Gainesville

I used to come here when I was little. My aunt went to school at the University of Florida and mostly stayed in the area. So when I was a kid, I would visit with my family from time to time. We would stay at her house off Main Street or in the Rush Lake Motel near campus (don’t go there). When I came here once with my dad, we had dinner at Leonardo’s 706 (which I described in my journal as having “the best darn garlic rolls in town”—I must have been insufferable as a kid).

We actually went to UF at least once. It was ostensibly to go to the butterfly garden they have there. I remember us cruising around campus slowly (the speed limit is only 20 MPH) and seeing the orange and blue street signs. I also remember hearing the question of where I wanted to go to college. Like I knew what I wanted to study, although in retrospect it should have been obvious. UF seemed like the natural choice.

People have asked me what it feels like to have graduated. I’ve told them I don’t know. Now that I’m packing up, it’s hitting me. Actually, I’m not packing up as much as throwing old stuff away and cleaning up. A moving company is going to pack my stuff, and I actually cannot help them lest I void the insurance or whatever. I still have to vacuum and stuff, though. I finally have one that works. Or, it will when I put it together.

I fell and scraped my knee a few days ago. Actually, both of them. And my hand. Haven’t done that in a while; I felt like a kid again. One of my knees kind of hurts in a way that the other one doesn’t. It’s like something’s messed up inside. I hope it gets better, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re not a kid anymore. I’m not complaining; I just find it therapeutic to talk about relatively bad things that have befallen me. I can’t do it with some people because they think I’m complaining, and then they get all defensive as if I’m attacking them somehow. Luckily, this is the Internet, so I don’t have to actually hear you.

In hours, Kate will be on her way here once again. Yes, you read that right. Kate will be here with me for the third time. She’s going to be accompanying me on a family vacation and my move to Seattle, which is probably her favorite place that she hasn’t visited yet. Even though I’m not actually packing my stuff, moving is still stressful, and I’m very happy that she’ll be by my side for this important part of my life. We’re going to have so much fun.

I won’t be saying goodbye to Gainesville for good; my parents moved to this area last year. I get two weeks of vacation my first year.

Here’s a video of my friends Yamilee and Austin discussing how they left their religious faiths for atheism. Fascinating, and not just because I know Yamilee and Austin. Check it out.

What I learned in college

I’ve taken a lot of courses in college. I majored in computer science with a minor in business administration, but I also took a few liberal arts-type classes that had nothing to do with what I was actually there to study. They were interesting, though. Each one tended to have an overall theme that was present throughout the course, and once I got a grip on that main idea, I’d have a better understanding of everything I was supposed to be learning about.

Eventually, I realized I could probably summarize the main message of each of my college courses in a single statement… or at least recall one thing from the course that stuck with me. Here’s what I’ve come up with:

