Had my first creative writing class tonight. Was quite enjoyable. We have several assignments to work on for the next class – some reading, some writing exercises, as well as an ongoing assignment to keep a journal of observances, thoughts, etc. I guess to a degree some of what I put in here fits the category, but an awful lot of it is also just a recording of what I’ve done which doesn’t quite fit the assignment. So, I need to run grab a notebook or something to try to jot this down. Since I lack one tonight, and I had a couple of observations that are still fresh from the evening, I thought I’d give it a whirl.

• Before class I was looking for some place to eat – feeling more conscious of time and traffic being heavy I gave up early and settled for McD’s. The person behind the counter when I came in was the stereotypical, unhappy with his job sort, or at least he appeared as such. He was running both the drive-through and the counter, which seemed a bit much at going on 6pm. He was very much ignoring the counter, which to that point had a couple and me. The couple had already placed an order and were making small talk. I didn’t really take it in as I was busy feeling ignored. A minute or two passed before a three-some of obvious college-guys came in. They all had the preppy haircuts, white t-shirts, and shorts – almost a uniform. They were pretty vocal, so I did hear some of their discussions as they argued about who had enough to help one of the threesome pay for his meal as he had no money. They finally settled on who would pay, what they were both having, etc. About this time, a somewhat disheveled cashier appeared to be returning from a break and took my order just as the couple ahead of me were getting their food from the guy who had been manning both stations. I placed my order and stood to the side while the threesome ordered their food to go. Shortly after I sat down, I saw them leave the parking lot – in a BMW SUV. Yep, I’m near Emory alright.
• I live in the suburbs because my job is here. I always remember how much I liked intown life when I go back down there. That may be the reason I don’t go back more. For the first two years in Atlanta, I lived more or less between Emory and Buckhead in a dumpy little apartment that I’ll always remember with a touch of fondness. While driving around looking for food, I finally determined that I didn’ t want to go further down Briarcliff searching as it was putting me further and further from the school. It had been so long since I’d been around Emory that I really had no idea where to go, but I decided to turn around and go back to North Decatur. I spotted an apartment complex parking lot to turn around. As soon as I turned in, I spotted it, the rental sign – Connie Rose – the same group who owned my first and only apartment in Atlanta. I felt like I was at home in a strange way. Every so often, the idea of selling my suburban townhouse has flitted across my brain. I’ve thought of paring my life down and moving into a condo in the city. And in a few days, the thought of not even having my little patch of dirt to plant in floats through, and soon I remember the agony of a bad day in traffic getting to and from work. And I resign myself to more time in the burbs.