Colin Hay - "I Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You"
August 17th, having loomed over the summer like an impatient thunderhead, is finally here, but in Alpharetta, it is only partly sunny.
Kristen and I had a really beautiful last weekend. On Saturday, by 9 in the morning, we were off driving north on 400 towards Amicalola Falls. GA 400 is a highway studded with these outlet malls and shopping centers hung on walls of trees; I might wonder how all this commercial districting stays healthy without any towns to feed it for many many miles away, if I didn't know that my mother and sister both make a point to drive the long distance up here every month. Besides the outlet malls, though, the road has a seasonal residue of autumn. The North Georgia DMV is located here on the side of the highway, and I still have this great photos (I think it's on the Pictures page) of me and Victoria holding up our learner's permits in front of the DMV and a backdrop of really colorful foliage. The north end of 400 is also the road my family always took to Burt's Pumpkin Farm every October, which is just up the road from Amicalola Falls.
So driving up 400 was the unspoken point of the trip, but we still paid the $2 admission to Amicalola, which is the starting point of the Appalachian Trail. We drove to the top of the falls and ate pie dough, which I learned, unfortunately, is simply made from lard and fat. At the top of the falls it was basically us and a very large, very Southern family having a picnic. Even from a distance, we could pick out the black sheep of the family: a shaggy skater (remember skaters?) who sat scowling at the edge of the bench while the rest of his family sat smiling in their sweatpants and exchanging corn on the cob.
After Amicalola came Ellijay, the same place we went to last year, home of the annual Ellijay Apple Festival. Luckily, Ellijay was a little less ghost town this year, Mack's Apple House a little less Cabin Fever "Pancakes!" general store. We even sampled a few Detroit Red apples. Mack's happened to be having a yard sale at the same time, so with our Toffee-Buttered Peanuts and Apple Cider Spice, I bought a great souvenir mug from Vermont for $.25.
On the way back South (a geographical oddity in Georgia that one has to travel south to get closer to civilization), we stopped at Pappy Red's BBQ, which Kristen swears by; then we drove straight down to Phipps Plaza to see the 2:10 showing of Garden State. About the movie: I think its greatest achievement is living up to its trailer. There was a real danger that that Frou Frou song could have upstaged the whole effort, but the movie was still surprising and fresh even after I watched that preview a thousand times in the month of May alone. I don't really know if I'd call it a great movie; but here's what it is, it's a film you can own. One that can become married to the month in which you saw it. It felt a lot like Rushmore for me, not stylistically, but the way in which I felt like me and the movie were on the same wavelength. This is the movie people will probably be using as an example to define our generation, whichever one we're in; and no, it doesn't exactly define our generation, but the fact that we will inevitably adopt it as our own, in a way, describes exactly what type of people we are and what type of generation we want to be. And yeah, it does have a kickass soundtrack, as all these movies do, and actually only less than half of it might be accused of being emo. Kristen and I spent the rest of the weekend looking for it in every retailer in Metro Atlanta; I swear I called everywhere, but nobody had it, so finally we downloaded the damn thing and decorated the CD with the still of Zach Braff wearing the wallpaper shirt. But this was after Kristen and I drove back to Alpharetta from the theater in somber silence. That third act was the weakest part of the movie, but the fact that it was all about spending your last day in town together and about leaving each other and all that tired weepy crap; well, we were just in the middle of living in that tired weepy crap, so it was no surprise that Garden State sobered the day up a little. Once Largeman kissed Sam in the rainy junkyard, I don't think Kristen's eyes were dry until we finally passed GA400 Exit 9 (what an emo highway!) on our way back.
