Wednesday, October 25, 2006
No One Dances Here
This Seattle Times story, archived as it may be, accurately describes a slew of social interactions I've had since moving back to the rainy city.
So far, I've gotten by telling myself that Seattle is like a junior high boyfriend. We both like each other, but at the same time are too embarrassed to even make eye contact, much less hold hands. We're both kind people. We open doors and allow each other to cut in line. Occasionally we'll share a brief smile, only to look away too quickly.
Lately, though, I'm beginning to think that I'm the only one putting any energy into our relationship. The smiles have been shorter and I've been passing more and more unanswered notes.
Seattle, I have one question for you:
Do you like me? Circle YES or NO
I think we're growing apart.
You see, despite what those closest to me might say, I'm a pretty cheerful lady. When properly caffiened, I'd venture to say I'm downright friendly. But in the past few months I've learned to tone it down a little on public transportation. I've received looks of disapproval for talking expressively on the bus.
Whatever happened to light conversation?
I've stopped paying compliments to strangers. This morning, for example, a co-worker mentioned that she liked my sweater. I nearly collapsed with gratitude.
People just don't dance here. At concerts, I've learned to shuffle my feet self-consciously while the rest of the crowd simply slouches, heads bobbing, hands in pockets, shooting concerned looks towards the stage.
I should note that my people are not from the Midwest.
Over the past eight years, I grew used to New England, where everyone is loud and lays their feelings out on the table. There is one kind of coffee, it comes from Dunkin' Donuts and it can be ordered according to lightness. We drink out of Styrofoam cups. Our recycling program is shameful. Everyone is freezing. Everyone is weathered and grouchy.
It's a simpler system. You either smile or frown. There's no secret handshake.
There are few grey areas to be found.
You, Seattle, as it is well known, are filled with grey areas. How about increasing your contrast? Bulk up on your social skills. Brush back your hair. Acknowledge me on the street. I want to look into your eyes.
Let's be friends.
This Seattle Times story, archived as it may be, accurately describes a slew of social interactions I've had since moving back to the rainy city.
So far, I've gotten by telling myself that Seattle is like a junior high boyfriend. We both like each other, but at the same time are too embarrassed to even make eye contact, much less hold hands. We're both kind people. We open doors and allow each other to cut in line. Occasionally we'll share a brief smile, only to look away too quickly.
Lately, though, I'm beginning to think that I'm the only one putting any energy into our relationship. The smiles have been shorter and I've been passing more and more unanswered notes.
Seattle, I have one question for you:
Do you like me? Circle YES or NO
I think we're growing apart.
You see, despite what those closest to me might say, I'm a pretty cheerful lady. When properly caffiened, I'd venture to say I'm downright friendly. But in the past few months I've learned to tone it down a little on public transportation. I've received looks of disapproval for talking expressively on the bus.
Whatever happened to light conversation?
I've stopped paying compliments to strangers. This morning, for example, a co-worker mentioned that she liked my sweater. I nearly collapsed with gratitude.
People just don't dance here. At concerts, I've learned to shuffle my feet self-consciously while the rest of the crowd simply slouches, heads bobbing, hands in pockets, shooting concerned looks towards the stage.
I should note that my people are not from the Midwest.
Over the past eight years, I grew used to New England, where everyone is loud and lays their feelings out on the table. There is one kind of coffee, it comes from Dunkin' Donuts and it can be ordered according to lightness. We drink out of Styrofoam cups. Our recycling program is shameful. Everyone is freezing. Everyone is weathered and grouchy.
It's a simpler system. You either smile or frown. There's no secret handshake.
There are few grey areas to be found.
You, Seattle, as it is well known, are filled with grey areas. How about increasing your contrast? Bulk up on your social skills. Brush back your hair. Acknowledge me on the street. I want to look into your eyes.
Let's be friends.
