I'm sitting on the edge of a black faux leather chair in a coffee shop that's new to me. It's at the corner of Freedom Pkwy and Boulevard, facing all the glory of a downtown Atlanta skyline, though the view is obscured to me by a "Now Open" sign out front. That's a shame. This place is new, fresh, with a tint of the uppity. There are a couple of hipsters to my left, but mostly it's well dressed white people talking over inventories and advertising campaigns and retirement funds. I think I need to get over the fear of these people. I assume that professional white people are the worst kind of people. This might not be fair. People deserve a chance to not be judged by my pretentious prejudice. They're inherently beautiful, and they deserve a chance. Condessa Coffee is the name of this place. I don't think I like it. But, Bob Dylan comes through these headphones and sets everything at ease.
but farewell Angelina, the night is on fire and I must go.I participated in my first Young Life club in Atlanta last night. I had forgotten how much I love it. We sang as loud as we could, my hand cramped up from playing guitar, kids laughed and shouted and rested content in their childlikeness. It was beautiful. I've kept a lot of things at an arms length since I moved to Atlanta, mostly because I was in an emotional free-fall, having most of the constant things in my life up-rooted over the course of a summer. I think that I'm recovering still, but those fears and questions about who I am and where I belong and what life is really made of are coming to points, in as much as they can. Things are sorting out, life is becoming more simple, less riddled with confusion and frustration at my inability to "get it." I suppose I should unpack that a bit, but it will have to wait for another time, as there is a lot to accomplish today.
But I'm walking, which is something that I don't think I've been able to say for most of the last six months and beyond. I'm finally walking.