So that night we had dinner at Rainwater, which is really our place by now. I'd recommend it, if anyone listened to a recommendation, ever, on this blog. We were bussed by a former classmate, Jamie (I'm no longer using full names, in this crazy mixed-up Google world). Jamie told us that he'd just left Auburn, where he was studying business, to start at Perimeter, where he'd study sports medicine. At Auburn, he explained, 50% of the students are studying business and will all graduate with 3.8 GPAs; but entrepreneurship, Jamie figures, can't be taught, and entrepreneuring is what Jamie wants to do. "I had fun partying," he told us, "but it would have been stupid to stay." I'm meeting more people like Jamie this summer; people my age who actually have a pretty clear idea of what they want to do and who, incredibly, are acting on it. I'm still reciting some cutesy line about majoring in English when people ask me about the, essentially, $40K a year my parents are spending on me; hell, I still fumble with the pronounciation of "entrepreneur," while the University of Chicago claims that I'm officially competent in French.
Yesterday-- our last day-- we started even earlier and went to Higher Grounds for coffee and breakfast. If you've never visited, Higher Grounds is an incredible coffeeshop on Medlock that is decorated half like a log cabin and half like a garage, decorated like money was absolutely no option. Just check it out. After that we went to Read It Again, the used-book store on Medlock to get Kristen some books to read on her camping trip in Missouri. Then, it was to Kinko's to make a copy of the Visitors poster I made for Serkedakis (my mother wanted a copy), then back to Kristen's for lunch and packing and downloading Garden State. Then, before we knew it, the sun was set and we were watching the special edition of Almost Famous, and soon after the DVD menu was cycling for the 735th time and we realized that it was past midnight time to go. Sigh. This is the second time we've had to do it, and I really have no worries about the two of us, but it doesn't make it any easier and it doesn't make it easier that we'll have to do it at least two more times.
So now she's gone and I'm sitting at home waiting for work to start at 5. I've got 5 more weeks of summer, but I feel like I've alienated most of my other friends by now; I really haven't seen enough of any of you this summer, and that's my fault. For the remainder of you who are home, I can start crawling back and groveling now.
By the way. The dinner at Rainwater on Saturday night was sort of an early 2-year anniversary for us, and after dinner Kristen gave me my gift: it's a little walnut shell that opens to reveal an accordian of tiny pictures of me and her.
It's us in a nutshell.
August 17th, having loomed over the summer like an impatient thunderhead, is finally here, but in Alpharetta, it is only partly sunny.
Kristen and I had a really beautiful last weekend. On Saturday, by 9 in the morning, we were off driving north on 400 towards Amicalola Falls. GA 400 is a highway studded with these outlet malls and shopping centers hung on walls of trees; I might wonder how all this commercial districting stays healthy without any towns to feed it for many many miles away, if I didn't know that my mother and sister both make a point to drive the long distance up here every month. Besides the outlet malls, though, the road has a seasonal residue of autumn. The North Georgia DMV is located here on the side of the highway, and I still have this great photos (I think it's on the Pictures page) of me and Victoria holding up our learner's permits in front of the DMV and a backdrop of really colorful foliage. The north end of 400 is also the road my family always took to Burt's Pumpkin Farm every October, which is just up the road from Amicalola Falls.
So driving up 400 was the unspoken point of the trip, but we still paid the $2 admission to Amicalola, which is the starting point of the Appalachian Trail. We drove to the top of the falls and ate pie dough, which I learned, unfortunately, is simply made from lard and fat. At the top of the falls it was basically us and a very large, very Southern family having a picnic. Even from a distance, we could pick out the black sheep of the family: a shaggy skater (remember skaters?) who sat scowling at the edge of the bench while the rest of his family sat smiling in their sweatpants and exchanging corn on the cob.
After Amicalola came Ellijay, the same place we went to last year, home of the annual Ellijay Apple Festival. Luckily, Ellijay was a little less ghost town this year, Mack's Apple House a little less Cabin Fever "Pancakes!" general store. We even sampled a few Detroit Red apples. Mack's happened to be having a yard sale at the same time, so with our Toffee-Buttered Peanuts and Apple Cider Spice, I bought a great souvenir mug from Vermont for $.25.
