. That would not only avoid the awkward encounter - I was after all in my boxers - but would also prevent a rather unpleasant crash that awaited me on the floor below.

In retrospect I am very fortunate that there were few obstacles in my way, let alone the old man himself. No, I fell, muffled a scream, and slid into the floor below. It was rather damp down there and rather than abandon my quest, I simply sought the warmth the Earth has to offer. I continued south(?) and slowly made my way to warmer internal temperatures. When I was sufficiently contented, I thought "well that is that" and went to sleep.

Saving Time

I decided this morning to start blogging again. I say this even though I never made a formal decision to stop. I just have had trouble writing about my life when the major events are emotional. After all, when I started this blog it was to give friends and family a firsthand glimpse into a foreign world that I was in the process of discovering. I wanted to stray away from the 'inflated sense of self importance' that I thought endemic to the blogging world. However, now that I live in Santa Barbara again, many of the sights are familiar and the quotidian experiences unremarkable. Even though I have yet to find a solution, I realized that I miss this, I don't know what to call, communication.

These last few months have been unforgiving. My time at Cornell was the roughest period of my life but at least I was busy. Now I am lucky if I have commitments every other day. There is only so much job hunting I can do.

"I am taking time to strengthen my relationships and re-evaluate career plans." This is what I am telling people. It is mostly true but doesn't include the fact that I am reeling from a shattered self-confidence. "I have a B.S. in Engineering Physics, just got back from a very successful year at Cornell University, and would like to be considered for the administrative assistant position within your company." I hate this.

Best American Poetry 1992

I have a copy of The Best American Poetry 1992. I bought it for $.50 outside a library in Rancho Cucomonga.

It is not that 1992 was an especially auspicious year for American poets, it is just that this book was published in 1992 as a compendium of notable poems that year. I know this, I do, but still I can not help but favor the idea of a vintage for poetry. It is as though the weather that year was unusually favorable for writing poetry. Maybe there were more cloudy days than sunny ones or there was a great deal more rain than normal. There would definitely need to be a surplus of foggy days. Whatever it was people would look back on the poetry of that year and smile.

I like to think this way because that way, when I sit down with the Best American Poetry of 1992, I can imagine tasting the spirit of those times and relish in the products of a good year.

John Adams Carstensen I

My grandfather passed away this week. He was 84 years old and died from a heart attack. He had been in great health and no one was expecting his time to come so soon. We are thankful that the passing was quick and that he was well prepared. Nonetheless, it will be hard not to miss him now that he is gone.

The biggest worry we all have is for my grandmother, Jean. She has dementia and needs to be constantly reminded that her husband is in heaven now. So if you can, pray for her and her four children on whom this task, along with great loss, has befallen.

I don't really know if this is an appropriate forum for such a topic. On one hand his death seems like a very private or personal matter. How does one respect the sanctity of such life? Yesterday his obituary was published in the Stockton paper and the front page was a story about a Stockton girl traveling to the pacific garbage patch. This paper, for me, is all about mourning but there is this girl with the brightest smile aboard a sailing ship. She is reclining with her bare feet propped against a weathered wooden crate.

On the other hand I want to celebrate an inspiring man and take solace in the fact that he will always live in on in us and our memories. I think,

that I can do both.

I don't know.

Grief, it turns out, is a strange process.

Now I Have Nothing to Talk About

Today, I went to the Rancho San Diego Library and, striking out there, I then drove to La Mesa. There I found a charming used bookstore called Maxwell's. The only problem was that the parking out front was metered and I didn't have any change. Driving around the neighborhood I realized that block after block, parking was a privilege reserved for the specie rich. I think a city should warn visitors when there is absolutely no free parking.

I ended up parking across the street, going into a cafe, and buying coffee to break a twenty. All of this, so I could put a dime in the meter, walk across the street, get excited by the window selection, and come to find out that they are closed on Mondays.

I wanted to get my dime's worth of parking so I sat at the cafe and enjoyed my coffee, bitter and bookless.

More than little discouraged I decided to go to a Barnes and Noble down the street. I don't normally like to go to these large commercial retailers. With such an extensive selection there is less of a thrill. Treasure hunters need only a familiarity with the English alphabet. Furthermore, the excitement of the find is immediately curtailed by the price. Seriously, $23 for a paperback? And if the author is deceased who does the money go to? The store gets a cut but does the rest of the profit go to the publisher or the decendents? I just found out Hemingway's granddaughter is a runway model, which means there is a good chance she uses drugs and I don't know if I can support that.

