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.