Spending the Day in Buckhead

Buckhead is the northernmost part of the city of Atlanta, a section all on its own known for its restaurants, nightlife, and famed Lenox Square.  I, for one, hate it.  I find it flashy, pretentious, and borderline obnoxious compared to the neighborhood feel of both Virginia-Highland and Little Five Points or the art-infused midtown.  As opposed to my general sense of direction using Moreland Ave, Ponce De Leon Ave, Peachtree St/W Peachtree  St, 10th Street, and various other markers in the city, I haven't brought myself to memorize anything having to do with Peachtree Road or Lenox Road or, God forbid, the GA 400.  So this morning, jetting out at 7:45 in hopes to catch only the tail end of rush hour traffic, I went to Phipps Plaza--in Buckhead--to help out the Talbot's store there.  I was late.  I parked in the wrong spot.  I worked 9 hours in the Accessories section, so bored I had to result to scratching out essay ideas on blank sheets of paper or folding scarves to look as if I was doing something.  I wanted to chop off my feet; I cursed my kitten heels.  

But amazingly enough, the day ended.  I am nearly $70 richer.  And, for what it may be worth, I finally saw my city--not as charming as it used to be, in desperate need of friends to share it with, but still mine.  If I never stay in Atlanta I will always remember my first independent trip on the downtown connector (made on my way home for spring break 07), will always recall getting lost and finding my way while at the same time filing away in my mind the names of restaurants and stores I could possibly frequent soon.  There's a new Urban Outfitters on Ponce, and Les Mis is coming to the Fox in September--perhaps these 8 months will not be as terrible as I imagine them.

What I am Willing to Do

Not many people know how willing I am to sacrifice an hour or a day (perhaps a week), a few dollars worth of inflated gas, more unnecessary miles on my aged Ford Escort Sport if just to spend a few moments with friends.  Since graduating college more than a week ago on April 26, I have been living out of the smallest suitcase from a three-piece set my mom gave me for my high school graduation as well as a dark green duffle bag spotted with lime green dots.  I find that I spend more time rifling through piles of clothes I should never have brought with me than nearly anything else.  

I have stayed with my friend, Libby, in Milford, Indiana for several nights waiting for the impending nuptials of Jess Focht with Blake Hawk on May 2nd.  The day following the wedding involved me in my car, driving south to Indianapolis, my eyes threatening to close for almost the entire three hours of the trip.  I am staying with Bethany, my suitemate, until tomorrow when I go back up to Milford for Libby's wedding on Saturday.  Bethany and I have found ingenious ways to entertain ourselves, including movies and books (well, my reading books and her studying for her N-Clex).  

We also managed to plan a trip down to Bloomington (well, I managed to put it all together) to see our friend Frank.  We stopped along the way to pick up Neil, our long lost friend from freshman year, and all stayed in Frank's one bedroom house apartment.  The night was perfect: spring weather; eating Thai food outside; Frank, Jen, and Neil--friends whom I love and have not seen in months; music given to us by both Frank and Neil as they passed a guitar back and forth between the two of them.  I haven't heard Neil play music in years and it was nice for his resistance to fall if only to strum a few chords one chilled May night.  Frank made us blueberry pancakes in the morning, a large, purpleish send off back to Indianapolis.

From there, I have had dinner with both Kaufman and another friend, Liz, at Yats in Broad Ripple, had some of my favorite TCBY yogurt, and watched Bella (perhaps one of the most moving stories I have watched in awhile).  My bestest friend, Mandie, called me this afternoon, sending me on an impromptu drive out of Bethany's neighborhood to find a signal.   To talk with Mandie is like finding a home in the midst of all these transitions.  I was grateful.

I will finally be home next Monday.  For eight months I will live with my parents, my sister, my nephew.  I will live in tension with a family I both love and loathe all the while hoping that, like the past two summers, the love will win out.  I desperately want to get into a routine of regular submissions to various literary journals, revising old essays and writing new ones, and contributing evermore to a book I cannot believe (really cannot) I am supposedly writing.  I hope I am in England next spring for a period of time; I would like to come back to the midwest again if only to maintain the friendships I have invested in for four years.  But mostly, I just want to do whatever it is this God has given to me, is asking of me, all the while exhibiting various wild gestures of road trips and visits to those I love.