On top of all these disappointing revelations, there is the complexity of their offerings. For instance in Barnes and Noble, "30% off Best-Sellers" is still a rip-off. "Former Best Sellers," I have found, is a good place to start but not quite as good as "Publisher Surplus." The deceptively innocuous table titled "Beach Reading" is anything but and I am always fearful for the future of books on the "Last Chance" cart.

Today my perusal of the "Last Chance" cart was blocked by a three high school kids with bibles. Starbucks is literally taking over the store. I dodged an employee at the ominous Nook display to find, in the "Bargain Priced" section, that Barnes and Noble had "rediscovered" Roland Barthes, tacked on an intro by Susan Sontag, and was having trouble getting rid of the copies at $5.98!

I spent some more time looking around and when I got to the front my total came to $16.35. In my pocket was what was left of my twenty after coffee and parking: one ten, one five, one single, one quarter and one dime.

Part 4: Moving Out

I arrived in Ithaca last Monday and for the most part, cannot distinguish the days between now and then. The lack of a schedule coupled with the construction crew kicking me out of my apartment each morning, meant that I spent my time listlessly checking of to-do items and wandering around to my favorite Ithaca haunts. I even fell into an odd rhythm and as I was in constant search of free wi-fi, I saw my friend Trevor every morning at Starbucks and my friend Nate every afternoon at Collegetown bagels.

Yet, as much as my days blended together there are some especially fond and distinct memories I have of the time:

• wandering all over campus in search of the relocated Cornell Dairy Bar and then napping under a tree on top of the bookstore (the Cornell bookstore is under a grassy hill) after my ice cream
• going with Steve to get pizza-subs from the Shortstop Deli, asking the movie theatre employees to let us in with them, then eating pizza-subs and watching Inception
• sitting in the late afternoon, on the Collegetown Bagels patio at the entrance to Cornell, alternating people-watching and reading
• evicted by the heat, one night I wandered down to the commons where I sat in an air-conditioned sports bar, eating french fries, drinking a beer and reading Anna Karenina
• cashing in TWO full coffee cards
• using Steve's car to run to Five-Guys after having hauled numerous boxes to the Post Office

Overall, the experience was relaxing and rewarding. Being in Ithaca gave me even greater strength in my conviction that I had made the right choice. Furthermore it was perfect summer weather and knowing that my time in Ithaca was coming to a close, the experiences were all that much better.

The last night Steve and I headed up to Trevor's house to hang out at the lakeside (see above). The weather was perfect and we sat talking, eating, and drinking until night came. Trevor and Steve both brought their guitars and I had the grandest time name country songs for Trevor to play. I can safely say that it was the perfect end to an era.

Part 3: Travails

I am already in Ithaca but would like to share briefly the story of how I got here:

To begin with a word of warning: never buy a round-trip plane ticket if there is the possibility of change in your itinerary. I had made travel arrangements to Pittsburgh for a good friend's (Yay Craig) wedding and my efforts to alter the second leg of my trip have been vexing to say the least. When you have to add $150 to the difference in fare prices (exorbitant this close to the travel date), the result is almost always more expensive then another ticket.

Anyways,

about a week ago I made it to Ohio where I spent the days leading up to Craig's wedding reveling in the presence of good friends. We laughed, joked, played sports without incident and, in general, celebrated both our years of friendship and the man that we had come to give away (I'll make up a Facebook album as soon as I get back to California and my camera cord). The wedding took place on Sunday, everything went splendidly, and when a few of us gathered in a bar on Sunday night I couldn't help giving thanks these amazing fellows.

Monday morning was a rude awakening, not because of the extra ordinary events the night before, but because Ryan, Tanner, Evan and I had to wake up at 4:30am and drive to the airport. We had finished our last beers and polished off the french fries only a few hours earlier.

After saying goodbye to Ryan and sharing a last meal (McDonalds) with Evan and Tanner I began my trek to Ithaca. My first flight deposited me in Philidelphia and by the time I stepped into the terminal, I was a wreck. I was dehydrated, hung over from beer and fast food, and dirty. Moreover, I had reached a point in The Decision that was no longer shielded by other events. So not only was my shirt wrinkled, hair greasy, eyes foggy and face muscles sagging from too much smiling, I didn't know what I was doing with my life, and all of this combined, did not feel good.

