Tag Archives: atlanta

Notes From Boston

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Hello, friends! I am back from the frigid wastelands of Boston, which–though lovely–caused the lower part of my face to peel off. I am pleased to be back in my swampy, humid, grey homeland. (Besides, does Boston have a Twin Peaks-themed bar with a heated outdoor patio and funnel cake on the menu? Psh.)

The frozen tundra really was lovely, though. Boston is basically a European city, but in the US. I had a moment while I was there, where I was standing outside a CVS. Except across the street from me was the Boston Public Library, which is built as a fantastic public temple (it is so cool, you guys, I am a complete sucker for publicly funded monuments to education), and then on the remaining two corners that I could see were gigantic, cathedral esque Catholic churches. The library and the stained-glass church were in some sort of across-the-street staring contest. And I was sitting there with some hydrocortisone cream for my skin rash. And that is the kind of thing that just does not happen in Atlanta, or in any of the other places that I have lived. So that was wonderful. (Also wonderful: cannoli.)

There was a hilariously weird moment, however, that happened in the Boston Public Library. Led in to the space by my fantastic traveling companions (were it not for them, I would have missed the door), I spotted some big lion statues flanking one of the stair cases. We went up to get pictures in front of the big lions, because statuary! And then, we realized what the inscription on the lions was commemorating. (You can play along at home with this person’s vacation photos.)

The lions were a monument to the men of Massachusetts who had died or participated in Sherman’s March to the Sea. For those of you reading this from the UAE (WordPress tells me there are a few of you), Sherman’s March was a campaign during the civil war in which Sherman marched through the Southern US and–from Atlanta to Savannah–set All The Things on fire in order to capture them.

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A Sign in an Uncaring Universe

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Today is not a depressing-blog-entry-about-my-existential-anxiety day! Things are good. There is a cat napping on my floor and my apartment no longer has fleas and I have plans for later tonight that apparently involve free beer. So instead, today we are going to talk about the strangest thing that has happened to me since I spent my twentieth birthday on a roof with a nautilus*.

A month or so ago, I adopted a dog from the Urban Pet Project. Though she was a wonderful little fluffy white thing, it quickly became apparent that a) my roommate’s cat was miserable with the dog around and b) the dog was too prey-sensitive for my comfort level given the living situation. She was a great animal, but it was a poor fit, and so with heavy heart I returned her to the rescue.

The rescue posts pictures of every adopted animal and their new owner on their Facebook page. So you can imagine how pleased I was when, a week later, the little fluffy white dog showed up with a new owner–a skinny hipster dude with some tattoo sleeves. Continue reading →

The End of Time

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This past week has been a great example of something that I find utterly… itch-inducing about college: the simultaneous dragging-on and obliteration of time. I spend most of my time worrying about things that are far enough in the future that I cannot do anything about them (family health issues, my post-grad employment prospects, registering for classes in six weeks when the course atlas isn’t even out) while also freaked out about the things that are approaching faster than I want them to (the timeframe to write my 100-page thesis, the end of the weird cocoon of the last few months, registering for classes in six weeks because the course atlas isn’t even out). Time–at least for me–never, ever passes normally in college. As a result of my particular cocktail of neuroses, this means that I’m pretty constantly anxious about projects that exist in the collegiate timeframe.

I realize that this is a weakness, but I really love short-term projects where I control a large part of the process. I like having a clear beginning and end date and am happy forging a path to connect the two. But when we get to something like my honors thesis–a 100-page document of original research which I have to have written and defended by mid-April–I’m at a loss. It’s a huge project! I want to be working on it so it can be done by February!

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Three Festivals, One Weekend

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I’ve written about this before (like, approximately 600 times this summer), but street festivals are absolutely my favorite part of Atlanta. This weekend was–even by my festival-ridden standards–pretty chock full o’ street fairs. I managed to hit three–the East Atlanta Strut, the Emory Block Party, and the Festival on Ponce. Running through them all would take more words than anyone needs to read about my weekend, so we’re going to do this Amazon review style. Review time!

East Atlanta Strut

Pros: This is basically my favorite festival in Atlanta. Set in the coolest bar district currently gentrifying, the festival is a dense set of food trucks, dog rescues, and weird art goods. I purchased a PBR-themed charm bracelet, a gold glitter Pray for ATL hands magnet, and a print of Darth Vader painted up as the madonna. Plus, I played with a beagle for like 20 minutes. All of my favorite things!
Cons: To get to my volunteer booth by 7:45 am, I had to get up at 6:45, which is earlier than anyone should have to get up on a Saturday. My co-boothers were an hour late, as is the way with nonprofits. It was frustrating.

