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.

How to fix your Airport connectivity; Part 2

Having met with little success in attempting to rectify your Airport connectivity on your own, it is suggested that you seek the service of professionals. Locate the nearest Apple Store, using someone else's computer. Drive, or have someone else drive you to Apple Store. If you do not have access to a car, take public transportation, but only if absolutely necessary.

Once you arrive at the Apple Store, head towards the Genius Bar, and approach one of the friendly looking employees holding an iPad; they will make an appointment for you. They may inform you that there are no available appointment times remaining that day, unless you care to wait until the last 15 minutes before closing. Note that many Apple Stores close at 8 pm, and that you will probably arrive mid-afternoon. As you probably don't care to wait until 7:45, the friendly employee will direct you to a nearby computer to make an appointment for a later date. Using friendly looking iMac, fill out easy and friendly concierge form for a reasonable appointment the following day. To preserve feeling of relative goodwill, drive or take a cab home; alternatively, lose all good will during commute on public transportation.

On the day of your appointment, make sure you leave early enough to arrive on time. If you arrive 10 minutes late, try to harried and regretful. A friendly looking employee holding an iPad will ask you to wait for a moment on a sturdy looking bench. Take time to remove layers, compose yourself, and turn on MacBook. If your computer turns on without incident, and recognizes the track-pad, then the day is looking up.

The friendly employee with an iPad will direct you to sit in front of an employee at the Genius bar. He will introduce you to the Genius by your first name, and tell you the Genius's name, which is Sean. Smile politely and explain that you are having problems with your Airport, being as specific as possible without seeming hysterical or crazed. Wait patiently as Sean runs a series of diagnostic tests on your computer. Do not be alarmed if you cannot follow what he's doing, or if you've already done the first 6 things he tries. He is a professional. When he very professionally tells you that it might be a software problem, you are encouraged to ask what that means, but nodding blithely and looking concerned at the appropriate moments is also acceptable. From this point on, simply follow Sean's instructions as he checks that the problem is in fact related to the software. If it turns out to be a hardware problem, you will need to send the computer out for repairs at a $280 flat rate, as your warranty is up. Pray quietly that it is not a hardware problem.

Sean will most likely tell you after a barrage of key board mashing and several prompts to enter your password, that it is a software problem. You will sigh in relief as Sean tells you that you simply need to reinstall the Operating System. He will offer to install the latest version here in the store, free of charge. He will inform you that you will need to back up all your personal files so he can clear the hard drive before reinstalling the OS, and he will show you that the fastest way to do that is to copy everything in your Home folder, which is probably somewhere between 30 and 300 gigabytes. He will advise you to purchase an external hard drive, and direct you to one side of the store, saying you can buy one here, or look online. He will make a friendly note about your computer problems for the next time you come in, which he says he hopes will be soon. You will thank him and head toward the friendly looking external hard drives, solution in hand. You will look appraisingly at their sleek, friendly looking boxes. You will pick one up and turn it over to look at the price, then stare blankly at it before returning it to the shelf. You will realize that all the sleek, friendly looking packaging is really a clever ruse to get you to pay for one with your credit card and take it home with you before your senses return and tell you that that was an inordinate sum of money to pay for something you'll be through with in an hour.

Decide that the internet will have something less sleek but just as good for a much more reasonable hourly fee. Leave store in state of relative hopefulness and goodwill. Lose both during the commute home. It would be very reasonable if you decide that you need several hours to unwind before continuing onto the next step in fixing your Airport connectivity.

How to fix your Airport connectivity; Part 1

If you're having trouble with your internet connectivity, first try turning your Airport off, then back on. If your computer does not automatically connect to a network, try choosing a network on the drop down menu. If there are no networks available, try connecting using an Ethernet cable. If there isn't an Ethernet cable available, and there really ought to be at least one network, seeing as you're paying for it, and can usually pick up at least three other networks on your block, open Internet Connect, and try changing your network from there.

