Phoenix to Seattle: The Big Move
Well it has been several months since my last entry. It would be appropriate to account for said gap in my writing by updating my faithful readers. First a thank you to those who sent me nice notes of encouragement and asked of my family’s health. It’s nice to know how many one can touch via a virtual writing world.
So I took a hiatus from my unsustainable post making. With night school, work, family, current events and political dementia, something had to give. Not long after I stopped writing I was offered a position to transfer from Phoenix to Seattle. At the end of January I became an air plane jockey doing Monday morning to Seattle, Friday night to Phoenix for 6 weeks. After 7 years of the Phoenix desert, 137 variations of brown, I almost became claustrophobic by the tall leafy greens Seattle had on display. My first impression was that my plane had mistakenly dropped me off in Juneau Alaska, but no, there was the Space Needle to verify otherwise.
I should take a moment to give my impressions after 2 months of living in Seattle; first, I don’t get it! Kurt Cobain didn’t explain this place to me in the 90’s. I always had some idea of Seattle being anti-conformity, some kind of additional hold out beyond the borders of Berkeley CA. Upon close inspection, half of this state is filled with Subaru’s, and if you do not own at least three different North Face jackets (all black) then you are barred from many restaurants and clubs. The next thing no one had prepared me for was the Moss, no not Kate Moss. There is moss on the roofs, grass, sidewalk, blacktop, cars, trees, I even think some dude on 1st Ave had it in his teeth…I began to fear for my life, I started inspecting between my toes, in my ears, nose and belly button to make sure I didn’t catch the moss.
In terms of environmentally friendly, carbon foot print awareness and acting in the name of conservation, Seattle has it. Ironically, in a state where you could never walk two feet without hitting water, our bathrooms have low flow toilets and shower heads that couldn’t emit water in an arch if you pressurized them. When you ask a local how are the summers, they respond by saying July 5th is really nice. I think I am in trouble.
Work is going really well despite the usual corporate drama in an organization that has a higher head count than Delaware. My team is great, were seeing eye to eye and our future looks bright despite the permanent overcast weather.
School…yeah…I am still arguing with my instructors, they are still asking me to quit interfering with the brain washing and they still haven’t figured out that teaching working professionals is different from that of snot nosed high school kids. My latest class has been a gem, American History post 1945, how convenient! They just love to launch right into the super human love affair with LBJ’s Great Society and how evil the 1950’s conformity was. No one dare mention the domestic terrorism started in the 1960’s by the enlightened students (but me). The only caveat has been the drug use got a little out of hand…F*in Liberals.
My instructor loves me; we send each other weekly love letters. However I wasn’t feeling very appreciated by the last one in which she told me my broad vocabulary is being misused, I am coming off like a pseudo professional, and I am damaging the classroom learning environment. She went on to tell me just how important the people are that she is studying American Foreign policy with for her doctorate and that they completely dismiss my theories. Funny, I didn’t know reading straight from the work of Winston S. Churchill was a fabricated theory on how pacifism perpetuated Hitler and allowed the mess of WWII to carry forth. I am also wrong about how spoiled the 1960’s white upper class suburban kids were and that Vietnam was NOT cause for domestic PTSD in college kids; in actuality, our young drafted boys sticking their heads Viet Cong tunnels trying to blast out nests is much more likely a condition of PTSD. But I digress…being three sheets to the wind on acid while blaring Pink Floyd on daddy’s Marantz has been known to teleport a few to the rice patties beyond Saigon.
Alas, I am not back to Hubpages for any particular length of time. My schedule is relentless, my business needs ever loving constant attention, my family deserves ever loving constant attention and my craft will have to remain on the back burner a little while longer. I miss the wide open 85+ mph highways of Arizona, thus my sports car craving is churning within my soul, almost vomiting as I pass every Outback and Prius on the I5. At least the big boys at the Microsoft campus have some taste driving Tesla’s.
Until some defined moment, I say hello and goodbye again. I hope to be back soon. Thanks all.
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