I woke up around 6:45 AM, which to me, feels a bit late. I typically try to get up a few minutes before 6, as it allows me to tell myself that I got a really good head start to the day. But today is Saturday, the first day of the weekend. And now, I’m back home.
I go through the motions of my morning routine - first, coffee accompanied with a liter of water and then a quick 30 minute language study lesson. From the side of my eye, I can see the dawn transitioning to the sunrise, the daybreak always accompanied with the chirping of the rising birds. It’s a fleeting harmony I’ll forget minutes later, but a simple pleasure that keeps you grounded.
The day felt bright, regardless of the early spring clouds. It was one of those days where you have a subtle natural high that pushes you through the day. One thing I knew I wanted to do was to go to a thrift store. I also wanted to go to a bookstore, to see if anything ‘jumped’ out from the bookshelves, something that would strike my interest. It’s my idea of a localized ‘inspiration trip’ - ha! Though I was meeting a friend later in the day, I had time!
Thrift stores always seem to have at least one item that encapsulates the ridiculous motifs I try to ignore in American culture. But there’s things you can’t keep your eyes off of. I couldn’t find stuff like this in Singapore…
Bookstores are my favorite for casual browsing. What topic will I delve into on this visit? I stumbled across a book that documented the different national parks in the US. Visiting Death Valley in 2022 sparked something in me. I tend to look outward for ‘interesting’ travel itineraries, but I realized my country is really unmatched in its diversity of landscapes. I read up on the White Sands in New Mexico, giving myself more motivation to visit there by the end of this year.
Do accessible ‘healthy’ snacks exist? I don’t really know… I ended up buying a Cliff Bar and a disgusting pink lemonade cookie from Whole Foods (lol). It was now later in the afternoon, so it was time to go and pick up my friend from work.
Lately, I’ve been listening to this album by Faye Wong when I’m driving. She has the ability to shift between a whimsical and serious tone in her vocal pitch. I’d assume her tone changes based on the context of the lyrics, which I don’t understand. However, expressing emotion doesn’t require a direct translation.
I pick my friend up, and we head to his house. With me, I brought clothes of mine he’s interested in seeing - pants in different cuts of wool, cotton, and silk. He’s been on a couple of recent trips, picking up some pieces that I’m drawn to. But what attracts me is a sweater vest, navy with a white grid pattern. I put it on, and I know I need to try and find a vest of my own, but perhaps in a shade that’s more considered to other items in my wardrobe.
We then drive to Little 5 Points, only to be met with some sort of festival. It’s loud and bashful. There’s a band tuning their gear before their set, a small skate course, and a row of vendors selling trinkets. It’s noisy, but the atmosphere is friendly. We’re just now crawling out of the throngs of winter, so it’s a good time for people to gather together, even if for the simple reason to welcome in the new season. I appreciate it - minus the pollen.
We stop in at a few stores we like to check out. My friend buys a T-shirt from one of the stores, a yellow T-shirt admonished with a purple graphic with nice typography. I see a Velvet Underground soft cover book, a band I’ve been a fan of since middle school. It’s filled with photos primarily from their era with Andy Warhol. I’d seen a lot of these photos prior, but never arranged together, in print. But for now, I’ll pass on its $85 price tag.
After a 30 minute or so drive, we arrived at our dinner spot. It’s perhaps the most popular Malaysian restaurant in Atlanta, and for good reason. It’s ‘never the same’, but the flavors are as authentic as you can get. We ordered prata, curry laksa, beef, and prawn mee. We also order salted egg chicken wings - a familiar Southeast Asian flavor in an Atlanta context. What strikes me is the texture of the fried chicken, briefly reminding me of those my grandmother used to make. I was craving mango sticky rice, but the restaurant began to prepare for closing.
Driving home is a breeze. Atlanta is notoriously congested, but when it’s clear, it’s nice. There’s a cathartic element to when you cross between roads and bridges to make a fleeting green light. I drop my friend off, say my farewells, and make it home in a quick 45 minutes.
There’s nothing like the relief you have after showering and laying your head to rest. A weight is lifted, like the first breath of fresh air after a deep dive. My mind is clear, my body a tad sore from the demands of the day. This is the part of my day when I feel most appreciative. If the day leaves me with new knowledge, then it was a day well spent. I switch off my lamp, and I try to shut my eyes with a sense of optimism for the next day.
Till next,
- Noah
Good read. I haven’t been on here in a while.