If your MacBook still refuses to register any available networks, in spite of persistent urging that yes, the modem is working and no one else is having a problem, try resetting your location. If, to your increasing frustration, your Mac still does not register any available networks, go into Internet Connectivity, and try to manually input your network. It will ask you to type the network name, and enter the password. If the password doesn't work, check the box marked "display password", and try again. If after the fifteenth time you enter the password, your MacBook still insists that you are either misinformed or committing some obvious typo, no matter what the dictionary tells you, curse profusely and elaborately while angrily hitting apple-Q, shut down your entire computer, get up, and walk away.

Come back to your computer after a few minutes and reboot. While it starts up, allow yourself to calm down enough to decide that no, you don't really need the hammer, and while the pliers are very nice, they probably aren't going to be very helpful. After you've put them away, come back to your computer, and click on the Airport symbol. If nothing happens immediately, do not be alarmed. Your computer has just started up, and might be running slowly. Wait a few moments. If still nothing happens, try clicking on it again. If your computer still does not register that you are attempting to fix your Airport problem, try moving the mouse over the dock. Become mildly alarmed when the dock does not register that you are scrolling over it. Begin clicking wildly on every icon in your dock and on your desktop. Rapidly lose calm as computer fails to respond and starts whirring loudly. Hit Apple-Option-Escape frantically and to no avail. Giggle hysterically for several minutes to ease tension. Shut down computer manually. Do not restart. For further assistance in fixing your Airport connectivity, seek professional aid.

Thought of the Day: I spend far too much time talking about my clothing.

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

Epicurean Adventures

Tonight, I made food. Successfully. This isn't exactly unusual, but I did it without the help of a recipe, and mostly off the top of my head, which is quite unusual indeed. So I now present (with special thanks to Rachel Schneck):

Epicurean Adventures: Parisian Stir-fry, Variation no.2

Begin with 2 parts boredom, 1 part avoidance of blogging. Now, enter kitchen and assess the situation. Gather:

Potatoes

Carrots

Onions

String beans

Chicken Breast

Slice chicken breast into strips. Thinly slice potatoes, as though scalloping them. Wash and cut carrots julienne style (think the approximate size of french fries, slightly thicker). Cut onions in thin slices. Wash string beans. Microwave carrots for 30 sec to a minute, and potatoes for 45 sec to 2 minutes. In a large pan, combine chicken and onions in oil. Sautee with salt, pepper, tarragon, rosemary, nutmeg and basil, to taste. Add potatoes and carrots. If there is clearly more than can fit in one pan, sautee chicken separately. Cook on low heat with cover to avoid burning. Either place string beans on top of mixture to steam, or braise/steam/boil separately. Allow to cook for 20 minutes, checking periodically.

Decide that you need to make a sauce. Open fridge. Gather:

Heavy cream/ Milk/ Half n' half/ Light cream

Cheddar/ Parmesan/ Emmental/ whatever you can grate

Butter

Flour

Make a very imprecise roux. Melt a tablespoon of butter at low temp in saucepan, gradually stirring in flour until thickish and fluffy. Begin adding cream in similar manner. Grate in cheese, always stirring vigorously. Use a wooden spoon or whisk. Continue until you have reached desired quantity and thickness. Remove from heat and pour over French stir-fry. Enjoy.

Mine came out slightly under done, owing to too much potato and not enough pan.

In other news, might be auditioning for an out-youth-theater-thing here in Boston. Could be fun. I think I need a monologue.

Thought of the day:

Why do I only want to read romance novels in a house filled with Vonnegut and Coelho?

Isha

Joyeux Premier d'Octobre!

Bon soir, tout le monde!

Alors, écoutez; Je suis terrible avec les dates. C'est déja plus qu'une semaine (week) depuis que j'ai écrité? Failure. So much Failure. So, I divorced from the internet for a bit, until yesterday, when I was on the computer all day doing literally nothing (curse you facebook!). Donc, aujourd'hui, je vais vous donner un peu de nouvelles avant que je m'enfuis encore (run off again!)

