Waiting by the phone
I don't like to be alone
I need a fix of hope
A hint of love in your voice
Shark & Sylvain feat. Lara Love - Call Me
Thanksgiving is on its way once again, and so Atlanta increasingly resembles what the protagonist saw after waking up "28 Days Later."
The Peachtree Street Vortex is closed for three days this week. The Vortex, which prides itself in its rock 'n' roll aesthetic, is the last place in Atlanta one would expect to find shuttered for three days of Thanksgiving. But a waitress at Charlie G's 11th Street Pub (Nathan's and my alternative hang-out choice last night) explained that the reason for the closure is renovations, so Vortex is hereby forgiven.
Although Charlie G's has a good selection of quality beers, I deliberately opted for weak, cheap American beer. Yuengling seems to generate a lot of positive reviews, but to me it tastes little different than Michelob Ultra. The stuff is like water, but that can actually be good if you are trying to pace yourself. Unfortunately, they ran out of cold bottles of Yuengling because I drank them all, so in the end I switched to the higher alcohol Stella. But my Yuengling plan still seemed to work. Despite ostensibly imbibing too much, the bar tab was small and my head feels perfectly fine today.
But I'm tired. I nodded off before midnight last night only to awake at 3:30 this morning in a state of panic over the Eurotrip plans. I spent an hour struggling to get back to sleep, but anxiety wouldn't allow me to. So I gave up on sleep entirely. From 4:30 until 5:15 I sat on the floor of my bedroom sorting through my Very Important Papers in an effort to find my original lease so that I could be clear on the terms of breaking it. I could not find the original lease on account of my being a disorganized idiot, so at 6 AM I wrote my landlord for a new copy.
Going through my old papers reminded me of how long I have actually been in Atlanta. Despite the feelings of life paralysis I've felt so acutely, by many measures my world has changed dramatically. One would hope that would be the case after 14 years. Still, I look around me and see that other people's lives changed much more than mine, and more positively as well, and that's the whole problem.
D-Day is effectively here; I ought to be mailing my rent check today in order to ensure that it gets to the landlord on 1 December, and it ought to include two months of rent, the extra month's being my punishment for breaking my lease. In other words, today should have seen my first major commitment to the Big Plan. But I balked on account of not having the lease to review and will likely send the rent check on Friday instead.
In addition to paying an extra month's rent, I will forfeit my deposit. This is how life puts manacles on you. But that only makes me more determined to break out of here.
From 6 to 7 I shredded old financial documents at the office. If nothing else, making plans to head to Europe has gotten me to do some necessary housecleaning.
The lyrics that open this blog entry are insipid, as most lyrics are when transcribed, but they work well within the context of this particular song. The inspiration for quoting them comes from the fact that I continue to look for a sign from somebody that I would be welcome to participate in the party overseas. So far my emails to various clubs have failed to garner any replies, though admittedly I haven't been sending out nearly as many as I should. Every message I do send seems to disappear into a black void, and considering how big my plans are, the lack of encouragement is...well...the word would be "discouraging," wouldn't it?
A review of my finances suggests that I will arrive in Europe with about $5000 to my name. I will have to roll my savings account (which has a pesky minimum balance) and my CD (which has turned out to be the most useless investment I made in the last calendar year) into my checking account so that I can actually access that money.