• MAC2313 (Calculus III): Like Calc I, but in 3D!
• CHM2045 (Chemistry I): At first glance, atoms seem simple. But they’re actually not.
• CHM2045L (Chemistry I Lab): “‘A’ for effort” is a real thing.
• AMH3931 (America in the Fifties): The ’50s were crazier than everyone remembers.
• GEO2410 (Social Geography): People like to have lots of space, but they’re better off living all close together.
• MAP2302 (Differential Equations): e^πi = -1. I forget why, but I think it has to do with circles.
• BSC2008 (Biological Sciences: Evolution, Ecology, and Behavior): The food chain gets narrower at the top because some energy goes to waste when animals eat each other. Mind = blown.
• CIS3022 (Programming I for CIS Majors): Getters and setters!
• PHY2048 (Physics I with Calculus): If your professor hangs a bowling ball from the ceiling, stands up against a wall, holds the bowling ball up to his face, lets go of it, and remains perfectly still, he knows it won’t hit his face when it comes back, but he’ll flinch anyway.
• PHY2048L (Physics I with Calculus Lab): Not everything is a frictionless box in real life.
• IDH3931 (Sultans, Seafarers, Slaves, and Spices: The Indian Ocean in Antiquity): The people in East Africa, the Middle East, India, and Southeast Asia had their shit together way before the Europeans.
• ENC3254 (Technical Writing for Engineers): Never use a long word when a shorter one will suffice. But for some reason, you can’t say “since” instead of “because.”
• CIS3023 (Programming II for CIS Majors): Subclasses! Interfaces! Abstract classes!
• PHY2049 (Physics II with Calculus): The tesla is an impractical unit of measure.
• PHY2049L (Physics II with Calculus Lab): Having a really early class can help you avoid early-morning fire alarms in your dorm.
• EEL3701C (Digital Logic): Anything that involves soldering is not for me.
• ANT2301 (Human Sexuality): Whatever you’re into is probably okay.
• COT3100 (Discrete Structures): If Mark is a zebra, and all zebras have stripes, then Mark has stripes.
• CDA3101 (Computer Organization and Design): If you have to program in assembly, then you may as well just shoot yourself.
• ECO2023 (Principles of Microeconomics): As you get more and more of something, each one is worth less and less to you.
• MAS3114 (Computational Linear Algebra): MATLAB sucks.
• STA3032 (Engineering Statistics): People still look up numbers in tables instead of using calculators.
• COP3530 (Data Structures and Algorithms): A tree is a kind of graph!
• ACG2021C (Introduction to Financial Accounting): Debits go on one side, credits go on the other.
• CIS4301 (Information and Database Systems I): Use joins for everything.
• CEN3031 (Introduction to Software Engineering): Brooks’ law is correct.
• COT4501 (Numerical Analysis): Image compression is all math!
• FIN3403 (Business Finance): I’m not going to have a pension or Social Security, so I’d better start saving for retirement now!
• SPC2608 (Introduction to Public Speaking): I have nothing to say about this class because I never want to think about it again.
• COP4600 (Operating Systems): Kernels are complicated things.
• MAN3025 (Principles of Management): Be nice to your peons.
• CAP4621 (Artificial Intelligence): Lisp probably makes perfect sense if you have brain damage.
• CGS3065 (Legal and Social Issues in Computing): You can find a legal or moral gray area in just about anything.
• CNT4007C (Computing Networking Fundamentals): I have a new respect for the people who came up with Wi-Fi. That’s complicated stuff.
• MAR3023 (Principles of Marketing): People put a lot of thought into getting you to buy things.
• CIS4930 (Introduction to Computational Intelligence): Handwriting recognition is all math!
• CIS4930 (Natural Language Processing with Python): Python is actually pretty intuitive. It should be called the anti-Lisp.
• CIS4914 (Senior Project): Don’t procrastinate.

Thanks for reading. That’ll be $20,000.

The BBC reports on the secrets of Britain’s abandoned villages.

The college years are over

These past few months, while I haven’t been writing about my trip to Russia, I’ve been focusing on my studies. It was my last semester of college, and I had a lot of stuff on my plate, so I wanted to make sure I did a good job with everything. In my case, I needed to take a full course load this semester to satisfy all my requirements.

One of the things I had to do was complete a senior project. I chose to develop a ride-sharing website in a similar vein as CouchSurfing. I need to make sure the university doesn’t own the rights to it; otherwise I’d like to roll it out myself sometime later.

Since I work on campus, this week is my last week of work. (I think I’ll have to come in on Monday for a little bit, but probably not for long.) At this month’s meeting, on April 14, the other graduating seniors and I were honored with certificates, windbreakers, and catering from Olive Garden. Three of my favorite things right there. They’re going to miss me at work, and I’ll miss being there, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to move out to Seattle and work at Amazon.

I can’t pretend that I haven’t been thinking about the move—I’ve been obsessing over it, actually—but I’ve been trying to reflect on the past four years as well. You know, to wax poetic the way I usually do. I’ve done some fun stuff and made a lot of friends. I don’t think I would have done anything differently if I could do it all again. Maybe I would have gone out more (I played a lot of Minesweeper my freshman year). I think I’ve turned out okay, though.

Right now, I’m kind of in a weird place: My classes are over, but instead of heading home as I usually would have done by now, I’m staying in Gainesville, going to work every day, and waiting for the graduation ceremony. My sister is graduating on Saturday; I’m graduating on Sunday. (Surely she’ll brag about this for years to come, just like how she tells everyone that she’s a minute older than I am.)

I can already tell that college graduation is different from high school graduation: it’s not mandatory, no rehearsals you have to attend, no maximum number of people you can bring, no bullshit. Well, there is some bullshit: Herff-Jones is back and selling college rings. But you and we that have free souls, it touches us not.

So, on Sunday, I shall stride across a stage wearing funny clothes and pretend to receive a diploma. Call it what you want, but I call it closure.

And hey, if you can’t make it or just want to be a total creeper, you can watch my graduation online! Click that link at 5:00 PM EDT on Sunday; that’s when it’s supposed to start.

And while I have your attention, it’s time to bust the myth that fast-food burgers don’t rot because they’ve got nasty stuff in them. Actually, it looks like homemade burgers don’t rot either. (Via The Presurfer)

Painting the red town

It was late December, and I was staying with Kate at her parents’ place in a Russian town called Pudozh.

