If you go on a walk with a question, you'll return with an answer.

I robbed this photo from Emily Dryden.

"If you go on a walk with a question, you'll return with an answer."

If I remember correctly, I got this piece of wisdom from a New Raleigh commenter. And for much of my adult life, it has rung true.

It was on a long walk one Sunday in February 2009 that I decided to move to Atlanta.

And it wasn't until the iPod connector for my car stereo was stolen and I was forced to drive the 1.5-hour daily round-trip commute in silence that I decided to quit my job.

From fall 2008 to spring 2009 I drove the 400 miles between Raleigh and Atlanta about a dozen times, meaning I was alone, with very little entertainment, for a total of over 72 hours. During those drives, more than during any other event, I grieved for my father.

Whether it's a long walk or a long drive, I tend to arrive at great conclusions during times of silence and solitude. And I don't think the New Raleigh commenter and I are the only ones. Legend even has it that Archimedes claimed "Eureka!" while enjoying a nice bath.

This spring, the MoMA held an exhibit where visitors waited their turn in order to sit down at a table in front of performance artist Marina Abramovic and simply stare, in complete silence, for however long they wanted.

Many reported that they lost track of time, and even cried.

What is happening in our brains during these quiet moments?

Last week the New York Times informed us that we need this kind of "downtime" to process our experiences:

“Almost certainly, downtime lets the brain go over experiences it’s had, solidify them and turn them into permanent long-term memories,” said Loren Frank, assistant professor in the department of physiology at the university, where he specializes in learning and memory. He said he believed that when the brain was constantly stimulated, “you prevent this learning process.”

At the University of Michigan, a study found that people learned significantly better after a walk in nature than after a walk in a dense urban environment, suggesting that processing a barrage of information leaves people fatigued.

Science confirms the aphorism: Giving ourselves periods of silence and solitude can lead to revelations, or at least help us remember better.

I am trying to say "no" more often—to avoiding the hard, pressing questions about where I'm going and what impact I'm having. Although it's difficult to close my computer, to leave my cell phone in the other room, to turn down the invitation to go out with friends or even just watch a movie alone, I am realizing that I need that quiet space to let the wheels spin, and eventually slow down, before moving on to the next thing.

Jake Loves Acree

I forwarded last week's article to Jake's Ice Cream and received a response from the man himself:

Hi Acree-

You made our day!!! Thank you so much for the beautiful write up. We were thrilled that you used our logo and we hope you will stay in close touch with us.

Yours-

Jake

[italics mine] !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I always imagined Jake looked something like this:

Trouble With the Law

On the drive back from Atlanta Wednesday night I received my very first speeding ticket!

Getting pulled over was not even the worst part of the drive, but I won't go into all my traffic plights because typically people are only interested by their own complaints and, sometimes, their children's. (My mom: "Oh, sweetheart, did you get scared when all the blue lights were flashing?" Me: [sniffle] "Yes.") Suffice it to say I am sick of hurricane season.

Anyway, if anybody has advice (Should I contest? I was clocked at 79 in a 65) please speak up! Or if you have your own traffic/weather/cop horror stories feel free to share them so that the rest of us can not listen, then cut you off in order to one-up you!

Last night while I was parked outside a bar to meet a friend, a bunch of these little things attacked my car:

(Yes, I did save one and scan it. What else am I to do with paid time in the presence of a scanner on my hands?)

As I was trying to shoo them away from my car one flattened itself against the window and slipped down inside the bowels of the passenger door. My car has been crying ever since.

Does anyone know how to access that part of your car (without tools)? Or will Little Red Wagon of Dreams have to live with this thing inside her for the rest of her life?

Why I've Been M.I.A.

[Please excuse the poor-quality camera phone photos in this entry. I am still having real-camera problems.]

As announced, I spent the weekend in Atlanta.

Pros: I visited H&M, which makes #6 for me worldwide (Boston, Dublin, Salzburg, Prague, Emeryville (San Fransisco too?), and now Atlanta), as well as my old friends Taqueria Del Sol, Fellini's, the Flying Biscuit, and the Vortex (well, the outside anyway).

Cons: I missed the DragonCon parade and the season premiere of Gossip Girl, the latter of which I am now watching on YouTube.

I guess that's pretty much it.

Oh, yeah. I also spent quality time catching up with people for whom I feel genuine affection. Whatever.

About 100 miles into my trip home, somewhere outside Anderson, South Carolina, I ran over an object that caused my back right tire to rip and shred apart at the seams. I pulled up to a gas station and had the clerk call someone -- apparently they have these people on call -- to come change it for me (not that I COULDN'T change it myself, of course; I just didn't feel like it).

The guy came, put my tiny little spare tire on for me, and made me promise under no circumstances to go more than 60 miles per hour for the remainder of my trip. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he even pointed at me with his cigarette and called out the window, "55, baby!"

So for 300 miles I puttered along in the right lane, watching trucks and old people pass me. This extended my 6 hour trip into 8.5 hours, and the long-descended darkness combined with the "ACREE'S LAST NIGHT IN ATLANTA!!!! WOOO!!!" attitude of the night before meant that I required several coffee-and-bathroom stops to stay alert. The coffee-and-bathroom combination, however, is surprisingly hard to obtain late on a Labor Day night. At 10:30 (a 10:30 that FELT like 2 a.m.) in "downtown" Archdale, N.C., I was driving around looking for an open gas station or fast food restaurant, bladder bursting, when I pulled into a shopping center with the intent of turning around and came across this:

Needless to say, what I now like to call "Comic Sans Diner" was a sight for sore eyes. I walked in to find some old Blues tune droning throughout the restaurant and three regulars at the counter turning in unison on their stools to eye me up and down. Yet I wasn't the least bit intimidated! Thank God for that welcoming, cheerful font on the restaurant's exterior!

In one instant, having first been broken down by a strange brew of homesickness, exhaustion, and the fear of being raped and murdered on the side of the highway in the rural south, I was transformed into a card-carrying supporter of that delightfully playful font Comic Sans, and will soon go on tour, speaking at high schools on its behalf. (Incidentally, does anyone know how to change the default script on blogger?)

Thanks to Comic Sans Diner, I am now safe and warm in the city of my residence. But before I go, here is a (rather dumb) picture to make Mohua happy:

Don't Seema, Brian and I look cute putting our heads close together and making peace signs and pouting? FRIENDS FOREVER!!!!