Hi, Atlantic Station.  It’s me, Katherine.

I’m not sure how to start this.

Look, it’s been about two years since you’ve been here, and about a year and a half for you and me together.  And believe me when I say that you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen when I first came here, the first to show me so many things.  With you, I started to remember what it was like to be myself, but to be happy.

But now… it’s been a long time, right? We have some great memories.  But we’re different now, you and I.

This… this is just so hard.  So I’m just going to come right out and say it–I think we should see other people.

Please don’t be upset with me.  I’ve thought long and hard about this, about everything, and all of the times we shared, but I keep coming back to this conclusion.  Don’t believe for a second that you’re not good enough, because you are! Believe me.  Um… something specific? Okay… well… No one has a theater as big as yours.  And I’ve been to a lot of theaters, believe me. Heh.

Uh, anyway. No. You’re wonderful.  You’re going to make so many people happy. And you made me happy, but we’re moving past each other in our lives, I think. I mean, look.  You’re busy with Cirque du Soleil and the normal rush.  I’m busy with other things too.  My job, some different hobbies, now.  It’s been pretty clear for about a month that our priorities are quite different.  You haven’t been very easy to get in contact with this last month, even though I’ve been trying hard, really hard.

So I just don’t think this five-times-a-week thing will work anymore.  Even if we were together, I would only be able to manage once, maybe twice a week with  my current schedule.

What? No,  that other gym has nothing to do with it. I can’t believe you’d think that…

Oh, we’ll I’ve only been inside it once. ONCE.  And that was after you told me there was someone else, too.  This isn’t what it’s about.

Okay, that is what this is about.

Honestly?

Fine.  Just the Midtown location. I swear.

Okay, and Ansley Mall.  But I haven’t even been there; I’ve already set a date though.

Yes, I do know that Midtown doesn’t have a theater.  And yes, I know it doesn’t have a pool either.  Thanks.

Look, you can’t say you didn’t see this coming.  You have no right to get mad about it.  You seemed to kind of shrug this off last month anyway.  I came a few times, even, and you were closed. Closed! When I needed you most.  Oh, and then you were conveniently unavailable over the holidays.  I really don’t know what you expect.

This isn’t going to work.  I stand by my decision.  We have to see other people.  It will be better for both of us in the long run.

I can’t do this anymore.  I have to go.  It’s too hard.

Katherine

PS: I still love you very much.  I hope you know that.

I voted today. Did you?

Weird day.

First, that dream.

Then running. I’m never compelled to run anymore, mostly because it is such a long-past habit that I’ve broken for health reasons. Not my cardiovascular health, obviously, but because of my knees. I haven’t run regularly for about two years, and since moving to Atlanta, hardly at all. There just aren’t many great places to run when you live in a city whose public transportation is lacking, and where the nearest large, safe park is ten miles away. Well, now, of course, I live maybe three-quarters of a mile away from the golf course, and so I can walk to it and then run around it. About 2.5 miles long, it’s a great course. But walking there is sketchy, and the days have been growing shorter.

But I did it today. And I ran the entire way–something I haven’t been able to do for several years, thanks to my knees and ebbing training regimen. Step and swimming have taken the place of running, but I’m glad to know that I’m still fit enough to run when I want to. Painful, though.

And then dinner at Flying Biscuit, where I felt strangely not myself, but better. Both at ease yet more dynamic than usual. I got the Flying Biscuit Breakfast, which was good, and then walked to the car. On the way back there a guy asked if I was lost, because apparently my fumbling around for the pedestrian walk signal button made me look clueless. I laughed about it, and then drove back home on Moreland.

After getting off I-20 at my exit, I turned east to go back to my neighborhood. Noting that the first light immediately in front of me was red but the second was green, I came to a stop, only half-paying attention.  The car in front of me did not stop.

There was screeching tires, cracking plastic, and the tinkle of breaking glass everywhere. And of course the loud crunch of metal on metal as two cars collided and one spun then flipped over on its roof.

The onlookers ran over to the van and pulled the guy out, who seemed unharmed, albeit a little dazed. Somehow, the cops got there rather quickly, although I had taken out my cellphone to report it as well.

Interestingly, 911 was busy. Busy. Twice, for five minutes a piece. I would have expected Fulton County’s 911 operators to put you on hold and fuck up, but Dekalb? Really?

Guess if that zombie apocalpyse hits and I try to dial 911… it won’t make a bit of difference anyway! They probably won’t pick up!

I don’t have anything really useful to say right now because it’s Thursday and I’m very tired. For some reason I haven’t been sleeping well. I think it’s the caffeine I’ve been drinking after 3 PM. Anyway, I haven’t slept nearly long enough the last five nights and to top it off, I refuse to turn on the heat in my house because a) I’m poor, and b) it’s warmer during the day than it is at night… and since I’m not at the house during the day I should be able to get by with my two down comforters. Right? Right?

Anyway, tonight is a girl’s night in (which makes Danielle laugh, for some unfathomable reason) and so I have to hurry home in a bit and chop up some veggies, then go to Publix and get beer and hummus. Then tomorrow and Saturday I have no real official plans. I take that back; Friday the gym has a new hip hop class that I would love to go to. Don’t think I’ll be able to though. Oh well.

The list below is what’s sort of been floating around my mind. It is not constructive and is probably not very interesting, but that’s all right.

• John Lennon: The Life by Phillip Norman is out this coming Tuesday in hardback. I want this, not only because I have a profound respect for Lennon, but because I also had to read Shout! for Beatles class way back in college. Dr. Morin assigned it to us. We had the option of getting the book online, or we could read it from the gigantic packet he handed out to us (I believe something like… 120 pages worth) over the weekend. Or was it in PDF format? I can’t remember. Either way, I read it in one shot. It helps if you like the Beatles, but I went into it having only cursory knowledge of the group. Norman has such compassion in his narrative style that I fell in love with the entire group from the very beginning and felt compelled to read more. Of course, don’t take Shout! as 100% truth, but enjoy the tone and let it sweep you up. If The Life is written anything like that book, then I’m sure it’ll be worth having.
• Fallout 3 is out on the 28th as well. Third installment in the Fallout series, but this one was made by Bethesda (creators of Oblivion and Morrowind and the rest of the series), which is why it caught my eye. I’ve recently been playing some Bioshock, getting myself pumped up for the release of this game. It’s an action rpg, so there are elements of the freeform rpg style of Oblivion, which I love, and first-person shooter style gameplay like Bioshock. I have to admit I haven’t played fps games for a long time (not since Doom or Duke Nukem, sadly), but I’m psyched for this game. It’s not fantasy so much as a romp through a post-apocalyptic D.C. a few hundred years in the future. Looks a little more violent in the trailer from Bethesda than I’d like, but I think if I play it in small doses it will still be an enjoyable experience.
• The Canon EOS 400D or Digital Rebel XTi. I want it, I want it, I want it. Not the best camera in the world, but I think it is a slightly older model than the newer ones out (came out in ‘06, I believe). I have been seriously tempted by the Nikon 40D, available widely (and at Target, and stuff), but was warned not to waste money on an SLR camera that doesn’t have at least 8 or 10 megapixels, since most point-and-shoot digital cameras have at least 8 megapixels now. That is a valid point, definitely. Anyway, I’m ready to learn! And to take my photography hobby (if you can call it that) to another level. If anyone would like to gift me about $500 or their slightly-used 400D, I would be forever grateful. Kthx.
• The new Keane CD, Perfect Symmetry. (Yes, I did get it). Oh Keane, why did you release this album? I’m sorry. It’s not that I’m resistant to change–that is not at all true. I enjoy hearing my favorite groups evolve over time, like Coldplay on their latest album, Viva la Vida. True, while at first I didn’t really care for what I heard, I finally saw the light in what my friend Matt had said about it–that it was probably an album that rewarded repeat listeners. Well yes, he was right, and I listened and listened and now I love it. I don’t think the same thing can be said about Keane’s new album, which seems to be at odds with itself, as thoughit can’t figure out what it wants to be. Frankly, the album felt disjointed to me. Right around track 5 (the title track), the highly annoying, shrill synthesizer started to disappear, and then the album seemed to morph into more familiar territory, sounding much more like the slower parts of Under the Iron Sea. Even the slow ballads seemed annoyingly melodramatic and, well, plain. The vocals sounded sloppy and erratic, and again. The first four songs were throwbacks to the 80’s, and you all know I hate 80’s music with a passion. So the fact that one of my favorite groups has adopted a similar sound breaks me. Keane, please keep practicing, stay out of rehab, and please don’t release any more music like this.
• This weekend, Atlanta will be joining tons of other cities in World Zombie Day by holding the Zombie Walk as part of Horrorfest! I hope there will be tons of people shambling for world hunger (so goes their motto). I’m so excited! I don’t have tickets to Horrorfest though (lack of funds and bad timing), but I was mostly excited to go out and see the walk. It’s on Sunday the 26th, and starts at the Masquerade Music Complex and goes through Little 5 Points. Can’t wait!!! Hopefully, lots of pictures will be forthcoming.
• I cannot wait to see this.
• The fact that it is girl’s night, and that I ran into Sara two days ago at Target makes me happy. It is probably a well-known fact by now that I do not have many friends in general, and I especially have next to no friends in this city. But I suppose that means I am finally getting close to feeling comfortable calling Atlanta home. When you start running into random people you know in unexpected places… I think that’s a good sign

It was generally a good couple of days, except for a small hitch last night.

Sunday, I played games until late. During the day we went to the gym and then met up with the roommates and his sister and girlfriend. The Taste of Atlanta festival was still going on, but we got a seat inside CPK and chatted for a while. Outside, it was windy and cloudy, but generally a good night. I watched The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, mostly for Barry Pepper,  and fell asleep.

Yesterday was the same as Sunday, except that cousin and I went to the Farmer’s Market to get some vegetables (and ended up walking away with $30 worth of food, including a ridiculously fresh cut of salmon, which I butchered and then overcookd, and pumpkin butter). We stopped by the library and later went to see Quarantine, which just came out. After the gym, I overcooked dinner and went to bed.

Again, generally a pretty good couple of days.

As far as Quarantine goes, don’t waste your money.  (Spoilers!)
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Last night was one of those rare nights that I actually felt all right for a change, socially and physically. Mostly these days I feel tired after work, stressed, and worn down from worrying about finances, the economy, my job. I can still have fun, but lately my “fun” has been watching movies, playing games, and reading.

On Friday the boss came into my office. Solemnly, her face drawn and her arms crossed over her chest, she said, “I have decided…”

She paused for a few seconds. I thought the news would be something terrible, but she then said, “we will not work on Monday.”

I had known it was Columbus day on Monday, but had looked in our company rule book to see if we had to work that day. But it didn’t say we didn’t work, so I had planned on coming in Monday.

“Really?” I asked, feigning surprise.

My boss continued, saying that while we had some free time we should take it. I wasn’t going to argue.

And so I started the weekend feeling pretty good. Went home. Saw Appaloosa, with Ed Harris and Viggo. Good stuff. I enjoyed it.

But Saturday morning I woke up feeling awful, and ill. Stomach discomfort (was it the Lean Cuisine that did it?). I almost didn’t make it to the gym, after about an hour of writhing in my bed in pain. But I went (because I’m a trooper) and made it. Talked to a few people. Things were fine. Although, I must admit that the workout wasn’t particularly challenging, mostly because I took it easy. Ab exercises and lunges when your digestive tract is up in arms… not a good idea.

Most of the afternoon I sleep and rest because my system decides to act up again. I feel all right when we go couch shopping initially, but by the time we get to Perimeter mall I feel like sleeping again. As a side note, I believe I have decided on the couch I want, and have decided on a payment plan for it. (Hooray being an adult!).

Anyway, I’d made plans last night with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. We stood around in her kitchen, had margaritas from her brand new margarita machine, and chatted. Caught up. They wanted to go out since it was Elizabeth’s birthday… and so we went. Initially I was going to go back home and watch a movie, but I decided not to. Instead, we called up the roommates, picked them up, and went to Shout in midtown.

It was a little chilly last night, but while driving downtown it was fine in the car. I hadn’t thought to bring a jacket, since I’m still in the mindset that because it’s 80 degrees during the day in the sun, the nights must not be colder now. No matter that it’s October. It’s Atlanta! Anyway, it was colder since the clouds had rolled in around mid-day, and a few sprinkles here and there fell on the balcony that we stood on in the middle of the city.

For a while, after meeting up with everyone, we huddled underneath one of the heating vents. One of the girls schmoozed drinks for two of us out of an unsuspecting guy near the bar, and a little while later we walked inside to dance. There were only a few people dancing inside–two women who swayed near the DJ’s booth, and a group of older women who danced despite the random people who sat on the outskirts… watching. Odd. So we had enough alcohol flowing that we formed our own little circle and danced. And as we danced, more people started to dance, and it was fun. We didn’t care anymore. It is easier dancing for me when others are into it. So I am glad I got everyone to come out.

There was a large group of people in town for a job fair, apparently, and most of them swarmed in around us. Especially since we’d accepted drinks from them earlier, I suppose that meant we were interested the rest of the night as well. Mostly, we just danced, regardless of the people around us.

Some drama happened with our group, but we just danced. And looked out at the night. The sky was hazy with the light pollution from the city’s buildings. The wind whipped our hair and dresses around. The DJ seemed to realize that the better music he played, the more people danced and had a good time.

We got back late. The guys sang and hollered all the way back home, and by the time we all fell asleep, it was a good ways into the morning.

Not that I’m overly superstitious, but Adrienne informed me that Mercury is in retrograde again, so watch out.  Last time it was in retrograde, my old crazy boss walked around waving her arms and asserting that no decisions would be made until it passed. Since we were already in trouble at that point (it was March, I think), it probably didn’t matter whether or not anyone made decisions anyway. I don’t remember if any electronics broke, but it wouldn’t surprise me either. So far–knock on wood–whenever Mercury has done its thing, I’ve had an okay time. Well, maybe the weeks are a little weird, fraught with strange experiences, but nothing catastrophic that I can’t fix.

Like last week, for example. Apparently the retrograde movement started on the 24th of September. Well, I did get that notice from Fulton County that they wanted to revoke my car registration since my insurance company had never filed the correct paperwork. But that was straightened out.

Maybe the retrograde caused, over the weekend, people to miss their flights so that I got on instead. Heh. And anyway, I had a good weekend and traveled well, got back safely, and what not. So again. There’s been nothing to complain about, really.

This week has been pretty good, too. Got to the gym both days I wanted to go, picked up those movies, and uploaded some pictures that I promised my friends. Last night I met up with a group of strangers and saw The Duchessat Tara Cinemas, a relatively hidden indy theater on Cheshire Bridge Road.

(Spoilers)
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This weekend was all right. It wasn’t anything really special, but not all weekends have to be.

Friday was another awful day at work, but I went to the gym and swam off some of my frustration. Swam about 800 meters, and while the first 400 were not as easy as they should have been on my arms, I can still breathe through the exercise okay. And my Swimp3 lasted until the last 100 meters anyway.

Saturday, I got up early and went to the DMV in an attempt to change my license, yet again this year, to reflect my new address. I swear, it will be the 4th address I’ve had since moving to Atlanta. And now it’s no longer free, so when I went up to the counter, the agent shook her head and told me that since their main databases were down, I’d have to wait indefinitely until they came back up.

I downloaded Spore for my phone and played for a while, until about 9:10. Having waited almost two hours, I asked for my license back and went home. Grabbed the cousin and flew off to the gym, where I was late to class (again). It was only a mediocre workout, anyway. Stopped by H&M to get some things, and then we went to the Farmer’s Market in Decatur and had a great time going through the fresh fish section, the meat counter, and the rows upon rows of fresh (and rare) fruit and vegetables.

After that, we watched a movie and then headed over to Acworth to have dinner with the family. I suppose there isn’t much exciting news in the family that I’d feel comfortable sharing, except that the wine cooler in my aunt’s new kitchen broke, the dog scratched me several times, the kids were quieter than usual, and we sat outside in the driveway for a long time until we were joined by neighbors from across the street.  The experience–the long, rambling conversation interrupted by a long argument over politics and a tired two-year-old who needed to poop every three minutes–just sort of reinforced in my mind that people don’t change drastically over the course of their lives. The couple that joined us, for example, seems to me like just an older  version of some of my friends. And they have a kid. And that’s about the only difference between us. Is this sad? Does this make me less excited to ‘grow up’ and become a full adult, whatever that means?

Kinda.

And I guess this means that I will still be sitting out late at night on the front lawn, cracking lewd jokes about my kid in mixed company, and will still have the same immature sense of humor when I’m 30. And probably even 40. I just may have a house across the street to stumble back to on a Saturday night, instead of an apartment where I live by myself. Huh.

We drove home and half-heartedly searched for gas, but apparently there’s a slight gas crisis. This would have been nice to know before we’d gotten up there and had more than a quarter tank left. Driving around at eleven o’clock at night in northern Georgia where everything closes early (and where there’s been no gas for days) is not fun.

Barely made it back to the house, and the shortage of pumps still working made me decide not to go anywhere on Sunday, except to take the cousin to the East Lake Marta station so he could get to work. What if I’d gone to the gym and run out of gas in midtown where there’s nothing because I was in stop-and-go traffic all day? What if I ran out of gas Monday or Tuesday?

Well, this morning there’s still nothing in East Atlanta. I’ve heard rumors that if you drive a few miles up to Scott Blvd and 78 there’s still a working station, but really. This is ridiculous. But I suppose that’s what Atlanta gets for only relying on the Texas refineries for all of their gasoline (and for not letting the pumps gouge customers accordingly to keep those especially high-strung people from topping out their tank every day during a supposed “crisis.” Way to not leave any for the rest of us!).

Oh well. Things will probably return to normal in a few days, I hope. If not, looks like I’ll be walking to work for a little while.

Friday night we go to Wild Wing Cafe off of Roswell Road and are caught in what was I suppose the end of a car accident on I-75. Stopped for only about fifteen minutes, we waited with the rest of the annoyed drivers while six or seven police cars whizzed by, followed by two ambulances and one fire truck.  After dinner, which is good, as usual, we go home and start PU-239, an interesting movie about plutonium.

That night I can’t sleep from having to readjust to sharing a bed again for a few days, so Saturday I wake up exhausted. Even trying to rest until noon doesn’t do much good, so we make breakfast for my cousin and actually use the table like normal people to eat on. We pop off to the Atlanta zoo, which is much better than the DC zoo (sadly), and have a decent time hurrying to each exhibit before they closed early for an event. We see all the major exhibits: elephants, tigers and lions (with their cubs!), giraffes, naked mole rats, reptiles, and the pandas. Then, after an arduous trip into the Target off of Moreland, we head home to watch several movies in a row. We cook dinner and turn in early.

Sunday… is another movie day, although we do run some errands early in the morning, while the sun is still warm but the day breezy. That, and we end up seeing Burn After Reading, which I did not like very much. Dinner is pizza with beer while watching CJ7 and a few after that.

Monday I work, but I break up the day by driving home for lunch. Boy makes pasta salad, and we talk with the roommates. They leave for an excursion to the Cingular store while I go back to work. In the evening, we go out to dinner (Ru San’s in Buckhead). Before settling on that place, I search for another sushi restaurant that I’ve been to before but can’t find it. Rather than becoming more and more lost in Buckhead, we just park and walk, and the experience is worth it.

We find a car wash on an empty stretch of Piedmont Road, and then head downtown to the little theater on E. Ponce. We kill 45 minutes until our movie starts and then head back inside, the only couple until about thirty seconds after the movie begins.

When we arrive home it is very late, but we talk with the roommates and make cookies. I stay out so infrequently on work nights that it feels more rebellious than it actually is, although I feel I have made the most out of the day.

Today I felt this tightness in my chest after we’d signed the lease and I’d gone to work, because I want so much for it not to be a mistake.

It was a beautiful day but all I could think was that maybe we did rush into it, that since the house wasn’t even ready for us that it was a sign that we should have kept looking, should have held out for something else, something more.

It’s the cutest little house, a squat little grey cottage set in a strange little slice of suburbia within the city itself. Just south of the golf course (the very expensive golf course), and only a few miles away from work. Further from the gym than I’d like, but only going three or four times a week is all right with me, especially since we live close to the highways anyhow.

It has black shutters and hardwood floors, and right now is so intensely dirty that I can’t shake the disappointment leaking into my thoughts. I keep telling myself that I expect too much, that when we clean it all up things will be wonderful, but I can’t help but be suspicious now that it won’t turn out that way, that we will just have another repeat of this apartment, which I liked so much in the beginning but which has slowly spiraled downwards, until it has become depressing for me to return to, to live in.

I also can’t help but think that it is partially because of the inhabitants that this place has so much negativity. Not only my across-the-hall neighbors, but my roommate too, I feel like have been slowly poisoning the energy here with their complaining, their constant yelling and conflict and general unhappiness.

And the place right now is so small I can’t even close my door to all of the bitching, the meanness that’s in this place, especially when my cousin is at home.

Luckily, this new place is about double the size of this apartment, and so we’ll all have room to breathe (I hope). My room is the entire upstairs, although that’s still small, but the floor space is more than I’ve ever had and I simply love it, love the possibilities it brings.

And even while I was happy about this at first, already the phone calls have started with the complaining, the rejection of a place that isn’t pristine. Complaints that there is some strange plant growth in the cabinet, some fruit flies around it, cobwebs everywhere, debris and junk left out.

While yes, I do think it’s a bit odd that the place wasn’t cleaned out before we got ahold of it, we also seemed to catch the landlord off guard in moving in on it so quickly. I asked my new roommate if he could sell any of her medicine that she left (jokingly…), and then told him to put it all in a giant pile so we could give it back to her later if she wants it. I told him not to worry about the root thing and the bugs, that they’d go away if we just tossed the whole growth or whatever in the garbage and bleached the drawer.

These things seem so rudimentary to me–that we should have to clean some when we come to a new place–that I almost can’t believe I have to give instructions on how to deal with them. It is almost as if I must now mother both of my roommates, when that is the last thing I want to do.

I want to be left alone, is all. No, better, I would much rather live alone than with lots of people, especially people I don’t know well. I have come to need space over the last few years, space in which I can retreat into myself and my surroundings and just be, without having to be everything else that they have come to expect of me.

So still, I do secretly enjoy the moments in the apartment when things have just been cleaned (by me), straightened (by me), and washed (by me). It’s those moments when I’m alone that I can truly relax, smile, do what I want. Lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling and drift off imagining that I’m somewhere else, somewhere fun, or dive backwards into myself and my memories and hash things over. It’s those nights when there’s nobody here, and it’s Saturday and I can watch three movies in a row and write in my journal, nights like that I enjoy.

I have no doubt that I will enjoy this new place, however much cleaning up I have to do in order to get to that point. Part of the charm in an old house, I told them, is that it’s old. It’ll have cobwebs, it’ll have creaks and dents and small holes in the walls. It will be grey on the outside, and on the inside yellow and blue and green. It will maybe have that strange depression in the tub where water seems to pool if you let it. And yes, it may have the occasional horrifying root growth where the previous owner forgot some kind of legume in the drawer. Big deal. It will also have the chestnut piano, the odd little window at waist level in the hallway that looks out at the refrigerator, the grate in the floor, the stairs that lead up into the master bedroom, and the yard next to the dog that pees on you. It’ll have the warped shutter, the perpetually open screen door, and yes, the little tiny hole in glass in the living room. And the three heart lamps the land lord left you because she didn’t want them. Yes, all of these things and more.

I still find myself hoping desperately that it is not a mistake, and knowing somewhere in my mind that it can’t be. It won’t be. It’ll only be a mistake if my roommates manage to convince me of it. And they’re not around much, so I don’t think that will be an issue, see?