For (Western) Christmas, her parents had given me a box of chocolates, which itself was very kind of them to do. But that wasn’t all: They gave me a wooden figurine of a bird made by local artisans. The bird’s wings were outstretched as if in flight, and it had a little hole in its back so you could hang it from the ceiling. It was called the Bird of Happiness.

Having spent a few whole days inside, Kate and I went out, and I got to see the town. First, her dad took us to the cultural house and the music school, which shared a building not far from where we were. Kate’s father played the accordion and the balalaika and was well known in town because of his association with the cultural house.

A woman gave us a tour of the facility. In what turned out to be the beginning of a trend, the tour was given entirely in Russian, so Kate translated some of what was said. It was actually a fairly small place, and what I remember the most was seeing the classrooms filled with students’ artwork: paintings, figurines, and the like. Kate commented on how it had changed since she had taken lessons there.

Soon, the tour was over, and we were outside. And it was at night. In the interior of Russia. In December.

I’m playing to your preconceived notions, of course. People are uniformly incredulous when they find out I went to Russia for winter break, and I try to tell them that it wasn’t that bad, but no one will have any of it. Saint Petersburg was fine: I was outside for hours at a time. Pudozh, I’ll admit, was colder. At night, maybe unbearably so. But it was a town, so there were buildings and things where you could go inside and be perfectly warm. Sometimes, at Kate’s parents’, it even got too hot inside, and we had to open the windows. The owners of the building would just turn the radiators on or whatever and leave them on all winter, so that’s what you’d do if it got too hot.

Anyway, we were outside. Nearby was a grocery store, so we went inside to buy a few things. We passed by the vodka section, the sheer breadth of which would make many of my cohorts’ eyes glaze over with excitement. Elsewhere was an equally large selection of tea. Russians drink lots of tea, and I don’t know why more people aren’t aware of that. Maybe it’s because a lot of peoples around the world drink tea, and vodka is more of Russia’s own thing. Besides, it’s easier to make fun of the British for that because they can understand our taunts.

I got a couple of cans of Coke at the store. You can take Jordon out of America, but you can’t take America out of Jordon. Actually, it’s funny. I never have as huge of a craving for a hamburger as I do when I’m in a foreign country bereft of ham-, cheese- and all other burgers. But really, I looked at the can and was able to read that one of the first ingredients was sugar, so naturally, I wanted to check it out.

Then we were back outside. An electronic sign in a store window said it was -21 ºC, or -6 ºF. A large tree was decorated with colored lights for New Year’s Day, which was only a few days away. My camera couldn’t handle the cold, and I couldn’t blame it.

For dinner we went to a cafe that was located in the local hotel, so I guess it was mostly for whatever tourists might be there. The cafe was called White Nights, referring to the northern summer days that last so long that it actually stops getting dark for a while. I had some coffee to warm myself up. Kate and I tried each other’s food. On a wall near our table was a colorful photograph of some tropical island beach, which must have been put up by someone with a sense of humor.

The next day, we took a taxi to the city museum on Karl Marx Street. We had a tour guide take us through the museum. Again, I only was only able to receive the gist of what was being said, but I could see the artifacts. It started with the ancient history of the Pudozh area and progressed to tsarist days with traditional farm equipment and clothing. There were a couple of rooms dedicated to World War II, with military jackets, something that looked like an air raid siren, and newspaper headlines from pivotal days during the war.

In the museum’s guestbook, I wrote a brief message in English, which nobody could probably read, but I thought it would be a nice gesture. In my haste the only actual Russian I was able to write was “США” so they would know where I was from.

After the museum, Kate’s dad came to drive us and a tour guide around the city. At one of the first stops, we got out, and I saw a pack of Soyuz-Apollo brand cigarettes on the ground. I had never heard of the brand, and I was amused by the name. It probably caught my eye because “Apollo” was actually written in the Latin alphabet while everything else was Cyrillic. It must be odd seeing two different alphabets everywhere, especially on the Internet, where most URLs are (probably) still in an alphabet that’s foreign to many people. In some advertisement somewhere I saw a URL ending in “.ру”, which I quickly realized was a Russian translation of “.ru”, as in “Русский” (Russian).

We walked to the war memorial, which had the names of the local dead written out, and even a few graves. Then we went to one of the old Orthodox churches, which was being renovated for future use. At first it seemed totally abandoned inside, but then I noticed that two men were up on some scaffolding, doing some work near the ceiling. Kate, or maybe the tour guide, told them that I was an American, so one of the guys told me to say hi to Obama for him. Outside the church was a tiny cemetery covered with a thick layer of snow.

