Extracting One's Self from Dodge

Album Cover: Narrow Stairs

"As the flashbulbs burst, she holds a smile like someone would hold a crying child."
Death Cab For Cutie / Cath...

Posted on October 19, 2003 11:04 PM in Blathery
Warning: This blog entry was written two or more years ago. Therefore, it may contain broken links, out-dated or misleading content, or information that is just plain wrong. Please read on with caution.

As my girlfriend says, you always think how great it would be to live in the city. Once you do it, however, you realize it's not quite where you belong and you move on, happy that you can at least say you gave it a try.

I sit here tonight, writing in my weblog, 15 stories above the streets of downtown Seattle. To my misfortune, the AFI concert just ended at the Paramount theatre, and hundreds of punk kids have been unleashed onto those streets, freely screaming obscenities into the cold, late-evening air. To make things worse, our sliding glass door slid right off its track this weekend, so I cannot get away from the screams.

Okay, so I sound like an old man, but whatever. I just turned 24 on Thursday, so I am an old man. An old man who no longer feels he belongs in the midst of teenage screams and busy city streets. An old man that doesn't need to know about every emergency situation in a 10 mile radius the minute it happens. I used to be perfectly happy hearing about it on the news, rather than via epileptic ambulence and police patrol car sirens.

At the end of January, we will be moving away from the concrete and glass and toward the trees and grass. We won't miss the elevator rides, nor will we miss the concert-goers and panhandlers. We'll trade all that in for a driveway, a fenced yard, and peace of mind. Only 104 days to go, but who's counting?

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