Atlanta is all slow movement, whirling fans, peaks of blue through skylights, cotton candy ice cream in overcooked waffle cones, and tall glasses of hot coffee and cream. There is a lonely loveliness to it all, but the old discontent never leaves my parent's house or the streets of suburbia. (Maybe it just never leaves me).

I don't know what to do with myself here. Pushing for a second job to make ends meet in the fall, but I don't know where to apply. I don't know where I can root and burrow down for the next three and half months. Because of that, I'm delaying the decisions and spending most days curled up in whicker in the porch's shade reading The Dream Songs. 

What's funny is that I'm not restless. Its disconcerting to lose that familiar feeling. I'm not restless, but I am eager. The South's slowness has been comforting, but I feel stagnant. I don't know where to invest myself this summer. More than anything, I want to see new places. Kiss new people. Draw with chalk on cleaner sidewalks. I want to learn new things. 

Atlanta is comforting because it is an old city, filled with old friends, and old memories. But I want challenging! And I don't know where to look for it, especially confined within the summer's shade and the Georgia landscape.