On the way back South (a geographical oddity in Georgia that one has to travel south to get closer to civilization), we stopped at Pappy Red's BBQ, which Kristen swears by; then we drove straight down to Phipps Plaza to see the 2:10 showing of Garden State. About the movie: I think its greatest achievement is living up to its trailer. There was a real danger that that Frou Frou song could have upstaged the whole effort, but the movie was still surprising and fresh even after I watched that preview a thousand times in the month of May alone. I don't really know if I'd call it a great movie; but here's what it is, it's a film you can own. One that can become married to the month in which you saw it. It felt a lot like Rushmore for me, not stylistically, but the way in which I felt like me and the movie were on the same wavelength. This is the movie people will probably be using as an example to define our generation, whichever one we're in; and no, it doesn't exactly define our generation, but the fact that we will inevitably adopt it as our own, in a way, describes exactly what type of people we are and what type of generation we want to be. And yeah, it does have a kickass soundtrack, as all these movies do, and actually only less than half of it might be accused of being emo. Kristen and I spent the rest of the weekend looking for it in every retailer in Metro Atlanta; I swear I called everywhere, but nobody had it, so finally we downloaded the damn thing and decorated the CD with the still of Zach Braff wearing the wallpaper shirt. But this was after Kristen and I drove back to Alpharetta from the theater in somber silence. That third act was the weakest part of the movie, but the fact that it was all about spending your last day in town together and about leaving each other and all that tired weepy crap; well, we were just in the middle of living in that tired weepy crap, so it was no surprise that Garden State sobered the day up a little. Once Largeman kissed Sam in the rainy junkyard, I don't think Kristen's eyes were dry until we finally passed GA400 Exit 9 (what an emo highway!) on our way back.
So that night we had dinner at Rainwater, which is really our place by now. I'd recommend it, if anyone listened to a recommendation, ever, on this blog. We were bussed by a former classmate, Jamie (I'm no longer using full names, in this crazy mixed-up Google world). Jamie told us that he'd just left Auburn, where he was studying business, to start at Perimeter, where he'd study sports medicine. At Auburn, he explained, 50% of the students are studying business and will all graduate with 3.8 GPAs; but entrepreneurship, Jamie figures, can't be taught, and entrepreneuring is what Jamie wants to do. "I had fun partying," he told us, "but it would have been stupid to stay." I'm meeting more people like Jamie this summer; people my age who actually have a pretty clear idea of what they want to do and who, incredibly, are acting on it. I'm still reciting some cutesy line about majoring in English when people ask me about the, essentially, $40K a year my parents are spending on me; hell, I still fumble with the pronounciation of "entrepreneur," while the University of Chicago claims that I'm officially competent in French.
Yesterday-- our last day-- we started even earlier and went to Higher Grounds for coffee and breakfast. If you've never visited, Higher Grounds is an incredible coffeeshop on Medlock that is decorated half like a log cabin and half like a garage, decorated like money was absolutely no option. Just check it out. After that we went to Read It Again, the used-book store on Medlock to get Kristen some books to read on her camping trip in Missouri. Then, it was to Kinko's to make a copy of the Visitors poster I made for Serkedakis (my mother wanted a copy), then back to Kristen's for lunch and packing and downloading Garden State. Then, before we knew it, the sun was set and we were watching the special edition of Almost Famous, and soon after the DVD menu was cycling for the 735th time and we realized that it was past midnight time to go. Sigh. This is the second time we've had to do it, and I really have no worries about the two of us, but it doesn't make it any easier and it doesn't make it easier that we'll have to do it at least two more times.
So now she's gone and I'm sitting at home waiting for work to start at 5. I've got 5 more weeks of summer, but I feel like I've alienated most of my other friends by now; I really haven't seen enough of any of you this summer, and that's my fault. For the remainder of you who are home, I can start crawling back and groveling now.
By the way. The dinner at Rainwater on Saturday night was sort of an early 2-year anniversary for us, and after dinner Kristen gave me my gift: it's a little walnut shell that opens to reveal an accordian of tiny pictures of me and her.
It's us in a nutshell.
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