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Revenge of the Ents

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It’s a running joke in my family that Atlanta is populated by angry tree gods. Perhaps they’re a splinter cell of ents. We’ve never been sure. But every single time that it rains here (and it rains a lot), trees fall down. Big trees. In the roads, onto houses, onto peoples’ cars.

To shamelessly steal a joke from my thesis advisor, the “Decatur difference” is that the trees will kill you.

But today the trees reached a devious new low. Today it didn’t rain (yay!). And yet, when I turned away from Piedmont Park and into the main drag of Atlanta’s small-but-hearty downtown, there was a fallen tree blocking all but one lane of the six-lane road.

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Summer’s Ending at the McChevron

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“Are you taking this photo for your blog?” “… Yeah.” “It’s okay.”

Atlantans may talk about our native Waffle House as the only place to be when it’s two in the morning and you want to make terrible decisions (food-related or other). And certainly WaHo reigns supreme when you want to hasten your demise with hashbrowns and the possibility of aging rockers trying to punch you. But it’s not the only option.

You could, for example, swing by my neck of the woods and go to what has been charmingly termed the McChevron. The McChevron (always with the definite article) is exactly what it says on the box: a McDonalds attached to a Chevron gas station. The Chevron is the classy kind of joint where the cashier stands behind plexiglass, and the McDonalds is a) open 24/7 and b) inexplicably sock hop themed.

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Dachshunds and Coffee

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Friday night began with a shot lightbulb.

You know what goes well with coffee? Dogs. At least, that’s the idea behind ParkGrounds, the combination coffee shop/dog park that I dragged my friends to this weekend. And the shop owners are right to have faith in this business model–watching the variety of dogs that folks brought by was approximately 800% more entertaining than just coffee alone. (Particularly the mastiff puppy who just wanted to take a nap, because d’aw.)

The reason that I was at ParkGrounds in the first place was in order to creep on the event hosted by DREAM Rescue, the local dachshund  rescue group. I’ve been looking at their adoptable dogs while killing time at work over the last week*, and since they were having a get-together I decided to drop by.

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Monsoons and Flowers in the Attic

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Me holding Flowers in the Attic.

Delighted and horrified in equal measure.

It is July in Atlanta, and that means one thing: it is monsoon season. When I moved here as a 12-year-old, I didn’t realize that Atlanta is actually secretly the subtropics. But, after 10 summers here, I can safely confirm: the weather here is surprisingly similar to India’s.

Every afternoon at about 3pm–starting last week, and (according to the weather report) continuing until we all drown–the skies open up with the wrath of god. The streets flood, lightening strikes, and traffic comes to the standstill that happens every time that Atlanta has weather. Like clockwork, it clears up by dinnertime and leaves the streets steaming in a way normally reserved for black markets in dystopian science fiction films.

It’s driving me a little stir crazy, not to mention ruining my shoes. I am not a fan. (Looking on the bright side, I am learning a lot about how quickly leather dries.) I need to find some way to occupy my now-shoeless time, and I have found it: Flowers in the Attic.

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Down at the Write Club

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The Write Club state.

The Write Club stage.

There is almost nothing that I love quite like the weirdness of mid-sized professional theaters. This has a lot to do with childhood nostalgia–I attended theater camp from ages 10-15, and worked at one for a few years after that. Professional theater folks are weird and funny and a little bit too edgy for high schoolers (thus causing high school me to adore them), and I think that being allowed to work with and for them as a younger teen made me a lot of who I am now.

So it was with great delight that I continued the summer of Cool Atlanta Things by spending last night at Write Club Atlanta, hosted by PushPush Theater. Write Club is modeled on Fight Club, and began with a rousing round of:

“What’s the first rule of Write Club?”
“You must tell five to seven people about Write Club!”

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Steampunk Out on the Town

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Licensed under CC 2.0 // JvL // Source

This weekend, I got to party like it was 1899. (No, I didn’t go hang out with the Amish.) As part of my effort to Do More Things, I spent Saturday night at the Midsummer Night’s Steam bash put together by Atlanta’s local steampunk group–the Artifice Club–and my new favorite local startup, Scoutmob.

Given that the event flyer promised dancing, costumes, and a portion of the proceeds going towards the Atlanta Humane Society, I was in. Luckily, it turned out to be a totally delightful (if surreal) experience.

My friend and I were able to find the event by following the trail of folks in brown leather and corsets. There is a joke that steampunk is what happens when goths discover the color brown, and–though it’s not just that–there are certainly similarities. Off-the-shoulder white blouses and ballgowns certainly were present, and there were multiple folks in fairy wings. (Aren’t there always?) Continue reading →