The following day was December 30. Kate had to make a routine visit to the local hospital. The building was crowded and looked like it was falling apart. It wasn’t until we were seated outside the doctor’s office that I realized that this was probably the absolute worst place I could possibly be as a warm-blooded foreign tourist who hadn’t gotten any recommended vaccinations. I became worried. I reduced my breathing to shallow breaths as if that would help at all. There really was nothing I could do. Needless to say, I ended up fine, but I wouldn’t put myself in that situation again.

Next we went to Kate’s school. Even though I was in another country where I didn’t speak the language, the heady feeling of wandering around a school during a school day transcends international boundaries.

Kate wanted to meet her English teacher, so we made our way to the English classroom. It was decorated with New Year decorations and informational posters about the UK and the English alphabet. Kate had told me that I’d be speaking to the class, but there were no students there. It was the last day of school, and they had been let out early. So just the teacher was there. It was good to talk to another English speaker.

I had brought a few photos of my American life, which I showed her. I mentioned how my family had recently moved, and she asked if it was common for American families to move. Other than that, she didn’t seem particularly interested in my pictures or me, but was fascinated by the hundreds of photos from Kates’ trips to the US. We must have been there for a couple of hours. It made sense, though. They already knew each other well and could chat in their own native tongue.

Later, we had dinner at another restaurant that was part of a hotel. In case you’re wondering, we got there (and to a lot of the other places) by taxi. It was pretty cool that we could get around so easily and cheaply; it’s not a service I would expect a small town to have, but there you go.

The next day was December 31, a big day in Russia.

It’s unfortunately been a long time since all of this happened, so this post is probably full of errors that Kate can point out. I’ll be glad to fix them as soon as I can.

The great eight

The World of Stuff is 8 years old today! Holy crap. I know some people who aren’t even 8 years old. Actually, I think I don’t.

At this juncture, I’d like to give you a quick update on yours truly. As I alluded to earlier, I’m bogged down with schoolwork, but it’ll all be over soon. The last day of classes is two weeks from today, and I actually don’t have any exams during exam week! Finally!

Mostly I’ve been working on my senior project. The phrase “senior project” has been on my mind so much, in fact, that it’s starting to become hilarious. It’s something about the letter “R,” I think. I had the same problem once when I was working with MATLAB. varargin. Say it a hundred times, and you’ll get what I mean.

When I’m done with my education and they’ve found someone to replace me at work, I’ll have some more time to write about what’s been going on (and what went on during winter break—I know I’m really far behind on that!). And as I move to Seattle and start my career, I’m sure I’ll have a whole lot to say.

One more thing: I haven’t done away with my trademark “Links at the End of the Post.” It just so happens that 7 out of my last 8 posts have been what I call “11:59 posts.” I like to shove my posts out the door by midnight. I know you’ve been missing the links, so here are a few to keep you busy:

Young People on Car Ownership: Meh. That describes me pretty well.

If the most populous countries had the greatest area, China would be the size of Russia, India would be the size of Canada, the US would be the size of itself, and so on down the list. Here’s a map that illustrates that idea. It really gives you a sense of the relative populations of different countries. (Via The Presurfer)

Stacie

Normally, I’m ebullient on Fridays. Especially during the spring. The weather is beautiful and, for a brief time, colorful flowers appear all over campus. After work, I go out to the Plaza of the Americas, where I eat a helping of Krishna Lunch and enjoy my surroundings. On Fridays, life is good.

Although I originally had some reservations about Krishna Lunch, I’ve made it a part of my daily routine. Volunteers from the local Krishna House set up shop on the Plaza of the Americas every weekday and serve a lunch that can’t be beat. It’s delicious, nutritious, fast, and cheap—the suggested price is $4, but I buy one of those punch card things to get 6 meals for $20. There’s a different special each day of the week, and it’s all-you-can-eat.

Eating Krishna Lunch every day, I’ve become familiar with the cast of characters who serve the food: the guy who takes donations and punches cards, the people who ask you if you want extra of whatever they’re dishing you, the salad man who squirts dressing onto your salad and sticks a plastic fork into your rice in no time flat, the tea guy who says “Hare Krishna” to everybody and never misses a pour.

I’ve even been on a first-name basis with one of them.

A while back, my sister and I would eat Krishna Lunch together once every week or two. One of the volunteers who specialized in serving the main course mentioned how she often saw us together, and we explained how we’re twins and all and we like to do lunch. We told each other our names. I was Jordon, my sister was Kristen. She was Stacie.

