You were named for your Yankee grandmother.

Today was almost unimaginably lovely. After a Very Long Night (I had RA duty, and a drunk person jumped out of a window to avoid capture), I woke up to the most perfect early-autumn-in-Georgia weather. The sun was shining and there was a breeze and it was maybe 80 degrees outside. It’s not late enough in the year that I’m stressed out about homework. It was good.

I even managed to be appropriately collegiate and go on over to the Student Center for pizza and drinks with classmates for college football season kickoff. (It was for the free pizza, I admit, but still. I went!) I took the shuttle into Atlanta with a friend and went with her and my family to the Decatur book festival. In addition to the perfect festival weather, it was my friend’s first time going to an event like that and it is always so much fun to see people get really excited about these things. And it was fruitful! I got the Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? tabs for banjo, and an issue of McSweeney’s (number 33–it’s a several-hundred-page newspaper). We even got to go to a recording of The Moth, which was fabulous. The theme was Southern Gothic, and Hollis Gillespie told a story, as did the founder of The Moth. He’s from Saint Simon’s, and his story was fabulous. Continue reading

On considering staying here

My sister and I are spending our Wednesday afternoon watching Toddlers and Tiaras (her choice, not mine). A Route 66 sign popped up, because of course that shit is in the Midwest. I asked my sister–who misses Tulsa, loves Tulsa, wishes a little bit that we had never left Tulsa–whether she plans to move back to the Midwest when she finishes school.

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes in the way she does that implies that I’m challenged. “I want to move up north.” I asked her whether she wanted east coast or west–she was pretty certain that she wanted east. Continue reading