oceantheorem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oceantheorem) wrote2007-01-05 09:39 am
oceantheorem) wrote2007-01-05 09:39 am
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Part II
San Francisco was amazing. I stayed with a friend for two nights, and during the day we went climbing (California climbing is a lot easier than Connecticut climbing, and I am convinced that this is because California routes flow and Connecticut routes are set by manic gorillas), we painted his new room, we went to a pastry shop and then ate our ScharffenBerger-filled chocolate croissant yumminess in a park a few blocks away, we went to a dinner party at his friend's house where I had a lengthy conversation about psychotherapy with a psychotherapist, and in general we just had a really good time. The whole trip was fantastic. The first evening, on our way to begin painting, I looked up from the streets at the buildings and realized that San Francisco is an old city. I know that's a "duh" statement, but for some reason it had never registered with me before. I realized that many of the things I don't like about New Haven--tiny streets, overcrowded, dilapidated buildings--are because the town is old, and it suddenly occurred to me that these things would not be different if I transferred to UCSF. It also occurred to me that some of the things I love about San Francisco--tiny charming streets, beautiful ancient buildings, good architecture, a high concentration of weird people--are because the city is old. I resolved to give New Haven another chance.
After a couple days in SF, I took CalTrain to San Jose and then the Hwy 17 bus through the mountains to Santa Cruz. I've never ever ever been so happy to get on a bus in my entire life. It felt crazy, to get so excited about the "Santa Cruz 26" sign, but the idea of being 26 miles away from home instead of 3000 miles away from home wouldn't get out of my head, and I felt as though the world was tilting back together. Indeed, throughout my entire trip in California, I felt as though something had clicked back together and I had become almost whole again. I had a continuous sense of "It's all going to be okay," and I hope and pray that I can hang on to that feeling now that I'm back in Connecticut.
Anyway. I got to Santa Cruz and immediately set out for the beach. I sat there and watched the waves and the people and drank in the smell of salt water. I ran my fingers and my toes through the sand and thought of all the amazing things that have happened to me on that beach. It's a long list. Eventually I filled my water bottle with seawater and a small bag with sand, and headed back toward the downtown area. It was a strange way to obtain closure, but it was like I'd finally said goodbye to that beach and to those memories.
Eventually I stayed the night at a friend's house, and the next day I had to go pick up Ann at the San Jose airport. I had her car, so before I left Santa Cruz I drove up to the campus for one last visit (who knows when I'll be back there?). I didn't get out of the car, I just drove around the main loop as slowly as the cars behind me would allow. I saw at least ten deer in the half hour I was up there. And as I drove... I don't know, it was strange. It was like driving back through time, starting with junior year of high school and the first time I saw the bookstore and fell in love with campus. And then I drove past Crown and memories of freshman year came flooding back, and some of sophomore year, and then I was at Colleges 9/10 and remembered the summer I TA'ed for high school kids. Then there was the science library and all the hundreds of times I fell asleep there between classes, and the old engineering building where I used to work and the sinkhole I didn't see for a year and a half despite the fact that it's ginormous, and the new building where I finished writing my thesis, and then the entire west side of campus, where I finished up my last quarter with a photography class. And then there was the view of the ocean on the drive back down, and as I looked at it and turned to leave the campus, I felt like a chapter had finally come to a close, and Santa Cruz and I had maybe at last let go of each other. I drove to San Jose and didn't cry when I left the Santa Cruz city limits.
I picked up Ann and our skiing vacation took off. We drove to my parents' house in Reno and collapsed, exhausted. The next morning we got up and headed out early to begin the skiing at Northstar. It was a bit icy and there was thin cover on many of the runs, but besides that it was fantastic. We discovered the joy that is terrain parks, and began to learn how to jump. Unfortunately, we were both exhausted, so lunch lasted twice as long as it should have, and by the end of the day we were barely still able to stand. This was doubly unfortunate because it was New Year's Eve. We drove home and probably should have taken naps, but didn't. We helped my mom assemble the traditional New Year's puzzle, and were asleep by 12:02. It was highly uneventful, but at least I finally broke tradition and managed to not cry on New Year's.
The next morning the Goons called and insisted that I attend breakfast at Denny's with them, so I dragged Ann along and we had a nice little breakfast reunion. It's amazing to look around the table at people you've known for years and years and to see, instead of your classmates, highly successful and gorgeous women who are carving out places for themselves in the world.
