Big secret: the coffee's not that good. It's okay, but you can get equally good coffee in any big city.
Not so secret: it snows occasionally. Men wear coats and scarves; everyone
covers their head. All those beanies and boots I've collected over the years have come in handy!
Fun fact: the beaches here are rocky, with no sand; they are perfectly still and deathly cold.
Not a secret at all: a lot of tours skip Seattle. There are a lot of very good local bands, but you may only get one chance to see them because turnover is so high, so if you stumble into a good set, stay put, enjoy it and commit it to memory.
It's weird to me that people nail themselves to the map and never even consider relocating. They need to talk with the families of WWII veterans and get some perspective.
I used geography, but not the way a lot of addicts do. I deliberately got sober IN California, where I'd been drinking heavily for 10+ years, because I wanted to clean up; I wanted people in my life to watch me transform and change their mind about me.
So the moment the opportunity presented itself, I left Los Angeles for Seattle. I'm VERY alone here, but it's nice to be alone, far from reminders of perfectly good evenings I ruined and people who shunned and/or rejected me. It's impossible to make friends here-- it's an unfriendly place, and I'm a 40-year-old woman in a committed relationship whose primary interests are books, music and singleplayer video games. There are days when a cashier's rudeness reduces me to tears on my way home from a store, but most of the time I'm not really worried about becoming desocialized. Maybe my previous set of operations was all wrong, and I'll come out of this with a new one. I'm bound to accidentally make a friend or two eventually.
I've figured out how to cook a lot of awesome things, and I've done enough exercise and can now walk the hills without any serious problems. I even did part of Discovery Park, braving a steep, wooded hike down to the "beach" at night. I keep the apartment immaculately clean and have caught up on a lot of reading and handiwork projects. (Remember the stuffed oversized Christmas star I was sewing when he died, back in 2003? I finally finished the damn thing.)
We're making really
good progress on that down payment. I'm excited!
Maybe I'll start writing again after I finish this press release or this pile of books. Or after I get a day job, after I've wrapped up this last client. Or maybe never. Would that be the end of the world? It felt like everybody in my life wanted me gone, and now I am gone. Would it be the end of the world if I just shut up and try to enjoy what's left of my life?