water

i want to cry but won't. everything is still great in the scheme of things. i will let the sky sniffle a little for me instead.

happy camper

i am a happy camper...literally. camping out in julia's former and lane's future room in the upstairs apartment i'm so fond of anyway. it is like escaping from the transformedness of #2 back to the good old days of #3. what a beautiful realization. the crickets (and an annoyingly yippy dog) chirp outside, but i am away from the hectic life of undergraduates... doug and i are making a 'pilgrimage' (for me) to the harkness state park, on which their mansion sits, after i pick up my visa from new york in the opposite direction. i'll be nearly dead on my feet from traveling by the time i throw my belgian party on friday night, but it'll be worth it.

i'm so happy to see familiar faces... caitlin across the hall, guildfolk everywhere, will on his way to one of his many computer jobs, even chris from TD working as the midwest admissions officer (!). the meeting with highsmith tainted this last week a bit, but i'll get over it. now that everyone's back in town, i can concentrate on my own projects and take a break from administrative work...

YUCMI desperately needs someone like me for PR and to keep the museum open and draw visitors (and potential donors), but susan thinks it's unlikely with my educational/career path, which i suppose might be true.

this was not the entry i intended it to be. i guess i was more carefree yesterday, but too tired/busy to write.

must go downstairs and pack some more.

progress

with the walls plain, this room looks 105% more uninhabited. But that may only be an illusion; there are pockets of matter that I simply have not touched yet, and they may be the worst yet.

the answer.

All has come full circle! Andy's "Answer" brand pregancy test from last year's initiation showed up in the debris swept into a pile by the kitchen after they moved the fridge (and perhaps unwisely unplugged it). I bet that must have caused an uproar. Was it lurking behind the fridge the whole time? This year's 65 #2 inhabitants have done miracles on ye olde apartment--too bad I'm just on the way out.

The mouse was out and about tonight. It was depressing to be moving out while everyone else was moving in, but then I realized that this meant that I too was moving in somewhere (eventually). I am nearly done packing my somewhat-brainless-packing items.

Pleasure Beach

I have the next 21 hours to move out of my apartment, so this will be a brief survey of information sans photos:

The Stewart B. McKinney National Wildlife Refuge has 6 units, include Falkner Island (in which I have previously taken interest) and the Great Meadows Unit, to which our expedition expeditiously took us. There used to be bigger and better plans for it, but those clearly were given up since their expected date of completion passed in 2003: "A self guided [2,000-foot-long (wheelchair-accessible)] trail at Great Meadows Unit is expected to be completed by the fall of 2003. This trail will be fully accessible and even include voice recordings to increase the trails enjoyment by the visually disabled. [From this new trail, visitors may see northern harriers, red breasted mergansers, black ducks, pied billed grebe, great blue herons, and numerous other bird species.]"

We saw all sorts of wildlife, including the inhabitants, but we didn't notice these birds.

Finally, Will's imagination about the dudes with guns wasn't far off the mark at all. Sub-headline from January 7, 2005 article in the New Haven Register: STRATFORD — Hunting enthusiasts told refuge specialists for the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service Thursday in Town Hall that they strongly support a plan to open up waterfowl hunting at the 500-acre Great Meadows Marsh that is part of the Stewart B. McKinney National Wildlife Refuge. [full text]

Interested in becoming a Salt Marsh Research Technician at this site? Their standards aren't too high: "Experience in salt marsh bird observation is welcomed but not necessary." But you should have applied by April 1, 2005.

It's quite apparent from the Google satellite map that we walked a very long way along the Long Beach isthmus. Republic "Doc" Gunther is a major advocate of building a Pleasure Beach Causeway to revive the days when Pleasure Beach was "the very best beach to go, probably in New England." (hmm...) The wording of the article suggests that we were not trespassing, but simply in an area of "severely limited pedestrian access."

Here is a diagram of the WICC transmitter area (perhaps the strange structure we saw was the Pleasure Beach Ballroom, also mysteriously destroyed by arson??? What's up with Pleasure Beach and final destructive fires?) The remains of the cottages could be interesting to find. Note that the photo is of the bridge leading to Pleasure Beach before it burned in 1996.

