Today I went to the Coke Museum and Underground Atlanta with Dann and Pan and Katt (her recently-arrived Thai friend). I paid $7 for a ticket into the Coke museum, which was sort of overpriced for what amounted to a huge, multistory commercial. The highlight of the trip (for most people) is the tasting room, where you can guzzle all flavors of Coke and Coke-produced beverages from around the world. Since I don’t drink anything carbonated, and never have, this was a bit of a loss for me. I was much more interested in the history of Coke advertising – Coke advertising has made a prominent change in American culture. Three Coke jingles I can sing from memory – the “I’d like to teach the world to sing” song (the later one, not the earlier one), the “Coke is it!” commercial (my sister and I used to sing it on long car trips instead of the “Song that Never Ends” or other childhood favorites), and the “Always Coca-Cola” song. Few people know this, but the modern image of Santa Clause comes from the Coke ads. Before that, Santa was pictured as a dwarf, not obviously human. In “A Visit from Saint Nick,” he’s described as “a right jolly old elf,” which belies the way he’s drawn in (post-Coke ad) storybooks that feature this poem. Anyway, I had a pleasant time watching the archaic commercials. I’d like to go back by myself and go through it at my own pace.

Underground Atlanta was okay. There weren’t any bookstores, but they had some kind of street magician and a saxophone player, so it was atmospheric and entertaining, at least. I spent some time watching a caricaturist at work, and then spent some more time watching a candlemaker. Most of the shops were eating establishments, though.

This evening, my cell group helped clean up after a massive consignment sale. It was moderately enjoyable, and I was glad to be of some service, but the more I get to know my fellow members of my cell group, the more I realize how little I fit in with them. I simply don’t connect mentally with anyone. For example, I’m a big C. S. Lewis fan. At our meeting a couple of weeks ago, I tossed out, “Does anyone like C. S. Lewis?” Nobody had read anything by Lewis save the Chronicles of Narnia, and those that had, had read it so long ago they had forgotten most of it. One girl said, “I got a C. S. Lewis book, but I was afraid he’d be hard, so I never read it.” I mean, I can understand not reading a book because it’s too difficult (although I find C. S. Lewis to be one of the easiest of the “deeper” Christian writers to read), but not to read a book because you’re afraid it’ll be too hard? That’s simply . . . incomprehensible.

Maybe I should find another cell group. There are two other groups of twentysomething singles at our church; I think I’m going to try out one of the other ones. I like my church a lot; I hope I can find some area where I fit in.