Sometimes, while scooping up vegetables or vegetarian chili to put onto my plate, she would smile, greet me by name, and ask how I was doing or what my sister was up to. When I went through my phase of getting a second plate of Krishna Lunch instead of eating breakfast (a terrible idea, by the way), she would say, “I hope you can finish all that,” with equal parts jest and concern. And when I organized my class and work schedule around Krishna Lunch, she’d remark that she could set her watch by me.

Friends Remember Student as Adventurous, Giving

Senior Stacie Lavender touched more lives during her time at UF than she may ever have realized.

Family, students and Hare Krishna members flooded Shands at UF early this week to see Lavender, who was hospitalized after suffering head injuries Saturday while learning to drive a motorcycle.

Lavender, a 21-year-old UF senior, died Tuesday.

I saw her smiling face next to this article in the Alligator this morning.

There was a lot I didn’t know about Stacie. In fact, I didn’t know anything about her besides her name. I guessed that she was older than me by a few years, but she was the same age, like me, and she was about to graduate, like I am. To some people, the article goes on to say, she was like a sister. To me, she was a smiling face, always ready to volunteer her time serving food to other students and members of the community. She always made my day a little brighter.

Today, I mentioned to the director of Krishna Lunch, a soft-spoken man of indeterminate age and nationality, that I had only just heard the news. I was hoping to get some information or insight out of him, anything. After punching my card and thanking me for being a good customer, he said, “We will miss her,” his tone not changing. Krishna Lunch continues as usual, but with one less volunteer.

No doubt their religious beliefs are helping them right now. Probably the main reason religion exists, after all, is to explain what happens to people after they die. Her friends at the Krishna House believe she’ll be reincarnated. For me, it’s a little bit harder in a way because I know that she’s actually truly gone.

The Krishna Lunch website has a tribute to Stacie and says that a memorial service will be held at the house on Sunday. It wasn’t hard for me to decide to go.

Today, the sunny skies weren’t quite as beautiful, and the Friday vegetarian chili wasn’t quite as tasty. But as I sat by the Plaza of the Americas and ate lunch as I always do, I made sure to admire the flowers. They won’t be around for much longer.

All by myself

It was December 22, and I was CouchSurfing in St. Petersburg, Russia. My host had four other CouchSurfers over, and today they were all leaving. And since my host was busy studying for exams, I could go out by myself.

It may sound weird, but it didn’t occur to me till I was on the plane that I was going to a foreign country by myself. A year and a half ago, when I set off for Europe, the idea was unthinkable: I flew there with three friends and wanted at least to stick with Andy as much as possible. But now I remember that over the course of the summer, it happened that I was spending less and less time with him and more time traveling by myself. In fact, I completed the last leg of the trip alone. So I guess I actually was mentally prepared for this.

One thing I wasn’t quite as prepared for was the sheer amount of clothes you have to wear when it’s all snowy outside. Going outside quickly becomes an ordeal. Over my regular clothes, I wore at least one extra shirt, a sweater, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and a hat, not to mention socks and boots I had gotten just for the trip.

So it took me a little while to make my way out that day, and when I finally did, I was hungry. Kate had recommended some good places to eat. I picked the one that was closest to the place where I was staying. It was a buffet-style restaurant facing Uprising Square. After barely managing to communicate with the people who worked there, I sat and ate, humiliated, hoping no one would try to talk to me. Right there I said to myself that I’d never again go to a country where I couldn’t speak the language. We’ll see how long that lasts.

I kept going down Nevsky Prospect, or however I’m choosing to transliterate it today, and the thoroughfare already seemed familiar to me after yesterday’s romp around the city. I made sure to look out for large icicles, one of the many safety and/or health hazards I had been warned about before leaving on my trip. The sidewalks, of course, were also icy. The day before, I had almost slipped a few times, and I had a hard time sleeping that night because I kept imagining myself walking, walking, walking… and slipping.

Now, to gain traction, I was twisting my legs a little more than usual as my feet touched the ground. I probably looked pretty ridiculous, but it kept me from slipping. But all that twisting made my left knee start to hurt. Quickly. In fact, it kept bothering me for weeks afterward, especially walking up stairs, and I was convinced that I was now the lifetime owner of a bum knee.

I’m fine now, but anyway, that’s not the point. I was walking down Nevsky, and since I was by myself, I was able to stop and take a look at some of St. Petersburg’s many frozen canals. From one bridge is a fantastic view of the Church of the Savior on Blood:

Finally, I got to my destination: the Winter Palace, the main residence of the State Hermitage Museum, one of the finest museums in the world, probably.

I love art museums, and since I was out by myself, nobody could stop me from spending as much time there as I wanted.

