I was staring out the bus window this afternoon, staring harder than usual. I’d forgotten my earphones, so I was trying to drown out the cacophony of naked humanity—Seattle’s bus system can be, let’s politely say, gritty and colorful, especially on an unseasonably warm February Saturday. As I started, I counted the number of luxury condominium complexes that have sprung up in the past few years, noting how almost all of them—no, shit, all of them–were now advertising specials, leasing, rentals, specials, move in nao plz! banners and signs, and it was worrying me. Not because of the poor investment and development companies who, due to greed, stupidity, and plain old bad timing, decided to develop overpriced housing in a country about to belly flop into recession, but for what it portends for my city.

Then I realized. My city. I was worrying about the health and welfare of my city.

After I graduated high school, I started moving around. I lived in Vermont for a time, then Florida, then a stint in Colorado for my BA, Chicago for my masters, and 2 years in Portland, Oregon. I’ve been in Seattle now for 10 years—the longest tenure in one place in my adult life—long enough to see it change. Some good changes, some bad changes, some changes that to me herald hardships to come, but I’ve lived here long enough to see change. And long enough to give a shit about these changes.

I never really expected to have civic pride. And I feel a little like a sports fan, pledging my allegiance to a thing that will never care about me, yet depends on me for its success.
Seattle’s a weird city. People are friendly and intelligent, but a little cold and stand-offish. Passive aggressiveness is de rigueur. The weather temperate and either way wetter or far less wet than you expect. The politicians are especially idiotic. Traffic is abysmal. It’s not super-duper diverse. We don’t have a particularly hopping nightlife. There are tons of bookstores but the libraries are on reduced hours. The attitude is both sophisticated and provincial. There isn’t a shitload of violent crime, but we lost like 7 policemen inside 6 weeks to shootings.

Seattle’s given me a lot: my husband, some good friends. Access to a stubbornly thriving literary community, an appreciation for wool socks and wild blackberries. A wealth of treasures discovered in people’s garbage, really scenic vistas, a habit of thanking the bus driver as I disembark, Norwescon, really good Thai food on every corner, a wicked coffee habit. The ability to never, ever-ever-ever again have to wear pantyhose if I don’t feel like it. A weird peace when I realize this weird-ass city is my home.

My weird city.