That afternoon and the next day, Ann and I skied practically until we couldn't move anymore. We play hard. My body is still recovering from all the bruises it suffered. Alas, why do the dangerous and painful sports always have to be so much fun?
I will, for now, leave out the story of what I accidentally did to my dog. Ask me about that one and I'll tell you.
I got on a plane early Wednesday morning and felt unready to leave, but strangely, as we flew I found myself getting more and more excited about seeing my Connecticut friends. I actually missed New Haven a teeny tiny bit, and was sort of looking forward to getting back to the east coast. I know, weird, huh? The strange thing is that my entire vacation on the west coast was fantastic--I saw so many good friends, I did so many fun things, the weather in California was amazing, the climbing and skiing was so much better than it is out here--and yet... and yet I decided that I'm going to stick it out and not transfer. I remembered the feeling I'd had last spring that dictated that I attend Yale, and I realized that I have to trust that sort of self-intuition. I felt like I needed to be here, and so I am here, and I'll make the most of it.
Anyway....
Oh yeah, I left out the part about how I put purple streaks in my hair. Ly and Bee helped, and about a week later my mom and Ann helped brighten them. I love them, I adore them, I wish I'd had them years ago. It's not just the color, it's also the way people treat me. You'd think people would be snottier to a girl with purple hair, but that's so not true. For instance, the captain on my flight from Las Vegas to Hartford joked with me as I got on the plane--"Hey, you've got something blue in your hair." I laughed and told him it was because I was cold, and the person sitting in the first row of seats laughed and told me that was a clever answer. And I kid you not, I've been hit on and checked out by a ton more guys than when my hair is brown. Maybe it's because people assume that a girl with purple hair is outgoing and friendly? I dunno. Whatever it is, it was supposed to warn the uptight reserved New Englanders that I'm not one of them. I haven't been back long enough to see if it worked.
Last night Shannon and I went wandering in search of a bar, and (because GPSCY was closed) eventually came to the decision that it's time for us to stop going to GPSCY. As Shannon stated it, you can't meet people there because the only guys there are "douchebags." This is true, with the amendment that the ones who aren't douchebags are first-years, and our target demographic is slightly older and more experienced than our classmates. Anyway, we ended up at the Irish pub type bar thing that I'd found at the beginning of last semester but hadn't been back to. I LOVE that bar, and I wish now that we'd been going there all year. But we agreed to begin going there from now on instead of GPSCY. Apparently the Drama and Art & Architecture grad students hang out there, just about every day, and it's one of those places where the bartender and one waitress know your name and your drink and ask after you if you're gone for a few days. And the waitress remembered me from the beginning of last semester, and after sitting there for an hour talking to an A&A student, it was like we were part of the Irish pub family. It was very welcoming.
The A&A student took us to the A&A building after the bar closed, and showed us around and then took us up to the roof. The view from up there was incredible. New Haven was spread out at our feet, twinkling merrily, and all the buildings were huddled up next to each other for warmth, and the cars were tiny little toys moving slowly through the adorable little toy streets. I felt like I owned the universe. Eventually we walked home and I got the guy's number and an invitation to happy hour tonight, which I desperately wish I could take him up on, but I've got two prior engagements for the evening. So perhaps I'll see him again tomorrow. I dunno if I should call him or just wait to see him at the bar--he said they're there almost every night, and while that would have been strange or creepy (or alcoholic) with any other situation, with this particular group of students and this particular bar it's a lot more like they're there because it's better than being at home alone, and somehow it wasn't pathetic or creepy.
Alas, I must off to lab now.
It's good to be... home.
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i also got this feeling of...competence or something...over break and while home. i wish i loved san francisco, though. everytime i go there, i can't wait to leave. i probably wouldn't have liked new haven either, though, so that's good to know.
this was a nice and hopeful post. now, let's kick grad school's ass.
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I'm sorry you don't like SF. I don't know exactly what it is about it that I love, but it just feels right to me. It feels like home. Most of northern California feels like that to me. I just fit there. Hopefully New Haven will grow on me....
Yeah, I'm feeling much better so far. Hopefully I can hang on to this optimistic "everything's going to be okay" feeling.
And I thought about the architect a lot today. I really hope I "run into" him again soon....
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everything *is* going to be okay.
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I really hope that whomever I fall in love with and marry can tolerate California, because I'm determined to live there someday.
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