Flashback.
It’s the first night here, and Brad takes me out on his boat with his wife. The
two of them are hosting a high end audio post production company (aka a company
that makes audio pretty on a TV show right before they release it). Classy
stuff. Before I can say hello to Brad’s wife she’s breathlessly shoving a
kitchen knife and a cucumber in my hand while sending Brad out to buy the
forgotten pita bread so she can quickly make the cocktails to numb the minds of
our guests and blind them to the sheer lack of preparation we have done for the
evening. The guests get louder with each drink and I feel like I’m in high
school again with Katy Perry and Pharrell blasting over speakers as we drift
out into Lake Union, and I keep forgetting these people are in their 50s. The
wine’s running low so I settle for a beer, and I drink it hunkered down in the
back booth of the boat while listening to mind-boggling conversation about all
the people they know that most people just read about in tabloid magazines. I
just have to remind myself to be cool and act like comparing Emmy after-parties
is a totally normal conversation topic. Such is the film industry, I suppose.
This is
the world I’m in. I breathe it all in as I stand on a paddle board in the
middle of the lake, drifting away from the party boat for a little while. The
skyline stands before me as an austere testament to the terrific progress upon
which this city builds its reputation. Seattle is truly a city like no other,
and you know that when you look at the person coming towards you on the sidewalk
and they raise their face and flash you a smile like you’re a neighbor they
haven’t seen in a few months. You know that when you decide to go to the local
park and it’s an old abandoned Gas Works factory converted into a giant
playground, and when a pile of dirt under an overpass is sculpted to look like
a troll, so they name a street after it. You know it when the Seahawks play in
the NFL 2014 Kickoff and Russell Wilson carries the team to victory again. And
yes, you know the place is unique when you see the bum on the street corner
lighting up a joint and no one bats an eyelash. This city is a fantastic
whirlwind of freedom and progress, bursting with the avant-gardes of
entrepreneurship, fashion, and social movements, and I ride the wave like a
rookie rider that surfs on her knees and probably looks like a complete idiot.
At least that’s how I looked on that stupid paddle board that I actually really
enjoyed.
But I’m
not alone anymore. “I’ve always had this dream of being a roller disco star,” my
new roommate Jordan laughs as he says this to me in the kitchen that reeks of burnt kale chips, and even though he's joking, he knows how to say things in ways that make them ten times funnier. I’m
holding a guitar on my lap with one hand and a wooden elephant mug of wine with
the other. It’s 1am, and the kitchen is electric with the energies of two tipsy
visionaries that have too many stories to tell and ideas to share. The table is
littered with a ukulele, a half-eaten chocolate bar, and pieces of paper on
which we’ve scribbled some of the most fanciful and eccentric ideas we have,
because sometimes you just have to write these things down. Right now, these
ideas are hanging up on our refrigerator. I call it the Idea Board, but I haven’t
told Jordan that yet. His laptop plays some underground reggae and he’s beat-boxing
to the music while he takes the burnt kale chips out of the smoky oven. The
night is alive and we talk about everything under the sun, and we do a horrible
rendition of “Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley, but singing together is fun as hell,
and who really cares? Sometimes you just have to sing, and when you sing with
someone else, it’s fun to sound terrible because then you have less to hide.
And when we’re tired of sitting, we stand on our heads on the living room floor,
because apparently that’s yoga, and apparently it’s good for your health. And
when that’s over, we ponder the perfection of the imperfect world we live in,
because what does perfection produce except blindness? It’s the balance of
imperfection that is perfect, and in that moment of enlightenment sitting at
the kitchen table, it just made sense. What’s sanity without insanity, what’s
peace without chaos, and what’s friendship without loneliness? It’s things like
loneliness, things that make your heart muscles ache, that end up being what
make your heart full again when they are fixed with something better. And that’s
what I’ve found in my friend Jordan. See? I knew I’d be okay.
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