I made my way to the entrance, and at the ticket desk, I was somehow able to express my desire for a student ticket: “Один… университет”. Then, after checking my coat, I spent a few hours walking around, trying to cover as much as I could. About halfway through, I became exhausted, but I knew I knew I had to keep going since it was a rare opportunity to see some fantastic artwork.

Much of the museum was dedicated to classic art, or whatever they call the old stuff. A lot of famous artists were represented. There were a lot of works by Rubens, a sculpture by Michelangelo, and even a painting by Leonardo. On the higher floors were works by more recent artists like Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, and Matisse. I was pleasantly surprised to see Matisse’s Red Room there. And the building itself, having once been a palace, was also a work of art. Some of the rooms were enormous, and one of them even had the imperial throne.

By the time I got out, I was tired and hungry and sore and it was dark, and I faced the daunting task of walking all the way back to my host’s apartment. I did it the same way I had come: one step at a time. (It was either that or try to take public transportation, and for that I might have had to… talk to people.)

Although I was extremely worn out, I decided to visit so-called John Lennon Street, tucked away in a courtyard near Uprising Square.

It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.

Tour de Peterburg

I went to Russia during winter break. That was a few months ago. I was in Russia a few months ago.

Yeah, I can’t believe it either.

Last time I talked about the trip, I was just about to go off with a couple of fellow CouchSurfers and explore St. Petersburg for the first time. So I’ll continue from there.

The other CouchSurfers, a European couple who were treating themselves to a whirlwind tour of Russia, led the way. We got out of the subway station and appeared near the river Neva, which was frozen except for a narrow channel where ships could presumably pass through if they really wanted to. Across the river we could see the cupola of St. Isaac’s Cathedral. It was only the early afternoon, but the sun was already low enough that it cast an orange tinge over half the sky.

We went to a nearby palace that had been converted to a museum. Apparently St. Petersburg is full of former palaces that are now museums. This one had been owned by a nobleman, and it was filled with period furniture and artwork. We had to put slippers over our shoes so as not to rough up the old wooden floors. It was very quiet in the museum; there were hardly any other guests besides us three. But in almost every room there was an attendant seated quietly, never speaking. More semi-useless (and probably miserable) jobs.

After the museum, we walked around some more. It had only been an hour or so, but the sun seemed like it was hanging just as low in the sky. We walked across a bridge that spanned the Neva, and from the other bank, we could see…

…ice fishers! Is that what they’re called when they’re ice fishing? It is now!

I started to get cold. I mean, really cold. I had brought my gloves, but I wasn’t wearing them. I was borrowing them from my dad, who said they were “Florida gloves,” not really made for people who are out in extremely cold temperatures for long periods of time. They were a little small for me, and they made it harder for me to take pictures. Eventually, I decided to wear them lest my hands freeze off.

Next, we entered the Peter and Paul Fortress, the oldest structure in St. Petersburg, built on an island in the Neva. It wasn’t incredibly late (or so I thought), but still, everything inside the fortress was pretty much closed. We did have a look at this beautiful church, though:

But we didn’t go inside. I think there was a service going on.

I was seriously getting pretty cold, but I managed to stick it out. It was slowly getting darker and darker. Now we were out of the fortress, and we were getting close to a ship that my travel companions for the day had wanted to see. It looked like a pretty modern battleship, and yes, I plead almost total ignorance of St. Petersburg’s tourist attractions because I didn’t and still don’t know what it was. All I knew was that it was closed by the time we got there, so we walked on.

The other CouchSurfers I was staying with (our host had overbooked his place) were out making their own travel arrangements, and they were hoping to see a performance of The Nutcracker that evening. Since it was getting to be that evening, the three of us decided to join them, so we made our way to where the theater was supposed to be. On the way, we passed the beautiful Church of the Savior on Blood, which (to the untrained Western eye) is strikingly similar to St. Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow:

We wanted to go inside, but it, too, had just closed. Are you noticing a pattern here?

It was getting to be showtime, and we still didn’t know exactly where the theater was. Well, we found the area where all the theaters were, so it was just a matter of finding the right one. Although, I have to say, some of the wrong ones looked intriguing: one of them, judging by the poster displayed outside, was staging a production of Oliver! In Russian. Fancy that!

My companions were able to ask passersby where the theater was, which was good because if I had been out by myself, I certainly would have gotten lost forever and I’d still be there looking for that theater. In my defense, I have now learned to say “Where is the theater?” in Russian, along with many other useful phrases such as “I don’t know where I am,” “Smoking is not allowed here,” and “Doctor, I think I have the flu” (none of which, I’m glad to say, I learned out of necessity).

