The Pilgrimage

I did this crazy awesome thing called ChoreoFest where I stayed awake dancing all night and got up the next day and performed the dance that we made. It was a blast. While we were building the piece, we were asked to write about a journey we'd taken. I liked what I wrote enough to post it here.


On Christmas Day when I was sixteen, I put on the new cream corduroy slacks I unwrapped that morning. I had an Angora sweater that matched, perfectly. I braided one long, thin braid in  my hair. I slid a pair of nail scissors into my pocket. I checked my reflection, testing if you could see their shape through the thin fabric.

I went downstairs and put on my coat. I felt the weight settle heavy on my shoulders, the black hem brushing the floor. I wore black ballet flats. There was no snow.

I got in the car with my mother. My grandparents stood in the door. My brother didn't say goodbye.

The car took a long time to heat up. We drove in silence. I pressed my hands into the pockets of my corduroys. Under my coat, I pressed the point of the scissors into my thumb so hard I thought I would surely break the skin. Puncture the film holding the air in my body, the air in the car, pressure valve, sudden release.

I thought about Sarah McLaughlin songs. I thought about snow on gravestones. I watched the empty roads roll by.

I couldn't press hard enough to break the silence.

The car stopped. I couldn't remember making the turn into the hospital parking lot. "Okay," my mother said, soft. I thought she might ask if I was ready.

"Be careful when you get out, there's ice on your side." I nodded.

We walked slowly up to the doors, trying not to slip. The hems of my slacks dragged along the ice and I could feel them growing damp and grey. We entered through the side doors and passed the donor wall. I paused to read the names.

"Robert," my mother's voice loud in the quiet corridor. I turned to see my uncle shuffling toward us. He seemed too thin, translucent in the florescent lighting. The skin beneath his eyes shadowed like a bruise.
We said things. I can't remember now. The words kept shifting away from me. I remember:

"They told us we should leave"  "When did it happen"  "He was awake"  "They won't move him yet"

I drifted up the hall. The family waiting room, tv always on; the hallways full of quiet noises. Whir. Beep. Shuffle.

I remember the doorway, but not the walk. His face. His body. Beneath the sheet. The sheet the color of my clothes. The scissors in my pocket. Pressing not hard enough. My mother leaving to find a nurse.

I remember my father.

My father with skin like paper. My father with eyes like glass.

I remember waiting for his chest to rise or fall. The feeling of cold flesh over bone.  My voice too loud and too little in the silence. His body like a monument. His eyes like empty houses.

I remember no snow.

All this and HTML coding, too!

So I think gmail is filtering out some emails that I should be getting. NOT COOL.

Semi-relatedly, last night I saw AMANDA F-ING PALMER at a small concert at MassArt and it was awesome. This is what happens when I actually leave the house.

Speaking of leaving the house, ONE WEEK TO THE MOVE! JP, HERE WE COME! Very exciting, but lots of painting to be done, which is most likely what I'll be doing the rest of the day. And the rest of the week. Oh my.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, as I have been applying to jobs and may hear back from one this week.

Things have been changing a lot lately, and suddenly I have a lot more things to do. Very interesting indeed.

Further bulletins as events warrant.

~Isha

Thought of the day: WHY DOES THIS APARTMENT HAVE SO MANY CEILINGS!?

Cheese with your whine, Madam?

Yesterday was just a $#!? day for me. Really it was. Why you ask? Because I really, REALLY hate my job.

So to be fair, it's not that I hate my job exactly, since I work in a bakery/cafe, and I really do enjoy making coffee, weird as that may seem. I have worked in food service before and I like making food in all its forms, and coffee is not terribly demanding. I don't even mind the constant stream of Starbucks brainwashees asking for iced caramel macchiati all the livelong day (you want a latte you ignorant gits a macchiato is literally espresso and a dollop of foam you can't ice that). What I do mind, what is driving me crazy, is my boss, and the abhorrent way he "manages" his store.

So without going into too much detail, let me just say it took 3 weeks for him to give me a raise I should have gotten in February, he never does the weekly schedule until Monday afternoon and just expects us to work out who'll be in Monday morning, he berates us loudly in front of customers, and touches the baked goods with his bare hands. He is also passive aggressively firing some of the staff by just not scheduling them until they quit. Also, mice.

So yeah, I need a new job, so I don't go to jail for aggravated assault. The problem is that I have to keep working at my present job until I find a new one, because I am broke. So very broke. I'm beginning the job search, and looking longingly at the Harvard Medical sleep studies that pay in the thousands of dollars for 9 days under observation. Anyway, I'm just whining about it to the internet because it makes me feel a little less annoyed.

While I'm whining, I'm just going to make a list of things I want that I don't have enough money for (because I am so broke):

a new phone, because mine is almost dead and I hate Verizon

dental work, because I have more than 3 cavities and a dead tooth

a new hard drive, because my last one failed

a working ipod would be nice, as mine bit the dust

a new pair of nice flats

fresh fruit (only on weeks I also need shampoo)

Well that felt depressing toward the end. I actually get by just fine for the most part, but I wish...

I don't rightly know. That I had time to live my life and not just run the rat race.

~Isha

Thought of the day: I worry so much.

aaaaannnnnnndd WE'RE BACK!

Sort of.

Following the discovery that my hard drive failed, I pretty much lost all will power to do anything on the internet for several weeks. In addition, I've been working as many shifts as I can get in order to afford moving to a new apartment, and coordinating the acquisition of said apartment. It's been challenging, to say the least, and the ensuing exhaustion was more than enough to keep me away from the internet for the last...month.

So I'm going to recognize that daily updates are a fool's hope, and just try to get in as many as possible in a given week. Updates will be just as varied as ever, and consisting largely of my internal monologue. Today's internal monologue:

I HAVE AN APARTMENT! WOOHOO! NOW I CAN SLEEP!

(3 days later)

...I'm bored. What's next?

~Isha

Thought of the day: I have this sudden urge to take up fencing. Or yoga. Or Aerial silks. Or feminist literature...

And now for something completely different.

Just picture John Cleese on a Piano in a bowtie and speedo.

Real life computer problems are far too depressing to be jovial at the moment.

In lighter news, someone just robbed the EU Post Office in Brussels.

Thought of the day: Schadenfreude is so much fun.

Isha

Grab-Bag Day

I don't have anything pressing on my mind that I feel driven to blog about, so here's a random smattering of what's happening in my life.

I'm moving! Hopefully. Apartment hunting is difficult when you can't feasibly pay more than $500 a month for your own share and you have highly specified geographic needs.

I'm auditioning! I think. For this group called True Colors, an out youth theater group in Boston. I have a friend who worked/works with the program. I haven't done any theater in so long, I would be really happy to get back into it in any capacity. Audition is this Thursday. Gulp.

I'm knitting! A scarf. I should also be crocheting a hat and knitting fingerless gloves, but I'm having trouble sticking with one project (story of my life).

I'm using the computer more than ever! Which is funny, because mine is broken, and I have to wipe the hard drive and reinstall the OS. Funfact: I'm more likely to use the internet on someone else's computer than on my own!

I'm planning themed updates! Maybe. I just have so many things I'm thinking of doing, I'm wondering if posting about them on given days of the week/month might encourage me to keep up with them. Like practicing violin. Or knitting projects. Or writing poetry.

I'm late for work! Oh, really am late for work. Wrapping up then.

Thought of the Day: For reasons unknown, I seem to be pathologically unable to correctly make a roux, or even remember what a roux is.

Isha