PlatKat.com: Fuck You, I'm Not Moving to Kirkland

Monday, December 10, 2007

Fuck You, I'm Not Moving to Kirkland

Think "Killing in the Name" by Rage Against the Machine.

The story of my move to Seattle is so ridiculous, anyone who isn't me might find it hilarious. It started when I sublet an artist's loft conveniently situated on a series of train tracks by the shipyards. Also, the "one girl who's never around" that I was supposed to be living with turned into the "one girl and her boyfriend who are always there talking, playing music, setting off fire alarms, and fucking". Combine that with train horns blasting at all hours of the night, I couldn't get to sleep without sex, drugs, or alcohol. Even with those, it was still dicey sometimes.

Growing very tired of that, I explored my options further. I want to be close to a bus, enjoy a short commute, be able to conveniently buy groceries, and pay as little as possible. Perhaps Kirkland was the answer.

Maybe it could have been, if the stars were properly aligned. But instead of living with one other female around my age (criteria I should have stuck with), I moved into the million-dollar house of a man in his forties who was so hard up for cash that he couldn't wait for my 700-dollar check to clear. And because he was not only over-extended, but also just plain fucking creepy, I was out of there in less than two days.

Then, I was homeless. Yes, the prissy PlatKat, with her fur-collared jacket and diamond earrings, curled up with her laptop and Sidekick LX at the Seattle YMCA for a long weekend of wallowing in apartment-hunting woes. So many people in this town are ready to collect a check from a short-term roommate, but so few are ready to actually house the said roommate.

I don't know why I didn't think about this. When I moved to Austin, fed up with a controlling boyfriend, crappy job, obnoxious roommates in a cracker-box apartment, and a lackluster program at a sub-par school, I decided I was going to live alone in a place that made me happy. I wouldn't talk to anyone unless I felt like it. I wouldn't have to escape. My place would be mine. And the only stuff I had to see or hear would be as a result of me. I set those parameters, in addition to my requirement of being on a main drag near a landmark, since I get lost more easily than a set of keys. I assessed my needs, and then I met them.

Why did I ever stray from that?

Some crazy shit happened around this time last week, and I procrastinated making a decision. I found that my life here was not going as planned, and I needed to do something about it, but didn't know what. A huge change was in order, and I was so scared of making the wrong decision.

It turns out I did anyway. For some reason, "Just move to Kirkland, buckle down, do your work, save money, the commute is good, etc." sounded reasonable. It sounded like something that would be really good for me in the long run. But it dawned on me: I came here to be here, not to live in a fucking suburb. So to everyone who said "Kirkland," I say, "Fuck you." And, "Let's go out for coffee and get to know each other a little better."

posted by platkat @ 5:18 PM