We eventually found the theater and met up with the other CouchSurfers inside. The theater was very ornate and very old, and I could imagine the czar going there for a performance a hundred years ago (although he probably didn’t, I don’t really know). Anyway, it was Christmastime in Russia, so what better way to experience Russian culture than to watch a performance of The Nutcracker in its original language? Actually, I quickly remembered that The Nutcracker has no words, but still: the Russians are masters and mistresses (mostly mistresses, I guess) of ballet, so leave it to them to stage one of their countrymen’s most famous and beloved works.

I had seen The Nutcracker before, when I was in fourth grade or something like that, but I didn’t really remember the details. Act I was mostly unfamiliar, although it did have the rat king and all that stuff. Act II, though, was like watching a greatest-hits compilation of ballet. Almost every musical piece was instantly and intimately familiar. I guarantee you would probably be pretty familiar with the music in Act II of The Nutcracker.

And so, the show ended on a very good—I daresay splendid—note. After that, it was late and we were all hungry, so we went down to Nevsky Prospekt, the main drag, to find a restaurant. We ended up going to this place called Planet Sushi, which turned out to also be an Italian restaurant called Il Patio. As we enjoyed our Japanese and/or Italian food (I ordered a piece of lasagna), we chatted and laughed. We were five strangers in a strange land, each from a different country (if you count California is a separate country from the rest of the US), each with our own story and our own plans, all together trying to make sense of the cold, snowy world around us.

The Californian dude and the Welsh woman were a couple. The German guy and the Polish girl were a couple. And Jordon made five.

But I wasn’t meant to be alone. I had traveled thousands of miles to this frozen land so I, too, could experience true happiness. And now it was only a few days and a bus ride away.

Choices(?)

I’ll get back to the tales of Old Russia soon enough, but I just want to continue a discussion I started last time.

For the past few days, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about where I want to live after I graduate. I’ve been thinking about it morning, noon, and night. My head is even starting to hurt.

At first, I declared that I wanted to stay here in Gainesville, but after Wendy suggested that I could get a job anywhere, it really made me think. I eventually admitted:

My life’s calendar after this May 1 is pretty much blank. I have no idea what I want to do for a living or who will hire me—or, honestly, where I’m going to live. I think that by eliminating one of those unknowns, by replacing it with the easiest answer, I hoped to make it a little less stressful to think about my future.

But once I became aware of the illusion I had put up for myself, the illusion was ruined. I realized that maybe I could go anywhere after all, and that just made everything weigh even more heavily on me. There are infinitely many paths ahead of me, and choosing one over the others could change the course of my entire life. How will I know I’m doing what’s best for me?

I wouldn’t want to live just anywhere in Gainesville. I’d want to live downtown and get around by walking and public transit. One reason is that I’m a committed non-driver. The reasons for that are outside the scope of this post, and in fact, I might not even know them all myself. But the fact is that I don’t want a car.

Another reason I want to live downtown is that it’s good for society. Walking is good exercise and allows you to see and experience interesting things; if everything is in walking distance, then you’re not burning fossil fuels to get around; if more people lived in cities, we wouldn’t have to destroy as much of the environment to make room for ourselves; etc.

My third reason is quite simple: I think it would be fun. I’d like to be able to live every day knowing that something interesting is going on my neighborhood, be it an art exhibition or a show or a sale or two-for-one taco night or whatever. I think being a part of downtown events would be a good way to meet people and a great way to spend time with any friends who might visit.

I grew up in the general vicinity of Miami, and I’ve been to the city quite a few times. I like it. I’ve even thought about living there, or maybe even in Miami Beach. Now, it occurs to me that it’s a real possibility.

Did you know that you can search for apartments on Google Maps? I’ve been checking out rates for one-bedroom apartments in downtown Miami. According to my calculations that are probably wrong, I could afford to live there, even with a below-average salary. Maybe!

Career Showcase is next week. It’s an event that they have every semester on campus, and it’s basically a huge job fair where local and big companies try to recruit students. That seems to be the main way that students end up getting jobs, at least in my program. You put on a suit, go to Career Showcase, ace an interview with BigCorp, Inc., and before you know it, you’re hanging up your diploma in a cubicle at their fancy HQ in Distant Location, USA. Well, that’s the hope, anyway.

I’ve never been to Career Showcase, so this time I’m planning on going. I checked out the list of companies that are going to be there. It looks like there’s only one Miami-based company with an open position I might be qualified for, but it’s waaaaay far away from downtown and inaccessible by bus. So I went to monster.com. I searched for jobs in the Miami area for a computer science graduate with no experience. Nothing.