Wednesday! J'ai vu le musée d'Orsay, qui est le musée de l'art contemporaine (pour le plupart) à Paris. It was very lovely, and you can see pictures on facebook. I will add in a link once I've got them up.

Thursday! Je suis allée à l'exposition (exhibit) de Renoir au Grand Palais. Je n'ai pas des mots (I don't have words). It was so beautiful. Renoir is to color what the Stratavarius (orthographe?) is to the violin. I don't care if it doesn't make sense, it's true. It was awesome.

Friday! Je suis allée au.... je ne souvien plus....Crap, this isn't good. Well, I went somewhere and I'm sure it was lovely. Actually, I'll do another entry when I get home tonight because I have to rush off to go Medieval dancing with my friend Victoria Trudeau and her French friends that were exchange students at Sweet Briar College (si tu es confondé, c'est d'accord, moi aussi).

So I'll remember what I did over the weekend, upload some photos, go Medieval dancing (ça n'arrete pas d'être bizarre), and fill you all in later. And I might make a short video. Maybe.

Avec tout mon amour, à bientôt!

Bon soir tout le monde.

Happy Photos!

Bonne nuit.

Sur le brèche!

Il me semble que je suis toujours occupée.

Bonjour, tout le monde!

Many, many things have happened, so... vignettes!

I went out Monday evening with two Sweet Briar girls, Caroline and Victoria, at the Galeries Lafayette at Opéra, the shopping district. Caroline wanted a snack, but at nearly 8 on a Monday, very few cafés were open. We happened upon a Brioche Dorée, which is a sort of chain bakery in France, and Caroline ordered un pain au chocolat (chocolate croissant). While she was paying, she noticed that the shop girl was throwing out the pastries. "Vous les jettez?" she asked. The shop girl stopped, nodded, then proceeded to put several pastries in boxes and bags, and handed them to us over the counter. "Gratuit", she smiled. "We have to throw them out anyway. Please, take them. But," she paused and glanced around. "...don't say anything. Or everyone will expect free pastries when we close." Victoria and I were stunned. We laughed, collected the bags, and hurried away, promising at the shop keeper's insistence that we would tell everyone in America that "Les parisiens, ils sont le meilleur!" As we were walking to the metro, Caroline exclaimed "I'm so happy I spoke bad French to them!"

Yesterday, I went on a Bateau-mouche, or a boat tour of Paris. It was incredibly touristy. I also managed to buy my books for my literature class at Paris III, which was less touristy. And last night, after wandering around aimlessly for far too long, Victoria, Adam, Andy, Alanna and I, managed to sit down at a bar next to Notre Dame, order, and be served, in less than 10 minutes. In Paris, this is known as an epic success. We were served our "Cocktail pour 2", complete with sparklers, by an incredibly attractive, zigane (gypsy) French man, and got stunningly smashed in 30 seconds flat. And after all that, we still managed to make the last metro. The moral of the story: alcohol, firecrackers, and pretty French Gypsy boys, can make anything better.

Perhaps, to finish up, a tale from Tours?

My host family in Tours was truly fantastic. Armelle, Patrick, Ann-Sophie, Stephanie, and Charlotte were all incredibly welcoming and sweet. We ate dinner together every night, and it was always fantastic. On the night the Charlotte came home from her summer camp, we were introduced in the following manner: "Charlotte parle très vite. Elle chante tout le temps. Charlotte aime bavarder." Around a mouthful of bread, Charlotte mumbled, "Oui, Papa." Charlotte does speak very quickly, and she does sing all the time, and she and Ann-Sophie talk, tease, and make fun of each other, incessantly. They are adorable, and I miss their dinner-table antics already.

So, I cannot waste the day at my computer. Please look at my facebook albums of Paris.

Much love, et beaucoup de Bisous!