I needed a plan and the first and easiest thing to take care: my thirst. I needed some water and I immediately set out to find some when, I had an idea. I needed some expensive water. I needed some water intelligent enough to build wells for children in Africa or at least intelligent enough to put Jennifer Aniston on their label. I needed some water from France or Fiji and the further away the better.

You see, I was moving out of my apartment and out of a stable career track. I no longer had an address or prestigious insitution/occupation to affiliate myself with. I was not even sure I had enough money to get back to California. But no one in the airport knew that. If they saw me, albeit a little scruffy, with a four-dollar water, well they might just assume that I have got things together. And you know what? Their confidence, it would help.

After some searching I found a smootie/breakfast bar that sold glass bottles of Perrier. The guy in front of me ordered a plain bagel but they only carry everything bagels. All or nothing I guess.

I purchased my mineral water and tasted better.

Part 2: Reasonings

"I am not going back to Cornell this fall!"

I have already told this story a dozen times but, with some risk of redundancy, this is how it happened:

Kari and I were sitting on the couch, on our computers and avoiding moving out from under the ceiling fan. I was researching architecture firms in the greater Los Angeles area when, in a surge, all of the doubts and anxiety that I had experienced, with respect to my current pursuits, came back to me. The next two days I spent praying for wisdom, making lists, and in general, quietly freaking out. At the end of all that, I was ready to say it out loud, to vocalize and give life to the conclusion I came to. And let me tell you something, it felt good.

I decided that I was no longer certain architecture possessed what I needed for a satisfying career. That uncertainty gave life to the the certainty that returning to Cornell would be irresponsible and that certainty, gave my life back to me.

This might all come as a shock to you but this is great news and here are some reasons why you should be happy for me:

1. I am really happy. This is the first time in a year that I have not been stressed about the possibility that just maybe, I was not meant to be an architect.
   
2. This was a long time coming. For various reasons when I wrote about my experiences in Ithaca, I suppressed my fears and anxieties about continuing to pursue an M.Arch. However, those fears were ever present and sucking the life out of me.
   
3. I am leaving Cornell not because I failed (I actually did quite well academically) but because, dissatisfied with my education there, I wish to pursue something that will be both more gratifying and more challenging.
4. Kari and I will no longer be a continent apart
5. I am certain I could have succeeded as an architect, but that being said, the field in general does not hold the greatest prospects. Graduating with a M.Arch one has about the same debt as a law student and will work similar amounts (roughly 60hrs/wk) all while earning less than half the salary of a recent law grad.

If you are a little hurt that you are just now finding out about this, don't be. This decision is a little over two weeks old. I am in Ithaca now to settle my accounts and clear out my apartment.

Part 1: New Roads

A week ago I traveled down a stretch highway I had never previously encountered. The Interstate 10 begins in Los Angeles, ends in Florida, and until last week I had never been past the exit for Big Bear.

I was pushed East by my desire to find an affordable pair of slim cut pants. I wanted a large mall that would afford an abundance of options, and a preliminary search of sites in the area revealed a generously proportioned outlet center about thirty miles East. There were enough retailers that I could spend an entire morning leisurely proceeding from one to the next. In each store I could find the slimmest fit, tan slacks (32 32), try them on, apologize to the salesperson that it "Didn't work out," and move on to the next.

The next morning plans set, I woke up early, had some cereal and set off.

Traveling East on the 10 one experiences a certain averaging of the landscape. The desert and the mountains reach a truce and the mean landscape is defined by arid, rolling hills. Then, the further East one presses, the flatter the landscape becomes. I watched San Bernadino perform the world's greatest illusion (making mountains disappear) and thought this shopping sojourn, specifically the feel of my tread on unfamiliar pavement, would make an apt analogy for my life at this moment. However, I am at a point in my life where I am certain about very little and that includes the usefulness of metaphors. Thus I was forced to put the idea aside.

The end of this story is that I found the prefect pair of pants.

The point is that I am not going back to Cornell this fall.


P.S. The pants are from J.Crew. I have never shopped there before and upon discovering the perfect pair of pants, discovered a new favorite store. Who knew?

P.P.S. I know that if you had questions after that story they probably were not about the kind of pants I settled on. Don't worry, answers to those questions, equally valid and important, will come in the next few blog posts.