So my thoughts drift back to Gainesville. It looks like there are a handful of local companies with possible job opportunities for me, but I’m not sure if I would like any of them. I really want to do interesting work that I can be proud of, but now I’m beginning to understand how hard it is to find a job. Maybe I’ll just have to take what I can get, wherever it is. Beggars can’t be choosers, and at this rate, I’m literally going to be a beggar.

Please tell me I’m wrong about that. My head still hurts.

A revelation from The Consumerist: Most “Close Door” Buttons Don’t Work, And Most Office Thermostats Are Fakes.

Everything’s waiting for you

My old roommate Andy moved out last month, and a new roommate took his place on Friday. Now I live with three or four people whom I don’t know very well (or at all), and it’s because I wanted to save money by living in a four-bedroom apartment.

I doubt many people live in this apartment complex for more than a couple of years. It’s designed for college students. Leases take effect in August and last 9 or 12 months. All utilities are included in the rent. For every few buildings (and there are many), there’s a “community assistant,” analogous to an RA in a college dorm. And the place has a mascot. It’s a giant squirrel. Named Dr. Speckles. I wish I were making this up.

Just as I felt restless after a year and a half in the dorms, now I feel restless after a year and a half here. I often think back to my travels in Europe and, more recently, Russia. I would stay in an apartment with one of the locals, and we would go out on a five-minute walk to a restaurant or a shop or something else interesting. It’s not like that here. I feel isolated. There’s only one bus route that goes by this place, and nothing is in walking distance (except for about three restaurants, but there’s no sidewalk on the way).

After thinking about it a bit, I’ve decided that I want to stay in Gainesville after graduation, which is only a few months away. Specifically, I want to live by myself in an apartment downtown. That way, I can be within walking distance of shopping, entertainment, and dining opportunities. There are a lot of restaurants and cafes I’ve never been to but would like to check out, and there are some great ones (like Dragonfly and The Top—wait, their official site is on Myspace? How ironic of them) that I would love to be closer to.

Plus, I’d be a short walk away from libraries, a park, a branch of my bank, and a post office. A post office! I could get my own PO box so stuff I order online wouldn’t be left at my doorstep for people to steal! (Wait… I’m checking this out now. PO boxes start at $60 per year in my area?? I’d have to think about that one some more. Now I’ve just Facebook-stalked the downtown apartment complex I’ve had my eye on, and it seems that they hold packages in the office. I’m in love.)

Living downtown, I would also be near the main bus station. In fact, this place I’m considering is located along 6 bus routes and is a short walk away from 6 more. Since I’m not planning on getting a car, this is hugely important to me. I would be just one bus ride away from places like the Oaks Mall, Butler Plaza, and Satchel’s Pizza. Wherever I end up working, I’d probably be able to get there pretty easily.

I’ve tried to imagine possible downsides as well. Noise might be a problem, as well as the presence of drunk and/or homeless people, but I’m not really sure. I should see if anyone I know lives in the area and talk to them about it (if anyone reading this has lived downtown, please feel free to chime in). The only things I would miss about my current place being close to are my sister (if she doesn’t also move) and Marco’s Pizza (which, sadly, doesn’t seem to deliver out that way).

So, I mentioned this downtown apartment complex that I’m interested in checking out. There are four different one-bedroom floor plans, a couple of which have patios or balconies, as the case may be. I would like another go at having a balcony. The one here at my current apartment is pretty crappy. There’s nothing to look at except for some trees, and the last person who lived here left a bunch of junk there that no one has ever gotten rid of. Nobody uses our balcony.

This downtown place looks like it’s not specifically for students. Some reviews I’ve read online say that there are plenty of grad students and families living there. That’s the kind of place I want to live in. The complex’s web site suggests that you don’t have to move in on a certain day in August and that you deal with utility companies directly, which is great because I want options. I don’t want cable, but I do want really fast Internet service and maybe a landline.

Oh, and then there’s the cost. If I live downtown, it looks like I’ll have to pay 2 or 3 times as much for rent as I do now. Since I’m a habitual saver (or, more accurately, a habitual non-spender [or, even more accurately, a non-habitual spender]), I don’t think this will be a problem as long as I get a job within a couple months of moving in.

So… thoughts?

Here’s why you shouldn’t play the lottery: Incredibly Depressing Mega Millions Lottery Simulator. Wikipedia tells me that Mega Millions is a game available in most states, but the general principle is the same as with any lottery: the more you play, the more money you’ll probably lose. (Via J-Walk Blog)