Seattle is the city of percussion and repercussion. Feet tap their way up and down the rolling hills, feet as varying and hidden as the people they support. The bus brakes screech. Every dog has its leash and the sky is so blue. The Cold War Kids are colder. The Gnarls Barkley is more gnarly. The Kinks are kinkier. Music sounds better here because there’s no distracting bass line humming beneath the heart of Seattle. It just beats.
It also beats the hell out of any other city I’ve been to; more than Austin, more than San Francisco more than Vancouver even. In fact I’m almost certain that I’m not cool enough to live here because I live on the bad side of town on a street that people might equate with Orange Blossom Trail in Orlando. Sure, OBT has some parts of it that are okay, but it wouldn’t be a good thing if I was described as a person who walked on OBT at night yet most of OBT is filled with broke ass people trying to chill like me. Yeah, well that’s Aurora Avenue. Once I told a bus driver that I needed to find my motel and he said, “really? You seem like a nice girl. Are you sure?”
And if that weren’t bad enough I’ve had a hard time finding another job. Even the job postings here are diverting. Every other one has the word quirky in it and I can tell they were written by people who have good things so say and an eloquent way to say them. I want to hear those things. I want to be those things. I really want to make a name for myself in a big way, more than I ever have in my life and the impulse is frightening.
Every decision I’ve made in life so far was reactionary to the conditions I felt dumped in. I was always searching for the easiest way. Now I find myself in the land that I chose to claim searching for the best way. Seriously. If you put a b in my google search bar the word best would self populate. I had no idea there was such a difference. I thought easier and faster were better and now life seems quite the opposite. The best of everything is often a long drawn out process and the people here rise to the occasion of those challenges every day. I can tell because every cup of coffee is good, every corner well lit, every garden well tended, every recycle bin filled to the brim. Its amazing.
And I want in. I want to make coffee. I want to move someplace where I can garden. I’ve even been recycling, mostly.
Looking down at my measly resume I log in for an afternoon of online job hunting and what do I find? Craigslist ads for grocery store clerk positions that require an Associate’s degree. Really. I’m not competent enough to stock Seattle shelves. Ouch. I can’t go to college yet because I have no money and there’s that silly out of state tuition garbage so what then is there for me, Seattle?
I sing on my walk to the Fremont library every day and I think of my mother who is now in recovery from surgery for those pesky cancerous ovaries (that are, of course, hereditary). I take pleasure in every find. I pass more than two hundred flowers on the way and today a lady said I had the most beautiful smile and it helps.
Life isn’t so bad when you have a beating city, rhythmic friends and long, winding guitar solo in your heart. For now that’s all I have, but I’m on an active hunt for harmony.