Mmm.... Coffee Ice Cubes

Things I could not have done if I was working.

Jk.
That is a lie.

Here are some photographs.

~

salk institute (sd).
gazebo remodel.

kellie graduates.

valhalla high.

three and a half years.

old spaghetti.
(byo dressing)

rented space.

rented neighborhood.
(me - park - kari)

Goals

This summer my main goal was to move to Loma Linda and spend time with Kari. Given the expense of this goal and the fact that 8:00AM to 5:00PM, Monday through Friday, Kari would be occupied, I set about goal number two: getting work. So far, I have been very successful in regards to the first and less so in regards to the second. There are a number of stories here but rather than focus on the negative, I am choosing to focus on the other goals I have set for myself as well as new goals I might set.

~

So, just to recap, the breakdown of my summer goals looked something like this:

1. Live in Loma Linda to be with Kari (done)
2. Get a job (not-done)

But because of my failure on account of goal two (Parental Disclaimer: I am still looking for temporary work), I came up with a second list:

1. Live in Loma Linda to be with Kari
2. Get a job
3. In the event that society deems you worthless (failure of goal 2), still have something to walk away with at the end of summer

What I did not significantly account for was that such rejection by society meant a lot of free time, which means a lot of free thinking, which means that goal number three quickly got out of hand with sub-categories, addendums and even amendments. Perhaps I got a little ambitious with the life goals but there were so many things I wanted to try, perfect, learn, or read that it was easy to get carried away.

For instance, one of my goals was to eat well. Under this goal I had to balance the sub-goals of responsibility, frugality, and satisfaction. I also added In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan to my reading goals and contemplated how I might pursue these eating goals in Ithaca.

Later, I had to amend this goal to eat well with an exception for my try-new-things goal, which I pursued at Chick fil-A on Tuesday.

Today I had to amend this goal again. This time it was an exclusion for free food. On Tuesday I found out that it is customer appreciation week at Chick fil-A and today, between 4:00pm and 7:00pm they were giving out free chicken nuggets.

After all, I don't have a job.

As Summer Goes

I feel compelled to offer an explanation for my recent negligence. After all, it has been two whole months since my last post. Even during the craziness of last semester I managed a post a week. What then can account for such infertility? What might illuminate the source of such fruitless ness? What...

am I doing explaining myself? This is my blog! Get off my back! This is my blog you, you fiend, you fictional, completely imaginary audience of mine!

No I am not yelling at you reader, I am venting at my Reader. If you cannot tell the difference, one is capitalized. The two are completely different, like art and Art, architecture and Architecture, apple and Apple. So no I am not venting at you, the actual person reading this but rather the idea of an Audience who, for some reason or another, I feel compelled to justify myself to.

And yes, I am so insecure as to fear the judgment of a nonentity.

GTBKI: Spring Part II

Dear Architecture,

Why must you demand so much of me?


I am willing to set aside other interests (reading, running, etc) for the time but is it necessary that I sacrifice habits such as sleeping?


Or eating?


Still, you are lucky.


I can't stay mad at you!

Love Always,
J

Things You Missed Last Week

This is the view from the Men's room in Rand Hall. The structural steel for the new architecture building arrived two weeks ago and every day a new truss is set in place using one of the biggest cranes I have ever seen. The first morning they started putting the steel in we were taking a structures exam and we came back to studio to see this. Adam said it was ironic that in the time it took him to fail a structures exam they had built a building.


Each section of the Truss weighs in excess of 200,000 lbs and to put them in place they need one giant crane, one guy with a rope, another guy to straddle the neighboring truss and pull it into place, and finally one guy to stand and point.


Last Friday also happened to be Slope Day. We couldn't partake in the tradition with our plots (presentation posters) due the next day but we had to walk through on our way to lunch. Nine out of ten students we passed were already trashed (it was only 1pm).

GTBKI: Spring

Dear Ithaca,

Although we have had our difficulties in the past, I would like to thank you for coming through on your promise to once again have bearable weather.

I have been anticipating this day for a while now and finally, last Monday (the day you decided to let it snow) I saw the light at the end of this cold and desolate tunnel called winter. Friday and Saturday were forecasted to have lows in the mid 60's and highs in 80's - I went home an unpacked my shorts and rainbows right away.
Yesterday, after a particularly grueling studio session, a few of us headed over to the Barn for dollar beers, bocce ball, and a two-dollar wrist band for unlimited pizza. We sat outside in the gardens behind the A.D.White house, light filtering in through blossoming trees, and I couldn't be more grateful to you.

