Riding the 82 bus north

The Chicago Dispatch is a status update that includes survival hacks, tips, cons and pros of a decision that Ivashkov chose to make during, before or after her commute. This post intends to help you understand or in a parallel world live through a decision that – having seen the consequences– you can avoid making in your own life, unless you're a rebel. 

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I’ve taken this busy several times. I think it’s my favorite ride home because it has the most turns. The one that goes from Harlem to East Nature Musuem. I haven’t been to either ends, just in between but I imagine on a good day I would enjoy riding the 82 bus on my own. 

Today I’m wearing black jeans, a shirt that’s as green as my bagpack and a blue jacket. I feel like the blue jacket is super ugly but it matches my shoes. It’s also practical and I don’t want to spend money on a new jacket. I won’t be here that long and buying a jacket somehow is a symbol of permanence in my head. An object I have to hold onto until the end of time, my time here in this city. I don’t want that, I want to feel like I’m passing through. 

The dusk is slowly shifting into night time. Claude Debussy’s Claire de lune is helping with that transit. Instead of a gloomy one declaring the end of another day cycle, it makes it feel hopeful. As if there is more adventure left which I can’t know of until I experience it. 

The cellos makes me nostalgic for my own. The sounds making me wish I had worked harder and spend more hours practicing. Was there a reason? Was it meant to resurface in my life when I had the time and will to commit to it. I’ve been thinking about my cello a lot more off late. 

I spent most of today watching someone, doesn't matter who, clean their apartment. It was soothing and nice to know they enjoyed cleaning as much as I did. They bent over every little corner assuring me that being so meticulous was not uncommon. The satisfaction of a clean home was shared by many. 

There was a moment when I comforted myself with the way things are in my life- a disarray- that if I made it this far and things were as good as they were, then it would only be better than now. It felt like climbing stairs, if I climbed this high despite the exhaustion, it was best to make it the top for satisfaction instead of sit down here and try to be comfortable. Just keep climbing and it will get better. 

The leaves were still for a long time today. The pinwheels on someone's front yard spun for a few minutes as a gently breeze blew. Hesitantly they were making their presence known to me. A signal letting me know that this stillness wasn't going to last long. I felt an urge to walk outside. It was a feeling that came close to the one I get when I’m in water swimming, one arm in front of the other, pushing trough the water and propelling myself forward. This walk, one foot in front of the other, helped calm me down. Pushed behind things that were better left forgotten and with every step I was moving closer to my destination, much like this bus was with every wheel twist. 

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