I’m a boy today.  It’s the only way I could get out of the house this morning.  Having a fit of insecurity summoned my maleness to stop caring about stupid shit.  Donning a man’s shirt I ran a comb through my hair and decided to not care what people see.  I’m not manly in many ways but there is a swagger I can pull together.  Like a gymnast.  Or a jockey.  I’ve accepted my status as a butter face. 

Quick decisions affect more than that moment.  A white lie to avoid one obstacle can butterfly some other effect down the line.  Insular actions make up the parts we play.  Living multiple lives in different locations, it’s uncanny which facets sparkle at certain angles.  I never know which part of me someone will enjoy.  Drowning in choices, I know the real question is how many parts of me can a single person stand at one time?

Seattle makes compartmentalization easy.  Bodies of water and interstates slice neighborhoods into distinct boxes.  It’s easy to change your persona and exist differently in each area.  Most residents are so settled in their local culture they often forget how close everything really is.  Through fear or apathy everyone gravitates closer and closer to home.  I’m all for local interests and building community but without networking the soul of the city dies.  Seattle is the smallest big city in the world.

Living in a port city certainly has options I never considered.  A perpetual flow of new blood bringing life to an otherwise remote area.  Cruise ships and colleges round out the transplants that gather here instinctively.  There’s a tribal aspect to Seattle that strums a familiar chord in me.  The South is dynastic to a fault, so not all the families there are related by DNA.   The social rituals and dominant clans I grew up around are eerily paralleled in the Viking-influenced PNW.  The only difference is the bottomless fount of new people.  Everyone is replaceable here.  No one is special until they are dead.

Collaboration will get us farther than solo effort.  Everyone has to care about the outcome, not their personal profit.  Finding energy and honesty at the same time is difficult and once located, capricious.  I don’t push with anyone.  I can’t.  All of my traction is used to propel myself closer to my own goals.  I don’t have patience to waste on other people.  I can’t help anyone until I finish helping myself.  Altruism is usually manifestation of suicidal ideations.  I can do anything when assuming I’ll die tomorrow.