Today I left my apartment early, to get into studio of course (the real reason being that I was out of milk and nothing can get me out of my apartment faster than the realization that there would be no breakfast if I stayed). I had on sandals and shorts at 8:30 in the morning... and it felt heavenly. Not only that, Cornell was still asleep from that party you hosted last night. Yes it was awfully crazy and I wish we taped it. Cornell totally danced his face off before passing out. I wish you would not have refilled his cup so many times but, nevertheless, I am thankful for the quiet morning and warm touch of spring on my sandaled feet.


So thank you Ithaca, for the peace of this morning and promise of another summer.

It Is Free Latte Day!

This day has been a long time in the making, nine coffees to be exact, nine coffees from the same place.

Then there is the waiting. After I max out on stamps, stickers, hole punches or whatever the coffee card requires, I like to sit on it for a bit. I stop frequenting that particular coffee establishment and wait for the right time to cash in. You see, after buying nine, sometimes ten, regular coffees the entire world of espresso opens up. A free coffee, doesn't just mean a small, drip coffee. A free coffee means any size, type, flavor of coffee you could dream of. A free coffee, also means, a good day.

So you can see why I wait to cash these babies in and today was one of those days.

There was not anything wrong with my morning that made me need a free latte. It was just the moment I walked out my front door I decided. Today was a free latte day.

So instead of walking across the street to the bus stop, I turned right and headed down the hill. The whole time my wallet was burning in my back pocket. At the bottom of the hill, was Collegetown bagels and FREE, large vanilla latte.

At the counter I always act surprised. "Oh wow, I think today is my free coffee day."

The thing is, I think I am fairly transparent. The cashier is always genuinely happy for me and I think it is because they can sense my excitement.

Kari Visits Ithaca (Part Deux)

Finally, a story to tell. It has everything you could ever want in a story. A beginning, a middle, an end... a princess... a knight!

Of course, it is missing a major conflict and resolution so ok, ALMOST everything you would want in a story.

~

The story begins on Saturday morning. I borrowed a car from my friend Steve and drove to the airport to pick up Kari. I arrived just in time to walk through the automatic doors and look across the terminal (it is a very small airport) to see her walking past security. It took her a few seconds to spot me but after that, it was magical. Music was playing, bells were tolling, confetti was flying, fireworks were exploding... it was magical alright.

Kari had taken a red eye flight out of LA and, after a layover in Jersey, finally made it to Ithaca, New York.

Our first priority was food. We went to the Ithaca Farmer's market but what seemed like warm weather to me, was actually quite cold and we moved on to Ithaca Bakery. Astonished to find a meager breakfast menu there we moved on to Friendly's (friendly Denny's) and had an incredible breakfast of pancakes, french toast, and a pot of coffee.

Later that evening, after a lazy afternoon catching up on sleep and TV shows (Get some Glee!) we headed to Moosewood Restaurant to meet some of my friends for dinner. It was great to introduce her to everyone and, after we finally were seated, we had an awesome time with everyone.

Sunday, after she had sufficient time to recuperate from her journey, I took Kari to Cornell for a tour of my studio and daily rituals. The weather had turned gray for the weekend (It is Always Sunny in Philadelphia... It is Never Sunny in Ithaca).
After trooping around campus we picked up some movies in Collegetown and went to lunch at the Collegetown Bagels, downtown. This is me and though my face is expressionless, that bagel, is awesome.
After lunch we walked over to Ithaca Coffee Company to get some work done. It was nice to integrate Kari into an activity I do fairly often: going to coffee shops and architecting.

We were fairly successful and to congratulate ourselves for such discipline we decided to go back to my apartment and watch an afternoon movie. Kari was cold and I don't remember how she manager to get wrapped into such a ball but she makes the most adorable bean bag I have ever seen.
That night we went to Sushi O Sake Japanese food for dinner. What we had intended as a light meal ended up a little extravagant.

After dinner we went to Madeline's for dessert. Kari had a swirl cake that was delectable and I had a raspberry creme brulle that was divine. Overall it was a good night for our palettes.
Monday morning came only too quickly. A mere 48 hours after she arrived in Ithaca I was taking her back to airport. We sat at the airport cafe drinking flavored cappuccinos, the kind that a machine makes by mixing a mystery powder and hot water, and tried restricting our conversation to happy thoughts, the kind that make you fly in Neverland.

