R.S. Evangelista

I was recently reminded of our tendency as humans to be followers and admirers. Many of us are leaders, yet, I myself included, are always looking to something else. For there is nothing new under the sun. It’s just the truth in every aspect of life, from what to eat, to how to tie a tie, to what to read, who to listen to, how to speak, etc. All of this is influenced from someone or something prior to.

There are differences though, between admiring and following. Following necessarily incurs only when the one following takes on the character and personality of that which he or she is following; the leader. Admiring is not mimicking, but more of a distant expression, a cheering on approach, a watchful satisfaction.

Take for example this. And I have tried to avoid writing about a recent occurrence, but I keep coming back to it. This past week Owen Wilson, among others, was filming a movie in Glenwood Park. This is the development just down the hill from my house in East Atlanta. My roommate and I use the dry-cleaners there. Several of my past housemates and many of my closest friends have worked in this neighborhood. They were filming in and around Drip, the coffee shop, formerly known as Perk. This is crazy. “Famous” people were sipping lattes where I’ve been a regular for almost four years now.

Apparently the movie will be released in 2011 as Hall Pass, also starring Jenna Fischer (Pam of the Office). The premise of the movie is as follows; Jenna Fischer will play as Owen’s wife, and is allowing him a “hall pass” to go have a week of adultery at no consequences, to go explore other women. Now that isn’t so much worth admiring, but I did find myself with others coming to the set in Glenwood Park to watch. I was excited. Owen Wilson’s pretty “cool” and been in some great movies. In some ways I admire him. But mostly I admire his characters that he plays, as fun, witty, and making the most of life. Yet the reality is, Owen Wilson and his characters are just ones to admire. I have no desire to live the life of a movie star. It’s fun to watch from afar, to try to take a picture without a security guard noticing and to see a part of a movie being filmed. Yet he is not one to follow.

And while I was thinking about movie sets. It seems like lately Atlanta is becoming one of her own, a sort of fantastical, apocalyptic snowy entanglement. I mean, did you hear about the zebra that ran loose out of the circus?  This fearful and fearsome creature escaped through rush hour traffic downtown and into the interstate connector. Hundreds of folks pulled off to the side of the road in order to catch a glimpse of this freakish occurrence. Try imaging how sad it’d be as a zebra stuck in a circus. These fierce animals were meant to live out in the wilderness. They were meant to run, not to be caged in to a traveling entertainment prop.

Then I think; life is like a circus. And culture, American-western civilization has me tamed, boxed into a two hour act for everyone else to smile at. I’m performing for the masses to just accept me. But like the zebra, I’m just a little bit different. I’m more than just a simple horse. My colored stripes set me apart. And I love the one quote from the circus spokesman, “It was just an unavoidable accident…”

What! Wasn’t there something that could have been done? Was the zebra really always going to escape?

Like the Beach House lyrics say “This black and white horse arching among us, any way you run, you run before us.” May I follow this great other zebra, because no creature was made to be caged. The escape is unavoidable. And hopefully, we won’t turn back. For there is one who went before us, and broke open the circus doors.

I grabbed a beer a couple nights ago with a couple of my barista buddies. We settled in over at the Brewhouse Cafe in Little Five Points mostly because they have Fat Tire on draft, and that sounded like a good idea. What was a warm Georgia evening turned into a pleasant night on the patio looking out as the city drove by. We talked about how the world began, and whether or not we would want to be sent into an Assisted Living situation in our old age. Conversations are best when you can talk about serious matters, political and religious rambles, and still want to keep drinking together. And they know I’m a churchgoer…

We’re all at different phases in our lives. Rob’s settling down with his wife, which is a beautiful thing. He mentions his desire to pickle his jalapeno peppers and how extensive the process is. Adam’s excited about the thought of attending his ten year reunion soon. He biked to meet us. That’s what he does. And I guess if one were to drink too much, it’s a lot less dangerous of a ride home. I scootered of course, which is categorical of an urban hipster if that’s the box you might want to put me in. But, it’s a year old and baby blue, so it’s not nearly as dirty as the PBR-drinking, mustache-sporting, tight jean-wearing folk you might want to associate me with.

We weren’t as interested in associations as we were just catching up and having a good time. I’ve been in China for a few weeks, and I realized how much I enjoyed my job while I was gone. So after awhile, we inevitably got to talking about San Fran. Was there anything I missed? a story here, a joke there, etc. But we were all willing to admit how lucky we felt. It’s a unique thing to be able to go almost anywhere in Atlanta and see someone you know. Sometimes we don’t remember customers names (which I regret), but we do remember their story, as much as we’ve come to know.

And even though we might all be at different places in our lives, we share something in common. We are human, sharing in the same sort of daily struggle and grind, laughing or crying.  But even more than that, we love our jobs because we love people. And that’s what we have in common.It’s not because of the coffee, and certainly not because of the early opening. It’s the variety and familiarity of faces we get to see and know from all over this sprawling city.

It’s summer by most accounts here in Atlanta.  Summer’s a time for coming and going, for travels and for rest. And I found my way over to Emory today. Some of my favorite places in Atlanta are over here, like the spacious quad at the University near the library. Back in my college days I’d use it because of my own campus’s lack of resources. It afforded me pleasant getaways in my times of escape. I like people, and being surrounded by hundreds of intellectual kids made me feel better about myself I guess. But today I’m reminded that it’s summer, and the quad’s solace is in the stillness, the calm and emptiness from everyone’s absence. I move on, and I find my way over to the village.

Normally I’d sit in for brunch at Rise and Dine, but I’ve already had my usual everything bagel at work this morning. So I just stop by long enough to say hello to my friend waiting tables. This afternoon I’m at Method. a newer coffee bar and tea lounge. I’m here because some barista friends have been raving about their espresso.  And as it turns out I’m pleasantly satisfied.  Method. is trendy in a good way; wood floor with the polished finish, post-modern artsy cushioned seats on one wall, simple menu, and a spacious patio. The owner and baristas know what they’re up to. They love what they’re doing, and that isn’t always easy to find these days.

You know, I was thinking the other day…it’s probably a good thing that we have extremists in some sense. I’m glad that some folks aren’t satisfied with just being good at something, just settling with the norm.  If there is no great novelist, then who would the short story writer have to look towards? Or more to the point, where would your everyday barista look without the World Barista Competition? She might end up handing you something more undesirable.  A good cappuccino could make a sad man’s day just a little bit better.

Today I’m tasting one of the most flavorful sips of my life(Maybe the truffle shavings I shared at Serenbe Farm were this distinct). The espresso that Method. recently blended is making me lose my tongue.  It’s remarkably paletteable.  There is an unidentifiable wafer sweetness that comes with their predominent roast, mixed in with some whiskey, maple syrupy flavor and a savory, candy ginger finish from the other varietals. The soft tabacco and spiced orange joined in leave me with a smooth, subtle aftertaste. There is enough bitter to confirm it as espresso, but it is grand. I desire more.

I step outside instead. I remind myself that it’s just espresso. There are more substantial things to consider. The breeze is fitting. It’s enough to make me feel cooler on this warm, cloudy day. Perfection is good, like a beautiful sip of espresso. And that extremist striving is healthy if it moves one towards perfection. It’s all too obvious that extremists can take on great evil when they look towards an imperfection, towards something that lacks truth (like murdering an abortion doctor). Not everything is subjective, lest we forget and can no longer enjoy the subtilties in life. I hope I can care enough to strive towards the truer thing, towards the honest thing even if it is summer time and the quad is still and motionless.