Adjunct trip when ACCESS returns to Pleasure Beach: Sikorsky Aircraft's abandoned factory and landing field nearby in Bridgeport on South Avenue, which is mentioned in the above article.

On Election Day, voters will vote on whether to allocate $13.5 million to the development of this causeway, according to a CT Post article. So apparently there is a huge controversy raging right now about the fate of the beach, and we came just in time to see it. The Soundkeeper is seeking to block construction of the causeway for environment concerns, and they et al will probably succeed, according to an August 11 article in the Stratford Star, "Welcome to the Long Beach cottages of Pleasure Beach."

Most importantly, the mystery of the inhabitants: they use these houses as summer homes and are fighting the city to keep them from being redeveloped into expensive waterfront properties. There are 45 families, some of which have known each other since the 40s. You would think from this article that they were a bit more friendly.

Finally, if anyone wants to acquire a copy of Andrew Pehanick's Bridgeport, there is an entire chapter devoted to the Pleasure Beach Amusement Park (probably with old postcard photos). You can always just ask SML to buy it--they've always bought my requests, but they can be slow.

Useless data.

recycled carillon bronze

While looking for info on the Bloomington carillons, I discovered the following slightly twisted fact:

"Members of The Presidents Circle are recognized in a number of ways. A distinguished medallion, engraved with the name of the donor, is presented at the annual luncheon for new members. The medallion is struck using metal from the original carillon bells that once rang in the IUB Student Building."

Finally parting with all the library books in my room before they drive me insane. Must keep going.

more bike glory

“Wherever in the world the right to use non-automotive transportation is seriously infringed upon, we will apply international pressure to call attention to and stop the injustice.”

--Randall Ghent, co-director of the World Carfree Network’s International Coordination Centre

WCN is at once the most ludicrous organization I have ever encountered and one of the most in tune with my ideals and mischief-making that I could ever have imagined.

seen in elmcitycycling

"In Victoria, Canada, methamphetamine addicts were stealing large numbers of bicycles because disassembling the bikes soothes them while they tweak."
--Harper's Magazine review

Free Ride Mountain Bike Guide

By the way, my photography website is finally in a somewhat satisfactory state, although working on it somehow consistently had the effect of putting me to sleep: the urban cathedral [grandeur and decay]. will move to the server space i just bought on brinkster (now i'm really out in the 'real world') once i figure out how to do simple things like change permissions (grrr...)

Biked up Orange Street yesterday on a whim and had lunch at Nica's for the first time. Marjolane's was still outrageously closed, but the gelato place next door was open. I wandered with some gelato into Solo Statement and met the admirable and extroverted owner, Heather Solomon. Not the shy type--anyone who can draw me out of my shell like that is someone I should emulate (although how I can do that from within my shell is TBA). Play named her one of the 10 funkiest people in New Haven. I don't know what they meant by funky, but she's great by any standards. Speaking of fashion, I've suddenly developed a taste for the fall line at Lordz, an incredibly expensive boutique that has never appealed to me. Jacket and dresses to die for, all for just a couple weeks' salary or a carillon concert or two!

The Menu started a fun conversation with Andrew, who is a fellow food adventurer. We keep ending up at the same random places at similar times (i.e. Nica's and Weston). Having seen my beloved senior year roommates all take off, my summer roommates are all moving out too, and new faces are wandering the campus... and I'm still here! Not for long, though. Hopefully I can stay in New Haven up until my last day and finish the work that I should be doing...right...now...

Seen on the website of the Catholic University of Leuven: "Our Faculty is practically as old as the University itself."

freecyclenewhaven

Seen today on freecyclenewhaven:
"Offer: 238 diapers - for someone who really needs it! (New Haven)"

Seen Aug. 4:
"NEW Motherhood Maternity bra size 46 C"

I dread becoming a mother.

pho!

for all these years, i have inexplicably avoided trying to cook pho. today i woke up from an inexplicably necessary nap and realized that i pretty much had the necessary ingredients for it--and discovered that i could jury-rig a scrumptious steaming bowl of hot, succulent noodles with ease and that i would be doing this for a long time to come. if only i had been enlightened earlier.

it was just another brush with death

Tonight I discovered that the stove was leaking natural gas because one of my roommates had turned on the burner with a broken pilot light. It was terrifying to realize that, had somebody so much as turned on another burner or lighted a candle, there could have been a serious explosion and fire in the 65. We all came this close to injury or even death. It may be silly to think in terms of 'fate,' but I can't resist linking this to a revelation on the Metro-North this evening. More about that shortly.

The leak disturbed me deeply because it reminded me of the parents and daughter who were found dead in a motel room a few blocks from my condo in Daly City from a natural gas (carbon monoxide) leak. I have rarely ever passed that motel, even when I would drive by several times per day, without involuntarily envisioning myself discovering them slumped across their beds in the morning. Imagine mourning an entire family as grandparents.

Another consequence of the leak was that I felt like a mom in the apartment in relation to my roommates for good. It's difficult to believe that one year (off campus) could make such a difference.

I know that my last post sounded ludicrous. The sad part is that, ludicrous as it sounds, even to me, every word of it is true in a non-ludicrous way that probably will only ever make sense to me. On the train ride back from New York, I was haunted by similarly morose thoughts. However, I also had a revelation that must have transformed my demeanor so completely without my realizing it that the beer-guzzling businessman across from me stared.

I have been ignoring a beautiful and enviable life, wasting away a youth that will never come again, to grieve perpetually for a love that might not even be reviveable. It's been a long time since I felt urgently that every passing second was another precious moment of my life gone. Admittedly, this "revelation" is nothing new...it's something I've known intellectually since September. But I don't remember feeling it to my very core until now.

Even that realization can't chase away my fears, however... fear that because of Justin, I could meet Mr. Right and never be able to accept him, for example. I am also ashamed and embarrassed that someone as privileged and fortunate as myself could be so tragically depressed about one human being, about a certain 3 weeks that happened over a year ago. Sometimes I wonder if I'm deranged, and while another part of me tells me that I have perfectly sane reasons for feeling the way I do, yet another part reminds me that the insane are always convinced that they're sane.

Yesterday evening brought a wonderful surprise. I walked into my apartment building and stopped and gawked--at TC and Casey milling about on the stairs. Later Sophia joined us at Rudy's for frites and beer. This morning, I saw them off on their cross-country journey to Burning Man through Portland. Why must I keep seeing people off when I actually want to go with them?

How is this blog so addictive? The desire to record one's thoughts is remarkably self-reinforcing... although why I feel compelled to do so in public when there are plenty of people I'd rather not have reading this is puzzling. It's something akin to hiding oneself from others despite the desire to have one's true self known. I'm waxing too philosophical--time to get me to bed for the big concert tomorrow.

the meaning of yesterday

Perhaps it was opening my recital at The Riverside Church with Hoagy Carmichael's 'Star Dust' that led me to make a mental note to look up Justin's birthday as I reveled in watching the bleak shells of civilization pass by in rain to the strains of Radiohead on the Metro-North. I had in fact forgotten what 'Star Dust' meant to me until I wrote the preceding sentence.


His birthday was today--August 14. August 14--the day he left the United States without a parting word for me, 365 days ago. August 14--the day I threw myself against the walls of my apartment screaming NO through tears of one who has forever lost her reason for living. And somehow I played 'Star Dust' today and subconsciously remembered his birthday when I couldn't even remember those of my parents.

I wanted to call him, so I checked my GCNA concert schedule to see where he was.

Two hours after my concert on the Laura Spelman Rockefeller Memorial Carillon in New York City, he performed a concert at the only other Laura Spelman Rockefeller Memorial Carillon in the world--at the University of Chicago.

The day of his birthday and the day he broke my heart became the day we were united by remarkable coincidences across opposite ends of the country. How could anything be mere coincidence when it involves Justin and me? Is some higher power, some carillon diety, reassuring me after 365 days of grief and despair, that fate intends us to ultimately come together?

I am afraid to believe it, because I am afraid to hope for anything from Justin. I believe my fear is wise, because my hopes for us have nearly killed me before. But to avoid the risk, should I then throw away what may be perhaps the greatest gift of hope heaven has given me this year?