It was a fantastic weekend, a sweet treat in our overly busy lives.

Cell Phone Journaling

Most days I am struggling to find the narrative in my life. It is no surprise that when I manage a blog post, it is independent snapshots that hardly fit into one continuous story. Still, here are some pictures off of my cell phone camera. It is a discontinuous, but wonderful way to look at the past few weeks.

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This is a picture of the Lackawanna County Commissioners office that I snapped on the bus ride from NYC after Spring Break. Lackawanna County, is itself unremarkable. I only took this picture because I wanted to document the fact that I was making a pilgrimage to SCRANTON PENNSYLVANIA! One of the department stores had a Dunder Mifflin sign in the window and that just made me happy.

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The weekend after Spring Break was Easter Weekend. A few of us decided to find a sunrise service and the only one was in a town about 10 miles outside of Ithaca. Four of us showed up at 6:30 for a service that consisted of a middle school boy leading worship, a youth pastor who forgot his sermon notes, and a congregation of about fifteen people. After the 20 minute service we went inside for breakfast where we were quickly introduced to everyone who was ever connected to Cornell - "This is Brian, he worked on Cornell's air conditioning twenty years ago." I have not felt so welcomed at a church in my entire life. We sat at a table with the pastor and had a great time rejoicing in the occasion.

A couple of hours later I attended another service downtown and afterward we headed to my friend Trevor's lake house where I snapped this pic. It is actually his boss's house and Trevor lives in the guest quarters but still, his boss lives in India and we had full run of the property. So after a morning of celebrating the traditional way, we celebrated Christ's resurrection down at the lake shore with cold beer and red meat.

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Last week the graduate students were offered a tour of the construction site in our backyard (Milstein Hall - the new architecture building). We got to wear those awesome red hard hats and look at concrete with our dean and structures professor. It was actually pretty cool to see the structural elements that we have been learning about this semester and to have our professor there to make those connections made it especially worthwhile.

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These past three weeks have been one big project after the next. When it came time to write my 20 page history paper I decided I needed a change of scenery and headed up to Mann Library in the agriculture quad. In a last ditch effort to do anything but my paper I found this stool under my desk and decided to take a picture. "Please do not discriminate against midget colleagues."

Sunshine

I apologize in advance for this blog post. For the first time this year it is above seventy degrees and sunny outside. My body is so excited my brain wants to be everywhere, doing everything at once. Of course this only means that I am giving half of these tasks a quarter of the required time with only an eighth of my concentration... So it goes.

Ithaca is Fences:
You may have heard about the recent string of suicides at Cornell and one of the preventative measures Cornell has taken, discovered by the students upon their return to campus, was to install temporary 10ft chain link fences on all of the bridges around campus.

100%:
On a lighter note, I just found out I aced my structures midterm and since no one at Cornell knows about my blog, I feel free to share it here.

East Coast Prep:
Cornellians cling to the Ivy League because it puts them in league with kids from Harvard (like Greece, the EU, and Germany). However, with the recent resurgence of the sun there is definitely something Ivy League about Cornell: the prep. A third of the guys on campus are rocking the long-sleeve button down, shorts, and boat-shoes combo. I am poking fun but at the same time, sort of tempted :)

Ducky:
I went on a run yesterday for the first time this year. I went down the hill from my house to downtown Ithaca and followed a stream that leads from the Cascadilla gorge (between my house and Cornell) to Cayuga lake. As I was running I noticed a single duck paddling downstream with the current. He was hardly using energy and looked at me with curiosity as he sped by on the smooth but quick channel.

Eat Dessert First:
Yesterday was equally beautiful outside and as studio was wrapping up a few of us were deciding on what to do to take advantage of the weather. The answer was obvious: Ice Cream. We headed into Ithaca to Purity Ice Cream and it was AWESOME. When we finished our treats we decided to go over to Five Guys (East Coast In-N-Out) for dinner. We sat outside and were truly in awe of life. The best part of the whole experience is that as we were leaving we saw a dad with his two sons that we had just seen at Purity. We realized we were emulating the ideal diet of a 9yr old boy.

Day of the Dragon

Graduate students:

Start of the parade:

Parade through campus:
The Dragon:
Dragon attacking the Arts Quad: