So yeah, I’m home, back in Atlanta. It’s nice and comfortable here, cozy like falling into the hammock that is my parents’ house. There’s homecooked food here. I have my own room AND my own bathroom. It’s amazing.
When I first got back I triumphantly reclaimed the old American conveniences like driving my car, having hot showers, and going for runs in the park. Oh, it was all very ordinary, the things that excited me in those first few weeks.
I remember letting out a rapturous, audible yelp while rolling out of the driveway for the first time in my white little sedan. I felt like a kid on a roller coaster.
I baked cookies for the first time in a year and, I swear, had a love affair with the cookie dough before finally conceding it in tiny spoon-shapen mounds to the game-changer that is the oven.
Yes, yes it was all so comfortably, traditionally, heart-warmingly ordinary.
During that time, I was still in the mindset of “documentation”, so I was pumping out draft after draft of blog posts, including ones about Atlanta. I was feeling especially determined to uncover Atlanta’s secret “cool” side so I could persuade you guys to come visit me.
But soon comfortable became boring, and now we’re here with nothing to write about.
My boring life, exhibit A:
I joined a gym, started working at an unpaid internship, half-heartedly decorated my room, re-read some books, went to doctors’ appointments, got my hair cut, sang in my car…
Played the ukulele, ate a lot of food, hung out with my parents…
Went shopping, did my laundry, got an iPhone, saw some people I hadn’t seen in a while…
I did this weird thing where I decided to visit my high school
on a Saturday night
What is there even to write about anymore??